you.”
My smile widens and I take a step toward him. When I’m close enough to touch him, he dips his chin down to look into my eyes. “Just to say, I’ll definitely look though. You’re a little young for me, but fuck, you’re gorgeous, girl.”
I gasp as he lets out a low rumble of a laugh. He lifts his arm, sliding it around my shoulder as he pulls me against his side. I thought I would feel something when he touched me, maybe butterflies, anything, but I don’t.
I feel absolutely nothing. I’m glad for that, he’s physically attractive, but I can’t imagine living with someone I felt anything for at all whatsoever, not when my husband is sitting in a jail cell.
Renzo and I make our way downstairs. We share a pizza and a bottle of wine. I drink a little too much and end up telling him my entire story, in gross detail. It’s the single most embarrassing night of my entire life.
Chapter Twenty-One
MASSIMO
It’s been a week since I’ve been locked up. The federal prosecutor sits across from me. She smirks as she tilts her head to the side, her eyes scrutinizing every part of my face. She licks her lips as she shifts her gaze over to Salvatore at my side.
I let out a grunt. Maybe this will go in my favor more than I initially realized. If she wants to fuck Sal, maybe she’ll give me a better deal? If she’s already fucking him, maybe I’ll get off completely.
“So, you’d like to take a deal?” she asks on a low breathy whisper.
Sal snorts. “My client isn’t saying shit. Your evidence for racketeering is worthless. It won’t stick, you and I know that without a doubt. Drop that altogether and we’ll talk.”
She pouts, then narrows her eyes as her gaze shifts to me. “My boss wants to try for RICO. There hasn’t been a case in years, he’s frothing at the mouth just thinking about putting someone from the Zanetti mafia away.”
Leaning back in my seat, I don’t show an ounce of fear. This bitch doesn’t have anything on me, not really. She has a bunch of easily debunked, circumstantial bullshit and not an ounce of hard evidence. Judge or jury, nobody will convict me, and she fucking knows it.
“What can you offer?” Sal asks.
He doesn’t have to accept anything right now, but I honestly don’t want to spend weeks waiting to go through a trial when I could get whatever time they want me to do, done and over with. Thirty years isn’t going to happen. She knows it as much as I do.
“Though my boss wants to nail Ferrucci’s balls to the wall with a racketeering charge, we aren’t dumb. We just want time at this point. He’s going to prison. It’s up to him for how long.”
“You always beat around the bush so goddamn much?” I ask, speaking for the first time since she walked into the room.
She lifts her chin, obviously not liking the way I’m talking to her. I don’t really give a fuck. The only person I want to talk to right now is my wife. Not this cunt. Pressing my lips closed, I wait for her to speak again.
“Let’s just cut the shit, what’s the offer?” Sal asks.
Her lips turn up into a slow smile. She inhales a deep breath, pushing her breasts out as she watches us. We’re at her mercy, forced to wait for her to give us some kind of fucking answer.
“Five years and a hundred thousand dollar fine.” She grins.
I shake my head. Fuck that, five years? She’s lost her goddamn mind. Sal turns to look at me, his eyes searching mine. I want to tell the bitch to fuck off, but I also know that I need her. She could take it off the table and then I’d have no choice but to go to court.
“How about a year and a hundred k?” Sal asks.
Her eyes sparkle, she was hoping for this, praying for it and it makes me wonder what the fuck she would want in return. Because she will want something, it’s obvious by the gleam in her eyes. I have a feeling I know what she wants and she’s going to be disappointed as fuck because I’m no goddamn snitch.
“You want that? I can do that. Mr. Ferrucci just has to lead me to a bigger fish,” she purrs.
Sal, to his credit, doesn’t laugh in her face and neither do I. Instead, Sal