The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I don’t bring two bouquets anymore, and I don’t ask for extra baby’s breath either. I removed the old flowers and replaced them with the new bunch. Her name was visible, and that’s okay because it allows the world to know Christine Petra was a part of it, that she was here just for a short time but enough time to leave a mark.

  She left a mark on me and will always have a spot in my heart.

  “Hey babe,” I started, crouching down in front of the headstone and traced my thumb over her name. “So it’s not Saturday, but I thought we’d switch it up a bit,” I explained. “I’ve got something kind of big going down tonight and I couldn’t help but think about the first time I did what I’m about to do.”

  I grinned, recalling the memory I used to hate revisiting.

  “I was so goddamn nervous with you,” I confessed. “Maybe because we were so young and I had no fucking idea what I was doing, what I was asking of you and what I was promising to be myself. I had no clue what it took to make it work or how hard it sometimes could be, I thought it was the next step for us and so it seemed right. I’m glad I did. I’m glad you said yes and let me put that ring on your finger. It was good, Chris, we were good for a while and when I think of you, I think of the good. No more bad memories, not anymore. Now, when I think of you I don’t think about the last time I saw you but of all the times before, when you were full of life…the times when you smiled. Your smile was the mark you left on this world and that’s how you should be remembered. So, that’s what I’m going to remember…your smile.”

  I stood tall, pressed my finger tips to my lips and touched the top of her stone.

  “Check in from time to time, stay with me, I’ll make you proud and maybe I’ll even make you smile from time to time.”

  I dropped my hand and shoved both of them into my pockets as I stared down at her name one final time.

  “Rest easy, girl.” I whispered before turning around and heading back to my bike.

  One more stop.

  And then it was game time.

  Time to go all in and throw out the wild card.

  I made my way to the Dog Pound and spotted Jack leaning against his Harley smoking a cigarette. I pulled up next to him and killed my engine before I turned and met his stare.

  “You’re late,” he grunted.

  “No, I’m not,” I argued, throwing my leg over my bike.

  “Well, what the hell is the big emergency?” he growled, flicking his cigarette into the street.

  “And here I thought you’d be happy to see my face,” I quipped.

  I reached into my pocket, pulled out a box and dropped it from one hand into another, repeating the move over and over as I tried to figure out what the fuck to say to the man who was my brother.

  I’m not going to lie and tell you things aren’t different between me and Jack. I’m no long his friend, his vice president and his partner. I’m the man he trusts with his daughter, not just her safety, not just her life, but her heart.

  It took some getting used to.

  There were lines drawn in the sand.

  But in the end, Jack knew I loved Lacey more than anything.

  He respected that.

  And he took a step back.

  Now it was my turn to show him the respect.

  “Whatcha got there, Black?” he questioned, blowing out a deep breath as he stared at the tiny box in my hand.

  I lifted my eyes to his as I extended my hand and offered him the box.

  “Shit,” he muttered, taking the box from my hands and lifted his eyes back to mine. “Is this what I think it is?”

  I nodded as I crossed my arms against my chest.

  “Open it,” I urged.

  He glanced down at the box in his hands and hesitated a moment before he snapped it open and drew in a deep breath.

  “I love her, Jack but you already know that. I want to marry her. I want to give her my name but I won’t do that without your blessing.”

  I watched as he closed the box and looked back at me.

  “There isn’t a goddamn thing on this earth I wouldn’t do for her. I’ll take good care of her. I’ll give her whatever she wants and I’ll make sure she— “

  “Shut up,” he interrupted, handing me back the box. “You don’t have to plead your case to me, Black.”

  He ran his hand over his head.

  “At least you’ll make an honest woman out of her,” he grunted, reminding me how much it burned his ass that Lacey moved in with me as soon as I got released from prison.

  He sighed, reached out and grabbed my shoulder.

  “Real happy for you, Black. It took me a while to get over that it’s Lacey that makes you happy,” he admitted. “You’ll understand one day, when you have kids of your own. They get under you man, they make your heart so big and so full you don’t know how you ever lived without them.” He swallowed, took a second and then continued.

  “You got my blessing.”

  “I was going to do it with or without it,” I joked.

  “I hope you have ten daughters,” he spat.

  “I hope so too,” I said, grinning as I pocketed the ring and stared back at him.

  “See you on the other side, brother,” he rasped, leaning back against his bike. “Go on, go get your girl.”

  I nodded as I straddled my bike and gripped the handlebars.

  Time to draw that final card.

  Time to start write chapter.

  Girl, I’m coming for you.

  Bonus Epilogue

  I graduated college one year to the date with a degree in social work. When I first started college, I was like every other ordinary freshman, having no idea what I wanted to do and no major. College was just one big party and the thing you did to make your parents proud.

  Then life happened.

  Blackie happened.

  Someone who had been in my life for so many years became my life. Our perfectly imperfect love started with two people chasing away the demons that dragged the other down.

  For me it was my mind.

  For him it was his addictions and his grief.

  I was just a girl with a crush who fell in love with the bad boy and waited for him to open his eyes and see me standing before him.

  He was just a man who had given up on himself, a man who resolved never to smile and enjoy life, a man who didn’t think he was worthy.

  He opened his eyes and looked right through me, down to the depths of my soul. I don’t know who realized first, if it was him or me, that discovered we each held the other half of one another’s soul.

  We’re not perfect.

  Far from it.

  And our struggles didn’t just disappear because we fell in love. I’ll always be bi-polar and he’ll always be a recovering addict. Our battles are different yet the same both result in extreme highs and desperate lows but we’re stronger than the things that try to bring us down.

  Together, my maker and his addictions don’t stand a chance.

  I see him smile and I can face the world, my mind is just another hurdle I can conquer and the best part of that is knowing I do the same for him. That smile is all the inspiration I need to be a survivor of mental illness and mine is all he needs to be a survivor of substance abuse.

  I glanced around the room of people and smiled at them, hoping they found the smile in the world that saved them.

  “Who wants to begin today?” I asked the group.

  “I’d like to,” said a familiar voice, startling me and forcing me to turn my head to the door and the man standing there smiling at me.

  My savior.

  My Leather.

  I am a social worker and I work for the Woman’s Health Center as well as Addiction Angel, a local Staten Island organization that helps addicts get into a rehabilitation program suited for them. I also volunteer one night a week at the Y.M.C.A. and run the Narcotics Anonymous group.

  Blackie has attended my meetings and has spoken about his struggles as an addict
, inspiring the people I work with on a daily basis.

  However, I wasn’t expecting him tonight. In fact, when I left the house he kissed me goodbye and told me he was going to the clubhouse.

  He walked toward the circle of people, pulled out an empty chair but didn’t sit down as he kept his eyes pinned to me.

  “My name is Dominic Petra, or Blackie to some,” he said, winking at me. “And I’m a recovering addict.” He glanced around the room, looking at all the faces and recognizing the torment reflected in their eyes. “I have been sober and clean for thirty-eight months.”

  A round of applause erupted from the circle as he turned his attention back to me.

  “Thank you,” he said, as he pointed to me. “But I wouldn’t have been able to kick my habits and stay clean if it wasn’t for this woman right here.”

  I smiled at him.

  “That, right there,” he whispered, shaking his head slightly as he continued to stare at me but speak to the room of people looking at him, wishing for a sliver of hope.

  “That smile,” he continued. “It’s my why, my purpose and my hope. It’s that smile that reminds me I’ve got a whole lot of life left inside of me. I don’t need drugs to numb me I’ve got something that makes me feel the good stuff I forgot existed, like love, like joy and instead of dreading the future I learned to reach for it.”

  He took another step closer.

  Then another.

  He stood before me.

  “Why would I ever want to be numb again when I’ve got someone who makes me feel like I’m on top of the world?”

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat as fresh tears filled my eyes.

  “Why would I send myself to hell when I have an angel who brings me to heaven?” he whispered.

  Then I watched in shock as he dropped onto one knee in the middle of the circle, his lips quirked as he reached into his leather jacket.

  “Why would I ever want anything other than her?”

  He pulled out a tiny black velvet box and flipped the lid open.

  “I wouldn’t,” he answered his own question. “I don’t want anything other than you, girl. You brought me back to life, gave me a second chance, one I didn’t think I deserved, but you insisted I did. Thank you for that. Thank you for being the angel who rescued me and showed me how to smile again. You’ve given me so much but there’s one more thing I’m going to ask of you…marry me, Lace, give me forever, let me be the one who shows you the good and the beautiful… let me give you my leather and take from you your lace.”

  When you find yourself at the end of your story and you think there is nothing left, I hope you’ll think of me and Blackie and realize there’s always a chance for a rewrite.

  Remember to smile.

  Remember society doesn’t get to label you.

  Remember life is good even when it’s bad.

  Remember you are stronger than you know.

  Remember me.

  Remember him.

  Remember Leather and Lace.

  And know that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and your temptations are only lethal if you let them be.

  “Of course I’ll marry you,” I whispered. “There isn’t a single thing in this world I’ve ever wanted more than to be your queen.”

  Remember to play your cards until the end.

  © Copyright All Rights Reserved

  Eternal Temptations

  By

  Janine Infante Bosco

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  ISBN-13: 978-1537053677

  ISBN-10: 1537053671

  Published by Janine Infante Bosco

  Edited/formatted by: Jennifer Bosco

  Copy Editor: Trish Bacher Editor in Heels

  Cover Design: Hang Le

  Front Cover Image by: Sara Eirew

  Front Cover Models: Nick Bennett & Pamela Tremblay

  Back Cover Photo: Debra Infante & Joseph Infante

  Photo Credit: Their daughter who stole the photo from their mantel.

  Chapter One

  Everyone loved him.

  The way he walked.

  The way he talked.

  The clothes he wore.

  The smile he adorned when he was victoriously acquitted time after time—crime after crime. In the public eye he was cocky, arrogant, a man confident in his ability to beat the odds. To me he was just the man I fell in love with when I was sixteen years old.

  Victor Pastore was more than what society thought he was. He was more than a criminal, not just a notorious gangster conquering the streets of New York, he was my first love.

  And my last.

  I lost my love somewhere along the journey. He became the kingpin and the Vic I knew, the man with a big heart and bigger values, that man died. If I had to put a time stamp on when it happened, I’d say it was right after Michael Valente was murdered. Michael was my husband’s underboss and he and his wife, Maryann, were our best friends. Michael, or Val to most, stepped into the line of fire when a rival organization tried to take down Victor. Val sacrificed his life for Vic’s and my husband could never make peace with that. His mission in life no longer was to keep rising but to seek revenge for the blood of his brother.

  Everything else faded including me and our two girls. He severed his relationship with our eldest daughter, Adrianna, by sending her boyfriend, Anthony, who was also his enforcer, to jail. He planned to have Anthony avenge Val’s death in prison but the man he thought was responsible, someone they called the G-Man, was transferred. At the time Vic’s connections didn’t run that deep. Anthony spent three years in jail for a crime he didn’t commit and never got the chance to commit the one Vic sent him to do.

  He barely paid any mind to our youngest, Nicole, and I started to think of that as a blessing in disguise. Nikki pushed forward with no validation from her father, made a life for herself without Victor hovering over her. I reasoned that since he didn’t have a hand in her happiness then he couldn’t rip it away like he did with her sister.

  I tried to make sense of Victor’s actions, especially after we found out that Adrianna was pregnant but there was no talking to him. That’s when I mourned the man I loved and realized I was married to a stranger.

  Adrianna and Anthony lost that baby and each other.

  Victor lost his daughter.

  And me? I watched the foundation of our marriage crumble.

  It’s grueling to watch your child suffer, knowing your husband ultimately caused every bit of her pain. Adrianna not only suffered a miscarriage but the heartbreak of losing Anthony. She wound up meeting someone, and though her heart was elsewhere she found solace in the attention Vinny provided. A part of me thinks if Victor would’ve stepped up, Adrianna wouldn’t have been looking for someone to pay her attention and lick her wounds. But then I wouldn’t have my beautiful grandson Luca, I’m a firm believer that life works in mysterious ways.

  For a brief pause after Luca’s birth my Victor came back to us. He took one look at that little boy and his heart grew ten times in size. Luca became Victor’s chance at redemption and I even started to think he’d be able to repair his relationship with Adrianna. A baby is one of life’s most beautiful blessings and Luca’s birth was just what our family needed to mend.

  I’ll never forget finding Victor in the corridor of the hospital, staring at Anthony as he watched Luca through the window of the nursery. I looked into my husband’s eyes and saw regret, something he never expressed in all our years together.

  Anthony was there when Adrianna went into labor and he never left her side. He watched that boy take his first breath and when we arrived at the hospital we found him in the
hallway looking at the boy, wishing he was his. He may not have been Luca’s biological father but God made him his dad.

  Things started to look up for our family; Victor was around more, spending quality time with the girls and Luca. He was still on the rise, his empire grew both financially and in power making him the ultimate mob boss and his organization trumped all others.

  I foolishly believed he put his quest for revenge behind him.

  Like everyone else I believed he was invincible, his empire indestructible. Victor Pastore would reign over the streets he loved forever and I’d be the woman standing in his shadow, perfectly content with him having his glory, knowing he wasn’t the type of man you held back. I watched Victor soar to the top and knew my place was to be the one who grounded him when he needed the reminder that beneath the Teflon he was a husband, a father and now a grandfather.

  Then the call came that Val’s wife had tragically died in a car accident, leaving their son, Michael, the sole survivor of their family. Vic harbored guilt that he didn’t step up and take care of Mike and Maryann after Val died and so he thought he could make up for that by bringing Val’s son into the fold.

  Victor was opening a new night club called Temptations and his plan was to give Mike a legit opportunity to make something of himself. He wanted to bring him back home, have Michael manage Temptations and hoped to fix another broken relationship. I commended him for trying to do the right thing, even if it took him a while to figure out what that was.

  My husband was repairing the relationships he severed bringing hope back to our family.

  Life was good.

  But it usually is before it turns bad.

  The night Temptations opened began the descent of a mob boss. We learned the hard way that even the most powerful men sometimes get knocked off their throne.

  I don’t know if I was too naïve or simply immune to the life we dangerously lived but I never saw the disaster that was heading straight for us—the end of Victor Pastore.