by LeCoeur, Ami
“The D.A.'s annual charity barbeque is in two weeks. You know Stephens will take the opportunity to push hard for votes to keep him in office as the D.A." Carmiante looked around the table. "And he's likely to be successful if we don’t set things in motion now.”
"Gentlemen." Naomi piped up. "Why are you so worried about the D.A.?"
The men looked at each other without saying a word.
"He's, um, making decisions that interf… make it difficult … for us … to … to do business," Walker offered.
She looked around, then leaned back, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, increasing her cleavage to ensure she had their attention. "Hmm…” she began, biting her lip. “I'd have thought a bunch of smart gentlemen like yourselves would know how to handle someone who doesn't want to cooperate." She turned toward me.
"Tony, you have plenty of connections, don't you, darlin'?"
I kept my mouth shut. I wanted to see how far she would push things on her own.
When I didn't respond, her face twisted and she turned back to the table. "Well, gentlemen, if you don't know how to take care of your little problem, I'm sure I can offer you some help." Her eyes narrowed as she tapped the stem of her glass with her nails. "For a fee, of course."
"You can help?" Walker snorted. "Who said we needed help?"
"That's enough, Walker," Carmiante cut him off. Walker glared in silence as Carmiante continued. "I think it's time to order dinner. Now."
"Fine with me," said Cartoli. "Then maybe we can finish up the business at hand."
“Yeah,” said Carmaiante, eyeing Naomi curiously. “And it might be worthwhile to hear what the little lady has to say.”
***
We moved through the meal quickly and relatively smoothly. I was grateful to sit back and just observe the others. The undercurrents were fascinating, but I wasn't sure how much information I would glean from this meeting, and I needed to keep my options open. For that, I did need to pay attention.
As expected, Naomi somehow managed to keep the small talk going, even after her declaration. She deftly turned the conversation around to herself several times, but always in a light-hearted way, even going so far as to use her cleavage at times to earn an almost appreciative forgiveness from the men.
I didn’t find her display particularly entertaining, but it kept the attention off me, and in some ways it played into my hands. I still hadn't shared much with her—there was time for that later, if necessary.
But there were so many other places I'd rather have been, and other people I'd rather have been with. I'm afraid I let my mind drift toward some of those more pleasant people and places… most specifically my sweet young associate.
Cartoli leaned forward. “And what do you think, Mancini?"
My eyes darted suddenly to his. "Does it matter?" I asked, stalling as I mentally sorted through the last several minutes of discussion that I'd been too distracted to pay attention to.
"That depends. What’s your plan, Mancini. You do have a backup plan, don't you?"
I watched him carefully, trying to determine if he was baiting me or legitimately asking for my ideas.
Walker banged a fist on the table, rattling the cutlery. “Dammit Mancini, why are you being so vague. Have you got some place better to be?”
Yes, actually I do. I realized I was toying with my Rolex and stopped myself.
“My apologies, gentlemen,” I said, pushing back my plate. “Still a bit jetlagged I suppose. Everything is ready on my end. We just need the go ahead from Jorge’s people.”
Jorge returned my nod. “The shipment is arriving tonight.”
"And you, Lorenzo?"
"I can get the ball rolling with a simple phone call."
I was suddenly very tired, and very much in need of air. “Good. Then you don’t need anything else from me,” I said, rising.
“But I'm not finished yet,” Naomi complained.
“Then by all means, stay,” I snapped. “I’m sure any one of these gentlemen would be happy to take care of you and see that you get home.”
Naomi looked up at me sharply. For once, I think she was actually speechless.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Mancini,” Cartoli said, getting up from the table. “You better not be backing down on this.”
Carmiante remained seated, but he had that cold, slimy look in his eyes. The one Angela had read the first time she’d laid eyes on him. “Mancini’s not backing down,” he said with cold confidence.
I eyed him darkly, holding back a sneer. “No,” I confirmed, “I’m not backing down. But I am leaving.” I turned to Naomi. “Are you coming?”
"Well, this has been an… interesting evening, I'm sure." She smiled at the men who had risen when she stood. "Don’t forget, gentlemen. I am on the Children's Academy Board with your dear friend the D.A. And I still have my own contacts. Just because Roger is gone, his family is still my family.” Her smile turned into something else… something calculating and raw. “And you know how important family is."
Chapter Fifteen
Thompson leaned against the limo, a welcome sight as I stepped outside. I was surprised at my relief in seeing someone I trusted, someone I knew I could count on.
“I want to apologize again for pulling you away on your day off, Thompson.”
“It’s all right, sir,” he replied with a nod. “Emily understands.”
I winced. Thompson was as loyal as they come, but taking him away from his daughter was unfair of me.
“I want you to let me make it up to you both, Thompson,” I said. He was about to wave me off, but Naomi walked up about then, interrupting us.
“Are you guys just going to stand here and shoot the breeze? Or are we going to get going?”
I could see Thompson holding back a scowl. He had never been fond of Naomi—and that was putting it lightly.
“I’ll get the door for you,” I said, reaching for the handle.
She stopped me. “Isn't that your driver’s job?” she asked icily.
Thompson lowered his head to hide another scowl. I saw his jaw tighten as he opened the door for her. I went around to the other side, catching his eye over the roof of the car.
Thompson would never question me. But his face, being the open book it was, expressed his emotions well enough.
***
Inside the limo, Naomi rolled up the privacy window and turned toward me.
“What’s wrong, Tony?” she cooed, walking her fingers up my chest. “You’ve been really out of sorts since you came back from the cruise. I knew I should have never let you go away without me…”
I looked away from her, slightly bemused by her behavior at dinner, but trying not to let my irritation get the best of me. I guess I knew her just a little too well.
"Did you miss me terribly?" she gave me her sweetest coy glance as she stroked my cheek.
Same old Naomi. I considered her face for a moment, seeing the icy edge underneath the beautiful mask. I still wasn't sure how much information I wanted to share with her, or even how far I could trust her, if at all. "It was certainly not the same without you," I told her honestly.
"Oooh. Darlin', you know that's what I want to hear. I'll bet you're just tense from being gone so long and being away from me." She slid her hand down my chest. My stomach muscles involuntarily tightened as she continued south.
With a small shock of surprise, I realized Naomi’s hands were deftly undoing my pants. She'd already loosened the belt by the time I understood what she was up to.
"No, Naomi. This isn't the place." My hand grasped hers gently but firmly.
"Pooh!" she narrowed her eyes. "I know what you like, and you've never complained before."
I looked at the woman beside me. She was insatiable when there was something she wanted. And she could be vicious if her fur was rubbed the wrong way.
"You didn't meet some little island honey on the trip, did you?" she asked me wickedly, licking her lips.
&nb
sp; I removed my hand from hers, for once not quite sure how to play this.
"Cuz, it wouldn't matter if you did, Sugar. You're mine." With that she unzipped my pants and pulled out my insubordinate dick. It seemed to have a mind of its own, standing rigidly at attention.
I closed my eyes, knowing that if I stopped her, I would likely screw up the whole deal. And there was too much at stake here. She was back in my confidence, so she thought, which to her meant she was back in my bed. I had to be careful not to do anything to imply I was no longer The Man she'd been involved with before Roger.
I knew it was a dangerous game I was playing, a razor-thin edge I was balanced on. We had too much history for me to feign ignorance. Even if all that was before—before I'd discovered what a gold digger she was. The cold, calculating, money-and-power-hungry vixen who would stoop to nothing as she clawed her way to the top.
I didn't dare let that loose. Not yet. So instead, I gave in to the moment. Maybe it was the coward's way out. Certainly I was her equal in most things, and I could have stopped her. But I wasn't willing to face the consequences, not when we were so close.
So, I gave in. I surrendered; forcing myself to forget who was on the other end of those long fingers pulling along my shaft, and those ravenous lips that were so eager to devour me.
And, in spite of the battle going on inside myself, my body was responding—even as I watched, as if from a distance. The lips on my cock, the slightest hint of teeth, nibbling gently, teasing me. The fingernails on my balls, pulling, gently pulling.
I moaned, closing my eyes involuntarily. But this time, I saw Angela's face. It was her smile, her lips surrounding my cock. It was Angela taking me deep into her mouth, sucking lightly as she drew me out again, stiffening my erection even more. Her tongue teased its way along the underside of my shaft, and her fingers began stroking me faster.
Now it was her turn to moan softly as I responded to her touch, her lips. She coaxed me closer and closer until the pressure was unbearable and I cried out with release. "Cara…" I whimpered, unable to stop myself.
Chapter Sixteen
ANGELA
I couldn’t sleep. I had paced around my little bedroom for the better part of an hour before giving up and heading for the kitchen to make some hot chocolate.
I sat at the kitchen table, sipping at the steaming liquid. Listening to the ticking clock and trying to think about anything but Antonio Mancini.
Everything had been so much simpler before he’d been thrust into our lives.
Before I’d found his name on the papers in Dad’s safe deposit box.
I set down the mug, remembering the startling but rather limited contents of that box. Then I remembered the photos the private detective had given us. The ones I’d asked Maria to pull out for me while I was away.
We'd put the photos with the rest of Dad's stuff from Casa Consuelo. The box was sitting right there in the living room where Maria had left it for me. I'd been so upset when I got home that I hadn't even thought about them until just this moment.
I took another sip of my cocoa and brought the cup with me into the living room. Sitting on the couch, I pulled the box toward me. I glanced over my shoulder down the hall. Luckily Maria had always been a deep sleeper. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but whatever it was, I wasn't prepared to talk to Maria about it just yet.
She had placed the envelope of photos at the top of the box, saving me from having to dig through everything. I picked it up and slid the photos out, spreading them on the coffee table, feeling rather like a fortune teller, looking for the secrets the cards held.
There were several pictures of Antonio and the mayor. Those were the images that had originally thrown up warning flags. The mayor was suspected of illegal dealings, but although nothing had ever been proven, that didn't relieve my worry. Besides, I was pretty sure it wasn’t the mayor I was looking for in these photos.
“Well, lookie here,” I said, picking up a photograph of Antonio talking to a man I recognized from the cruise ship. “Whiny Walker,” I acknowledged, looking into his now familiar face.
As I sifted through the other pictures. I recognized several more faces now, including some of the shuffleboard players. My time as Antonio’s associate had introduced me to a lot of high rollers in various industries, people who’d never have given me the time of day before I started working for The Man.
But other than Walker, who I knew was a scumbag, I didn’t have any idea what kind of business dealings the others might be involved in.
I sat back, staring at the photos, disappointment sinking into my shoulders. I was hoping for more than just the vague clues of now familiar faces, but realized I wasn’t going to find it here. My scan of the photographs left me just as uncertain about Antonio and his dealings as before.
But somehow I felt more connected because of the familiarity of the faces in the photos. I had no idea what any of this meant, especially what it meant to me, personally. If anything, it made me feel exhausted, worrying about what I'd heard onboard ship, and if I'd be able to extricate myself—and Maria—from this web of secrets.
But, exhausted or not, I still wasn't ready to go to sleep.
I leaned forward, picking up my cup. The hot chocolate was lukewarm, but I sipped at it absently, staring into the rest of the contents inside the box.
My eyes fell on the smallish, leather bound Bible. I put down the cup and picked it up. Memories of Sunday mornings, watching Mom sitting curled up on the couch, drinking tea and reading from this little Bible. She always seemed to take comfort from the quiet hour or so. Sometimes she would read us a story from the "good book" and we'd talk about what the story meant.
I opened the book, well-worn, with some passages highlighted. I skimmed through the book to the center. There I found a family tree, with branches filled in. Maria, Angela….
As I flipped through the pages, a small envelope fell onto my lap.
I thought we’d gone through everything in this box, but here was an envelope—a small, sealed envelope. Glancing once more down the hall, and wondering if I should wait until morning to share my find, I shook my head. Something told me to open it now. So, I grabbed the letter opener on the side table and carefully slit it down the top.
The paper I pulled out was folded in half, that old, discolored paper they used to use for copying. I noticed the imprint in the corner. This must be something official, I thought, wondering if we would have another wild goose chase on our hands.
The paper was, indeed, something official. It was a birth certificate. Maria’s birth certificate. But as I examined it, I realized that something was wrong.
My big sister Maria's last name wasn't listed as Tilson. It was shown as Fredricks—Mama's maiden name. And the father's section was blank. Well, except for one word: “Unknown.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Thanks for getting back to me, Mr. Conner,” I said into my cell phone as I walked toward my favorite lunch spot.
“Happy to help, Angelina,” Conner said, his deep voice booming through the speakers of my phone. I was glad he'd called me back so soon, but I knew by his tone that there was some hesitancy on his part. Maybe the news wasn’t exactly something I would want to hear. Well, he was an attorney, family friend or not. And like most attorneys, he tended to be reserved and proper.
“Are you sure you want to be digging into this?” he asked. Maybe he thought what I was doing was wrong.
“What have you found, Mr. Conner?”
My heart raced in my chest as I told my very creative imagination to shut up and listen. So far, I had kept my secret of finding the birth certificate from Maria. Until I found out what this was about, I didn't want her worrying or stressed.
We had grown up as sisters. Very close sisters in a close-knit family. And until the accident that took Mama's life, we'd had our own special little circle.
Finding the birth certificate had thrown open all kinds of imagining on my part. Had Mom and
Dad had a baby—Maria—before they were married? That would have been sooo frowned upon back then. No wonder they'd keep it secret.
But I couldn't help thinking there was another possibility. Maybe Dad wasn't her Dad. That's the one I couldn't let go of. The thought that Maria might have a different father had been quite a shock for me—one I really didn't want to think about. I couldn't begin to imagine what it might be like for Maria to find out—if it was true.
I mean, Dad had always been Dad. There was never a question. Not to us.
So, before I would be willing to even hint at a scandal or any irregularities, I wanted to be absolutely certain of the facts. Or as certain as I could be, given that Mama and Dad were now both gone.
“Well,” Conner said, drawing in a long breath, “first of all, the birth certificate is legitimate. Maria was, indeed, born before your parents were married. Your father legally adopted her after their marriage. She was about eighteen months old at that time."
"So, that doesn't make sense. We know how many years they were married, We would have noticed if it was after Maria was born."
"Angie, I'm sorry. Perhaps they lied to you to keep up appearances. I checked the court records, and they were married two months before the adoption."
I slowed my pace, my mind reeling. Mom and Dad lied to us? It wasn't unheard of for people to have sex and babies before marriage, but how did they keep this a secret from us? If that was true, then…
"I'm sorry, but I have to ask this. So, then, is our Dad Maria's father? Her real father? I mean, if he adopted her…” I couldn’t shut up the questions. “And, if he isn't her… her biological… father, then, who would be Maria's real father?” I asked finally.
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Then a cough. “Do you really want me to look into this?”
I stopped walking, causing the people behind me to grumble as they maneuvered around my still figure.
“Angie?” Conner prodded, after a minute had gone by.
