Chapter 48 #2
“And…” I placed a finger to his mouth. “I want a proposal.”
“Of course.”
“And…” He growled with impatience, the sound vibrating through my finger, and I giggled. “Maybe I should finish my medical degree first and cash in on that bet you owe me. Whatever car I wanted if I got you out of prison and I finished my degree before I turned twenty-five, remember?”
“That it?” He ground his hips into me, the bulge of his groin hitting me just right.
I tossed my head back on a breathless moan. “You’re in for the long haul. You sure you’re up for it?”
Renzo grabbed the back of my neck and forced my eyes to meet his, glimmering with ferocity. “Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.”
When our lips met, it was that perfect blend of tenderness and aggression, loving and defiant, both of us trying to dominate the other.
He locked me in against a pillar, and I scratched my nails down his back.
His pants buzzed, but we ignored it. We devoured each other like there was no tomorrow, like we had to live for the moment or the world might shatter.
His hand slid under my shirt and tweaked my nipples through my bra.
Mine were on his pants zipper, desperate to get him inside me as fast as possible.
“Renzo!” came a muted cry, the R guttural with a heavy, nasal accent.
We wrenched apart, each scanning the parking lot.
“Ren-ZO!”
“That your phone?” I eyed his pocket and smirked. “Did you butt-dial someone?”
He grumbled. “I didn’t—”
If there was ever a perfect told-you-so moment, it was right when he pulled out his phone and Alizé De Villier’s face, his sister-in-law, lit up the screen in a video call. That explained the French accent.
Her lips were puckered in an all-knowing smirk. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Renzo replied.
I dragged his cheek against mine, enjoying the prickly feel of his facial hair, and smiled for the camera. Huh, this pose was picture-worthy. “What can we do for you, Alizé?”
“This is more what I can do for you. Iannelli, as much as it pains me, I owe you a favor for what you did for me a few years back.”
I frowned, a little lost. The only contact I was aware they had in the last few years was that one time I helped arrange for her to visit him in prison with Persetta.
“I remember, but I haven’t cashed it in yet.”
“You’re going to want to do that today.”
“Really?”
“Yes. A little piggy wandered into my husband’s territory a couple of days ago and got caught in a trap.”
“Piggy got a name?”
“Francesco.” She drew out the name. Renzo straightened. “Giambrone.”
“You have him?”
“A friend does. You see, I’m playing the middleman, and this friend has a couple of conditions. You say yes, and he’ll be wrapped with a bow and dropped on your doorstep as soon as this call is over.”
“Who’s the trader?”
Alizé nodded to someone off-screen, and an unknown number rang in. A blurred image appeared, splitting the screen into a three-way video call. Aside from a general silhouette, it was impossible to tell who it was.
“You are?” Renzo asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Raffaele Giambrone.” The voice was overly deep and garbled with a computer-generated warble.
Renzo scoffed. “You want to hand over your father to me?”
“Do with him what you want. I’d rather have a dead man to bury than a father like him.”
“What will it take to get him?”
“I want your assurance that any conflict between the Iannellis and Giambrones stops today. We’ll keep out of California. You keep out of Nevada. Any contracts between us are to be voided by both sides, effective immediately.”
“That all?”
“Yes.”
“You’d let go of your twin’s death?”
“I blame the Dimakos clan. I blame my father. Not you.”
“You’re making it difficult to say no.”
“That’s the point. Do we have a deal?”
“If you can hand over Francesco”—Renzo side-eyed me with a smirk—“we do.”
“Good. Enjoy your delivery. Pleasure doing business with you.” The mysterious Raffaele Giambrone disconnected.
“So, Iannelli. We even?” Alizé asked.
“As long as Francesco is trussed up like a pig and in my driveway in the next thirty minutes, we’ll count your debt paid.”
“Great.” She smiled wide, which lit up her entire face and made her intriguing blue-gray eyes pop.
There were beautiful women in the world, and then there were gorgeous women that the rest of us couldn’t help but envy.
Alizé was one of the latter. “Lovely seeing you both again. Take care, and enjoy…whatever you were doing.”
The video call died out, and immediately, Renzo called Vinny.
“We might have a delivery in the next half hour.”
There was a squeal of tires on the other side of the line, then some shouting. Vinny breathed hard through the line, his clothes shuffling. “Bring it in.”
“Vinny?”
Vinny panted. “Well, your delivery is already here, boss.” Something rustled. “Holy shit. It’s Francesco Giambrone.”
My wide-eyed gaze anchored to Renzo’s. Jesus, that was quick. Alizé didn’t mess around.
“Dead?”
“Tied up, but very much alive.”
Renzo smirked. “Good. Call everyone in. Every friend of ours who wants their pound of flesh, let them paint the house with our guest. Just leave him alive. He and I have a long score to settle.”
“Will do. I just…How’d you manage this?” Poor Vinny sounded so lost and overwhelmed.
“You’ll never guess.”
Renzo hung up and took my hand. As we walked back to his car, there was a lightness to his steps.
“Looks like Raffaele Giambrone cares more about peace than family,” I stated.
“If that was Raffaele Giambrone, I’ll eat my own gun.”
“What do you mean?”
“Wouldn’t need to hide his face or voice if he is who he says he is. And as far as I know, he and Michaela were close. I doubt he’d side so easily with his sister’s killer.”
“You don’t believe Alizé?”
He twisted me around against his car door. “I trust only four people in this world: Vinny, Tore, myself, and you.”
“Me, huh?”
“Always.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “As for Alizé, this was simply the perfect opportunity for her to pay off her favor.”
The car beeped unlocked, and we each took our seats.
“Want to fill me in?” I asked. “What favor?”
“Remember when you had Alizé visit me in prison?” I nodded for him to continue as he slowly veered down the turns in the parking structure. “She asked that we set her up with a fake identity to trick her husband into divorcing her.”
“But…I thought they were still married.”
He shrugged. “What she did with the ID is her business. A favor done is still a favor owed. The rest is not my problem.”
“You’re a real devil, you know that?”
“As long as you’ll take me as your devil.”
I reached across the console for his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Always and forever, my dearest diary. My soul is yours to keep.”