Betrayed (Chianti Kisses #3) (4 page)

The fizzing of the soda is hard to hear over the loud noise of the engines, and it’s gulped down fast enough to force the guy to cover his mouth.

“This happen every time?” I ask Carmine.

He shrugs his shoulders. His complexion’s much better and other than the slight odor of a reminder, it’s as if nothing’s happened.

He nods, embarrassed. “Only if I’m a little hung over.”

I crack a sarcastic smile. It’s like a bit of karma coming to bit his in the ass after whatever he did with my sister last night.

“Get some sleep.” I toss him one of the small courtesy pillows. “I need you on your game when we land.”

With another hour ahead of us, I’ve got plenty of time to see what Ellen’s been able to dig up. Even retired, she’s just as reliable as always. As soon as I open my email, I find not one but two emails from her with several attachments on each.

It’s odd to get an ATH email on my personal account, without all the formality and header info, and it’s… sobering.

The first attachment opens with ease. It’s a spreadsheet of payments. Small, even - all less than $80,000 beginning years ago and ending around the same time my pop passed on.

Wait.

Hmm, that’s interesting.

The payments started about a month after V’s dad died. That
can’t
be a coincidence. I continue on and open the remaining attachments. ATH Subholdings was created about two weeks before my father-in-law’s untimely passing, and had only one board member. My dad.

It seems like the only payments ever made from the small company were to the Uva Maggio, Inc. wine company, and the only funding ever deposited into the subholdings company were from ATH’s expense accounts.

I push my laptop aside, thankful for the Wi-Fi in the sky, but not the conclusions the information is leading me to draw.

It was a shell company. Nothing more than a shelter to pass money through to that wine company. But, what’s worse, is that it coincides somehow with not only V’s dad’s death, but also my own dad’s. And this is most definitely something I never would have stumbled across if it hadn’t been for Theresa asking about some stupid wine.

I look at Carmine sleeping off his wine hangover and grind my teeth thinking of exactly what made my baby sister inquire about the long forgotten vintage.

~*~

The Chicago skyline is a beautiful one. Nothing compared to what I’m used to in NYC, but it’s a gorgeous on it’s own merit. If I were in a calmer state of mind I could probably enjoy it, but the amount of weight on my shoulders is heavy enough to cloud my thoughts.

On my own turf, I’ve gained enough confidence to navigate the band of hierarchy that controls everything. Taking out Moretti gained me the respect and credibility I needed to gain a foothold in the NY scene. But, to do what I’ll need to do on a national level, I need the full weight of the commission behind me.

It shouldn’t be too difficult seeing as my dad ran dealings with all of these guys, making them a hell of a lot of money along the way. It may have been a long time since they’ve dealt with a DiBenedetto, but my family history was enough to get me in the door.

The rest will be up to me.

The rented Towne car pulls into the obscure parking lot as Carmine eases us into a parking space. The engine is cut, and the clicking begins.

His gun and mine, syncing in unison as we both engage the weapons to be used on command if and when needed. No way would we ever be able to sneak these into the table, and I wouldn’t even try. Such a move would be the highest sign of disrespect.

We’ve all come here together in good faith to form the basis of successful business relationships. No need for guns….

Yet.

We each tuck our piece under our respective seats in case they need to be grabbed quickly later on, and leave the car to smooth our now empty waistbands. The four other black cars parked nearby open doors with men of all sizes stepping out, all dressed similar to us… neat haircuts, pressed suits, hard stares.

Each car’s rider has one companion, a driver, protection. The four of those men walk forward along with Carmine. They pat each other down thoroughly, checking for weapons. Next, they run a sweep with a tracking device looking for wires or bugs. The types of things discussed at times like this are not for outsider’s ears.

When the five associates are satisfied that the others are clean, they nod and return to their employers.

“All clear, boss. The big guy’s a helluva a strong one, but no weapons.”

It’s true. The one in the navy suit has got to be one of the biggest men I’ve ever seen. I look from him over to my own bodyguard. Carmine is cut and hard, but his frame’s got nothing on the other guy.

“Hit the weights more when we get home,” I bust his chops as I leave him behind to watch the car.

I’m the youngest of the men who now make up our small subgroup. The heads of five different families. Some of them watch others distrustfully, having had bad blood between their groups before.

Even in times of peace, there’s always the unspoken rule that your own family comes first. Alliances come and go, like peace and war, they fluctuate with the years. But, no matter the current state of all of our affairs, the table is a kind of sacred place.

Everything else gets put on the back burner for the sake of potential business and prosperity for us all. That’s not to say there haven’t been incidents where things have gotten shot to shit and all hell broke loose. Hence, the guns in the car.

“Dommy boy!” Don Caruso pulls me in close. I’m pretty sure I’ve only met this fat cat once before… at my dad’s funeral. I didn’t particularly care for him then, I don’t really care for him now.

“Mr. Caruso, good to see you, too.”

He nods while taking me in. “Your dad would be so proud to see you today.”

I force a smile. He must not have known my dad well at all. I don’t think he’d be proud at what I’ve become, and even though I miss him something fierce, a small part of me is glad he’s not actually here to see me abandon the company he worked so hard to build only to be here, meeting with these men, living the life he hid so well from the rest of us.

The other men, Dons Abbate, Martone, Nuzzi, and Tramonte, all represent the biggest crime families in Philly, Boston, Staten Island, and Jersey, along with Caruso’s own Chicago.

I’ve met all of these men before in passing and have grown familiar with their names. Although we may have only spoken a handful of times each over the phone, we’ve all been in constant contact lately through “other” channels. Let’s just say ever since I offed Moretti, I’ve been on their radar.

I can’t blame them either. The new hot shot kid in town trying to make a name for himself. I’d be leery, too, in their positions. They called the meeting but they really just beat me to the punch.

Ever since I was given the info from Moretti’s dying lips about the hit on V’s dad, I’ve been working it into my agenda to uncover every last detail. These men are the only ones still alive who would have been privy to the info I need.

“People been talkin’, Dom,” Don Caruso breaks the silence. “Sayin’ things.”

Nuzzi nods, agreeing with his sometimes ally. “Sayin’ things.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m sure they have. That’s why I made contact with you immediately after to make sure you heard what happened straight from my lips, first.”

Caruso continues, keeping Nuzzi from speaking. “And we appreciate that. Shows respect, and also how
initiative
you can be... Seeing as your brand new on the scene…”

And that’s the underhanded dig I was waiting for.
Initiative
. Just a nice way of saying that that I didn’t ask them for permission first.

“Under the circumstances,” I explain once again, “and being backed into a corner as I was, I wanted to reach out to you right away to let you know what that scumbag had done. Knowing as I did you guys a favor by having Moretti offed I also wanted to give you the opportunity to thank me.”

I know that was a bold statement, but it was necessary.

“A favor?” Abbate speaks for the first time. “You cost me a crapload of revenue, kid. Moretti was in deep to me, owing over $250k for a new business venture. Now I’ll never see my money.”

I clear my throat. “I’m sure we can work out some financial restitution for you, seeing as I’ve taken over all of Moretti’s businesses. Perhaps you’d be interested in taking some off my hands. You’d really be doing me a favor as I can’t keep close tabs on all of them.”

Abbate sits back and processes my offer. Our preliminary estimates have valued the new acquisitions at over $14 million. That should more than make up for the pocket change he lost.

“The possible damage I saved to your reputations… let’s just call that a bonus.” The five men sit up at attention with that statement.

Caruso taps his fingers along the top of the old worn table. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Here we go
. The reason I came.

“Moretti says he killed my father-in-law and he didn’t have your permission to do it. He worked behind your back to kill a Boss. If that information were to have gotten out, if Moretti lived… it would have made you all look weak. Compromised your position and leadership. I’d say that alone was worth more than $250k.”

The men look uncomfortable. They share side glances and begin to fidget a little.

“Look, Dom. The only way this commission works is with full disclosure,” I’m instructed by Caruso who seems to lead the group. “Your dad understood that. We hope you will, too, as we’re stronger when we all work together.”

This isn’t elementary school. I learned those lessons before I could even ride a bike.

“That’s why I say this,” he senses my growing boredom. “We
did
give the order to kill Giuseppe Lombardi.”

My breathing stops.

“But… we didn’t give it to Moretti. We gave the permission to your dad.”

CHAPTER FOUR

VINCENZA

And one and two, and one and two.

I take another bite of ice cream.

And one and two, and one and two.

“You know, I think you’re doing that wrong.”

I press on the remote and pause the maternity workout DVD as Theresa takes a seat next to me.

“I’m doing my maternity work out mentally It’s like… a new thing.”

She laughs. “If that’s true, then I can’t wait to get pregnant. It’ll save me from the brutal 5am spin classes I’ve been doing.”

I try to bite my tongue, really, but the endless list of smartass comments that come to mind are hard to contain.

“I’m sure you two aren’t far off, the way you’ve been going at it like bunnies.” I take another bite of dessert.

She glares at me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I smile smugly to myself. “Sure, sure. I’m not as blind as your brother, Tre. And believe me, he’s not gonna stay clueless for much longer.”

My sister-in-law’s eyes round themselves and grow wide, large dark brown pools of curiosity. I abandon the half-eaten bowl on the coffee table, and face her.

“How long have you two been carrying on anyway? I caught wind of it about a month ago,” I clue Theresa in to being discovered.

I can see her biting the inside of her lower lip, pouting in hesitation. It hadn’t been hard to put the pieces together and deduce that they had secretly reconciled. Even after Dom’s warnings to the both of them, the laws of attraction are sometimes hard to fight.

“The day his stitches came out,” she admits.

I do the mental calculations.

“Wow! You guys sure didn’t waste any time. So… how was it?”

She exhales deep and sinks into the cushions. “Worth Dom finding out.”

I can see the longing drape over her eyes and I know that she must miss her man as much as I miss mine.

“Have you given any thought as to how you’re going to handle it when your brother actually
does
find out?” I’m so interested in how she thinks this is going to play out.

She rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bring it up, Carmine just tells me that he’ll take care of it.”

I smirk. “Sounds like something Dom would say to me. Stupid macho men think they know best.”

“You think Dom will hurt him?” she asks, truly worried.

Truth is, I don’t really know anymore what my husband would do. He’s changing. The last thing I need to do is voice these concerns to Theresa… it would only make her more upset.

So, I do what any good sister-in-law would do under these circumstances.

I lie.

“I’m sure once he sees how you two feel about each other he’ll come to his senses. He only wants you to be happy.” We smile at each other, both pretending to believe my words. “I’m gonna head up to bed, Tre. I’m exhausted.”

She stares at me in disbelief. “It’s only eight o’clock.”

I smile as I manage to get to my feet. “Another joy of pregnancy. I can’t keep my eyes open late enough to watch any decent TV anymore.”

Theresa reaches for the remote. “Your loss, momma.
The Real Housewives
are calling my name.”

“The guestroom’s all ready for you. Just lock up before you turn in.” A small pang of jealousy sits in my gut as I hear the intro to one of my favorite shows fade in the distance.

~*~

I feel the soft satin of my nightgown glide against my skin. His firm hands move up the length of my body exposing the flesh underneath.

I stir, moving and rolling onto my back.

The cool air hitting my belly is a harsh wakeup call. The only consolation is the warmth of his lips against the bump, instantly ridding me of the chill.

“Missed you, baby,” he speaks into my body, the words mumbled.

It’s as if my dream has suddenly become real. Not less than ten minutes ago, this man, his lips, his body, those words… they were mere figments of my imagination.

My hands work their way to him, yearning to feel what seconds earlier was only a memory. His lips caress me, inch by inch as my body is greeted in the most sensual way.

“Wha-what time is it?” I ask, trying to get my bearings.

“Early,” his lips tickle against me as he speaks.

I quiver under his touch. The heat of his mouth travels, reviving me, until it’s reached my neck, pushing my chin aside to suck and press at the thin skin above my pulse.

His lips knead at my neck, reminding me of how fantastic it is to wake up next to him. He’s an early riser and always willing to treat me to a sexy wakeup call… one that’s much better than any old alarm clock.

“Kiss me already,” I demand.

He laughs, his lips now abandoning his favorite spot on my neck.

“Damn, I love it when you’re bossy.”

His lips are firm, demanding, his tongue taking the deepest depths my mouth has to offer. It’s not enough for him, I can tell. His carnal growling alerts me to that. It’s been over a day and I know my husband. When he goes without, it’s sometimes a difficult thing to try to make up for.

I pull my lips from him and turn on the domineering charm he liked so much earlier.

“Roll over,” I command.

He eyes me, wondering what I’m up to.

“No questions. You may be the boss to everyone else, but
I’m
the boss now.” He gets the answer that sets the tone.

He lifts himself obligingly, eyes never leaving mine in the blue-hued pre-dawn light that consumes the bedroom. He lays down flat on his back, assuming the position I’ve dictated. I feel powerful adrenaline surge and consume me, and I like it.

“Arms up,” I give the next set of instructions to my very attentive listener.

Once again, he obeys, lifting the heavily-muscled arms overhead. His knuckles rap against the headboard and the metal of his wedding ring makes an audible dinging sound when it makes contact.

I scan my eyes over him, unshaven since yesterday morning, the hint of a roughened shadow across his lower jaw. His usually perfect hair is mussed, disheveled in an exquisitely sexy bedhead sort of way.

I point my finger slowly and plant the tip down at the base of his throat. I see the strong stare of his eyes flutter at my touch. We haven’t even gotten warmed up yet and he’s already responding to me as if his body is no longer under his control.

I gingerly trace my finger down the hollow depression and into the firm crevice between the thick muscles of his chest until I meet my first roadblock. I circle my finger around the hard circular button of his wrinkled shirt.

“Now, this just won’t do.”

Using my thumb and pointer finger, I skillfully manage to unhook the little apparatus and continue my fingers gentle exploration down to the next button, where I repeat the quick motion again and again until I’ve reached the last.

“Let’s see now.” I take hold of the shirt in each hand and pull furiously, exposing the entirety of his chest.

The many chiseled muscles of his stomach quiver and quake deliciously as I straddle him and do as I please, unmasking his flesh for my own indulgence. The sleek curves, the hollowed areas that fill with shadows… I soak in the sight.

I bend down slowly, inch by inch, hovering just above his flesh… close enough to feel his body heat forming a scorching layer of invisibility between us. I stretch out my neck and square my shoulders so my breasts will be the only part of me that touches him. I feel the hardened tips pressing against the coolness of the satin that attempts to cover them, knowing that he feels the points of my erect nipples tickling against him.

I open my mouth and breathe deep letting the heat of my breath tease him more. Still hovering, I lengthen my tongue and reach to touch the sleekness of his own nipple. I don’t touch it, though… not yet.

Instead, I circle around it, coating him with blazing hot moisture. I inch back… and then blow a stream of cool air onto his flesh. He flinches in response, reacting to the sudden change between hot and cold.

I do this to the matching nipple. Again he responds.

“What to do next...?” I ask rhetorically, moving my lips down his center, casting the heat of my breath over him as I move.

“Mmm…” he stirs, body squirming to lift closer, “I can give you a few ideas.”

His arm moves, hand settling on the buckle of his trousers. I nip the back of his hand as it eagerly goes to work.

“Ouch!” He pulls back, bringing the pretend injury to his lips.

“I can leave and you can finish this all by yourself, or you can listen and I’ll finish for you. Your choice.”

He breathes out in frustration, “Yes, ma’am,”

“Good, now hands up.”

I let him lay in silence for a moment, wondering if and when I’ll continue once his arms are back in the correct position. Once I feel good and ready, I move seductively, swiping at the thin straps of my loose nighty, letting the flimsy material fall out of the way so my bouncing breasts spill out for his bulging eyes to devour.

He licks his lips instinctually.

“See something you like?” I already know the answer.

Dom’s proven over and over again his appreciation for my…
assets
, but, since they’ve nearly doubled in size over the past couple of months, he seems to be drawn to them like a dying man to water.

He nods and smiles wickedly.

I lift myself on my knees and let the weight of the new breasts dangle over his stomach, dragging up slowly. The sensation is tantalizing for my own heightened nipples…. I can imagine by the tensing of his body under me just how it must feel for him. He breathes sharply as I get close enough for his lips to reach, his tongue lashing out to taste every bit of my skin he can get his mouth on until he latches onto the object of his desire.

God help me, that feels so good.

My hand reaches up to grab my free breast… the one that suffers from neglect, massaging and toying with my own nipple to heighten the experience. His teeth scrape against the nub and I bite my lip not to cry out in ecstasy as his sucking and kissing consumes me like a starving man with a steak.

It’s not even been two full days since my body was his for the taking, and like clockwork, he hungers for me. I’m not sure who needed this more… him or me.

I pull myself back without warning, forcing him to release the nipple he was so busy making love to with his tongue.

He growls.

I dip down and tease him with those same nipples, trailing just over his skin before they settle in his lap.

He’s already done most of the work on his buckle and all that’s left to do is move it out of the way to get to the place that we’ve both been waiting eagerly for me to tend to.

The whole area is swollen, practically busting the seams. I’m careful to pull the zipper without injury and stroke my fingernails over the tightly spread fabric, feeling the bumps and stiffness under hand.

He’s engorged beyond imagination, ready and waiting. I reach in and lift the long shaft free from its confines just in time for the morning sun to cast its glow on the exact area like a cosmic epiphany showing the way.

I gulp hard at the sight of it and my stomach drops knowing all the pleasure this one thing is able to give me. I lick my lips and lift my eyes to watch him as he witnesses my plan to worship him.

He anxiously lifts his hips to urge me on, bringing the tip closer to where my mouth is planning its strategy. I feel the thickness of him slide through my hands and find that I cannot wait any longer.

I bow down comfortably, settling in a position where I can take him best, closing around the ring of the head sealing myself around him. I feel his hips roll and hear the air he releases as he breathes his relief, pushing back into the pillows and stretching himself out to allow his body to bask in the indulgence.

I let the curiosity of my tongue guide it as it roams over his girth, my mouth stretching to slide further as Dom’s moans bolster me. (I get far enough down where an immense amount of self-control kicks in).

I feel the tips of my breasts tickle against his thighs just as the tip of
him
tickles the back of my throat every time I reach the bottom of his shaft. The two sensations are an odd combination but ones that are somehow meant to be paired together as they work hand in hand to excite me.

Dom’s tensing, squirming beneath me, fighting against himself.

“Fuck it,” he exhales, and his hands immediately disobey my earlier order, fingers now knuckles deep in my hair, massaging out their own tension in the thickness of my waves.

I have half a mind to teach him a lesson and leave him here all swollen and full of need in retaliation for his disobedience. But, there’s a strong possibility that type of punishment would only hurt me more as I’m fully turned on and edging closer and closer to satisfying my own unspoken desires.

I feel the thick mast begin to convulse in hand and know that his body is not under his control anymore… so I forgive the earlier transgression.