Page 8 of Maddest Temptation
A wave of heat warmed my body and anxiety lodged in my chest attaching itself like tar. I dug my nails into my palm and tried to think, but my head was pounding, my heart beating painfully against my chest.
This was it; I was going to be sent to prison, the Feds, who I had no doubt were on their way, would definitely pin some kind of crime on me to punish my family and the Outfit. I might not be involved in their business, but I was part of that world, which unfortunately made me guilty by association. That’s when a very, very, stupid idea formed in my pounding head.
The kind of idea that tasted like a bitter pill and was hard to swallow. The kind of idea that smelled like shit. I was going to regret this, not just now but possibly for the rest of my life. If it weren’t for my mother putting his name in my head, I would never have attempted such a disastrous feat. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and right now I was desperate as it got. So, I dialed the number I had committed to memory and listened while it rang continuously.
“What?” A gruff voice answered.
The phone almost slipped from my hands. Four years. My throat constricted and my mouth went dry. Suddenly I forgot how to speak, my lips refusing to move. His voice was the same, and I was not ready for the wave of memories that flooded my head, giving me no chance to fight back.
“H-hi,” I whispered.
“Who the fuck is this?” Cassio snapped; sounding pissed off. I closed my eyes and relished in the sound of his voice?—
Snap. Out. Of. It.
I willed myself to remember where I was. “It’s Frankie—Francesca.” I corrected.
“Who?” Cassio’s voice was detached like he hadn’t stabbed me in the heart with a single word.
“Francesca Biancini.” I closed my eyes and swallowed. “Francesca Manci.” I corrected myself again. The name left a bitter taste in my mouth. Like the foulest of poisons.
“One minute.” The guard shouted.
“Where are you?” Cassio demanded.
“One sec,” I put a hand over the phone and asked the guard exactly where I was. “Precinct nine.”
There was a long pause, and I could hear the shuffling of sheets, then a female’s voice. My heart pulsed painfully in my chest. I tried to ignore it, tried to swallow down the jealousy that welled up inside of me. God, how I regretted calling him. Cassio was obviously busy right now. With a woman. A woman he could be dating. A woman he had probably been sleeping with.
Ugh. I pinched my temple; I could feel the start of a headache. This was a mistake I should never have called him. Why would Cassio help me? He hated me after all.
“You’re calling me from prison?” His voice broke through my thoughts.
“Jail,” I corrected.
There was another large pause until he said. “Why are you calling me?”
Jesus, how many blows to my self-esteem could I take? “Because, you know, you’re the…the only one I could call.” Good, now I sounded pathetic. Did I have to admit that to him?
“Times up.” The guard walked toward me. Intent on removing the phone from my hand.
“You know what, forget I called, just pretend I don’t exist.” He was obviously pretty good at doing that.
I inhaled deeply and rested my head against the wall. A shiver raced down my spine and I couldn’t help laughing at myself. What did I honestly expect? Calling Cassio was perhaps the worst idea I’d had since getting arrested. I was on a streak tonight, one fuck up after the other.
The guard must have taken pity on me because he remained silent as he escorted me back to the cell. Standing that close to me, I was sure he heard my exchange with Cassio.
Who the fuck is this?
His voice echoed in my head as I sat down on the floor and removed my Jimmy Choo pumps.
Francesca.
Who?
“Any luck?” Kimberly asked, and I opened my eyes to find her sitting forward and resting her elbows on her thighs.
“Guess we’ll be cellmates for a while.” Was all I said as I rested my head against the wall, yearning for some quiet since I wanted to lick my wounds in peace. As well as replay that short conversation over and over again, beating myself for being so stupid.