Corrupt Me Page 15

  “Do you think with anything other than your dick, Mark?” I lifted my palms off my knees and straightened my back. “Just let me in already. I need to see Luca.”

  Mark snickered as I pushed past him. “Playing hard to get again…”

  I sauntered into the house, like I owned the joint, ignoring the guys watching me from the massive sectional couch. Weeks had passed since I last saw Luca, and I was a little nervous even though I didn’t show it.

  “He’s upstairs,” a boy with bleach-blond hair and a tan that looked sprayed on said, ogling me from across the room.

  Mark laughed behind me, and when I turned around, he pointed at the stairs with a cocky smirk. “Be my guest, princess.”

  I dialed his number on my cellphone and said, “I’m downstairs. Come down here right now.” Then, I hung up.

  Luca tumbled down the stairs in black boxer briefs, sweat glistening his perfectly muscular tan chest. He stopped mid step and ran a hand through his wavy hair. “Izzie, what are you doing here?”

  The sight of him half-naked was too distracting.

  “Put some clothes on, Luca, and grab your keys. We’re going for a ride.” I flung my hand out, waiting for him to get in gear. “I don’t have all day to waste while you stand there with your dick in your hand. Andiamo!”

  He gripped the railing and licked his bottom lip. “You’re so fucking sexy when you’re angry.” His bulge seemed to get bigger as he stared down at my spandex bra top, and then his eyes worked their way to the matching shorts that hugged my ass.

  “Wonderful,” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes. “Now, get your ass upstairs, and put some clothes on before I change my mind.”

  Luca winked with a sexy-as-fuck smirk on his lips, and then he vanished as he made his ascent.

  I plopped down on the couch next to Mark and put my foot on the coffee table. The couch wrapped around the massive living room, like something out of MTV Cribs. At least ten boys were spread out, watching some kind of bizarre porno, their eyes shifting between the screen and me.

  “Is this what you guys do when you’re not partying? Watch porn together without sound?” I chuckled at my remark. “Do you guys take turns with narrating?”

  Mark patted my thigh, stroking it with his big fingers. “Only when we know you’re coming over, sweetheart.”

  “Kinky. I like it,” I joked. “But you touch my leg like that again, and you’re gonna lose an arm, big guy.”

  “She’s not kidding,” Luca said, coming downstairs.

  I stood up, my hands on my hips, which drew attention to my bare stomach. In a roomful of boys who were probably already horny, given what they were watching, I was the chum in this shark tank.

  I turned toward the stairs, one eyebrow raised at Luca. “You ready?”

  “Uh-huh,” he mumbled.

  LUCA

  We hadn’t spoken a word since we left the house. I kept driving until we ended up at a dead end next to an old factory off the Delaware River. This was a good place to whack someone.

  She got out of the car, scanned the area twice, and waited for me to sit on the hood next to her before she spoke, “The FBI came to see me today.” Her words cut through me like a machete. “They have pictures of you.”

  “That’s nothing. They’ve been harassing my family for years.”

  She sighed, picking at a chip in her nail polish. “You were with Hunter, Mark, and women who looked like prostitutes.”

  “Strippers,” I corrected. “My dad owns Scores, a strip club off Delaware Avenue. That’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Whatever.” Izzie’s lip curled. She had a look of revulsion that made me want to bend her over the hood of my car. “The FBI has pictures of you and the guy you met with at the bar we stopped at after Tony Luke’s. They zoomed in close enough for me to see him handing you money. Who is he? And why is the FBI following you?”

  “That’s not enough to prove a thing.” I had to dodge her questions. The less Izzie knew about EJ and his gambling problems, the better. I couldn’t have her complicit in my criminal activities. “What was the agent’s name?”

  “Agent Marx. He said the SEC has evidence on Grandfather. Apparently, he did some illegal trades made with inside knowledge. And they seem to think you’re running an illegal gambling ring.”

  I choked down the bile rising up the back of my throat. My father had warned me about the card games and sports betting. He’d said it was too risky without the proper structure. But the money was so easy that I couldn’t stop.

  I ran my hand along her back, pulling her closer. “What do they want from you?”

  “Information about you. They want proof that you’re running an illegal gambling operation.”

  “Shit,” I mumbled, taking her hand in mine. “They’re trying to build a case under RICO, so they can prosecute my family for racketeering.”

  She looked up at me from under her brows, those hazy blue eyes softening me. “I figured that. You know, I’m not an idiot. But please tell me they’re wrong about you.”

  I stared off into the river, the polluted dark water lacking any shine. The FBI wanted information, something only I could give her. At twenty-one years old, I wasn’t about to spend the next twenty years of my life sharing a cell with Bubba.

  “Luca”—Izzie laced her fingers between mine—“I’m with you. Okay? Whatever you did or are planning on doing, I’m here. We’re in this together. I might be many things, but I’m not a rat. Now, tell me the truth. If I’m gonna put my ass on the line for you, I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

  I moved in front of her until I had her in between my legs. She was a Rinaldi. I knew I could trust her.

  “It’s true. For the past three years, I’ve been taking bets on professional and college sports. At first, it started with betting on Strick U games. Then, I got Hunter and Mark involved, and it turned into something bigger. I planned to stop after graduation.”

  Izzie took my hand between her tiny palms. “Promise me, Luca. Promise you will stop.”

  We were so close, and I wanted to kiss her, but I thought better of it. I didn’t want to make a promise I knew I couldn’t keep.

  “What happens if you don’t give them information?”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them, tears were welling in her bottom lids. “The SEC will investigate Grandfather. They’ll turn our entire company upside down. They’ve done it before, but it’s never stuck.”

  “The surveillance pictures are not enough proof. For all they know, I was buying a TV from some guy on Craigslist. Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.”

  The reason I’d stayed away from Izzie, after she’d refused delivery of my flowers for weeks, was to protect her from this exact scenario. Once I’d made the decision to keep my distance, I’d been drinking and fucking away my grief over Izzie. Nothing worked though. No amount of pussy or Jack Daniel’s could absolve me of my guilt. I should’ve warned her about our family’s business deal. I knew Izzie was hurting, based on what Silvia had told Hunter, and I wanted her back so bad.

  “I know I fucked up.” I pulled Izzie’s hand to my lips and kissed her smooth skin. “I was trying to protect you, but it doesn’t look like our time apart made a bit of difference. Will you have dinner with me tonight? I’d like to make it up to you.”

  Izzie fixed her gaze on the gravel covering the lot in front of us. She hesitated, her eyes now blaring into mine. “When I’m with you, it’s electric. My entire body is on fire, and I feel alive. But that’s because you’re dangerous, not because we’re supposed to be together.”

  I rolled the pad of my thumb over her cheek, and she smiled.

  “We might come from different backgrounds, but we’re more alike than you think, babe. I’m not a bad guy. When you look at me, you see the son of a mafia boss because that’s all that anyone ever sees. I’m not my father.”

  She sighed. “That’s not what I see, Luca. To me, you’re still
the boy I kissed in a wine cellar when we were kids. You were my first kiss, my first crush, and now, you’re the man I’m trying so hard to hate. But I can’t hate you. ”

  “It’s always been you, babe. You’re the only girl who’s ever made me feel something real.”

  She took my hand from her face and kissed my skin, the heat from her touch going straight to my balls. Her hazy blues were wide open as she kissed each of my fingers, making me groan with pleasure.

  “You and me…we’re in this together. But we can’t be together, Luca.”

  I slid my arm across her neck and pulled her against my chest, so I had her head tucked beneath my chin. I kissed her hair, breathing the scent of her vanilla body cream. “We can find a way to make it work.”

  She let out a sniff and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “No, we can’t. I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head, disappointed but not about to push the subject. Once she made her mind up, it’d only make things worse.

  Izzie was my first kiss all those years ago, and I hoped that, one day, she would be my last.

  Chapter Eighteen

  IZZIE

  Crossing over the Benjamin Franklin Bridge into New Jersey, I held the wheel, my fingers wrapping around the leather like a vise. The SEC and FBI shot my nerves with the pending investigations. And in the midst of the drama, Mr. Catalano had summoned me to the Marchese house for dinner to meet Enzo Vitale Senior, the man who would manage the Pennsport apartment building with me.

  With a few hours’ notice, he’d called on a Sunday, of all days, to schedule a time and place. Grandfather had assured Mr. Catalano that I would make myself available to him and today was no exception. Luca never missed Sunday dinner, which also meant that he’d be there, reminding me how much I missed him. Grandfather had strict rules about mixing business with pleasure, and as his successor, I had no choice but to sever all romantic ties to Luca.

  Following the directions from the GPS, I drove for a while until I pulled up to a tall wrought iron gate concealing a massive Italian villa-style mansion. A large M swooped through the middle of the fence. The high shrubbery surrounding the perimeter made it difficult to see up the long driveway.

  I leaned out the window and pushed the button on the intercom.

  A rough manly voice said, “This is private property.”

  “I’m here to see Mr. Catalano. My name is Isabella Rinaldi.”

  “Hold your license up to the camera, Miss Rinaldi.”

  I dug through my wallet, annoyed this man thought he was such a big shot that he could play games with me. Even Rinaldi Manor wasn’t this hard to get into, and it was triple the size. With my hand out the window, I waited until I heard a buzz, and the gate slowly moved inward.

  A middle-aged man with dark features walked down the driveway, touching the tip of his fedora in greeting.

  He yanked on the handle and opened the door. “Miss Rinaldi, please step out of the vehicle.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him and snorted. “Do you treat all your guests like criminals?”

  As I stepped out of the car, I thought about leaving. The man patted me down without warning, his fingers dangerously close to groping my breasts. He felt my bare legs, exposed by the knee-length wrap dress. I wanted to kick him in the face as his hand slid up my inner thigh.

  “Are you done yet?” I snapped. “There’s a difference between searching for a weapon and trying to cop a feel. You could at least buy me dinner first,” I quipped.

  He stood up with a stoic expression on his face, his palm flipped out in front of me. “I need to check your purse.”

  I lifted it off the passenger seat, and he sifted through tampons and loose change. The man proceeded to rifle through my trunk, the documents in my messenger bag, the underbelly of my seats, and then the glove box.

  He found the gun Grandfather’s head of security had given me for protection and tucked it inside his suit jacket. “I’m keeping this until you leave. Get in,” he commanded as he slid behind the wheel and closed the door.

  Maybe some part of me loved danger because I complied even though his demeanor made me uncomfortable. We drove onto the property lined with red chestnut trees, and a Tuscan-style house spanned the massive lot. A four-car garage was to my left, private verandas were on the upper floors, and the grand entrance was on my right. Several expensive cars were spaced along the multicolored pavers.

  He parked at the front door, and another man helped me out of the car.

  Two more men in dark suits were waiting at the main door, one of them holding it open for me as I walked into the house. A normal person would have been terrified but not me. My entire body tingled with excitement, soaking in every second of the threat coming here posed.

  The interior of the house was incredible. Words couldn’t begin to describe its beauty. Various shades of yellow, brown, and white, combined with rounded archways, high ceilings, and terra-cotta tiles, gave the house the feel of Italy. The attention to detail showed in the artwork and the careful placement of each piece.

  A beautiful woman with dark brown hair twisted in a low bun appeared from a doorway at the back of the house. She had a red-and-black apron fastened around her tiny frame. I remembered her from when I was a child.

  She ignored the men holding up the walls every twenty feet as she made a beeline toward me. “Isabella,” she said, cupping my face in her hands. “It’s been years. Look at you, so grown up, so beautiful.” She kissed my left and then right cheek, still holding on to me. “Benvenuto in casa mia,” she said, finally releasing me.

  “Thank you for having me.” She led me down the hall, her hand pressed to my back. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Marchese.”

  “Grazie!” She patted my back and chuckled. “Please, call me Francesca. Mrs. Marchese is my mother-in-law.”

  This woman oozed love and warmth, both of which were visible in her home. I wondered if Luca realized how lucky he was to have a mother like her.

  “Francesca”—I nodded, adjusting the strap of my messenger bag—“I was under the impression I would be meeting with Mr. Vitale and Mr. Catalano.”

  “You are, but first, we eat.”

  She steered me into a room that boasted a large dining table. At least thirty people could sit comfortably, and by the looks of it, close to that were there, waiting for my arrival.

  Francesca cleared her throat, and the laughter and chatter died down. I recognized Luca’s twin brothers, Anthony and Mario, from their pictures, but I couldn’t tell them apart. At the head of the table, Luca’s father stood tall and lean. Luca, as always, looked impeccable in a long-sleeved tailored shirt and jeans. Between the four of them, it was like standing in the presence of generations of Roman gods, sculpted to perfection.

  Spread throughout the don, like courtiers waiting to kiss the ring, were Mr. Catalano and a few dark-haired men.

  His people loved him, unlike his predecessor who had gotten whacked because of his greed. Grandfather had told me a few stories about the Mafia wars that had occurred before Luciano Marchese took over as the head of the Philadelphia crime family. He’d mentioned their beef with the Irish that had started over drug trafficking. We were corrupt in our own way, but drugs was too much for Grandfather and the reason he severed ties with the Marcheses for a decade.

  Among Luca’s brothers were women I assumed were their girlfriends. Closest to me, Concetta rose to her feet and kissed each of my cheeks. Several women next to her greeted me in the same fashion.

  Why are a group of strangers embracing me as one of their own?

  My family only kissed people we knew, yet Luca’s family had no problem taking my face in their hands and smacking lipstick on my cheek. Francesca stood next to me as each person at the table kissed me. She reminded me of Domenica that way.

  By the time I reached Luca, he laced his fingers through my hair, holding the side of my head, as he whispered in my ear, his breath warming my face, “You look beautiful, Bella.”
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  I sighed, wishing things between us were different. “Thanks, Luca.”

  Our lips were so close, and I struggled with not kissing him.

  Francesca yelled at him in Italian. The threatening low tone to her voice was one only a parent could scold with and still sound pleasant. Her words roughly translated to, Stop flirting with our guest.

  “Ma, she’s fluent in four languages,” Luca protested. “You’re killing me here.”

  Francesca reached over and squeezed his cheek between her fingers. “Polpetto,” she said.

  I laughed louder than I’d intended.

  He smirked. “Laugh it up, babe.”

  Francesca moved toward the end of the table and motioned me to follow with a slight nod in Don Marcheses direction.

  “What did I tell you about those pet names?” I warned, walking away from him. “Huh? Meatball.”

  I glanced at Francesca and smiled, still chuckling, as we made our way to the end of the table.

  “Mr. Catalano.” I extended my hand.

  He surprised me and pulled me closer to kiss me in the same fashion as the others. Even Mr. Warmth was all about the love today.

  “No need for formalities, Isabella. Call me Frank.” For the first time, he’d called me by my first name instead of Miss Rinaldi. He nodded at the man next to him and said, “Let me introduce you to Enzo Vitale Senior.”

  A slightly chunky man with a little salt added to his pepper hair gave me a once-over and pulled my hand up to his lips. “Isabella…what a beauty.”

  I drew my hand back and tapped him in the arm with my elbow. “Such a charmer, this one. I don’t think we’ll have any problems working together.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” He chuckled and slung an arm around me as he pointed to the boy standing in his shadow. “This is my son, Enzo Junior, but we call him EJ.”

  Unlike his father, he was stick-figure thin and had sunken in cheeks. He looked strung out, if I’d ever seen it. EJ was the boy I saw handing money to Luca in the FBI photographs.