Dipping Into Sin 2: Digging Deeper Into Sin Read online

  “On the first page,” he said as he took the thick envelope from my hand and placed it in his briefcase before closing it. He rose up from his seat and walked towards the door.

  “Lucas,” I called out to him as I leaned back into my chair. “…No duplicates,” I ordered.

  “Never,” Lucas said with his back facing me before walking out of the door.

  Opening the front flap of the file, I came across the most recent picture of Simone. It is from her driver’s license for the State of North Carolina. Reaching for the folder again, I immediately drew my hand back as if it was blazing hot to the touch. As much as I wanted to read about everything that she had done within the last five years, I couldn’t stand the thought of learning about her moving on, especially after us.

  Pressing the intercom button, I called Kevin, my assistant, to come back into the room.

  “Yes, Mr. Balducci?” asked Kevin, as he attentively stood before me with his pen and pad.

  “Get me on the next flight to North Carolina.”

  ~****~

  Andriano

  Alpine, New Jersey

  “Will you be back in time for Allison and David’s engagement party?” asked Josephine as she lay drearily across the white leather upholstered bench that was mounted at the foot of the bed.

  This was among the handful of times that we’ve shared more than five words with each other while being in the same room. Don’t get me wrong…I tried to be cordial with Josephine during the course of our five years of marriage. After all, I almost fucked up our arrangement by being with Simone. Still, we couldn’t deny that our feelings for each other were any less fictive than a prostitute actually enjoying sex…at least it was for me.

  Ignoring her question, I walked into the walk-in closet and pulled out my Louis Vuitton Pégase 55 Business traveling luggage set. Staring at my assortment of clothes, the unsettling realization gnawed at me. I have not been this anxious since I told Simone that I loved her. I couldn’t contain the eruption of emotions that bounced around the walls of my heart.

  “Are you sure that you really want to leave?” she asked as she blocked the doorway before her petite silhouette walked daringly towards me. With her slow, precise fingers trailing upward, she hooked each of her thumbs on the thin strap of her ivory silk camisole. Pulling her silk nightie down, her small pink pastel colored nipples perked like a blooming rose, as if begging to be touched. As sultry as she appeared, my shaft remained soft at her ineffectual attempt at being alluring.

  “Trust me, I’ve never been more sure,” I said. She looked at me confused, as she tried to decipher the statement that I just told her.

  “So let me give you a reason to always come back home,” she said as she walked seductively towards me. Pitiful.

  Hovering her hand over my softness, Josephine’s blue eyes widened abruptly, as she discovered how benumbed I truly was. Still motivated, she wrapped her arms around my neck and stood on her tippy toes. Dropping light kisses around my ear, she must have sensed the annoyance etched all over my face because she stopped, almost as quickly as, she began.

  “We have not been intimate in a while,” Josephine said, as she wretchedly took a step back from me.

  And we’re not going to be, I almost said out loud, as my eyes bored into her. Clearing my throat loudly, I stated firmly, “Put your clothes on.”

  Chapter Two

  Simone

  Charlotte, North Carolina

  “Hey Grandma,” I said as I walked through the doors. I ended up spending one more day in New Jersey before I took the hour and twenty-minute flight back to Charlotte.

  Leaving Victoria behind, filled with despair and vengeance, plagued my heart. But, I couldn’t afford to take any more time off from work, and I couldn’t be apart from my daughters any longer. The death of her father sent her into a manic rage, and she broke down the night before I left. She needed that moment to cry, vent, curse, and punch something—anything, in order to empty the emotions that she held inside.

  The following day, after the wake, Victoria, her father’s lawyer, and I carried out Donald Spillmore’s final wishes. He wanted a small ceremony with just his immediate family in attendance, during his cremation. My heart ached, as I knew that Kate Spillmore would live to regret not saying her final goodbye to her husband of 34 years. She remained in a medical facility while being under the care of their family physician.

  Thomas Bernstein, Donald Spillmore’s lawyer, presented Victoria with a medium sized classic bronze keepsake urn with Donald Spillmore’s name engraved. The older man appeared to be struggling with the death of Donald Spillmore as his pale skin contrasted against the darkness that encircled his eyes. His hands shook as he handed the urn to Victoria. Although Victoria found it strange that her father changed his state of affairs six months before he died, I tried to convince her that it was simply coincidental.

  After the ceremony was over, we visited Kate and tried to show her the urn. Her glossy eyes remained glued to the ceiling, unresponsive as if we weren’t even there. Victoria tried to remain strong throughout this whole ordeal, but she was starting to break down.

  “How were Victoria and her mother holding up?” Grandma asked, breaking me out of my deep thought.

  “Victoria is still trying to remain strong for her mother. But, it is starting to get to her.”

  The mixture of the fresh-from-scratch fluffy buttermilk pancakes, homemade hash browns, sausage links, and freshly squeezed orange juice filled the air. Peeping over her shoulder, I caught a mere glimpse of the animated pancake shapes that Grandma made for the girls. Pretty soon, Acelia is going to get up and make her way down here with her sisters following suit. Too late...

  “Mommy!” screamed Acelia as she ran towards me, wearing her pink one-piece cotton footie pajama. Her little arms stretched, as she attempted to wrap them around my thighs. Reaching down, I held her close before I picked her up and rubbed my nose against her nose in a circular motion.

  Putting her down, Acelia ran to Grandma and hugged her from behind before saying, “Good morning, Nana.”

  Turning around, Grandma leaned forward to level with Acelia before tapping on her left cheek with her index finger. Acelia giggled as she gave Grandma a big kiss.

  “I just need two more kisses from the other princesses,” Grandma said to a smiling Acelia. As if on cue, Jasmine and Olivia ran into the kitchen the moment they saw me.

  “Mommy…Mommy!” They each squealed joyously in discorded harmony as they clinched tightly on each of my thighs.

  Jasmine gave me a smile and in that moment I saw Andriano. Jasmine and Acelia, my identical twins, resembled their father from his piercing light grey eyes to his olive complexion. The only distinction between them and Andriano was their long wavy dirty blond hair. Olivia had more of my features, with the exception of her vivid green eyes and lighter complexion. One thing for sure, none of my daughters could escape their father’s slight widow’s peak hairline.

  Each time that I caught myself reliving the hurt from Andriano, I would look at God’s most precious gifts He bestowed upon me. Instantly, all of the hurt and pain dissipated from within me. Leaning forward, I nuzzled my nose into each of their hair and caressed their soft strands gently. After a moment, they each let go of my thighs and kissed Grandma.

  “Now I feel complete,” Grandma said cheerfully as both of her arms stretched into the air as if she was praising God.

  “Girls, you remember what Mommy said before you eat breakfast, right? Make sure you do what?” I asked all three of them as they each held a plastic plate in their hands. Ironically, each plate matched their one piece footie pajama set.

  “Brush my teeth!” they each shouted their answers in mix-matched unison.

  Chapter Three

  Andriano

  Walking out of the Charlotte Douglas International Airport, my primary focus was on accomplishing my mission to get back my woman. After placing the last bag into the taxi, I instructed the driv
er to take me to the hotel. Once settled inside of the taxi, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Scrolling down the short list in my phonebook, I stopped at Nicolai.

  Nicolai and I became business partners and co-owned businesses. When I became the Don, Nicolai became my consigliere, while my Uncle, Salvatore, was promoted to be a member of the commission. There were people within my family who did not necessarily agree with my rearrangements, but I did not give a fuck.

  Battista, my Uncle Ciro’s bastard son, was appointed as my underboss. That move blindsided everyone who thought that they were going to fulfill that position. But, no one understood just how close Battista and I became over the years. No one in my family had acknowledged him, mainly because he was half Polish. Ciro had stepped out on his wife and impregnated this young Polish-Italian maid that worked at my nonna’s (grandmother’s) house. Ciro immediately abandoned the maid the moment he learned of her pregnancy. Even after learning that he had a son who resembled him, my Uncle Ciro refused to acknowledge Battista. Everyone in my family had rejected Battista except for my nonna (grandmother).

  When I went back to Italy ten years ago, we met each other for the first time. He was a couple of years younger than me, but his appearance revealed that he experienced hardship throughout his life. He was a walking version of my Uncle with the same piercing grey eyes that trademarked us. He had the last name of his mother’s family because Ciro refused to acknowledge his half-breed son.

  It was no secret that Ciro thought that his only son was not going to be able to be even an associate in our family because he was not 100% Italian. The first time that I saw him, after becoming a ‘made man’, I couldn’t get past the stark resemblance between him and Ciro. His hardened face remained apprehensive, as if unsure of how to address me. Being young and having a hot temper was a recipe for disaster as I allowed my little bit of acquired power to control my actions. With this outlandish behavior, I drew more attention to myself as I started to get into more fights with guys in the neighborhood. One time in particular, a group of guys from the neighborhood had plotted to take me out. After catching wind of the plot from a girl that I was fucking in the neighborhood, I decided to take out the ringleader, Carmine, before they hit first.

  As I finalized the details, I slept easy knowing that I was going to take out the motherfucker the next day. Driven by my last name, I led a life without any boundaries back then. I could’ve called my father, but he raised me to be my own man. My father was all about proving your manhood, and somehow I was conditioned into believing that. Hell, I still do.

  When I woke up the next morning, Battista was standing in front of my door with a box in his hand. He didn’t say anything; rather, he shoved the box into my hand. Walking away, I went back to my bed and sat down. Flipping the lid of the box, my eyes widened when I saw a pair of large, brawny hands in the box. The fingers remained in a cringed form.

  Looking up at Battista, who stood at my door, I asked, “Whose hands are these?”

  “Your problem is solved,” he simply said before turning to walk away.

  From that moment on, I vowed to always take care of Battista. Even though my father and Uncles continued to shit on his very existence, I continued to watch out for him. Though, I was not the Don yet, I set up shop for him to make real money while in Italy. I naively thought that eventually Ciro would see the prospects that his son had to offer. But, he continued to publicly denounce him. This only encouraged Battista to go harder to build a name for himself. He had a reputation in Italy as being heartless.

  Once I became the Don, I made sure that Battista moved up the ranks before everyone by making him a Capo. Battista was stationed in Italy where he would move behind the scenes to find out what was going on. Because his last name was not Balducci, it was easy for him to network through people and keep me posted.

  With Nicolai as my right hand and Battista as my enforcer, we took the Balducci family to another level. Everyone walked away with more money and crime had become untraceable. Even when Donald Spillmore, may the rat rest in peace, decided to compromise and work with lower ranked officers from the IRS and FBI, we still remained stronger than ever. Our informants, the FBI Director and the Commissioner of the IRS both dropped the dime on Donald Spillmore’s unsavory behavior. Soon after, Nicolai and I decided the rat, had to die.

  We shared the same vision—a vision to be lifelong billionaires and expand our empire to be at least 85% legitimate. At most, we both believed that the same tactics used to build La Cosa Nostra should still be practiced. Meaning, we will continue to kill and keep accurate counts of members on our payroll. Everyone was in on the gist, including the elected officials who were sworn into political positions.

  The joining of the Capparelli and the Balducci crime families only helped to uniform throughout the regions of Italy. From Milan to Sicily, my family marked its territory. Since the council had more Balducci family members, it was easy to sway even the representative of the Capparelli family to permit the hits.

  ~****~

  Nicolai

  I stared at her with great intensity, as she looked at the waitress baffled before she took her credit card back. From the moment she slid her slender body out of her jacket, my libido kicked into overdrive as my eyes trailed up her creamy caramel coated thighs that were slightly exposed by the split in her dress. Zooming in, the screen became magnified—filling each corner with her face. My eyes roamed in an upward trek from her slight pointed chin, to her bow shaped lips, to her round button nose. Stopping at her eyes…her eyes… Jesus Christ, she’s gorgeous, I thought, as I thoroughly examined her delicate features again. Her chestnut brown hair gloriously framed her face the moment she turned her body gracefully away from the surveillance camera. She had this elegance about her that demanded my attention. Who is she?

  Without thinking any further, I stood up and walked out of my office. Stopping short, I watched as she slid her sexy body into the booth next to another attractive woman.

  “Amber,” I called out to the nearest waitress while keeping my gaze fixed on her.

  “Yes, Mr. Balducci?”

  “Take our best bottle of wine over to booth 20A,” I requested as I continued to study this beauty, “…and make sure to tell them that all of their drinks are on the house.”

  “Yes, Mr. Balducci.”

  Turning back slightly away from her view, I stopped and said, “Oh, and a Amber…”

  “Yes, Mr. Balducci?” She asked intently.

  “Keep my identity anonymous.” Nodding her head, I watched as she prepared her tray with a bottle of Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand Cru red wine, and two glasses. She strolled over to their booth while I leaned against the bar and watched closely.

  Something about her caused me to abandon all of my rules, the moment I made the request to Amber. Though I did not necessarily regret it, a shear knot plummeted my stomach the moment Amber walked over to their booth. Clearly, sending her drinks was all part of my plan to further assault this particular beauty with my roaming eyes. But, I was not prepared for the entanglement parading my stomach the more I watched her. I wondered if she tastes as sweet as she looks, I thought while my eyes looked at her thighs. Her full and inviting lips stood out with the red lipstick she wore. Her eyes were the most captivating—large, dollish, and dark brown.

  Sucking in a breath, I leaned off of the bar and shook the hardness between my legs when she draped her long slender leg over her other leg with little to no effort. Although she’s tempting, she could easily become an unwarranted distraction. Taking one final glance back at this enticingly gorgeous woman, I ruefully walked back to my office and continued to admire her from afar. Sinking into my office chair, I pulled up the security screen and watched her take sips of her wine while her eyes roamed the interior of The Land.

  As I watched, I felt my phone vibrate.

  Of all the fucking times. Zooming out of the screen, I reluctantly answered my phone. “What’s up?”

  Andr
iano told me, “Nicolai, check the box.”

  I hung up, slid my phone into my pocket, and typed the five digit code against my desk drawer and pulled it open. Pressing my right hand against the security identification scanner, the keep safe box popped open with a click. After withdrawing the blank paper from the box, I reached for one of the pencils from my penholder before smoothing the surface of the paper. Lightly rubbing the pencil over the paper in a back and forth motion, the encrypted message revealed Andriano’s travel destination. What the hell is in Charlotte, North Carolina?

  Shredding the piece of paper, I looked back up at the four security screens. Where the hell did she go? Going through each section of The Land, I began my search for her. She’s gone. The heaving number of partygoers only proved my search to be futile, as I came to terms with her disappearance.

  Chapter Four

  Simone

  “Grandma, I’m going to work now,” I whispered as I walked past the living room to head out the front door. Mrs. Teller, the head nurse in my unit, asked if I could cover an overnight shift. I absolutely hated the overnight 12-hour shift, but I was grateful that I was able to get the time off to attend the funeral. Withdrawing my car key, my eyes became blinded by the bright beaming lights. Bringing my hand to my eyes, I attempted to adjust my vision to further inspect the parked car.

  This quiet residential neighborhood was occupied by the elderly, barely had any activity going on…especially at this time. Yet, this vehicle parked a house away from our home, looked suspicious. Pressing the button on the side of my cell phone, I looked down the time. The bright lights made it impossible to fully view the person who occupied the driver’s seat. It’s probably one of the Johnson’s teenagers coming back from a party, I thought as I dismissed the car. Balancing my duffle bag and cup of green tea with one hand, I pressed on the alarm button to unlock my doors. Once inside the car, I locked the doors, tossed my duffle bag on the passenger seat, and placed my tea in the cup holder. Looking back at our house, my eyes wavered up to the second floor where my daughters slept in their bedroom.