Corrupt Me Page 17

  But how we made our money…well, that was another story.

  We were no better or different from Luca’s family even though we tried to paint a prettier picture. We boxed our empire into one neat package, wrapped tightly with a big red bow.

  No matter how the newspaper depicted the Marchese family, no matter how much damage our company would suffer because of Mafia involvement, Luca and I were meant for each other, and I wasn’t about to give up on him. I was the Bonnie to his Clyde. I was the other half of our own criminal enterprise.

  “If anyone was born for this life, it’s a Rinaldi.” I held up my steady hand in front of him as proof. “I’m not scared, not even a little bit.”

  “I’m an owner in name only. I wasn’t lying when I said that I wasn’t involved in their usual business practices, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, but you’re the one who will take the fall. I’m telling you, Luca, there’s something off about this transaction. I haven’t found it yet, but I will, and when I do—”

  He silenced me by pressing his lips against mine, the scent of his citrus cologne intoxicating me. “I think it’s time for a break,” he mumbled.

  I had my legs wrapped around his back, and he pulled me closer, pressing his mouth to mine, as he parted my lips with his tongue. Each kiss grew more passionate, impatient. Heat spread from my cheeks, down my arms, and to my thighs like wildfire. An intense burning, a desire only Luca could satisfy, made my body quiver in anticipation.

  “Does the idea of breaking the law turn you on, Bella?”

  He cupped my backside with his hands, pushing me onto his erection. I had control over him once again, a feeling of power that soaked my panties.

  “Yes,” I moaned against his ear. I felt his jaw move, as though he smiled.

  We were both sick yet somehow perfect for each other.

  He slid his hands up the back of my shirt and unhooked my bra. I rocked back, staring into his deep blue irises, as I pulled my shirt over my head. The purple baby tee hit the table with a thud. Neither of us bothered to turn around to see what had fallen over with it.

  Lost in each other, our eyes trained on one another, all we cared about was this moment.

  Luca grabbed the straps of my bra and slipped them down my arms. The black silky fabric fell in his lap, and he threw it aside, like he couldn’t stand it between us. He cupped my breast with his hand.

  He stopped for a moment, breathing heavily, and looked at me. “You are so beautiful, Izzie.”

  I smiled, melting at his words.

  As his tongue glided over my nipple, I moaned loudly. Luca took his time, his hands and mouth igniting every pleasure point in my body.

  “Luca,” I breathed, balling the edge of his shirt in my hands.

  I slipped my fingers below the edge of his boxers, and he groaned. While unbuttoning his jeans, I looked at him, licking my bottom lip.

  He sucked in a deep breath and said, “Dio mio, woman,” as I unzipped his pants.

  Focused on each other, we ignored the sound of the blaring football game and his cell phone vibrating on the edge of the table. But, when we heard loud footsteps, we jerked our heads toward the stairs in unison.

  Tugging at the slit in his boxers, I stared back at Hunter and Mark in horror.

  “Hey, bro,” Hunter said, awkwardly turning his head when he saw me.

  The shock of such a compromising position made me giggle against his stomach. Luca flattened his hand against my back and pushed me into his chest, shielding my bare breasts from his brothers. I thought I had seen Mark wink, and I wanted to puke. He was such a pervert.

  Luca reached for a blanket on the back of the couch and wrapped it around me.

  “Ever hear of knocking?” he said, throwing his hand in the air.

  I rolled off Luca onto the other side of the couch, wrapped in a throw.

  “Sorry, bro.” Mark inched forward, handing Luca a cell phone.

  Luca held it to his ear without question. “Yeah?” he said, annoyed. “Because I was busy. That’s why.” He nodded, his brows furrowing in anger.

  Luca turned away from me, but I could tell he was upset about something. Leaning over to check his cell phone, he scrolled through the messages before flicking through the channels on the television. When he found stats from another game, he dropped the remote on the table.

  “Some people are just losers,” Luca said, angry, “and you happen to be one. I’ve done all that I can for you, and it’s still not enough.”

  Surprised by his comment, I raised my eyebrow at him. He held the phone away from his ear, the man on the other line shouting obscenities.

  Luca propped his elbow on his knee and sank into it. “Yeah, well, I don’t wanna hear it, EJ!” He clicked the End button on the phone and held it out to Mark.

  I crawled onto his side of the couch and rubbed his arm. “Everything okay?”

  “All good, babe.” Luca grinned.

  Then, he walked Mark and Hunter to the stairs and whispered to his brothers before they made their exit.

  No matter what I wanted to believe, something was off about his conversation.

  Luca’s overall demeanor changed when he sat on the couch next to me.

  He hooked his arm around me and rested my head on his chest, planting a kiss in my hair. “I’m sorry, babe,” he whispered in my ear.

  Within minutes of taking the call, his eyes seemed darker.

  I knew I couldn’t stay away. Luca was like a drug to me. And I never wanted to come down from the high he provided.

  We didn’t speak of the phone call even though it raced through my mind. I analyzed every word, wondering what kind of person I was sleeping next to—the college student or the mob boss in training. I assumed the latter.

  Chapter Twenty

  IZZIE

  When the elevator doors opened to the forty-ninth floor, papers littered the glass and marble halls. Wire mail carts zoomed past Silvia and me, whipping into offices and around corners. The secretaries were on their phones, rambling on about how the company was still in a position of power, despite the recent turn of events.

  Silvia cocked her eyebrow at me and followed me toward my office.

  Under normal circumstances, this floor had the least amount of chatter. But, today, it hummed like an open outcry on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange.

  Silvia slipped behind her desk, nodding at my door, which was wide open. Inside, Grandfather was waiting on the leather couch in the corner, his hands folded on top of the coffee table. He visited my office maybe several times a year, never for reasons that satisfied me. He was a man of few words, so when he spoke, there was a specific purpose. Based on the conversation with Agent Marx and the current chaos that ensued in our office, I knew this wasn’t a social call.

  I inched toward him, making small movements, like prey sizing up its hunter.

  My grandfather, even in his seventies, was a force to be reckoned with and scary as hell. As I reached the couch, Grandfather looked up with dark circles under his eyes. His black hair had more gray than the last time I had seen him, and his olive skin was sallow and saggy.

  I sat next to him as Silvia brought in a tray of coffee, creamer, and sugar. She exited without a word, as Grandfather preferred. He had a be-seen-but-not-heard policy when it came to staff—with the exception of Domenica, my childhood nanny who lived with Grandfather and still worked for our family after over fifty years at Rinaldi Manor. He was an old grump, and he hadn’t been any nicer in his youth.

  “Isabella,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee, “we need to talk, amore mia.”

  Those were four words no one wanted to hear—ever. And Grandfather almost never used terms of endearment.

  “What’s wrong, Nonno?” I clamped my hand around his forearm, patting the dark blue wool of his Gucci suit.

  He always dressed to the nines. He never left the house without an imported shirt, tie, and of course, an Italian suit.

 
; Grandfather noticed my cursory scan of the room. “Don’t worry. My private security team swept your office for bugs this morning.” I nodded, and he continued, “It’s time for you to take your place as the head of this company, Isabella. I need to step down. The Rinaldi name will continue with you. I called an emergency board meeting for this afternoon, and I’ve been assured you will secure the vote.”

  “I know what you did,” I whispered even though our head of security had combed through every crevice. Years of looking over my shoulder had made me a bit paranoid. “The FBI came to see me. They wanted me to give them information on the Marchese family. They said the SEC is investigating you for insider trading.”

  He did not deny my allegations, which meant that they were true. “I made a mistake. I saw an opportunity to cash out, and I took it.”

  “You’re a billionaire. Why would you take a risk like that? We have more money than we know what to do with.”

  “For you, for the future of this company. Pacific Tech is working on groundbreaking technology—chips that will be worth billions of dollars to the right investor. I can’t tell you much more without making you an accomplice. The less you know, the better. This is your legacy, Isabella. No one can run this company but you. I know this will put your plans for Harvard Law on hold, but you must do this. Capisci?”

  “Sì, Nonno.” I stirred creamer and spooned some sugar into my coffee, unable to look up from the glass table.

  The metal design holding the creation together reminded me of olive branches twisted together. If only someone would extend one to us right about now.

  “What will happen to you?”

  “Dolce bambina mia, don’t you worry.” He slid his arm across my back and pulled me into a rare hug, using language he hadn’t used since I was a child.

  Grandfather used to tuck me in at night and tell me I was his sweet little girl. I missed that side of him.

  We shared that killer instinct my mother lacked, were devoid of the pureness of heart my grandmother possessed, and were about as ruthless as they came. My grandfather would walk over the dead body of his opponent without a thought. I couldn’t say I was much better. After all, I’d learned everything I knew from him.

  “I’m an old man. I’ve been around a long time. I can handle myself. Rob will stop by after the board votes you in. We’ll put out a press release, but I would like you to address the media on Monday. Reporters from all the major stations will be there. I’ll have my speech writer prepare something for you.”

  Overwhelmed by his illegal business practices and the pending fate of the company resting on my shoulders, my head spun in circles. A kaleidoscope of colors blurred together as I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows spanning my office. Seeing the Philadelphia Museum of Art off in the distance, I wanted to seek refuge there.

  Grandfather finished his coffee and set it on the gold circular tray. Several Trinacria, the symbol depicted on the flag of Sicilia, were emblazoned on the disk. I studied the gift from our Sicilian friends, tracing my finger over the head of Medusa surrounded by three bent legs.

  Would I one day turn into this monster? Or did that person already live somewhere inside me? The personas I’d created and shed over the years were the foundation for every decision I made.

  Grandfather stood, and I followed him to the door in silence. I opened it enough for him to slip out, and I shook my head at Silvia, indicating not to interrupt me. She looked as though she was dying to get the scoop, but I needed time to digest. Twenty-one years old, and I was about to become the Chief Executive Officer of Rinaldi Holdings, a billion-dollar conglomerate with dangerous ties to the Sicilian Mafia.

  When I was younger, a teacher had gone around the room and asked each of us what we wanted to be when we grew up. It hadn’t taken long for me to formulate a response. Grandfather had had me conditioned at an early age with every intention of passing the company down to his heir apparent. Everyone had given the typical response—firefighter, cop, doctor, lawyer, or congressman, which was ambitious for eight-year-old children. But my answer had trumped all of them and given Mrs. Peterson a shudder.

  I still remembered it.

  I’d stood in front of the class, my head held high, like a Rinaldi, as I said, “I want to rule the world.”

  What child would give that kind of response?

  A product of Angelo Rinaldi III—that’s who.

  Grandfather wouldn’t accept anything less than total world domination.

  As I pressed my palm to the glass, staring down at the ants scrambling below me, I smiled. We were predators, cut from the same cloth as our Sicilian associates.

  Standing on the steps of the museum, Celtic punk music pumped through my earbuds as my phone rang with news of my succession.

  Grandfather called from his cell phone, his tone somewhat somber. His driver had taken him back to Rinaldi Manor, our home in Lower Merion, on the outskirts of Philadelphia. He sounded distraught even though he tried to hide his feelings. We all masked our shortcomings, and God forbid you showed any emotions whatsoever in this family.

  I walked the halls, taking my time, as I stared at each piece of art.

  A short press release with a picture taken of me at the last company party would be news by the time I returned to the office. My face would be plastered on the cover of every major newspaper in the country. Once word reached Europe, Mother would call between martinis, trying not to choke on an olive as she mumbled her congratulations.

  For the first time in months, I decided to break out the old flask. We’d shared many good and bad times over the years. This day fell in both categories, falling somewhere between Shoot Me Now and Drink Until I Black Out. Okay, not so much a good day, I supposed. I took a swig of the Disaronno I’d swiped from Grandfather’s office. On short notice, I didn’t have much to work with. His selection of old-man liquors did not include my first choice, but desperate times didn’t leave me much choice.

  The amaretto-flavored liqueur burned a little on its way down. Wandering through each gallery, I finished off the remainder of the liquor, numb from the three glasses I’d drunk before I left the office. Talk about spiraling out of control—if anyone knew how to do that in style, a Rinaldi sure did.

  Grandfather was waiting for the indictment to come down. I plotted ways to give the FBI something to satisfy their hunger. But nothing on the list would keep Luca out of prison.

  I pulled out my phone, desperate to see Luca. I staggered through the museum and stumbled out the front door, ending up at Eakins Oval, a traffic circle facing the stairs the movie Rocky had made famous. I took a seat on the top step, just below the Washington Monument erected at the center of the circle. I watched as the cars whipped around the bend, beeping and yelling, music blaring from speakers as they passed.

  After a few of my drunken texts later, Luca showed up in jeans and a black button-down shirt. His hair had a hint of gel holding down his waves that needed a trim. He shook his head, smiling, as he sat next to me on the step.

  “How on earth did you manage to get over here with all this traffic in your condition? You could’ve gotten yourself killed. People whip around the turn like they’re driving on the autobahn.”

  I shrugged against his chest and laid my head there. He smelled like oranges and soap.

  His wrapped his arms around my waist. “How much have you had to drink, babe?”

  My silence must have upset him as his tone changed from loving boyfriend to the terrifying Mafia boss I knew he could be. “Talk to me, Izzie. What the hell is going on?”

  “I’m the new CEO of Rinaldi Holdings. Grandfather admitted everything to me before the board voted this afternoon. He did it, Luca. He fucking did it for me, for our legacy.” With the tears pouring down my face, the slurred words were incoherent mush. “Twenty-one years old, and I have over thirty-thousand people under my control. That’s not what scares me though. He’s seventy-two, and he will spend the rest of his life in some federal country-club
prison. And he’ll do it without blinking an eye. That’s how the men in our family are—stubborn and stupid. I’m not ready. I can’t do this without him.”

  “I could give them information,” he said, stroking my hair. “It might keep the SEC off his back for a little while.”

  “No!” I shouted. Then, I lowered my voice to a whisper, “You’re not going to jail because of a crime he committed.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Maybe we could think of something, a loophole that would give the FBI what they wanted and keep your grandfather out of jail.”

  “I’ve run through every scenario. There’s no way to help Grandfather without turning you over to the Feds, and you’re not leaving me.”

  He nodded. “Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”

  I sucked on his bottom lip and slipped my tongue in his mouth. Deepening the kiss, I threaded my fingers through his hair to pull him closer. For a brief period, I forgot we were in the middle of one of the largest traffic circles in Philadelphia. As we were surrounded by car horns and music blaring through speakers, my mind drifted to another place. In this world, nothing existed but the two of us. Our tongues worked at a feverish pace, my body racing into overdrive with each taste.

  “I need you, Luca,” I moaned against his lips. “When we’re apart, it’s like ripping my heart in half, and I’m waiting for the half to come back to me. You’re my family now. Pretty soon, I’ll have nothing left but you.”

  Grandfather would spend the remainder of his life in jail. My life would become a sideshow on display for the world to see. Silvia planned to leave at the end of the summer for grad school in California. Without Luca, I would have nothing, except for a company.

  “You’re already a part of my family. Whatever you need me to do to take away this pain”—his hand hovered over my heart—“tell me, and I’ll do it.”