Chapter 11
Isabella
I always spend a month in the Hamptons this time of year. Would you like to come with me?
I stare at the text message with Marcel lying beside me. Him there instead of on the pullout couch has been a more common occurrence than what it should have been. That is hard for me to admit, as much as I’m madly in love with him and the way we are together, but it’s the truth. My head needs to be in the game.
Though, it's not a game at all. I can’t keep thinking of it as that either. It’s time to grow up and do my job or else people I care about will get hurt. I will rot behind bars.
I might even die if this doesn’t go well, and I have unwittingly dragged Marcel, the man I have loved from afar my whole life, right into this with me.
It sounds amazing.
I crawl out of bed and begin to pack a small bag, anything I might need on this trip to the Hamptons. I’m shocked he asked me, though he must simply be between women now. We haven’t even had sex yet, though I am sure it is coming. There have been plenty of kisses and ass grabs now, ones I try to pretend are Marcel and not this old crime boss that is responsible for so much death.
It may be hypocritical considering the fact that Marcel has also been and will also be responsible for many deaths, but I don’t think they are one in the same. The Clans try to do some good things in the mix and take out their enemies when they give them no other choice. From what I hear, the Falcones just kill because it’s fun and they can. They have the power to, and they get off on it. These deaths are senseless.
It makes me not feel so damn bad about that brother they lost.
I'd love to see you over at the house.
I know my time going back and forth between Marcel and Franco is over. I know that Marcel and I cannot be anything, not really, until this mission is over. I just hope I make it out alive so we can really give it a shot. But right now, I am Teresa Erins, a young business minded gold-digger. I am no longer Isabella Zugra, innocent daughter of an accountant. I don’t know if I will ever truly be her again.
I'll call a cab
I almost gag at my use of emojis like that, but it’s part of this role I am playing; this bubbly girl that easily has Franco wrapped around her finger.
The last thing I tuck in my baggage is my burner phone, purchased two days ago just in case I need to reach my handler or Marcel for a report or safety purposes. But it’s only business. Nothing more. My personal phone has been wiped from anything that could give me away to Franco or make him angry. I didn’t know when this day was coming when I would have to leave Marcel in his sleep, but now it is here. It was inevitable.
I lean down and gently kiss his forehead, whispering an inaudible goodbye to him. He will find a message on his phone, a voicemail explaining why I had to go and what might be if he is willing once the Falcones are locked away or dead, whatever comes first. I don’t really care either way.
I wipe away the only tear I allow myself to have over this and make my way out to wait for a cab to come by and pick me up and take me to the house that just might contain the incriminating information I need. Just what Z needs to get me off the hook with the weapons trafficking charges and let me back into my normal life.
The ride isn’t a long one. I have never been to his house before, but I know where it is; the west side of Manhattan. It’s just as well known for its fancy houses and the rich, but many of these people are rich because of things they do that they shouldn’t. Shady businesses and drug deals are just a few of the crimes that go on behind the closed doors of these glistening high rises.
We stop at one, the kind where I have to give my name at the front desk and they check a list before leading me to the elevator and taking me up to the correct floor; the 40th, to be exact.The servants leading me around continues even when I get into the flat that the Falcones call home. Well, at least Lupo and Franco live in the same house. I’m unsure about the other two men.
I’m led into a gigantic master suite, called into the bathroom that is as big as my whole hotel room where I find Franco in a Jacuzzi tub, completely naked. he invites me in, and I know that there is no stopping this now.
He watches me as I disrobe, leaving my clothes on the shining marble counter that looks like a maid has been in here just today. My body clearly pleases him, though the bubbles in the water make sure that I can’t actually see for certain how his member feels about it. I can only guess.
I make sure to fold my body inside the tub slowly, giving him a show. I am hoping if he gets his fill of this, he won’t have a need to defile me so much and so often. I don’t even know about his sexual health—if he can do this without a little help at his age, so it could be in my favor if I give him an eye full.
"You are absolutely stunning," he whispers in that gruff thick accent of his. For the first time, I notice there is a half empty bottle of vodka at his side. I can’t say for sure whether it has all been downed in this session or not. "Help yourself if you would like a drink," he offers with a grin. I know for a fact he is trying to get me close to him.
I move through the water as if it is the most natural turn of events in the world, pretending to be surprised when he pulls me close to him and flips me around, his hands finding my bottom under the water. I can feel his hardness against me as well; seems he needs no help in that department. He is actually rather large for some nasty old man as well. That might explain his popularity with women beyond his money.
He passes the bottle of vodka between us a few times while he rubs himself up against me as if he wants me to loosen up. Maybe he suspects I am close to a virgin; tight and inexperienced. Though, my few times with Marcel have shown me a wider range of things than I am sure some of the Clan women ever see.
Without warning, he works his way inside me, sighing into me. I can almost imagine his eyes rolling back into his head at my tightness. I close my eyes and think of Marcel, wondering if we will ever be this close again.
***
Once we are done he has me lotion him up on the bed and pleasure him with my hand before he passes out; drunk and satisfied. It gives me the time I need to look around. I don’t even bother getting dressed as I dig through his shelves and drawers, taking pictures of anything that could mean something to my handler. Then, I clone his phone, knowing that could be the ticket to anything he does that’s shady. I will have to get that to Z later. Then, I go back into the bathroom and take a quick shower, not being able to let his smell linger on me and willing Marcel's smell to come back instead.
But it's gone.