Isle of Seduction: A marriage of convenience mafia romance (The Moretti Chronicles Book 2)

1. Sex shouldn’t be a chore

Sex shouldn’t be a chore and yet, here I am.

The pretty blonde I’m fucking is moaning too loud, and it doesn’t help that her grey sheets are chaffing on my knees, either. I can’t be arsed to come, but I won’t be accused of being selfish. Snaking a hand to her mouth to dim her cries, I pound faster into her from behind and strum her clit with my other hand until she comes on my cock.

She’s still recovering from her orgasm when I put my black jeans on. I kiss the cheek of my nameless conquest, then leave the small studio without looking back.

I thought spending the early hours of the morning in the company of a beautiful woman would satiate my restlessness.

It didn’t.

And now I’m fucking late, because I didn’t want to fuck anyone in West Hill. The press that follows me around would have a field day, and I don’t want to give anyone the misconception that I’d be relationship material.

I could tell the Mayor of West Hill that “a wizard is never late, he arrives precisely when he means to” but I doubt he’s a Lord of The Rings fan. He’s too pretentious to like something mainstream and probably wouldn’t understand the genius of Peter Jackson.

The picturesque street of the suburban small town I ended up in is quiet as I put on my helmet and swing my leg on my bike, driving off at high speed. Once I get out of the small town, the “Greenford” sign behind me, I take the country road, lined with majestic oak trees on both sides. The dewy September morning wind whips at my jean-clad legs and leather jacket. The adrenaline rush I get every time clears the budding irritation brewing in my brain.

When I arrive at the Town Hall, a massive historical building made of brown bricks, located at the heart of West Hill, I don’t wait until I’m invited in to barge into Mayor Lewis’s lavish office. The man startles like I just caught him with his pants down.

Thank God, that’s not the case.It’s too early to see the shrivelling dick of the bald man I need to keep in my entourage to secure my place in politics.

“Mr. Capaldi,” he stutters my name and I refrain from sneering. He recovers quickly and falls back into his usual demeanour, a mix of annoyance and contempt. Despite his lack of hair, Lewis is fit for his fifty years and has this air of je-ne-sais-quoi that invites trust. I’m not fooled by him. “You’re late. I didn’t think you were coming anymore.”

“I wouldn’t miss the opportunity for the world, Mr. Mayor. Traffic was abominable. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. Please have a seat,” he grumbles.

Two years ago, Mr. Lewis was campaigning to become Mayor. He promised the inhabitants of our humble city that he’d be able to create a new motorway, diverting traffic and making it easier to navigate our town and its suburbs.

Unfortunately, his plans passed through Mr. Doug Hamilton’s property and the man was less than inclined to sell.

Fortunately for my dear friend Lewis, he contacted me, and I can get anything on anyone. I have a knack for cybersecurity, or rather, for breaching it, for finding the dirt no one wants found, and the hidden bodies buried in closets. Both figuratively and literally. My hackers around the world are the best at what they do. Some of it legal, some of it, less so.

Mr. Hamilton was not very good at covering his tracks when he went on to sexually harass dozens of men and women around his various employments in the country.

Needless to say, Lewis is now Mayor and his plans are well underway—my construction company being the main contractor—and Hamilton’s dead.

And before anyone accuses me of killing the man, I didn’t do it.

I had my brother do it for me. No need to shed blood when someone I know loves to do it instead.

For the past two years, I’ve wormed my way into every aspect of Mayor Lewis’s life, and I’m like a dog with a bone. I won’t quit until I get what I’m owed.

A seat on the Council.

It’s what my father would have wanted.

“I’ll be brief, Mr. Mayor, I know how busy you are,” I say. Laying it heavy on the flattery so he lowers his guard hurts my tongue, but it’s a necessary evil with such a prideful man. “Elections are coming up in May for the Council, as you very well know, having been elected four times in a row yourself. I need you to back my campaign.”

Lewis is still unsure about his support and I need to know why and how I can fix it.

Long gone are the days where the name Capaldi was synonymous with crime. My father served five years for assault when I was ten and we all learned our lesson then.

Don’t get caught.

After his release and until his death ten years ago, we worked together relentlessly to polish our public image. We built an empire that has hands in everything from construction to waste management to social care, keeping cybersecurity and our access to black market goods on the side for rainy days.

If there’s anything to be bought in this town, you can come to me and I’ll make sure you get it.

What I’m after now is influence and a place within the high society of West Hill. They still see me as a vermin, even though they use my services every single day of the year, be it legal or not.

If I want to expand the Capaldi Empire and leave a legacy behind, I need to be elected into the City Council next May. It’s only eight months away and I need the backing of the Mayor and his partisans.

“Andrea… Can I call you Andrea?” he starts, coddling and patronising.

“No.”

He clears his throat and adjusts his tie.

“Mr. Capaldi. Let me be frank here. As much as you are doing good for the people of West Hill, I fear your profile isn’t compatible with the needs of our community.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I’ve built playgrounds at half the cost any other company would have to guarantee the poorer kids can be children and play. I’m paying an actual living wage for all employees in my corporation and support the right to strike. I already campaign for access to culture and education.

I’m a community man, first and foremost. The Capaldis might have been criminals in the past, but we’ve done nothing but serve others ever since our long-term goal changed. The blood on our hands doesn’t change that.

“Please, Mr. Capaldi, don’t be coy. You know your father’s reputation.”

“Is it really just because my father went to prison? Are you blaming a man for his father’s crimes? Which he paid to society through his sentence, by the way,” I say, patience wearing thin.

“I don’t fault you for your father’s history, but others might.”

My tightened fists whiten to the point of pain, anchoring me and preventing me from swinging it in his smug face.

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Lewis. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be in your seat right now. Don’t fucking forget it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he complains. “Even if you’re not your father, you’re still your father’s son. That temper of yours will be your downfall.”

I take a deep breath, vowing to go hit some poor fucker at the boxing ring straight after this shitshow of a meeting. I’ll visualise Mayor Lewis’s face as I obliterate my opponent.

Unfortunately, he’s right. I can’t be a temperamental fuck when dealing with politicians, nor resort to blackmail. Shit like this always comes out to the press and I don’t need that stain on my less than stellar reputation.

Bringing my fingers to my temples, I massage the migraine he’s giving me away. I need to switch tactics.

“What would you have me do?”

It takes all my strength to lower myself to begging, but the end goal is more important.

The Mayor leans back into his antique baroque chair that looks a little too close to a throne. He thinks he has me cornered and I’ll be grateful for any piece of advice, like a pygmalion with his creation.

“I like you, Capaldi. You might not be the most obvious candidate for this job, nor have the pedigree I require from my associates, but you have grit.”

And resources, I think quietly. I grind my teeth together. Speaking out of turn won’t get me anywhere, so I keep my mouth shut, but fuck, it costs me.

Lewis continues his spiel. “It would certainly be an asset to have you on the Council, but I fear you need to polish your image to fit in with who we want the good people of West Hill to be represented by.”

“And that is?”

“A wife.”

The word is like a slap in the face.

“A wife?” I repeat, incredulous.

“Yes, Mr. Capaldi. A wife. You see, all our councilmen and councilwomen are family people, representing all fringes of our society and all sexualities. They represent safety and stability. They provide for West Hill as if they are members of the family we’re all a part of. And you are not exactly a family man.”

Family is everything to me. I’d run through fire for my parents and my younger brother, Nico.

I did.

I ran through the fire that consumed my parents’ home ten years ago, after someone my father thought of as a friend set it ablaze. It wasn’t enough to save my mother from being paralysed from the waist down or my father from dying from smoke poisoning.

That’s a lesson I’ll never forget. The smaller my circle, the better I can protect them. I don’t trust anyone outside of Nico and my mother; everyone else is a traitor in disguise or will die by associating with us, and I don’t need more heartbreak in my life.

Losing my father almost broke me, but that’s irrelevant to Lewis. He wants tangible proof, not the emotions I keep locked tight in a vault in my chest no one can get access to.

“If I get a wife, you’ll back me?” I ask, the cogs already turning in my head.

“Of course. I would like nothing more than to further your political career, my friend.”

Years of training keep me from recoiling at the endearment.

“Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch.”

I stand and leave in a hurry, people giving me a wide berth on my way out, my mood radiating off me in waves.

When I’m outside, I pace back and forth in front of my ride, pulling at my roots. I do a mental check of every candidate but come up empty. The underground families of West Hill wouldn’t be too happy with the spotlight of politics, the socialites would do everything to lock me down with a babe. No way I’m bringing a kid into this fucked up world.

“Fuck,” I groan into the ether.

My phone rings with a call from someone I wish I’d never have to deal with. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Pierce is the most presumptuous man I’ve ever had the displeasure to know, and unfortunately, my cousin. With our mothers being sisters and really close, the prick has been a pain in my ass since we were young enough to throw punches at each other. Mostly, I was on the receiving end until a growth spurt at thirteen.

I know he was just a kid at the time and was probably fucked in the head after his mother practically kidnapped him, but I don’t deal well with people who go against opponents smaller than them. Back then, I was the smaller one.

Better me than Nico.

The asshole believes he’s better than anyone because he’s never dabbled with mafia business, and puts criminals behind bars by giving information to the government. A fucking snitch is what he is. But I guess I should be grateful he never used his resources to send me or my own to jail.

“Cugino, to what do I owe the pleasure?” My voice drips with sarcasm. I’ll do anything to fuck with him. At this point, it’s pretty much a game.

“My wife’s been abducted.”

Well hello to you, too. Did his mother never teach him manners?

“I didn’t even know you were married. Congratulations, but what does that have to do with me?”

“I need your help.”

I’m the last person Pierce would call for help. He’s a cyber genius who can find anyone. The only other person who can challenge his gift with hacking is me. The situation must be dire.

“Pierce Security Company is yours,” he says simply, as if I haven’t been trying to buy and merge it with my own business for the past three years. Or at least, that’s what I want him to believe, that I’m after him, that he won’t sleep soundly until I own him. I don’t give a shit about the company; it’s just too fun to mess with his head.

He sounds desperate. I must have grown a heart, or maybe I’m swayed by our family ties because I consider helping him, no strings attached. Well, no more strings attached.

I get myself together with a shake of my head.

Pierce needs his girl home, and I need a wife. That’s a perfect business arrangement if I ever saw one.

I put him on hold without ceremony and dig into the superficial information I can gather with a simple internet search. This wife of his must have sisters.

The results come up.

Well, well, well. My holier-than-thou cousin has been busy.

Alana Moretti.

The Morettis are legend across the Mediterranean Sea for their revolutionary drug, the Y. It’s as powerful as MDMA or cocaine, without any addictive side-effects or the death rate.

My self-righteous cousin fell for a mafia heiress. I burst out laughing at the irony, cackling to myself as tears line my eyes. I have to take a deep breath to stop myself, my abs sore from laughing so much.

She does have sisters, but the oldest, Angèle, is already married and the two youngest, Lisa and Marie, are only nineteen. I might be an asshole, but I’m not a creep. At thirty-three, I won’t marry a college kid to further my agenda.

Another woman’s name comes up, one I heard a lot about, though not under that name.

Giulia Moretti. Status: unmarried.

Fucking perfect.

I connect the call again. “You’ll have to come to me. I’ll send the coordinates. In the meantime, send me all you got.”

Today’s as good as any to save a mafia heiress and get married.