Corrupt Me

by Jillian Quinn

  As I reached my car, I gripped the handle to activate the automatic door locks on the BMW M Series Coupé Grandfather had bought me over the summer. It was dark blue with light-brown interior and every gadget imaginable.

  I heard a car pull up behind me, and the sound of a window rolling down was audible in the quiet garage. I glanced over my shoulder, about to get into my car, when I noticed an unmarked black Town Car.

  Agent Marx leaned out the tinted window, his gelled sandy-blond hair and fuck-you smirk greeting me. His face was clean-shaven, same as last time, but now, he donned a navy tailored suit, fitted to his thick frame. He looked more like a made man than a cop. I wondered if he was on the Marchese payroll. Federal agents made good money, but they didn’t make enough to afford an Armani suit or Cartier cuff links. Grandfather had several pairs just like his.

  I walked toward his car, an angry scowl on my lips. “Can I help you, Agent Marx? I have a company to run, and I don’t have time to play Let’s Make a Deal with you.”

  “I love this time of the year,” he said, sucking in a deep breath of cool air. “Don’t you? The city is decorated for the holidays, and everyone is in a rush to go shopping for their loved ones, too busy to notice what’s going on around them.”

  “Do you have a point?” I pushed my handbag strap over my shoulder and moved my hands to my hips. “Like I said, I have a company to run.”

  “I hear congratulations are in order.” He gave me a hint of a contemptuous smile, taunting me. “But I wouldn’t get too comfortable in your new position. Your grandfather only stepped down to take the spotlight off him, but I can assure you, we have enough information to take down your little empire.”

  I pivoted my foot toward my car, rage bubbling inside me, and I started walking away from him.

  “Not so fast, Miss Rinaldi. You haven’t opened my present yet.” Agent Marx’s deep voice echoed off the ceiling of the garage, sending a chill down my spine.

  “If that’s some sick joke, I don’t want any part of it.” I spun around and rolled my eyes at him. “You can unwrap your own present.” I was at my car, my fingers on the handle, when I decided to look at him once more and wave. “Have a nice day.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Agent Marx stepped out of his car and straightened his suit jacket. “I already have what I need. Get in the car, and I’ll show you, Miss Rinaldi. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Take your pick.”

  I debated leaving before deciding it was best to know what Agent Marx had on Luca and Grandfather. Once I was inside the car, Agent Marx removed a manila folder from the backseat and set it on my lap. I stuck my hand inside and pulled out a stack of photographs.

  I flipped through the photos. Men ranging in age from early twenties to late fifties were paired with scantily clad women. Prostitutes or strippers, I assumed. Hunter, Mark, and Luca were in one set with three women who’d draped themselves over their arms. They had shots of Luca and EJ, who I knew was one of Luca’s oldest friends and biggest losers, exchanging money. EJ had the appearance of a junkie—his dark hair shaggy and unkempt, his cheeks hollowed out, and his skin sallow. None of the pictures proved anything. To a jury, it would look like Luca was a drug dealer, not running an illegal gambling operation, which he’d promised me he would stop.

  I sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “These are the same pictures only in a different location.”

  “Look at the date stamp. They were taken last week in this garage.”

  I checked the date in the corner of the photos. It was the same night I had gone to the library with Silvia to study for my law final. Luca was supposed to be at a fraternity meeting that night.

  A maddening rage brewed inside me, and when I glanced up at Agent Marx in disbelief, he had his usual fuck-you smirk on his lips. He made me so angry that I threw the pictures in his face, allowing them to fall like a deck of cards.

  “I had a feeling that would change your mind,” he said in a hushed tone. “We already have a confidential informant working with us, but you would make an even better witness for a grand jury.”

  I sighed and sank back against the headrest. “What happens if I say no?”

  “Luca and your grandfather will rot in jail. And don’t think your grandfather stepping down has absolved your company of his sins. You’re CEO now, which makes you responsible for the actions of those who work for you.”

  “All you want is something tying Luca to illegal gambling, and this will all go away?”

  “Your grandfather is an old man. We can work something out with the SEC, but that depends on your participation.” He picked up the photos from his lap and at his feet and scanned them.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” I mumbled. “What do you want?”

  “The ledger for the Pennsport apartment building.”

  “Why on earth would you want that? You’re stalking me over accounting records you could easily find on your own? You know they’re public knowledge, right? As a tax-paying citizen, I shouldn’t have to tell you how to do your job, Agent Marx.”

  “Does it matter why I want it?” He snickered. “All that matters is that I do. Now, will you turn it over or not?”

  “I need time to think things through.” I had no intention of working with the FBI even though I was wondering if I should consider it.

  “Trust no one,” Grandfather had said to me when I was a child. “The man who shakes your hand will be the same man who stabs you in the back, if you don’t watch him.”

  Was that man Agent Marx or Luca?

  I had mixed feelings about the situation, unsure of how to proceed. Rinaldis were not snitches, but if some stupid ledger that contained nothing more than sloppy handwritten notes could solve all of our problems, then it had to be worth it.

  I pulled on the door handle, and before I stepped out of the car, I said, “Who’s your informant?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” He turned the key in the ignition to start the engine.

  “Do I know this person?”

  Looking up from the steering wheel, he nodded.

  I looked him in the eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “This time, Miss Rinaldi, you’d better deliver. We’ll be in touch.”

  After my meeting with Agent Marx, I went straight to the office, rode the elevator up to the fiftieth floor, and headed into Grandfather’s office without speaking to anyone. I had given Grandfather’s secretary, who now worked for me, the week off, so I could sort through the mess left behind for me to clean up.

  I wanted to hide the FBI investigation, and I didn’t want our employees to know what I was looking for, not that it was anyone’s business.

  The FBI had an informant, most likely someone on the inside of my company. At the moment, I didn’t trust Luca, let alone one of the thousands of people who worked in this building.

  I sat down in front of Grandfather’s computer, rolled the high-back leather chair into the long mahogany desk, and leaned my elbow on it for support. Scrolling through his desktop, I opened the software installed a few years ago by the security firm we’d hired.

  Without a clue of what I was looking for, I flipped through surveillance footage from each department over the past few weeks. I stopped at the legal department, assuming whoever leaked the information about our merger had to have access to the documentation. A quick scan of the user-access logs, and I had my list narrowed down to ten people, one of them including Penny. Rob, a handful of attorneys, and their paralegals also had access to privileged information.

  Luca had informed me of Savvy’s threat to report our families’ merger to the press, facts obtainable through inquiries with the State Department or our families’ companies. I assumed Penny had helped her. Other than her insane jealousy, what reason did Savvy have to expose our business transaction? Something was off about her motivations.

  I reached across the desk, pressed the secure line on Grandfather’s phone, and dialed the number to the private line at Rinaldi
Manor.

  On the second ring, I heard Grandfather’s deep voice.

  “Pronto.” He only spoke Italian on the phone to make it harder for anyone listening to translate. Even though this was a private line, his paranoia was always present.

  “Nonno,” I said in a hushed tone, “I’m calling from your office. You can speak freely.”

  “Isabella, it’s nice to hear your voice. How are you? You don’t sound well.”

  “They came to see me again.” He knew that meant Agent Marx. “They’re looking for a libro mastro.” For whatever reason, I was afraid to say ledger over the wire.

  He didn’t speak for a minute or two, leaving me with the sound of his breathing and my racing heartbeat.

  “We need to talk. Stay where you are. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  Before I had the chance to say anything, the line went dead. Whatever this ledger contained, it was important enough to warrant a personal visit from Angelo Rinaldi III. That alone terrified me.

  An hour later, Grandfather appeared in the doorway, dressed in a black Prada suit, complete with diamond cuff links, a matching fedora that covered his dark hair, and a black cashmere scarf around his neck. He looked like the CEO of a billion-dollar company, unlike me with my running clothes and mess of curls framing my mascara-smeared face. Between drinking the night before and crying on my way to the office, I hadn’t had time to pull myself together.

  Grandfather shut the door and locked it. Walking toward the desk, he removed his scarf and hat and set them on the chair in front of me.

  “I need to show you something, Isabella. The ledger Agent Marx wants is not an accounting ledger—at least, not in the traditional sense.”

  “I knew the numbers didn’t add up in the Pennsport ledgers. I went through them for a month and couldn’t make sense of them.”

  “That’s not the ledger he wants.”

  Grandfather sank to his knee and removed a panel from the front of the mahogany desk fit for a boardroom. He held up a circle the size of my palm, decorated in olive leaves, and placed it on the chair next to him. Then, from his jacket pocket, he extracted a tiny key that looked as though it would open a gym locker. He inserted the key inside a hole in the desk, and a loud click followed.

  From floor to ceiling, the entire room was paneled in dark wood, matching his desk. He walked across the room and tapped above the fireplace mantel, an addition I’d never understood. Given the inability to burn wood in an office building, it appeared out of place. But no one had seemed to notice. Instead, they’d applauded Grandfather for his design choices. The logs inside the fireplace were as fake as our family.

  Grandfather bent down and placed his hand on a log from the pile, lifting the entire set of synthetic embers with it. Underneath was a secret compartment with enough room to fit the small tote bag and a stack of leather journals. He grabbed ahold of the books and rose to his feet, a muffled groan escaping his lips.

  Not that he would complain, but Domenica had mentioned his recent back problems to me. She was worried about his health now that the SEC was closing in on his illegal trades.

  Grandfather sat on the couch in the center of the office, gesturing for me to sit next to him. He placed two leather journals on the coffee table in front of us and tapped his fist on the top cover.

  “This book is your ticket to power, Isabella. Everyone from district judges, senators, police chiefs, made men, and moguls are in this book. You are the head of this family now, and this is your cross to bear. The Feds will come for me, but this journal is freedom. Do what you will with it.”

  He lifted the top book and set it on the table next to the stack. Then, he lifted the next book. “This ledger will destroy you, if you allow it. Your mother is weak—she couldn’t handle the truth—but you’re tough, amore mia.

  “My father gave me a choice when I took over for him, just as I am giving you one now. Rinaldis live by a code, one I’ve raised you to follow. You understand what it means to be a Rinaldi. I believe in you, and I know you’ll make the right decision.”

  Afraid to touch the books and unsure of how to respond, I shifted my gaze between the table and Grandfather. Whatever was in those books could save Grandfather and Luca.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  LUCA

  We had less than one week until Christmas, and the guest bedroom in my parents’ house was stacked with presents for my family.

  Izzie wrapped each gift on a plush area rug stretched across the hardwood floor in red lace bra and panties. Flat on my stomach, I propped myself up with my elbows and watched her from the bed. She wouldn’t let me near her until she placed the last bow on my brothers’ gifts.

  Three days before, she’d come home from the office with mascara-streaked cheeks and her curls in a mess on top of her head, like a bird had taken up residence. I could tell something was bothering her. Every time I’d tried to talk to her, she’d straddle me, tell me to fuck her senseless, and then lock herself in my bedroom or fall asleep. She claimed to have work to do, and with her grandfather out of the picture at Rinaldi Holdings, I didn’t doubt it.

  Izzie stacked the presents against the wall, and her tight ass taunted me as she cleaned up her mess. When she sat back on the rug, she spread her legs wide, calling me forward with her index finger.

  Using a piece of leftover string, she tied a loose knot and slipped her hands through it. “Come unwrap your present,” she said in hushed voice.

  I hopped off the bed and crawled over to her. I was careful not to tickle her as I kissed the inseam of her thigh. Despite all the sex we had been having, Izzie was distant, using blow jobs and orgasms as shields. I tugged on the gold ribbon, releasing her from her makeshift shackle.

  “Luca,” she moaned. Then, she threaded her fingers through my hair. “Stop teasing me, and fuck me already.”

  She took fistfuls of my shirt in her hands to pull me closer. “Take this off,” she commanded.

  I complied, the charcoal T-shirt falling onto the floor behind me.

  Sitting up, she got on her knees in front of me to strip away my belt and pull down my jeans. I had to sit back to remove them, kicking them off along with my boxers and socks.

  Izzie bent over and positioned herself on the rug, a sexy look in her hazy blue eyes, as she shook her ass. “I want you to fuck me like this.”

  I moved behind her and placed my hand on her back, the other massaging her breast. She let out a strangled moan as I pushed inside her, gently easing in and out until I felt her body relax. All she wanted to do was eat, fuck, and sleep—in that order. The lack of intimacy between us, replaced by an animalistic passion I normally loved about Izzie, was creating a barrier no amount of sex could break down.

  I gripped her hips, my pace quickening with each mutter of my name, followed by curses in Italian. That dirty mouth of hers, the grip she had on my dick, and the pressure building as an orgasm ripped through her sent me over the edge. I came hard and fast, collapsing on top of her to catch my breath. Her body trembled, and I pulled her to my chest, my arms around her stomach, as we sank to the ground, bodies intertwined.

  I positioned her between my legs as I leaned back against the footboard. She rested her head on my shoulder and kissed my neck.

  “I needed that.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

  I ran my fingers down her arm, little goose bumps pricking her skin from my touch. “What’s wrong, babe?”

  A single tear fell from her eye, and I wiped it away with my thumb.

  “You need to talk to me. You’ve been acting weird lately. I can’t fuck away all of your problems, but if I can, I’ll make it better. But I need to know what I can do to help you.”

  “Agent Marx came to see me again. He showed me pictures of you and your friends with strippers.” She sniffed back her tears. “They were taken last Thursday when you were supposed to be at a fraternity meeting. You promised me you were done gambling, that you’d stop with all of this childish bullshit.
” Izzie peeled herself from my arms and sat cross-legged in front of me. “The FBI has proof of your operation. They have a confidential informant who’s willing to testify. Agent Marx offered to let you and Grandfather off the hook if I turn over a ledger.”

  “Oh,” I muttered. I had only heard about the infamous ledgers that were part of the Pennsport deal, but I knew they contained enough information to keep the FBI and local police busy for years. “What are you going to do?”

  “The only thing I can do…act dumb. I’m not giving it to them.” She covered her mouth with her hand and sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Luca, but I can’t give them what they want even though all I want to do is save you and Grandfather from what’s ahead.”

  I reached out and stroked her hand, her smooth skin like silk beneath my callous thumb. “I understand, amore mia. You’ve made the right decision. It’s what I would’ve done if I were in your situation. But don’t shut me out.”

  “You’re going to jail, Luca. How am I supposed to live with myself, knowing I could’ve gotten you out of this? I have the one thing that can make all of this go away.”

  “I’m a Marchese, babe. I can do a dime while standing on my head. I know that sounds like a long time, and I hope you’ll wait for me—”

  Her lips crashed against mine, and she slipped her tongue in my mouth. Our tongues worked in harmony with one another as I pulled her onto my lap.

  I’d loved this woman from the day I kissed her in that wine cellar. She’d never wanted anything from me other than companionship. Now, all she wanted was my love and support. I’d never allow her to sacrifice her principles, something I valued about her, to protect me from prison.

  “Snitches ain’t nothing but bitches,” I said, laughing, as our lips separated.

  Her mouth curled up into a devilish grin, the first real smile I’d seen in days. “This is why I love you, Luca.” She pressed down on my leg and pushed herself up to her feet, holding her hand out to me. “C’mon, you can show me how much you love me in the shower.”