Chocolate and Italian Wine (Music and Mayhem Book 1) (27 page)

“Haa! I can’t wait to see the smirk wiped off that smug face of yours when you open the papers a few months from now and see a picture of me full with Paolo’s son,” she growled, rubbing her belly. Karisma moved toward the door to open it.

“Only if Paolo loaned his dick out for somebody else to use. And the only thing you’re full of is shit. Get out. And stay the hell away from me. The next time I see you I might consider you a stalker,” she raised a brow at the Bianchi woman.

Maria Elena flounced to the door. “I will be keeping my eyes on you, you man stealing whore!” she hissed as she walked out, turning to give Kari a benevolent stare as she replaced the scarf on her head.

“You keep watching, bitch, I’m used to all eyes on me!” Kari slammed the door in her face and then whipped her body around. By that time, Sierra had fallen on the sofa laughing until tears rolled down her face.

“Lord, Kari. Do you feel better? Did you get that out of your system?”  

Kari, who was giggling now, too, said, “Surprisingly, yes.”

“Good. But can I ask you something?” Sierra asked turning serious, as her giggles subsided.

Karisma nodded.

“Do you think she’s really pregnant?” she asked.

Karisma’s smile faded and she exhaled. She looked at Sierra and said, “Honestly, I really don’t know. Paolo says that she isn’t. I just don’t know what to believe.”

“You really love him. That much is obvious. Maybe you could try to trust him.”

“Maybe,” Kari shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m pretty pissed at him.”

“Give him a call. Let him talk. Be nice. Can you do that?”

Karisma wrinkled her nose and shook her head no.

“Oh, Kari don’t be so mean. Give that fine ass man a break. He’s not Ray. I’m just sayin’.” 

Karisma put her hand on her hip and nodded, looking down at her perfectly manicured feet.

“Well, I’m going back to bed. Call me if you need to entertain yourself again, Karisma Montgomery,” she said in a Maria Elena impression.

“Say goodnight, Gracie,” Kari said, smiling at the woman who was her right hand.

“Good night, Gracie,” Sierra said as she headed back to her room.     

 Karisma sighed heavily as she made her way to the bedroom. Picking up her purse, she found her bottle of pills. Staring at them a long while, she stood trying to decide if she should take one or not. She remembered her other pills in the cosmetic bag and took them out, holding a bottle in each hand. Frustrated, she threw one of the bottles at the mirror, the plastic hitting her likeness hard and bobbling onto the countertop, as the small white pills flew out, scattered all over. She dropped the other container on the floor, watching as it rolled to a stop.

Karisma stood back. She was so thirsty. Her mouth was often dry lately, so she grabbed a glass and drank water from the tap. Unzipping her sleeveless shift dress and stepping out of her silk threads, she looked at her reflection, one of the loveliest faces in the world according to most, and sighed. Was she losing her mind? With the pills, the dead intruder, and Paolo’s mess. All of it; and her pupils were dilated, too. She retrieved a pill from the countertop and walked to the bed in her black lace bra and matching panties like a zombie, hurting for the man she loved, unable to decide whether or not he was innocent of the charges leveled against him. She pulled back the covers, sinking into the sheets, and clutching the pill in her hand. She turned it over and inspected it. Angrily throwing it across the room, she rolled over and finally closed her eyes.

24

Ray Bryant looked down at his phone. Who was calling that time of night? He almost didn’t answer it, but when he saw the name that popped up, he couldn’t resist. “Hey, what’s happening, baby girl?”

“How did you know it was me?” a sexy voice mewled.

Ray was thrown for a loop. Damn, it was Karla. He’d assumed that it was Karisma. He tried to recover. “Karla? Girl, wussup? I ain’t heard from you in a minute,” he said, kicking back in the swivel chair in his room.

“No, not since we hooked up last,” she said, her words slurring.

“Yeah, you looking to get some of that again?” Ray asked.

“Don’t you know it, baby. You still guest judging on Italian Idol?” Karla breathed in from her end, desperate to sound more sober than her fuzzy head was telling her she was.

“Haa, yeah. I’ll be here a few more days.”

“Well, I happen to be in town and I’m on my way to the hotel. How about I take a detour and meet you wherever you are? Maybe get into a little trouble.”

“Depends on what kind of trouble you mean, girl. ‘Cause at this time of night there’s only one kind of trouble I need. You feel me?”

Karla giggled. “Oh yeah, I feel you. Let’s get together.”

“Where you staying, Shorty? I’ll be there in an hour.”

                                               ***

Don Vittore was sitting up in his bed, clutching his chest and sweating so profusely that it soaked his Italian silk pajamas. Breathing heavily, he made the sign of the cross and swung his heavy legs over the side of the bed. Bending at the waist, he inhaled and exhaled, coughing and struggling for air. He looked around the dark room. It was 3 AM, the devil’s hour. No wonder he’d awakened from such an awful dream. He was grateful for that, but it had to be prophetic. He’d seen his own death in the dream; felt himself die. His hands had been bound and a sack had been placed over his head. And while he couldn’t see his murderers, they felt familiar to him.

Needing something to drink, he got up and put on his velour robe, which was lying across the foot of his bed. He put it on and opened the door to walk down the hallway, descending the stairs and going to the large, open kitchen. Still shaken, he retrieved a pitcher of orange juice and poured a glass. 

                   Gulping down the cold juice, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling. It had only been a nightmare, but it felt so real, unlike anything he’d ever dreamt before. The life he’d chosen had created its share of nightmares and terror filled nights. He’d done monstrous things in his lifetime and didn’t even deny that he deserved to be tortured for some of them. But now, that such a vivid and realistic image had invaded his dreams, he was agonizing, knowing that he was on the cusp of paying for his sins for all of eternity. Vittore felt remorseful. He knew that if given a second chance, he would walk a different path, one that would set him on a road to salvation in a way that Sunday Mass and sporadic prayers never would.     

He thought about his family, of Maria Elena and her problem, and how he had devised a plan to handle it. Shaming and condemning Paolo Montovani as a man with no honor, one who loved women and then abandoned them, one whose head could be easily turned by a red lipped siren, he’d set the wheels in motion. He’d taken care of that dark jezebel, who’d created problems for his sweet daughter, too. That Karisma Montgomery, that black bitch. He was able to put a smile on his face as he thought of her going into hiding, shamed in the court of public opinion for her actions. It brought him comfort and the result would lead Paolo to where he belonged—with Maria Elena.

He went back up to bed and as he laid down, Don Vittore quietly said into the darkness, “I have six more months and my family shall have what they want. My house will be in order.”

                                           ***

.

Karla and Ray lay in bed panting, trying to catch their breath. “Ray, get off,” she said, squirming under his heavy weight.

He moved back from her, pulling on the condom carefully, tying it into a knot and tossing it into the trashcan. “Score, bitch,” he said. Then he laid back down and turned onto his back, arm covering his eyes. 

“Still selfish, I see,” Karla said, lying on her side, her head resting in her hand.

“Don’t start with me, girl. You ain’t ever been able to come unless I went down on you,” he said.

“Well then?”

“Well what?” he asked, not bothering to look at Karla.

She was silent for a while and it finally caught Ray’s attention and he looked at her. She said, “Why did I think this time would be different?”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” he asked.

“No, Ray, I guess not. You need to go,” she said.

He rose up. “What the fuck you trippin’ on, girl? You drunk or high?”

“I’m a little tipsy, I’ll admit, but I really just wanted to see if we could reconnect,” she said.

“We reconnected, baby. Didn’t it feel like we reconnected?”

“You know what I mean. I wanted you to feel something for me again. Just forget it and go.”

“You mad ‘cause you didn’t come? Shit, I can fix that. Come here. You wanna come?” he whispered to her.

Karla did let him go down on her, eager to take what she could get and forget the loneliness she felt. And she came hard, screaming his name. Afterward, she fell asleep exhausted and content. When she woke up a few hours later, Ray was gone.

                                           ***

Paolo’s phone rang as he was entering the hotel. Adalberto, his bodyguard assigned to Karisma, was calling. “Adalberto, what is it?”

“Boss, Maria Elena just left Miss Montgomery’s room. I followed her onto the elevator and she told me the two of them had argued. She and her mother have a room in the hotel, too.”

“What the fuck? How’s Karisma?” he asked, pissed off and concerned.

“She’s fine, boss, it wasn’t physical. She wouldn’t open the door for me, but she said she’s okay. Evidently her assistant was with her during their meeting.”

“That fucking bitch! How was she able to get near Karisma? There are more than a dozen people on shifts guarding that floor!”

“She sent a messenger up and Miss Montgomery agreed to see her.”

“What the fuck did they talk about?” Paolo demanded. He stood still in the lobby, trying to keep his voice controlled, but he was so damned mad he wanted to punch something.

“I’m not sure, boss.”

“Well, I’m here now and I’ll find out.” He hung up and with three enforcers in tow, Paolo walked briskly toward the elevator, garnering attention as he moved through the lobby. His serious look, combined with the white linen button down shirt and black jeans with black Italian loafers was a hot look, very sexy and appealing to any woman with a pulse. In his hand he held a small duffle.

Paolo couldn’t get to the Goldust floor quickly enough. The elevator doors opened and he walked out, followed by his three men looming behind him. There was a man in the hallway and he froze, seeing Raymond Bryant, accompanied by two of his associates. The two stared at each other and didn’t back down from going face to face.

Stopping in front of Ray, Paolo’s lip curled into a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ray,” he said, watching the other man carefully as he stood before him. 

Ray nodded at him. “Paolo Montovani! What’s up man? You here for a booty call, too?” Ray and his friend started laughing, slapping hands at their lewd joke.

“Is that why you’re here?” Paolo asked, no smile on his face any longer.

Ray reached down and grabbed his crotch, adjusting his package. “Yeah, boy. It was good man. I had forgotten how good. But she’s a little too clingy. I forgot about that shit, too. That’s why I hit it and left.”

Paolo stepped into Ray’s personal space. Ray’s boys moved forward, too, but so did Paolo’s enforcers. “Am I supposed to guess who 
she
 is, Ray?” Paolo asked, narrowing his jeweled eyes on him.

A wide grin spread across Ray’s face. “You ain’t gotta guess. Kay. The beautiful Miss Montgomery. My baby. I spanked that ass too…” He didn’t finish his sentence because Paolo dropped his bag and shoved Ray so hard that Ray’s back hit the wall with a crashing thud, knocking the wind out of him, and he slid to the floor.

Driven purely by adrenaline, Ray rushed Paolo, wrapping his hands around Paolo’s neck, only for Paolo to maneuver his own arms underneath Ray’s, pinning them in an awkward position. With cobra like reflexes, he quickly took Ray down, kicking his feet from under him and savagely body slamming him to the hard marble tile.

Paolo was on top of Ray now, straddling his abdomen, fists balled and ready to bash Ray’s face in with the force of a hurricane. His three equally vicious enforcers stood near Ray’s henchmen, shoving them back, daring them to get involved. The enforcer known as Ghost Boy, appropriately named because he could kill you in a second flat, showed his weapon, grinning wickedly at Ray’s associates.

Floor security was in a full sprint down the hallway, heading toward the elevators, ready to handle the volatile situation before it turned deadly. Adalberto was quickly at Paolo’s side. “Boss!” he called to Paolo, bringing him out of his murderous trance. 

“Where did this motherfucker come from, Adalberto?” Paolo growled, muscles tense, ready to strike a hard blow to Ray’s head.

“He was in Miss Montgomery’s sister’s room, boss,” Adalberto said.

Paolo stared malevolently at Ray a while longer, breathing heavily, testosterone filling the air, but eased up on him. For good measure, he slapped Ray upside the head, making a high-pitched crack that resonated in the hallway. “That’s for intentionally misleading me, motherfucker.” Still angry, he bared his teeth, grabbing Ray’s hoodie, while yanking him up and slamming him back down again.

“What’s going on here?” one of the security guards from the hotel asked. They looked ready to take action, not caring who the people were if they were disturbing the hotel.

Adalberto placed a restraining hand out to the guard, who assessed the situation and immediately understood the unspoken meaning. He backed down, prompting the others who had arrived with him to follow his lead.

“Fuck you, Montovani! I oughta kick your fuckin’ ass, ya fuckin’ busta! You just paid my fuckin’ lawsuit for me! It’s coming out of your pockets, ya punk ass bitch!” Ray yelled, unable to break free of the hold that Paolo’s men had on him.

Paolo, still breathing hard, pointed at him. “You just make sure you stay away from Karisma, you got that?” One of Paolo’s men retrieved his duffle bag from the floor.

“Fuck you!” Ray roared again.

“Fuck you too, asshole,” Paolo said, dismissing him and walking away with his men behind him.

“This ain’t over, Montovani! This ain’t over, man!” Ray yelled after Paolo, who ignored him and kept walking.

Paolo was on to the next thing—Karisma and why the hell she’d agreed to meet with Maria Elena. At the door to her room, he looked to one of his men. “Open it.” The cagey enforcer pulled out something plastic, but it wasn’t Karisma’s room key. It did, however, open the door and Paolo walked in alone and shut the door, looking around the living room before he made his way to where Karisma lay sleeping.

                                                       ***                           

Karisma’s eyes opened with the feeling that she was being watched. She was afraid to move, thoughts of the invasion back at her home flooding her mind, and she began to shake. Her breathing became more rapid and she thought that her heart would pound out of her chest.
Please God, help and protect me,
she prayed.

Gulping, she forced herself to peek out of the covers, pretending she was rolling over in her sleep. She looked straight ahead, spying an unopened bottle of wine on the nightstand. Her breath caught.
Where had that come from
? Then she saw the outline of a broad shouldered figure sitting in the chair next to the bed. His eyes locked with hers and she felt an unequivocal sense of relief, which soon turned to unequivocal anger. She sat up straight. “What the hell is wrong with you? You scared me half to death! How did you get in here?” She pulled the covers up over her protectively, still shaking from fear.

Paolo half smiled, but didn’t move. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful,” he said softly, apologetically. Now he got up and moved over to her on the bed, sitting on the side. He took her wrists gently and began to kiss her hands. She watched him as he moved closer, kissing her tenderly and passionately. He kissed her eyes. He placed an open mouth kiss on her cheek that she instantly responded to with heated intensity. Rubbing his whiskers on her cheek, her hand automatically went to caress his face. He stared into her eyes. “Hey baby,” he whispered.

“Hey baby,” she whispered back, breathlessly. 

Karisma felt excitement surge through her as Paolo pulled the covers down to get a better look at her in the dark. She lay back on the pillow, stroking his chiseled jaw line while he traced his index finger from her cleavage to her belly button, playing with the diamond in her navel sensually, and then continuing down to her clit, rubbing it through her lacey panties. Her hips rose from the mattress and a sweet, sexy mewl escaped her throat.