Prologue:
New Year’s Eve
Nicoletti Estate
Long Island, NY
11:45 p.m.
The ballroom had been converted into a plush night lounge. White chairs dotted the dark wood floors. Deep magenta track lighting lined the tray ceiling illuminating the crowd of high-profile men and women. Sheer white curtains draped from the ceiling to flutter gracefully on the chocolate floor. Soft sounds of yellow cocktail music piped through the installed stereo system, carrying across the lounge in an even, effective note. Cocktail waiters dressed in black steered through the crowd, offering caviar and finger foods, as well as champagne. A flat screen television hang overhead, giving the party guests a look into Times Square New Year’s Eve festivities.
The festive atmosphere quickly ended.
The glass from the white French doors shattered inward as a black battering ram tore through. Screams filled the converted ballroom as ten, then twenty members of the SWAT team and NYPD climbed through the fragmented glass.
“Everyone halt! Remain where you are! Hands up, now! We are looking for Matteo Nicoletti.”
The room silenced as everyone watched the men in black suits with numerous artillery. Five men, with K-9 German Shepherds, separated from the group, leaving the ballroom to investigate the rest of the mansion, their 9mm Berettas leading the way.
Jourdain looked up at the clock. It was 11:50 pm now. Her dark eyes roamed over the crowd, searching for the man who was dangerous enough to warrant a takedown from the SWAT team. She saw him, only because at that moment he decided to walk forward to meet the law enforcers. Her dainty high-heeled feet clicked loudly, echoing, as she rushed over to meet him.
“You Matteo?” an officer, stepping out from behind the SWAT members, asked gruffly.
The crowd gasped lightly. No one addressed him by his first name, only his wife and mother.
Matteo, dressed in a crisp, well-fitted tux, nodded his head. His hands were in his pockets, and his face was stoic, unreadable. He looked as he typically did, nonchalant, carefree. But everyone knew beneath the indifference, was a shrewd, calculating man. Nothing he did was without purpose. Nothing he planned failed. He almost seemed omnipotent, omniscient to those around him. He was powerful, all-knowing. Nothing happened without him knowing. He knew a snitch was going to snitch before the snitch did.
It was how he got as far as he did.
Matteo knew this was going to happen. Even before his wife decided to throw this party, Matteo knew the NYPD was working to arrest him. In his effort not to upset his wife, he agreed to host the party and gave her his black card to fund the damn thing.
Matteo nodded briefly to Lorenzo, who nodded back, showing that he understood the silent command.
“Matteo, no!” Jourdain cried. She let out another shriek seconds later as steel-like arms gabbed her mid-step, preventing her from reaching the man she cried out for.
“Sssh, Jourdain. Sweetheart, you knew this was going to happen sometime,” Lorenzo’s solemn voice soothed. “You know he doesn’t like seeing you like this. You have to be strong for him.”
“Matteo Nicoletti IV, you are under arrest…”
Matteo’s eyes found Jourdain’s as the cop read him his Miranda Rights in front of friends, family, and business associates. His eyes on her were the only things that gave her the strength to shut up. You can cry later, she promised herself; as her hand reached down to tightly grasp Lorenzo’s.
“…You have the right to remain silent,” the cuffs were placed on his tanned wrists, “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
The New Year's countdown had started.
10…
“You have the right to an attorney.” 9… “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” 8…7… “Do you understand these rights as they’ve been read to you?”
Matteo nodded. The officer grabbed him, using more force than necessary. “You smug son of a bitch, you are finally going down. You’ve been a thorn in my goddamn side for ten years.” The officer leaned even closer and whispered, “I wonder who’s going to enjoy your wife now.”
Matteo’s jaw clenched, but not a word was said. He knew the cop; Wesley had been a thorn in Matteo’s side for these past ten years.
Matteo stole one more glance over at his beautiful wife and his best friend before following the officers out the door.
2…1…Happy New Year!
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Sinful Infatuation
General Fiction**Contains mature content** There's a reason why the wicked have more fun... She's a lawyer to be. He's a high-profile mob boss. For all intents and purposes, they really shouldn't have even crossed paths. But when Jourdain and Matteo meet, a wicke...
