Sinful Infatuation

Sinful Infatuation: Chapter 8

AN: Key points that I may have forgotten to mention:

~Jourdain no longer works at the Orange Tabby for two reasons: 1) She only worked there to make her way through the last month of law school, so she has no purpose to work there anymore as she will probably be focusing on applying to different law firms. 2) She didn't want to work there in fear of seeing Matteo again...

~Also, Adrian is her stepfather, not her biological father. Remember that her parents are divorced and that she is an only child.

~The translations provided are for your benefit. Jourdain does not understand Italian besides the basics like: bella. Sometimes I may not provide a translation if I feel that it is a better fit for your reading experience to not know what they are saying. (Although, feel free to use your own translator if you must).

AND SPECIAL THANKS TO Hawaiiantropic FOR MAKING ME AN AWESOME BOOK COVER!!

also thank you KERSTINEVANILLA for also making a cover for me. Go to them if you want great covers.

That is all. Enjoy! J



August 7

Spice Thai Restaurant

Union Square (Manhattan), NY

1:00pm



"I don't know why I agreed to this," Max grumbled.

Jourdain rolled her eyes. "If you want to get married then we need to sit down and have a discussion about our wedding and the fees that come along with it." She didn't know what had gotten into him lately, but for the past couple of days Max had been exceedingly difficult to deal with, not wanting to do anything and complaining about everything. She had a feeling it was job related, but she couldn't be certain since Max didn't talk to her. Whatever it was, he needed to get over it quick. She was losing patience.

"Oh great," Max groaned.

Jourdain looked to see what he was complaining about now and saw that his gaze was directed to the door. She could see Alicia waving at her, while simultaneously giving Max a withering glare. "Hey, I'm so glad you could make it," Jourdain said, hugging her friend and inviting her to sit down.

"Of course I'd come. We have to plan this wedding," she cut a glance at Max, "even if it will be the biggest mistake of your life." Max sneered at her.

"Okay. You guys both promised to be civil. I don't know what I did in my past life to deserve this bad karma, but I need my best friend and fiancé to get along," Jourdain implored. Alicia and Max quit glaring at each other, but remained silent, choosing to look over their menus. Jourdain sighed. That was the best she was going to get. She didn't know why, but the two hated each other from the moment Jourdain introduced them. Even after all these years, the two have yet to stop bickering. Whenever she asked either about the feud, they responded with vague, general answers.

After the waitress came to take their orders, Alicia smiled at Jourdain. "Okay, so what is the maximum you want to spend on this wedding?"

"Ten thousand," Max interjected.

Jourdain gave him an incredulous look. "More like twenty-five thousand, at least."

Max's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he said nothing.

Alicia nodded, "Okay, do you want to have a destination wedding?"

Jourdain shook her head. "No, but I do want to have it in Westchester or New Rochelle."

"Oh, those are such nice places for a wedding, Jourdain!" Alicia gushed.

The pair went on talking about the wedding, briefly pausing to enjoy their Pad Thai. Max just sat, speaking only when spoken to. After the group finished their lunch, Alicia stated that she had to leave. "I'll see you later, girl." She gave Jourdain a kiss on the cheek. "Bye," Alicia said vaguely in Max's direction as she left the restaurant.

"She couldn't pay for her own food?" Max questioned as he put down a couple of notes on the table.

Finally, Jourdain had enough. "Are you okay? You've been acting very salty lately, and you didn't offer any input throughout lunch. In fact, you seemed rather distracted. Did something happen at work?"

Max sighed before attempting a smile, "Yeah, something did. But I'll be okay. I'm sorry."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jourdain asked, hoping he'd confide in her.

Max eyed her warily for a moment, and she could see the wheels spinning inside his head. He was debating whether it was something worth telling her, weighing the pros and cons. Finally he sighed and sat forward. Jourdain bit back a smile; she won. "Remember when I said I hoped to get one of those high-profile cases?" Jourdain nodded. "Well, I got one."

Jourdain's face slowly fell. "Max---"

"I know, I know. I know how you feel about me going on this type of case, but it's not what you think."

"Not what I think? Look at you! You're already changing. It's already stressing you out. How long are you going to have to be "undercover" or whatever it is that you guys do?"

"I'm not going undercover at all," Max said. Jourdain gave him a perplexed look. Max leaned in further, almost whispering. "The department and the FBI made a deal with one of our high-profilers; in exchange for information we'll give him leniency."

Jourdain's eyes widened. "Are you sure that's even legal?"

"It'll be fine. The government does things like this all the time. The bastard is a clever one though. We'd been planning on gathering as much information from him as possible and then arresting him, but he drew up a contract. We are currently trying to find a loophole."

"But if you guys made a deal with him, why would you try to go back on it?"

Max looked at her intently, speaking slowly, "He's a criminal, baby. He shouldn't be on the streets. After all the shit he's done, the least he could do is help the government out and then turn himself in."

Jourdain shook her head, understanding his logic, but not being able to fully agree. If you made a deal with someone, regardless of the circumstances, that promise should be honored. "Well, be safe. Remember what I said."

The couple walked out of the restaurant, hand in hand. Max chuckled, "Yes, I remember your cowardly advice."

"The cowards are the ones that come back alive to tell the story. Not the heroes."

"Very true, Jo, very true," he conceded.

The two were quiet for a moment before Jourdain asked, "Hey, what did you say that guy's name was again?"

"I didn't say his name. I've already told you enough classified information, Jourdain. I shouldn't have said all that I did."

"Oh come on! If you've already told me everything else, then there's no harm in telling me what his name is," she plead, squeezing his arm and giving him the puppy dog look.

"Promise to give me a back massage when we get home, and I'll tell you the name," Max offered.

"Oh, I'll massage anything you want," Jourdain purred, waggling her brows.

He stopped walking, pulling her closer. His hands rested comfortably on her waist. "Anything, huh?" Max asked huskily, leaning down to give her a slow kiss.

Jourdain moaned softly against his lips. "Yes sir."

Max straightened up, caressing her smooth, brown cheek. "Remember you can't tell anyone, not even Alicia." He waited until he saw her nod before saying, almost in reverence, "You're so beautiful."

"Max," Jourdain said, trying to keep him on track, even as she blushed at his words.

"Okay, okay. His name's Matteo Nicoletti IV. Sounds like the perfect name for an arrogant asshole if you ask me..."

Max continued to speak, but she was no longer listening.

Her world was spinning.

Something in her snapped.

She was so stupid.

All the signs had been there: the flashy wealth, the warehouse, the gun, the vague answers, the arrogance...the fucking arrogance that gave him the ability to sit in front of her and lie about who he truly was.

She felt sick to her stomach.

She'd been prepared to leave a legit man for him.

Karma was a bitch indeed. The one time she decided to do something wild, she'd been bitten hard on the ass for it. She had slept with the devil.

How many people had he threatened with those soft lips?

How many people had he killed with those powerful, talented hands?

Icy fingers gripped her heart.

She felt light headed.

She felt guilty...because for a moment, she still wanted him, and was still ready to give up everything, overlook everything to be with him.

He was like poison.

Her affliction.

Her addiction.

Her infatuation.



"Jourdain, Jourdain, baby, are you okay?" Max asked worriedly.

Jourdain blinked slowly, shaking her head, "Yeah, sorry. I totally zoned out there. You're right, that is an asshole-y name."

Max gave her a strange look before agreeing, and continuing to walk.

Jourdain pulled out her phone, texting Alicia.

NEED 2 TELL U SOMETHING. COMING OVER TONIGHT.

****



August 7

Alicia's apartment

Manhattan, NY

9:07pm



Alicia looked at Jourdain wide-eyed as she watched her pace back and forth in footie pajamas. Normally the sight would have made her laugh, but she was too horrified with what Jourdain had just said. "I don't think I heard you right---"

"You heard me. He's in the mob. Matteo's a fucking criminal."

"Maybe, there's another Matteo in the---" Alicia trailed off as she saw the look Jourdain was giving her. "Or maybe it really is him," she corrected weakly.

Jourdain growled. "That bastard. I should have known. The signs were all there! I ignored them so I could get laid."

"But he was a wonderful lay, he didn't threaten you, and he didn't try to kill you, so you're fine. You guys both got what you wanted."

Jourdain plopped down on the couch, sighing dejectedly. "But I didn't get what I wanted. I can't stop thinking about him. Everyday I'm constantly reminded of him. He's so thoroughly in my mind now; he's burrowed deep. I'm torn. Part of me still wants him, even knowing the truth, and another part of me is disgusted that I slept with a criminal, a liar. I feel betrayed."

Alicia was silent for a moment before saying softly, "It sounds like you love him, Jourdain."

"I don't know. I don't think its love," she denied. "It's infatuation. Being with him is addicting, thrilling. It's like shooting heroin for the first time, the amazing high you get, that rush that you can feel pulsing through your veins. And then you come down..."

"Maybe you need closure. Maybe you need to go to him and get answers," Alicia suggested.

Jourdain immediately started shaking his head. "No. When he and I are in a room together...no, I can't go see him."

"That's because you allow him to get you where he wants you. You need to set the terms this time. You pick the restaurant; make sure it's a reasonably crowded one. None of that 'closing down the restaurant' shit, that's an instant panty-dropper. Drive to the place yourself; do not allow him to pick you up in the limo. That means you'll be relying on him for a ride, and he'll give you a ride alright, but not home," Alicia waggled her brows.

"Are you forgetting that I have a fiancé? I cant just up and go on a date with a man," Jourdain yelled.

"Girl, calm down. It's Matteo. Let's not act like you haven't done anything with him before. And it's not a date date. You're just going to talk. If you stick to my rules, then you won't have any problem. You'll have your answers and a clear conscience."

"Why are you always talking me into going out with Matteo?" Jourdain asked suspiciously.

Alicia looked hurt. "I am just looking out for your best interests. Whether you're in love with him, or infatuated, there are some feelings there, and some hurt feelings too. Avoiding him is not going to make them go away faster."

Jourdain looked at her for a moment longer before picking up her phone and dialing his number.



"Ah, bella, what a pleasant surprise," a gruff voice said.

Jourdain cursed his ability to make her shiver. His voice had so much power over her. "We need to talk." There was a pause on the other line. "Are you still there?"

"Si," he answered. "It's just that a man dreads hearing those words from his woman."

Jourdain bristled. "I am not your woman."

"Right," he agreed, much to her irritation.

What does that even mean, she thought. "I know, Matteo," Jourdain said plainly.

"Know what, bella?"

"Stop calling me that," she ordered through clenched teeth.

"I rather like it," he responded playfully.

Jourdain rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll call you Gianni then."

"Do not call me that," his tone was deadly serious.

Jourdain swallowed. "We are getting off topic! I know what you are Matteo. I know you work for the mob and I want answers."

Matteo chuckled. "I don't work for the mob, I am the mob."

Jourdain stood there with her mouth open. Alicia mouthed, 'what?' but Jourdain ignored her. "So you're not even gonna try to deny it?"

"Would you have believed me if I had?"

"No."

"Then, why waste my time and yours?" He asked reasonably.

Jourdain shook her head. This guy was mind fucking her so well she didn't even realize he was doing it half the time. "Well I want you to meet up with me so we can talk."

"Fine," Matteo conceded. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at---"

"No. We are doing this on my terms," Jourdain smirked when she saw Alicia give her a thumbs up. "You're gonna meet me at a place of my choice, and we're going to meet each other there---no limo business. Meet me at the Legends sports bar on 33rd street at ten tonight."

"You want me to meet you at a sports bar?" He asked skeptically.

"Yes, so the noise can drown out your sweet talking and bullshit," she retorted wryly.

He chuckled, "Okay fine, Tesoro (sweetheart). I'll agree to your terms. See? I can be a nice guy."

Jourdain twisted her lips. "Yeah, I bet you say that to the hundreds of guys you threaten. I'll see you in a few. Goodbye." She hung up before he could answer. "Okay," she said, turning to Alicia. "I'm going to meet him tonight. Since Max already thinks I'm over here for the night anyway, I already have my alibi. The bar closes at midnight, so if I'm not back here by 12:30 blow up my phone. Call me, text me, leave voicemails. Eventually I'll snap back into my senses," she paused, "Well, hopefully."

Alicia giggled, "You'll be fine. But surely you're not going in that?" She asked, gesturing to Jourdain's footie pajamas.

Jourdain rolled her eyes. "Obviously not. But I will need to borrow a pair of heels."

Alicia gave her a sly grin. "Oh, I've got the perfect pair."

****



Same Night

Legends Sports Bar

Manhattan, NY

10:15pm



Jourdain walked inside the sports bar, looking around for Matteo. She had managed to ignore the wolf whistles and the 'come here, baby' remarks until some man grabbed her by the wrist. She turned to give him a piece of her mind, but the man's wide-eyed gaze was focused on something behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Matteo, with a tightly locked jaw, scowling at the man whose hand was still on her wrist.

"You wanna lose those fingers?" Matteo asked viciously.

Jourdain gasped. The tone of his voice reminded her of the warehouse incident.

The man quickly dropped her wrist, sputtering, "S-s-sorry, Gianni. I didn't know she was here with you."

Matteo smiled, but it clearly didn't reach his eyes, which were blazing green fire. He wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to the warm wall of his chest. "Now you know." With his arm still around her, Matteo guided her to their table.

"You know that guy?" She hissed as she was shuffled along.

"No. He knows me. I'm a very influential man. And you, bella, know better than to walk into a sports bar alone, looking like this," Matteo admonished, pulling out her chair for her.

"I'm wearing a tank top, jeans and heels, Gianni," she defended. "This is hardly a 'come and get me' outfit."

Matteo stiffened before placing a hand on the back of her chair, and one on the table, boxing her in. Leaning down, his face was close to hers, filling her line of vision so that all she could see was him. She was caught in the green, crystal prism that was his eyes and drawn by the heady scent of his natural musk and cologne. Her fingers tightened on her thighs as she felt a powerful throb between her legs. "What did I say about calling me that?" He breathed. Jourdain could smell the peppermint.

"What did I say about calling me bella?"

"Still stubborn, huh? When I last saw you, you seemed fine with the name. You moaned so sexily underneath me as I fucked you; responding more enthusiastically to when I called you bella mia than I could ever have imagined. Is that why you wish that I did not call you that anymore? Does the name bring up memories of me thrusting into you with my hard cock? Of when you belonged to me?"

"Shut up," she whispered, turning her head and letting her dark, thick hair shield her face. His words hit their mark.

She felt his fingers gently tug her hair behind her ear. She shivered as she felt him lean closer to her ear, his lips, beard and breath tickling the sensitive, fragile skin there. "What I wouldn't give to have you lying beneath me again..."

Jourdain breathed a sigh of relief when he finally took his seat across from hers. She didn't know how much longer she could've endured the blatant seduction. She knew this wasn't going to go well. Five minutes in each other's company and she already needed to change her panties.

There were waters already on the table, indicating that Matteo had at least been here for a while before she showed up. Matteo had picked the perfect table in the sports bar. They were far enough from people so that their conversation couldn't be heard and the noise level back here wasn't so loud, allowing them to have the intimate conversation without shouting. "Lets call a truce. I'll call you Matteo if you call me Jourdain." Matteo nodded slowly, his eyes still searing with lust, hunger, and possessiveness. "Right," Jourdain said, clearing her throat. "So how long have you been in this...business?"

"For twelve years," he answered honestly.

She kept her expression carefully blank, but her voice held a dubious tone. "So you've been doing this since you were twenty," she repeated needlessly.

Matteo nodded, squeezing a lemon slice and adding it to his water. "It was my father's business. When I became old enough, it passed down to me, naturally, since I was the oldest."

"I thought your father died?" She inquired softly.

"He did," he answered curtly, "shortly after I took over. Shot three times in the chest."

"Oh," she said weakly. She took a sip of her drink. "So what do you do on a day to day basis?"

Matteo leaned forward, smirking. "What do I get in return for answering your questions?"

"A high-five," she said dryly.

"I want more."

"You always want more, Matteo."

"How about you'll owe me one favor afterward," he suggested.

Jourdain thought it over. On one hand, she could gain a wealth of knowledge. Maybe she could finally gain insight on the enigma that was Matteo. On the other, he could ask her any kind of favor that she could not particularly refuse, and she had some idea of what it would be. "Fine, but the favor has to be reasonable, Matteo. No sex," she asserted. "So answer my question. What do you do on a day to day basis?"

"Not what you think. I don't loot, rape, and pillage through the boroughs of New York City. Most of the time I take care of my legit businesses, including the Orange Tabby, go over contracts, and invest in stocks."

"And when you're not doing the normal stuff?" She stared at him as he thought of an answer. He was gorgeous with his tanned Italian skin, trimmed beard, curly ink black hair and perfectly sculpted lips. He was wearing a black V-neck sweater that stretched over his broad chest, hugging his frame generously. Jourdain even admired his hands that were composed of big, and strong palms and slender fingers. Currently those fingers were drumming a beat of impatience against the tabletop. She looked up to see him watching her watch him. She flushed in embarrassment, her long lashes fluttering against the crests of her cheeks as she looked down and away from his burning stare. She didn't see his answering grin.



"Say it isn't so! Gianni? In this part of town? Get outta here!" A surprisingly raspy voice shouted.

She looked up in time to see Matteo briefly stiffen before facing the speaker of the abrupt voice with his signature blank face--- the "business" face. Jourdain turned to watch the mystery man approach. This man was about six feet tall, with onyx eyes and messy brown hair, which she guessed was attractive in that unkempt kind of way some women liked. He had a prominent bone structure and strong jaw, but was overall a slender man. His broad shoulders almost seemed comical on his lean frame. He slinked over to the couple with a slick grin on his face. Jourdain immediately went on alert; he had a dishonest way about him. When the man came to a stop in front of their table, Jourdain looked at Matteo to make introductions, but he just sat staring at the man with an undecipherable expression. "Hello, I'm Jourdain," she said, reaching out a hand, "And you are?" Not that she really cared; she was just trying to be polite. The faster they got back to their conversation, the faster she could learn more about Matteo.

The man smiled widely, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his warm lips. "Ciao, signorina. Il mio nome è Anthony (Hello, Ms. My name is Anthony)," he pronounced with a perfect Italian accent. Without releasing her hand, he turned to Matteo, "Che bella donna! Hai scelto un buon uno. Dove hai trovato il suo?"

Jourdain frowned as the man rudely spoke in full-blown Italian in front her. She clearly was not Italian, and therefore had no clue as to what he was saying.

"I can't give away all my secrets," Matteo answered, taking Jourdain's hand out of Anthony's to clutch it in his own. The gesture warmed her and the bit of possessiveness that she detected sent a tingle down her spine.

"Mind if I take a seat?" Anthony asked, sitting down before he could receive a response. He fixed his obsidian eyes on her. "So Jourdain, where are you from?"

"Born and raised in Manhattan," she said proudly, with the arrogant air of most New Yorkers.

"Ah, Manhattan ain't shit. Brooklyn is where it's at! That's where me and my friend Gianni here were raised."

Jourdain gave Matteo a brief glance. So he was a Brooklyn boy huh? He had never divulged that information to her. She leaned in a little closer to the little informant. "Oh really? Were you guys neighbors or something?"

Anthony laughed, loud and heartily. "I guess you could say that. I mean we lived neighborhoods away from each other, but for some reason our families kept running into each other. Every single meeting was...explosive to say the least," Anthony admitted, snapping his ring-adorned fingers at a waiter. "How hard is it to get service around here?" He grumbled under his breath.

"So you guys were...rivals, so to speak?" Jourdain inquired.

Anthony chuckled. "Gianni, I'm begging you! Tell me where you found this one!" His dark eyes made a slow circuit down her body. "Beautiful, sassy, and smart. She's a dangerous combination. I gotta find one of my own." He finally met her eyes again. "But to answer your question, doll, our families are rivals so to speak."

"Why don't you tell her your social security number while you're at it?" Matteo bitched, tossing back the rest of his water as if it were scotch.

Jourdain narrowed her eyes on him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what the fuck it sounds like," he spat.

The pair glared at each other for a while longer before Jourdain stood up. She had enough. This meeting was clearly going nowhere and he wasn't giving her the answers she wanted. "It was nice meeting you, Anthony, but I think its time I left." Anthony's eyes were level with her hips when she stood, and he was all eyes. She gave Matteo a curt nod before turning and stomping off in her platform heels. She made her way through the crowded bar area without any problem this time and was outside on the sidewalk before she felt him grab her wrist. She rounded on him, slapping his cheek. "Don't you dare speak to me that way again! Now, let go of me, I'm going home." Just as suddenly she found herself pressed against the deserted alley wall by the sports bar, with an angry Italian man in her face, and her wrists pinned above her head.

"What did I say about hitting me, Jourdain?" He asked, his face inches away from hers.

"I swear I hope they arrest you," she shouted, staring him down.

Matteo smirked, but there was no mirth in his expression. "Your fiancé," he spat the word, "couldn't wait to tell you about our little deal, huh? You guys are so forthcoming in your relationship, telling each other everything." His voice dropped to a seductive, yet menacing contralto, "Did you tell him about everything we did? In the bowling alley, in the kitchen, in my room? Did you tell him how we were damn there making a family in the family room? I fucking rocked your world and that's why you're back, right? You want some more, but you're too good of a person, and too afraid to ask."

Alarmed that he may be right, Jourdain said, "They are planning to arrest you anyway, Matteo. Deal or no deal."

He scoffed. "I have an airtight contract. I'd like to see them try."

"Don't let your arrogance get in the way of your freedom," she warned.

"Don't let your fear get in the way of what you want," he countered. He kissed her gently on the nose, then her cheek, and the corner of her lips...and then his mouth was on hers--- hot, fierce, demanding. Her lips parted and he conquered her mouth with his typical flare, assaulting her senses and rendering her powerless. He grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up, and forcing her legs around his waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands gripping the soft curls at his nape. Despite the urgency of the kiss, his lips were still soft and warm against hers, making her melt against him. She moaned softly against his mouth and his hands tightened on her hips in response. And then he started to move his hips...



She had no room to back up and avoid this new assault. He growled, tightening his grip even more as he began to grind against her in earnest. His powerful hips and hard bulge, and her jeans created a heavenly friction, making her cry out. She tore her lips from his, whispering encouraging words in his ear as she began to move her hips in answer to his. "Oh God," she choked as he increased the pace of the pseudo thrusts, to the point where they were basically fucking against the alley wall. After one of her particularly hard down- thrusts, she heard Matteo groan in her ear, felt the rumble against her chest. She reveled in the sound, repeating the move over and over again so she could get the wild response from him again. "Merda (shit), what are you trying to do to me?" He whispered, gently biting the delicate skin of where her neck met her shoulder. Jourdain moaned loudly. Shit, that felt good.



"Get a room!" Someone obnoxiously yelled, followed by the sound of giggles.

Jourdain immediately froze, and felt as if she were snapping back into herself. She pushed against Matteo's broad shoulders and he let her down. He was too busy glaring at the intruders anyway, who all began to scramble away from the scowling man. When he turned back to face her, she couldn't look him in the eyes. "I'm going to go now," she whispered, and began walking away. For once, he let her.

****

Matteo watched her swaying hips as she walked away, mesmerized. Damn, she had looked good tonight. Even in a seemingly basic outfit, she drove him crazy, to the point where he couldn't keep his hands off of her. Everything about tonight was wrong. From constantly reminding her about their night together, to Anthony interrupting their conversation, then to them being against the wall, almost going half on a baby. Matteo shook his head. When it came to her his plan always fell apart.

But speaking of Anthony...

Matteo stalked back into the sports bar, and sat back down into his chair. Anthony was still there waiting. Matteo knew there was a reason for his visit. Anthony didn't just show up at random sports bars on coincidence. "What do you want, you little shit?" Matteo asked impatiently.

Anthony sat forward, his beady eyes glassy. He must have done a line of coke while Matteo was outside with Jourdain. "I got a deal for you. An offer you absolutely can't refuse."



Somehow, Matteo doubted that. Jourdain's warning ran through his head.



He was already one deal too deep.