Temptations - The Complete Series

by Annie Jocoby

  I sat down. “So, you’re here. I hate to give you the bum’s rush, but I have a lot going on today. I could schedule you in later on this week, but today looks like a hectic one for me.”

  “I told you, I don’t have another case. I’m here for another reason. A different reason.”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to deal with this. Not today. I just wanted to hide in my office. Hunker down with my files and do my research. Pretend that the world around me doesn’t exist. Santino was stepping on this desire, and I resented him thoroughly for it. “Okay, I’ll make some time for you. Come on, Santino. Follow me to my office.”

  Santino beamed like a schoolboy. “Thanks for seeing me on this short notice. I think that you’ll be happy that I’m here, though, once you hear what I have to say.”

  I snarled just a little as Santino followed me into my office. “Have a seat,” I said, pointing to the chair that was in front of my desk. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” I went over to my Keurig machine that was in the corner of the office. “You can have any flavor you want, really. Hawaiian Roast, Hazelnut, French Roast, whatever you like.”

  I didn’t really drink a lot of coffee myself, because caffeine made nauseous, but I kept the machine around because I wanted my clients to feel at home. On this day, though, I felt that coffee was going to get me through this awful day. I put a tiny carton into the machine that was marked French Roast and the machine did its duty.

  “I’d like just plain old coffee if you have it. Nothing fancy or nothing like that.”

  “That can be arranged.” I put a little Folger’s packet into the machine, and, in no time, there was a cup of coffee that was ready for Santino as well. “Cream and sugar?”

  “I drink it black.”

  “I figured.” I gave him the cup and he sipped it while I sat down. “Okay, then, Santino, why don’t you tell me what was so urgent for you to drop by like this?” I was aware that I was being rude, but I didn’t really care. I was in no mood for any kind of bullshit, and Santino, from what I knew about him, was the absolute King of the bullshit.

  He looked around. “This office looks a bit different. Did you do stuff with it?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I got a new lamp I guess. And a new picture.” I pointed to the wall. “I took that picture myself in La Jolla.” I was a picture of a cliff with the water rushing up around it. I was proud of that picture, even though I just took it on a cell phone, because I captured the water at just the right time. The sunlight was reflecting, in rays, on the water, and the white peaks were up on the cliff. La Jolla was a beautiful area, anyhow, as it was a place where the seals and sea lions hung out on the rocks and there was a lot of natural rock formations.

  Santino nodded at the picture. “It’s very nice.” He looked at me and took another sip of his coffee.

  I just stared at him, trying to figure out what the hell his game was. He wasn’t in this office because he wanted to compliment my photography skills or my barista skills, such as they were. “So,” I finally said, “to what do I owe this wonderful visit?” I was trying hard to contain my sarcasm, but I knew that I was failing in this.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. How badly do you want to beat up the Garancinos?”

  My ears perked up when he said that. “Why?” I didn’t want to give away too much, so I made an effort to seem casual. I remembered that Santino was instrumental in getting Slade off the first time, as he put into motion the chain of events that led me to that video of Malcolm killing Jordan. It was all circuitous, of course, as Santino gave up Michael Garancino, Charlotte’s uncle and sometime lover, who wasn’t actually guilty of anything. That tip did get me sniffing around the actual culprit, who was Charlotte herself, though, so I owed Santino big-time for that one.

  Santino shrugged again. “I just heard that your guy is about to marry Charlotte, I mean Carlotta.” He grinned goofily. “You know, I should just call her Carlotta all the time. Charlotte…I mean, could you think of a WASPier name than that? And that dame sure ain’t no WASP. Well, unless you could say that she stings you bad for no good reason. Then I guess the term fits.”

  I was getting impatient and intrigued, both at the same time. I wondered if there was any way that Santino could fit into this whole mess. Take care of Charlotte, bring Slade back…Then I inwardly shrugged. I certainly didn’t want to get my hopes up about it. That would do nothing but devastate me further when the whole thing crashed, yet again, like a house of cards.

  “He is. Going to marry Charlotte, that is. I mean, Carlotta.” I had to smile at Santino’s logic of using Charlotte’s given name. It suited her much better than the bland name “Charlotte.” Well, bland wasn’t the right word, but the name did denote a certain type of woman. Like the character of Charlotte on Sex and the City – proper, wealthy, mannerly. Carlotta was a name that was clearly Italian, not that that meant anything, but it did bring a different image to mind than did the name “Charlotte.”

  “So, what do you think about that?”

  “Oh, I’m overjoyed,” I said sarcastically. “Who wouldn’t be when the love of their life goes off to marry a Mafia princess just because said Mafia princess has the ability to have you killed? I mean, really, it’s a dream come true for me.” I looked at my paperweight and tried mightily to hold back tears. I was trying to be brave about this whole sorry situation, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. My whole life, I was trying to find some kind of security. Something that would moor me. I finally found that with Slade. It was like coming home, really.

  And, just like that, it was all snatched away. Which made me start to believe that good things weren’t for me. Maybe the only things that were for me in this life were things like work, running, dogs and family. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be truly happy with anyone. I could control, however, some things in my life, and those were the things that I chose to focus on. I could work hard, and become the best attorney I could. I could make sure that my family ties were getting stranger. I could make sure that I took care of my health by my daily runs and eating right. I could make sure that Bella and Gigi had the best lives of any dogs.

  What I couldn’t control was Slade and how he felt about me. I couldn’t control Charlotte, either, so I was always in danger that she was going to literally kill me. She certainly was capable of it. I was out of control in those areas of my life, so I had to compartmentalize and simply not think about them. As difficult as it was.

  Santino put his hand on mine and looked at me sympathetically. “Well, I heard all about that marriage, and I wanted to throw up. I mean, I ain’t go no love for that guy, as he gave me a pretty good beat-down, but I do like you Ms. Serena. I know what it’s like to get thrown over like that, believe me. It’s happened to me more times than I want to think about.”

  I smiled and kept trying to hold back the tears. “We’ve all been there, haven’t we, Santino? Our hearts ripped out and stomped on?” The image of a movie I saw long ago, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, where the evil savage literally took out the beating heart of the slave, before throwing that slave into a volcano, briefly crossed my mind. That was what I felt like – that slave, with his beating heart ripped out. Hopefully I wouldn’t also be sacrificed to a volcano, either literally or figuratively, but one never knows.

  “Yes, but Serena, I’d like to help you out here. Whatever I can do.”

  I had to laugh a little. “Well, thank you, Santino, but I’m not sure what you can do. Besides, I’m okay. I really am. I mean, just look at this desk,” I said, sweeping my hand panoramically over the desk, which was piled with files and papers. “I have my work cut out for me, so, you know, I’ll be kept busy. As long as I’m busy, I’m okay.”

  That was wrong, of course. I wasn’t okay. Even as I sat across from Santino I felt empty. Like my body was nothing but a shell, encasing a lot of of nothingness. What happens to you when you lose your soul to somebody, and that somebody just ups and leaves, taking your soul w
ith them? You walk around like an empty vessel, devoid of emotion or strength. That’s what happens to you. You no longer feel like a human being, but, rather, like an automaton. You feel as if you are among the walking dead. A vampire, maybe, for they no longer have souls either.

  Whatever…all that I knew was that I was soulless and dead right at that moment. I would gradually be brought back to life with time. With time. But, right at that moment, there was just a vast nothingness that filled me where life had once been.

  “You’re not okay.” Santino looked at me sympathetically again. “Listen, Vincent Vichelli has a problem with Gianni Garancino, who is the head of that family. He’s Carlotta’s dad. Gianni is getting on Vincent’s turf, again, and the soldiers have been alerted that there might be some kind of war.” He leaned a little closer to me. “I would hate it if Carlotta got taken out in the cross-fire, wouldn’t you?”

  A flicker of hope crossed through my body, and then was extinguished. As much as it sounded good that Charlotte would be a casualty of a Mafia turf war, I didn’t have much hope of that happening. And I couldn’t ask Santino to be the one who would take her out. I had come to care for Santino in my own way. “Tell me about the turf war,” I said to Santino. “And what you were thinking.”

  Santino opened his mouth, but then my assistant, Anita, came in the door. “I’m so sorry, Serena, but I wanted to alert you to a consultation I scheduled for you with a brand-new client.” She lowered her voice. “He kind of has a lot of money, so…” She nodded her head and I got her drift. Our firm might have been infused with Slade cash, but that didn’t mean that it was fiscally healthy. Malcolm had left us all in dire straights.

  Santino shut his mouth again and stood up. “Listen, maybe this isn’t such a good time. I’ll be sure and make an appointment with you, though, I promise. Do I talk to Anita to set that up?”

  I nodded my head. I was eager to hear what Santino had to say, yet there was a part of me that didn’t want to get my hopes up. The situation with Slade was hopeless from the start, and I had always refused to see that. Even if Charlotte were mysteriously killed, then what? Would I be a target of retaliation with that family once they traced her murder back to me, which would surely happen once somebody in that family figures out that I was working with Santino? Would Slade? This whole thing wouldn’t be as simple as Santino probably wanted it to be. I knew about Mafia wars, and I wanted no part of it.

  Then again, if it could get Charlotte out of the way….

  I sighed as Santino left and the new client, one Porter Jones III, walked in. As it turned out, Porter had a will that he wanted to contest, which wasn’t necessarily my forte, but was something that I knew a lot about. He was cut out of his grandmother’s vast estate for his playboy ways, and he was going to task me to litigate it. Santino, and his little hints at salvation, were long-forgotten as Porter, and one new client after another, streamed through my door. Turned out that all the publicity that I had garnered as being Slade’s attorney was finally paying off, and our firm was starting to get its mojo back.

  Silver linings….

  Chapter 4

  Slade

  I ended up back in San Diego, even though I knew that I couldn’t actually see Serena. That would be the death knell for her, I knew, because I wasn’t naïve enough to think that Charlotte didn’t actually have a bug or a tail that would tell her if I was seeing Serena behind her back. I just wanted to feel closer to her, though. I would be back at work the next day, but, for right now, I just wanted to feel that I was in the same area as the woman I desperately loved.

  I went to a little restaurant that was right on the beach, and ordered an omelet and Bloody Mary and watched the people running around outside. It was still a little cool, as it always was in San Diego in the morning, and overcast, which was another typical state of affairs. People always had this image of California in their heads – the image that the sun was always out and the weather was always gorgeous. After all, California was the Golden State, which implied sunshine. But people would be wrong. Overcast weather was relentless in May and June of every year, and then again during the winter months. And, during the summer months, there was plenty of sunshine, but the weather was anything but mild. Blistering hot for days on end was more like it. I had to laugh at one real estate agent’s recommendation to me and to any homeowners – if you want to sell your house in California to an out-of-stater, sell it in April. That was one of the only months that wasn’t either relentlessly hot or overcast.

  Today, then, was a typical California day in November – overcast and cool, but not cold by any means. You could still get in the water, without a wetsuit if you were brave, but there weren’t a ton of people doing that. There were still people on the beach, though – running around, building sand castles, playing catch. People on the boardwalk rollerblading with headphones, and bicycling with rented beach cruisers. People walking and running. People…ordinary people.

  God, how I craved to be one of those anonymous people. Now that my murder case was a thing of the past, I was becoming one of those anonymous people again. I mean, I was recognized everywhere I went, still, but, since my face was no longer plastered on the 24-hour news channels all the time, I was finding that people were staring at me like a zoo animal much less. In a few more years, I could be one of those people on the boardwalk – non-descript, like everyone else, just running or walking or bicycling, without anyone wanting to take my picture.

  Of course, that wasn’t going to happen if the inevitable Charlotte wedding went through. That would never happen, and that was one more thing that made me feel like a caged animal in this whole process. She was a big Hollywood star, and was soon going to be huge if word on the street was right. She was determined that I was going to be a part of her power couple. With her talent and my notoriety, we were going to move mountains, according to her. And I would never again be anonymous.

  As I sipped my Bloody Mary in this little shack by the beach, I dreamed about what life would be like if I could have my way. I would be married to Serena, and we’d have a few children. Maybe one, maybe two, perhaps three. I’d get out of the LA rat race, and move down here to San Diego. After all, I could bring my company down here and locate its headquarters here. It was much less crowded than LA, and, although it had fewer cultural attractions than LA, it had a certain kind of laid-back charm. I would probably even forgo my enormous mansion and buy a large house in one of the wealthy enclaves like Del Mar. Just a normal house, not some uber mansion with an indoor swimming pool and arcade, like I had up in Malibu.

  Serena and I would just do normal things, like go to the zoo with our kids, and take a sailboat out on the weekends. Nothing spectacular, although we’d take trips around the world. That would be the one thing that would be important to me – that my kids be well-rounded. They would have to get to know other cultures and learn other languages. They were going to be a success, and knowing other cultures and languages would help them with that.

  I let myself dream for a few minutes before ordering my omelet and home fries. I asked for another Bloody Mary and sat back in my chair. I looked around, and some people were staring and pointing, but, mostly, everyone was enjoying their own food and talking amongst themselves. Nobody seemed to care that notorious billionaire Slade Bridgewell was in their midst, and that was exactly how I liked it.

  I fiddled with a napkin, and pondered how in the hell I was going to get out of this mess. I, of course, was going to have to start at the top by getting to know Gianni Garancino, Charlotte’s dad and the Garancino crime syndicate head. From what I had always knew, Gianni was secretive and extremely protective of his family. Charlotte, unfortunately, was his “pet,” and always had been. That was why she was literally able to get away with murder all those years ago. Why her records were expunged. There were some major strings that were pulled to make sure that Charlotte never had to pay for what she did, and those major strings were pulled by Gianni.

  But Gia
nni might be the key to this whole mess. If anybody was going to rein in Charlotte, it would be him. He would be the person who would be able to call off any future hits, and would be the person who might be able to talk some sense into Charlotte.

  I sighed and got my check, and then took a walk along the beach. Then I called Charlotte. “I’m coming back,” I told her, being careful not to say the word “home.” Charlotte’s home wasn’t my home, and it never would be.

  “I knew that you would be,” she said. “Listen, you need to come back right now. I called the paparazzi, and they’re going to be staking out our house tonight with some long-range lenses. They’re going to be publishing the pictures in the tabloids on Monday. It’s very important that this happen tonight.”

  I simply hung up the phone without saying another word, and then got into my car. I was going to dance like a fucking trained monkey until I figured something out that would protect Serena 100%.

  As much as I hated it.

  I got back to Charlotte’s about 8, and then walked in the door. “Charlotte,” I said. “I need to meet with your dad. I’d like to meet with him before we go through with this sham marriage.”

  Charlotte looked at me suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Why not? I mean, we’re going to be married. I would think that meeting your dad would be something that would be a prerequisite. Don’t you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t want him getting involved with any of this.”