Dipping Into Sin 2: Digging Deeper Into Sin (2 page)

            “She kept a low profile, but I managed to find
some information,” Lucas said as he placed his briefcase on his lap and typed
in a combination to unlock the case. He retrieved a large file from his briefcase
that was held together by a red rubber band.  

            “Did you find her current address?” I asked as he
handed me the thick folder. Opening my drawer, I reached for the envelope
filled with $10,000 and held it out to him.

            “On the first page,” he said as he took the thick
envelope from my hand and placed it in his briefcase before closing it. He rose
up from his seat and walked towards the door.   

            “Lucas,” I called out to him as I leaned back
into my chair. “…No duplicates,” I ordered.

            “Never,” Lucas said with his back facing me
before walking out of the door.

Opening the front flap of the file, I came
across the most recent picture of Simone. It is from her driver’s license for
the State of North Carolina. Reaching for the folder again, I immediately drew
my hand back as if it was blazing hot to the touch. As much as I wanted to read
about everything that she had done within the last five years, I couldn’t stand
the thought of learning about her moving on, especially after us.

Pressing the intercom button, I called
Kevin, my assistant, to come back into the room.

            “Yes, Mr. Balducci?” asked Kevin, as he
attentively stood before me with his pen and pad.

            “Get me on the next flight to North Carolina.”

~****~

Andriano

Alpine,
New Jersey

“Will you be back in time for Allison and
David’s engagement party?” asked Josephine as she lay drearily across the white
leather upholstered bench that was mounted at the foot of the bed.

This was among the handful of times that
we’ve shared more than five words with each other while being in the same room.
Don’t get me wrong…I tried to be cordial with Josephine during the course of
our five years of marriage.
After all, I almost fucked up our arrangement by
being with Simone.
Still, we couldn’t deny that our feelings for each other
were any less fictive than a prostitute actually enjoying sex…at least it was
for me.

Ignoring her question, I walked into the
walk-in closet and pulled out my Louis Vuitton Pégase 55 Business traveling
luggage set. Staring at my assortment of clothes, the unsettling realization
gnawed at me.
I have not been this anxious since I told Simone that I loved her
.
I couldn’t contain the eruption of emotions that bounced around the walls of my
heart.

“Are you sure that you really want to
leave?” she asked as she blocked the doorway before her petite silhouette
walked daringly towards me. With her slow, precise fingers trailing upward, she
hooked each of her thumbs on the thin strap of her ivory silk camisole. Pulling
her silk nightie down, her small pink pastel colored nipples perked like a
blooming rose, as if begging to be touched. As sultry as she appeared, my shaft
remained soft at her ineffectual attempt at being alluring.

“Trust me, I’ve never been more sure,” I
said. She looked at me confused, as she tried to decipher the statement that I
just told her.

“So let me give you a reason to always come
back home,” she said as she walked seductively towards me.
Pitiful.

Hovering her hand over my softness,
Josephine’s blue eyes widened abruptly, as she discovered how benumbed I truly
was. Still motivated, she wrapped her arms around my neck and stood on her
tippy toes. Dropping light kisses around my ear, she must have sensed the
annoyance etched all over my face because she stopped, almost as quickly as,
she began.

“We have not been intimate in a while,”
Josephine said, as she wretchedly took a step back from me. 

And we’re not going to be,
I almost
said out loud, as my eyes bored into her. Clearing my throat loudly, I stated
firmly, “Put your clothes on.”

Chapter Two

Simone

Charlotte, North
Carolina

            “Hey Grandma,” I said as I walked through the
doors. I ended up spending one more day in New Jersey before I took the hour
and twenty-minute flight back to Charlotte.

            Leaving Victoria behind, filled with despair and
vengeance, plagued my heart. But, I couldn’t afford to take any more time off
from work, and I couldn’t be apart from my daughters any longer. The death of
her father sent her into a manic rage, and she broke down the night before I
left. She needed that moment to cry, vent, curse, and punch something—anything,
in order to empty the emotions that she held inside.

The following day, after the wake, Victoria,
her father’s lawyer, and I carried out Donald Spillmore’s final wishes. He
wanted a small ceremony with just his immediate family in attendance, during
his cremation. My heart ached, as I knew that Kate Spillmore would live to
regret not saying her final goodbye to her husband of 34 years. She remained in
a medical facility while being under the care of their family physician.

Thomas Bernstein, Donald Spillmore’s lawyer,
presented Victoria with a medium sized classic bronze keepsake urn with Donald
Spillmore’s name engraved. The older man appeared to be struggling with the
death of Donald Spillmore as his pale skin contrasted against the darkness that
encircled his eyes. His hands shook as he handed the urn to Victoria. Although
Victoria found it strange that her father changed his state of affairs six
months before he died, I tried to convince her that it was simply coincidental.

After the ceremony was over, we visited Kate
and tried to show her the urn. Her glossy eyes remained glued to the ceiling, unresponsive
as if we weren’t even there. Victoria tried to remain strong throughout this
whole ordeal, but she was starting to break down.

“How were Victoria and her mother holding
up?” Grandma asked, breaking me out of my deep thought.

            “Victoria is still trying to remain strong for
her mother. But, it is starting to get to her.”

            The mixture of the fresh-from-scratch fluffy
buttermilk pancakes, homemade hash browns, sausage links, and freshly squeezed
orange juice filled the air. Peeping over her shoulder, I caught a mere glimpse
of the animated pancake shapes that Grandma made for the girls. Pretty soon, Acelia
is going to get up and make her way down here with her sisters following suit.
Too
late...
 

“Mommy!” screamed Acelia as she ran towards
me, wearing her pink one-piece cotton footie pajama. Her little arms stretched,
as she attempted to wrap them around my thighs. Reaching down, I held her close
before I picked her up and rubbed my nose against her nose in a circular
motion.

Putting her down, Acelia ran to Grandma and
hugged her from behind before saying, “Good morning, Nana.”

Turning around, Grandma leaned forward to
level with Acelia before tapping on her left cheek with her index finger.
Acelia giggled as she gave Grandma a big kiss.

“I just need two more kisses from the other
princesses,” Grandma said to a smiling Acelia. As if on cue, Jasmine and Olivia
ran into the kitchen the moment they saw me.

“Mommy…Mommy!” They each squealed joyously
in discorded harmony as they clinched tightly on each of my thighs.

Jasmine gave me a smile and in that moment I
saw Andriano. Jasmine and Acelia, my identical twins, resembled their father
from his piercing light grey eyes to his olive complexion. The only distinction
between them and Andriano was their long wavy dirty blond hair. Olivia had more
of my features, with the exception of her vivid green eyes and lighter
complexion. One thing for sure, none of my daughters could escape their
father’s slight widow’s peak hairline.

Each time that I caught myself reliving the
hurt from Andriano, I would look at God’s most precious gifts He bestowed upon
me. Instantly, all of the hurt and pain dissipated from within me. Leaning
forward, I nuzzled my nose into each of their hair and caressed their soft
strands gently. After a moment, they each let go of my thighs and kissed
Grandma.

“Now I feel complete,” Grandma said cheerfully
as both of her arms stretched into the air as if she was praising God.

“Girls, you remember what Mommy said before
you eat breakfast, right? Make sure you do what?” I asked all three of them as
they each held a plastic plate in their hands. Ironically, each plate matched
their one piece footie pajama set.

“Brush my teeth!” they each shouted their
answers in mix-matched unison.

Chapter Three

Andriano

Walking out of the Charlotte Douglas
International Airport, my primary focus was on accomplishing my mission to get
back my woman. After placing the last bag into the taxi, I instructed the
driver to take me to the hotel. Once settled inside of the taxi, I pulled my cell
phone out of my pocket. Scrolling down the short list in my phonebook, I
stopped at Nicolai.

Nicolai and I became business partners and
co-owned businesses. When I became the Don, Nicolai became my consigliere,
while my Uncle, Salvatore, was promoted to be a member of the commission. There
were people within my family who did not necessarily agree with my
rearrangements, but I did not give a fuck.

Battista, my Uncle Ciro’s bastard son, was
appointed as my underboss. That move blindsided everyone who thought that they
were going to fulfill that position. But, no one understood just how close
Battista and I became over the years.  No one in my family had acknowledged
him, mainly because he was half Polish. Ciro had stepped out on his wife and
impregnated this young Polish-Italian maid that worked at my
nonna’s
(grandmother’s) house. Ciro immediately abandoned the maid the moment he
learned of her pregnancy. Even after learning that he had a son who resembled
him, my Uncle Ciro refused to acknowledge Battista. Everyone in my family had
rejected Battista except for my
nonna
(grandmother).

When I went back
to Italy ten years ago, we met each other for the first time. He was a couple
of years younger than me, but his appearance revealed that he experienced
hardship throughout his life. He was a walking version of my Uncle with the
same piercing grey eyes that trademarked us. He had the last name of his
mother’s family because Ciro refused to acknowledge his half-breed son.

It was no secret
that Ciro thought that his only son was not going to be able to be even an
associate in our family because he was not 100% Italian. The first time that I
saw him, after becoming a ‘made man’, I couldn’t get past the stark resemblance
between him and Ciro. His hardened face remained apprehensive, as if unsure of
how to address me. Being young and having a hot temper was a recipe for
disaster as I allowed my little bit of acquired power to control my actions.
With this outlandish behavior, I drew more attention to myself as I started to
get into more fights with guys in the neighborhood. One time in particular, a
group of guys from the neighborhood had plotted to take me out. After catching
wind of the plot from a girl that I was fucking in the neighborhood, I decided
to take out the ringleader, Carmine, before they hit first.

As I finalized the
details, I slept easy knowing that I was going to take out the motherfucker the
next day. Driven by my last name, I led a life without any boundaries back then.
I could’ve called my father, but he raised me to be my own man. My father was
all about proving your manhood, and somehow I was conditioned into believing
that. Hell, I still do.

 When I woke up
the next morning, Battista was standing in front of my door with a box in his
hand. He didn’t say anything; rather, he shoved the box into my hand. Walking
away, I went back to my bed and sat down. Flipping the lid of the box, my eyes
widened when I saw a pair of large, brawny hands in the box. The fingers remained
in a cringed form.

 Looking up at
Battista, who stood at my door, I asked, “Whose hands are these?”

“Your problem is
solved,” he simply said before turning to walk away.

From that moment
on, I vowed to always take care of Battista. Even though my father and Uncles
continued to shit on his very existence, I continued to watch out for him.
Though, I was not the Don yet, I set up shop for him to make real money while
in Italy. I naively thought that eventually Ciro would see the prospects that
his son had to offer. But, he continued to publicly denounce him. This only
encouraged Battista to go harder to build a name for himself. He had a
reputation in Italy as being heartless.   

Once I became the Don, I made sure that
Battista moved up the ranks before everyone by making him a Capo. Battista was
stationed in Italy where he would move behind the scenes to find out what was
going on. Because his last name was not Balducci, it was easy for him to
network through people and keep me posted.

With Nicolai as my right hand and Battista
as my enforcer, we took the Balducci family to another level. Everyone walked
away with more money and crime had become untraceable. Even when Donald
Spillmore, may the
rat
rest in peace, decided to compromise and work
with lower ranked officers from the IRS and FBI, we still remained stronger
than ever. Our informants, the FBI Director and the Commissioner of the IRS
both dropped the dime on Donald Spillmore’s unsavory behavior. Soon after,
Nicolai and I decided the rat, had to die.

We shared the same vision—a vision to be
lifelong billionaires and expand our empire to be at least 85% legitimate. At
most, we both believed that the same tactics used to build La Cosa Nostra
should still be practiced. Meaning, we will continue to kill and keep accurate
counts of members on our payroll. Everyone was in on the gist, including the
elected officials who were sworn into political positions.

The joining of the Capparelli and the Balducci
crime families only helped to uniform throughout the regions of Italy. From
Milan to Sicily, my family marked its territory. Since the council had more
Balducci family members, it was easy to sway even the representative of the Capparelli
family to permit the hits. 

~****~

Nicolai

           
I stared at
her
with great
intensity, as she looked at the waitress baffled before she took her credit
card back. From the moment she slid her slender body out of her jacket, my
libido kicked into overdrive as my eyes trailed up her creamy caramel coated thighs
that were slightly exposed by the split in her dress. Zooming in, the screen
became magnified—filling each corner with her face. My eyes roamed in an upward
trek from her slight pointed chin, to her bow shaped lips, to her round button nose.
Stopping at her eyes…
her
eyes… Jesus Christ
, s
he’s gorgeous,
I
thought, as I thoroughly examined her delicate features again. Her chestnut
brown hair gloriously framed her face the moment she turned her body gracefully
away from the surveillance camera. She had this elegance about her that
demanded my attention.
Who is she?

Without
thinking any further, I stood up and walked out of my office. Stopping short, I
watched as she slid her sexy body into the booth next to another attractive
woman.

            “Amber,” I called
out to the nearest waitress while keeping my gaze fixed on her.

“Yes, Mr.
Balducci?”

“Take our
best bottle of wine over to booth 20A,” I requested as I continued to study
this beauty, “…and make sure to tell them that all of their drinks are on the
house.”

            “Yes, Mr. Balducci.”

            Turning back slightly away from
her
view,
I stopped and said, “Oh, and a Amber…”

            “Yes, Mr. Balducci?” She asked intently.

            “Keep my identity anonymous.” Nodding her head, I
watched as she prepared her tray with a bottle of Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand
Cru red wine, and two glasses. She strolled over to their booth while I leaned
against the bar and watched closely.

Something about
her
caused me to
abandon all of my rules, the moment I made the request to Amber. Though I did
not necessarily regret it, a shear knot plummeted my stomach the moment Amber
walked over to their booth. Clearly, sending her drinks was all part of my plan
to further assault this particular beauty with my roaming eyes. But, I was not
prepared for the entanglement parading my stomach the more I watched her. I
wondered if she tastes as sweet as she looks, I thought while my eyes looked at
her thighs. Her full and inviting lips stood out with the red lipstick she
wore. Her eyes were the most captivating—large, dollish, and dark brown.

Sucking in a breath, I leaned off of the bar
and shook the hardness between my legs when she draped her long slender leg
over her other leg with little to no effort. Although she’s tempting, she could
easily become an unwarranted distraction. Taking one final glance back at this
enticingly gorgeous woman, I ruefully walked back to my office and continued to
admire her from afar. Sinking into my office chair, I pulled up the security screen
and watched her take sips of her wine while her eyes roamed the interior of
The
Land
.

            As I watched, I felt my phone vibrate.

Of all the fucking times.
Zooming out
of the screen, I reluctantly answered my phone. “What’s up?”

Andriano told me, “Nicolai, check the box.”

I hung up, slid my phone into my pocket, and
typed the five digit code against my desk drawer and pulled it open. Pressing
my right hand against the security identification scanner, the keep safe box popped
open with a click. After withdrawing the blank paper from the box, I reached
for one of the pencils from my penholder before smoothing the surface of the
paper. Lightly rubbing the pencil over the paper in a back and forth motion, the
encrypted message revealed Andriano’s travel destination.
What the hell is
in Charlotte, North Carolina?

Shredding the piece of paper, I looked back
up at the four security screens.
Where the hell did she go?
Going
through each section of
The Land
, I began my search for
her
.
She’s
gone
. The heaving number of partygoers only proved my search to be futile,
as I came to terms with her disappearance.