Page 50 of Tempted By the Devil

“Well, I’m purchasing Metro News. That solves that piece of it.”

“You’ll suppress the story?”

“I can do what I want. It’s my outlet. They’ll report what I want to report. Maybe I’ll buy up the other channels too. Rafael Calderone, Newport’s newest media king.”

“And the object of your affection?” Adagio asks, almost grinning.

“Portia…” I trail off for a moment, the ice from my Campari soda rattling against the glass. “She’ll adjust. She’ll be promoted to head reporter for the network. I could even make her news director.”

“Nepotism. She’ll love that.”

“I sense sarcasm, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. She doesn’t know how she was promoted from morning news to evening, does she?”

He concedes my point with a nod. “How did your little hot cocoa date go? Maurizio and I got a laugh feeling like chaperones.”

I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

It’s the most time I’ve spent with Portia since Sicily. She was worried enough to accompany me to the ER and then allowed me to walk her a few blocks as we sipped on hot chocolate. Small and insignificant to some, but monumental for a man as obsessed as I am.

Notes of her perfume lingered in the night air.

Florals like roses and jasmine. Musky hints like sandalwood.

Her scent is one that’s lived on despite her absence. A scent I’ve smelled so many times in memories, but the other night as I walked her, it was real again.

It was as potent and evocative as ever.

The city lights shone in her dark eyes. Curiosity swam in them as she’d turned to face me and asked me to explain what happened.

I’d wanted to tell her. She’s owed the truth, yet I never could do it. For her best interest, she needs to remain in the dark about that time.

“She asked to know about Sicily,” I muse aloud. I’ve finished the Campari soda and resort to chewing on the jagged pieces of ice.

Adagio’s close to draining his glass too. He looks unsurprised by my revelation. “Of course she would. Women always want to know things like that. Where were you? Who were you talking to? What were you doing? They are little detectives whether they realize it or not. Which is why I stay single.”

“You slept with her sister,” I point out.

He grins. “We had fun. But it was a fling. We both went in knowing that. It’s different for you—you are obsessed with her.”

“I didn’t tell her. I couldn’t.”

“Why don’t you?”

“You know why I can’t,” I say. “It’s best she never knows. She might hate me more if she did.”

Adagio tips his head back as he empties every last drop of the liquored soda on his tongue. Standing up from the armchair, he gives a shrug. “Maybe you need to be like me. Be with women for fun and that’s all. It gets tricky when feelings are involved.”

* * *

I’m in the back of my town car stuck in Newport City traffic when Consigliere Anthony Citti calls. Though I might run things in Newport where the Bellucci name is concerned, I’m not too arrogant to recognize when those higher up in the family are reaching out.

“Anthony, it’s been a while,” I say as a hello. I don’t need to see the porky older man to know he’s puffing on a cigar.

He more often than not has one smoldering. Except for when he’s eating, sleeping, and showering, he’s enjoying a nice Italian Toscano Antico cigar.

“Rafael, it’s good you answered. I was hoping you would. How is Newport treating you?”

I glance out the car window at the congested traffic. “Do you hear those honking horns? There’s nothing like downtown traffic.”

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