Dirty Secrets

by Drummond, Lonaire

  “Wrap yourself around me,” he said.

  She did what he asked, and they made love that way for several minutes, his manhood pushing and pulling past her secret spot. Her stomach turned flip-flops, her legs shook, her hips gyrated to the rhythm of his lovemaking. He rose up, gathered her up in his arms, momentarily unseating himself from her depths.

  Now in a semi-squatting position with his knees slightly elevated, Ambrogio slammed Adele down onto his turgid penis, the pathway leading to mutual orgasms changed course from around the corner to straight ahead after he shifted upward, change the angel of his stroke all together.

  Sated after one more round of sex, Ambrogio held Adele in his arms.

  “I missed you. I could not stop thinking about you when I left St. Lucia, but I felt you were better off without me.”

  “It’s true. I probably would have been better off leaving you alone. I don’t regret coming here, but I do regret getting Robynne involved.”

  “Sex is out of our system. We can focus on the Fleur-de-lys.” Ambrogio said.

  “I’m a terrible friend. Instead of looking for Robynne, I’m here, having sex with you. Why does being around you cloud my judgement?”

  “I feel the same way about you. Thinking becomes the last thing I want to do when I am around you.”

  “Our lack of focus might get Robynne killed,” Adele said.

  “I think with some planning, and with the help of some of my best guards, we can uncover the masterminds of this scheme, find Robynne, and manage to keep this out of the press.”

  Adele used her elbow to support as she stared down at Ambrogio. “I think we should do the exact opposite.”

  “Nothing you say will change my mind.” Ambrogio said.

  “Hear me out.”

  “Why do you insist on wasting your breath?”

  Adele ignored him. “The Fleur-de-lys move in shadows. They don’t want the spotlight shined on them. We should publicize the kidnapping and their threats against your family. We could portray them as the wackos they really are and get the public’s sympathy. My plan will flush them out. You could even offer a reward. It would just be a matter of time before someone will come forward with information.”

  “Absolutely no police or media involvement. We would never survive the scandal. No one will do business with us ever again. We handle this my way, under the least amount of scrutiny from the press or the police as possible. My contact can get us a few military trained men. They are special forces. This kind of thing is their speciality. Robynne will be safe and my family’s dignity will remain untarnished.”

  “Listen to me, Ambrogio.”

  “Your idea is impulsive and dangerous. There are too many factors to consider; too many ways it could go wrong. What if we upset them and they kill Robynne?”

  “They threatened to kill her anyway. At least with my plan, we would take an active role in bringing her back. She’s always saving me. It’s time for me to return the favor.” Adele said.

  “I won’t compromise everything my family has built for all of these centuries, so you can play the hero. We will do it my way. I need a few days to get a team together and devise a plan.”

  “Whatever you say, Ambrogio.”

  Chapter 35

  An argument with Ambrogio was fruitless, and Adele knew it. Once again she settled in his arms, laying against his chest for what seemed like hours until she heard his breaths even out, signaling his full ascent into sleep; her ideas about how to save Robynne serving as her only companion.

  Careful not to wake Ambrogio, Adele eased herself out the bed, inch by inch, until she was well out of his reach. Cesare’s journal lay open where she had thrown it in her haste to get into his pants. Quickly dressing in the dark, she looked to him for what she hoped wasn’t the last time.

  “I love you too. Please forgive me.” She whispered, exiting the room. In the hallway, she put her shoes on, checked to see if her clothes were on correctly, secured the journal under her arm and then jogged through the hallways. She hoped she was going in the right direction. After a few setbacks, she made her way towards the security office.

  Adele smooth down her sex-hair and approached a pencil-faced guard. “Buona notte, I need you to call me a taxi.”

  Her was voice saccharine sweet. All of the other guards milling around quickly took notice.

  “We can drive you wherever you need to go.” he said without meeting her eyes.

  “I don’t want to be a bother. I just need to get something, and I will be right back. Mr. Argentero never has to know,” Adele said.

  “This is Florence, not the states. You won’t find a Walmart here. Besides, I’m sure you can borrow some condoms from Luca. He has quite a collection. He even has glow in the dark condoms.” He said, sending the rest of the guards into a round of of laughter.

  “You’re very presumptuous. I wonder how Mr. Argentero would feel about you speaking to me in such a manner. Let’s wake him and find out, shall we?”

  The guard with the pushed-in face did as she asked. Adele, waiting outside, thought about how she would get past the guard posted in front of the hotel.

  The streets were practically empty with the exception of a man or couple hugged up here and there. That fact made her escape back to the hotel a very expeditious one. As expected, the guard was alarmed at her sudden appearance.

  “Mr. Argentero and I had a terrible fight. I came here to cool off for the night,” Adele said.

  “I must call him to confirm, Ms. Jaspers,” The guard said.

  “You can call if you like, but I doubt he wants to be disturbed. He’s in a really bad mood.”

  The guard considered what she said for a moment, then cleared the path leading to the hotel’s front door.

  “Could you tell your friend upstairs what I said? I’ve had a long night, and I don’t care to repeat myself.”

  Alone, Adele laid down with the journal hugged tightly against her chest. She knew in her heart what she was doing would bring Robynne home. If her friend’s safe returned occurred meant the demise of her budding relationship with Ambrogio, then so be it.

  A fitful night of sleep behind Adele, it was now time to accomplish her mission. She located the headquarters of Florence’s oldest and most renowned newspaper, La Nazione—her plan B—using Robynne’s laptop. After taking a cab to the police smack-dab in the city of Florence, she spared no time trying to find Giacoppo. Several policeman congregated outside, more still were roaming the halls when she entered the station. An officer standing behind a desk motioned her forward.

  “Una Americana! Good morning, May I help you?” The officer said, his thick accent obscuring some words.

  “Yes, where can I find Investigator Falconi?”

  “What do you want with him?” Another officer who had walked up to the desk asked, his English more refined. Adele didn’t have to perk up her ears when he spoke.

  “I need his help.” Adele said.

  “Vai rispondere al telefono,” he told the first officer who walked away.

  “It’s important. Life and death.” Adele grabbed onto the desk to keep her hands from shaking.

  “You were at La Borgata yesterday, if I recall correctly? Ambrogio’s girlfriend, no?” He was just in his early thirties, but the grey had already set up a home in his dark hair.

  “No. I mean yes.” Adele said.

  “Which is it?”

  “No, I’m not his girlfriend, and yes, I was at La Borgata yesterday.”

  “Lover’s quarrel? You seemed very familiar with each other yesterday. I could have sworn you two were….together?”

  “It’s none of your business. Can you direct me to Falconi or not?” Adele fidgeted from one foot to another.

  “Felicità is a kind woman, don’t you think?” The officer intertwined his fingers on the desk.

  “Yes, she is a very special woman,” Adele said.

  My wife was hit by a motorcycle while crossing the street. She was seven
months pregnant.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear about your wife’s accident, but I don’t know what you’re getting at,” Adele said.

  “Felicità saw the whole thing. She stayed with my wife until an ambulance came.”

  “She’s a compassionate woman,” Adele said.

  “I’m not done. She followed the ambulance to the hospital, stayed with my wife, provided for her care at a very advance facility until the baby was born—”

  “Sir.” Adele knew exactly where this was going.

  Not at all fazed by Adele’s interruption, the officer continued. “Unfortunately, my wife never regained consciousness, but my son is strong and healthy, thanks to the Argentero’s kindness.”

  “I understand what you’re trying to tell me.” Adele backed away from the desk.

  “I’m glad to be of service. Have a nice day. Go Lakers!” He said, sending her off.

  Chapter 36

  For plan B, armed with her instant press pass, Cesare’s journal, Adele procured another taxi and soon found herself at the newspaper’s door. The building didn’t strike her as particularly earth shattering. Other than a small directory in the lobby and the pungent odor of ink, there was no indication a newspaper existed on the premises.

  Her heartbeat echoed in her ears and her palms moistened. The level of worry increasing with every elevator ding. She wiped her hands down her khaki pants and stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor. The office was just as Adele had expected it to be. The U-shaped Cubicle’s lined up in two neat rows of six, feasting on it’s occupants, who for the most part, were busy tapping away at their keyboards. No one gave her as much as a cursory glance as she walked down the hallway. She looked for someone who seemed important, authoritative and bored.

  A keg-shaped candidate fitting the criteria soon came into view. The man sat at his desk with his hand against his chin, anchoring his head up. Thick hairs creeped up his arm, in fact, the only visible body part not significantly overgrown was his head. A head which was as round, red, and shiny as a Fuji apple.

  If Adele wasn’t certain she had found the right person before, the words “Editor” in Italian on a placard next to his door signaled she had hit the jackpot. After a few seconds of her lightly knuckling at his door, he cast an annoyed glance in her direction.

  “Cosa?” He said, looking behind her.

  “Mi Scusa, ho una storia potrebbe interessanti.” Adele said.

  She hoped he would be interested in her story. If not, she would have to go down her list of tabloids and newspapers until someone wanted to take on her story.

  He stood up, approaching her with caution. “Are you American?”

  “What gave it away?” Adele asked.

  “Your terrible accent.” His voice was like sandpaper, rough and prickly.

  Adele held up the diary. “I think you want to hear what I have to say.”

  He walked around her. “What I want to hear is how a interloper could pass by all you idiots without even a hint of detection. She could be a murderer, a communist or even worse, a feminist.”

  The office personnel barely raised an eyebrow in response to his tirade, the lack of reaction signified to Adele that he was prone to bouts of hysteria and general meanness during his day to day dealings with his staff.

  “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.” He was about to close the door in her face when Adele put her hand up to block it.

  “How about the inside scoop on the explosion at the La Borgota? I bet you don’t even know who died,” she said.

  He released the door long enough for her to duck inside his office. After shutting the door, he sat on his desk. The wood creaked in response.

  “What do you think you know?”

  Adele sat down on a hard chair and recounted the story. “The dead man was Cesare, the Argentero’s trusted family assistant. He had been working with a bunch of crazies called the Fluer-de-lys. They want to go back to the olden days, when Florence was a powerhouse.”

  “How will they go about accomplishing such a grandiose task.” He asked.

  “The first step in their plan is to have the Argentero’s rule Florence again. They were going to revive arranged marriages, so Luca and Ambrogio would marry women who fit their status with their families money and influence.”

  “Go on, you’ve peaked my interest.”

  “The only problem—Felicita, Ambrogio and Luca’s free will. They’ve killed and kidnapped people who’ve gotten in their way. My friend is one of their victims. She’s been kidnapped.”

  “Do you have anything to corroborate your story?” He said, eyeing the journal in Adele’s lap.

  “It’s all here in Cesare’s journal. I made copies. Naturally, I will hold on to the original.” Adele said.

  “Naturally, and may I ask who you are?”

  “My name is Adele. I am—was Ambrogio’s girlfriend.”

  Ambrogio’s handsome face flashed through Adele’s mind. The thought of him made her apprehensive, but she was steadfast in her belief that this was the only way to bring Robynne back safely.

  He extended his hand which Adele took, shaking it with the force of a category five earthquake. “My name is Cosimo. If you’re telling the truth, this could be the biggest news story of the year. If you’re lying, I will end you.”

  “End, as in kill?” Adele asked.

  Cosimo tried grabbing the copies out of Adele’s hand. “There is more than one way to skin a cat. I will string you up by your pretty little fingers in the press.”

  Adele moved farther away from Cosimo, rendering the papers out of reach. “What are you going to do with this information?”

  “Run it, of course.”

  “I want you to do more than run it. My friend’s life is at stake. I want you to hold a press conference. I think if we make a public spectacle out of the Fleur-de-lys, it will weaken them. They will no longer have the power of anonymity.”

  “So, you’re willing to air the Argentero’s dirty laundry in order to save your friend?”

  “Yes, I am. Will you help me?”

  He accepted the papers. “You are either very brave or very stupid.”

  “It’s probably a combination of both.”

  “I need proof of your relationship with Ambrogio. Do you have pictures of you two together?”

  “No, but the investigator, Giacoppo Falconi, saw me at La Borgata yesterday. But, you can’t let him know I have the journal just yet. He doesn’t know it exists; I stole it from Cesare’s room.”

  “I see.” He was barely listening to Adele now.

  He channelled his full energy on reading Cesare’s diary. After what seemed like ages, Cosimo assigned his best writer to the story. He made a few calls and brokered a news crew to meet him outside the building in an hour. This train was in full motion, and Adele couldn’t get off even if she wanted to.

  The next thing Adele knew, she was in front of a crowd of frothing journalists. On auto-pilot, she recounted everything she knew about the Fleur-de-lys, and what they wanted for Florence and the Argenteros. She told them about how Robynne and her came ended up in the middle of this mess.

  Lastly, Adele pleaded for the safe return of her friend, passing out several pictures she had photocopied of Robynne to the crowd. The size of the gathering had nearly tripled by the time she was through. The easy part over, she now had to field questions from the crush of people, their hands bobbing up and down in the air like percolating tea-kettles.

  “Did you, Ambrogio, and Cesare ever have a threesome?” One overzealous reporter asked.

  “Absolutely not.” Adele answered after having had the question translated.

  “Aren’t you afraid for your life?” A tall man shouted in a microphone.

  “I’m more afraid for my friend, Robynne,” Adele said.

  Model beautiful, a female reporter pushed her way through the crowd, getting Adele’s attention. “In your statement, you said Robynne had been gone for four days. What ma
de you wait so long to publicize her disappearance?”

  “We found a riddle at La Borgata containing possible clues or so we thought, unfortunately, it turned out to be a wild goose chase, set up to lore us away from the castle.”

  “I think you’re just a woman scorned, and this tall tale was manufactured for revenge.” This question was catapulted at Adele from the back of the crowd. Adele was unable to see the face of her prosecutor.

  “I assure you I am telling the truth. The proof is in the diary. My friend is in grave danger.” Adele said.

  “Was Ambrogio having a secret affair with Cesare? Is Ambrogio using you as a cover to hide his homosexuality?” Another reported asked.

  Cosimo pushed himself between Adele and the microphone. “Come now, Marco. Is that the only question you could come up with? You’re reporting still lacks a certain imagination and finesse. I don’t regret firing you. This inane question and answer session is over. If you want any more information, read the story. There will be a special edition of La Nazione out in few hours.”

  The reporters were in a frenzy, still spouting off questions which hung limply in the air unanswered. Adele turned to go back into the building when a familiar voice caught her attention.

  “Did I mean anything to you at all?” Ambrogio pushed his way through the riotous sea of people with the help of some guards.

  Adele made her way back to the microphone. “This isn’t about you. It’s about Robynne. I hope you’ll understand and forgive me.”

  “This will ruin us, and you are to blame. You should have trusted me to make this right. Now, not only is Robynne’s life in danger, but Felicita’s, Luca’s and mine as well.”

  “You have guards and money to protect you. Robynne doesn’t have any of it.”

  “You are wrong. She had every resource available to her because I loved you, and she was someone you loved.”