Forbidden Temptations (Tempted Series Book 2)

BOOK: Forbidden Temptations (Tempted Series Book 2)
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Contents

 

Dedicated to

Dear Reader,

Prologue: May 2012

Chapter One: 8 Months & 6 Days Later

Chapter Two: June 2005

Chapter Three: 2013

Chapter Four: 2013

Chapter Five: 2013

Chapter Six: June 2005

Chapter Seven: 2013

Chapter Eight: 2010

Chapter Nine: 2013

Chapter Ten: 2014

Chapter Eleven: 2014

Chapter Twelve: 2014

Chapter Thirteen: 2014

Chapter Fourteen: 2014

Chapter Fifteen: 2011

Chapter Sixteen: 2014

Chapter Seventeen: 2014

Chapter Eighteen: 2014

Chapter Nineteen: 2014

Chapter Twenty: 2015

Chapter Twenty-One: 2015

Chapter Twenty-Two: 2015

Chapter Twenty-Three: 2015

Chapter Twenty-Four: 2015

Chapter Twenty-Five: 2015

Chapter Twenty-Six: 2015

Chapter Twenty-Seven: 2015

Chapter Twenty-Eight: 2015

Chapter Twenty-Nine: 2015

Chapter Thirty: 2015

Chapter Thirty-One: 2015

Chapter Thirty-Two: 2015

Chapter Thirty-Three: 3 Months Later

Chapter Thirty-Four: Present Day

Epilogue

Other Books By Janine

About The Author

© Copyright

SNEAK PEEK

 

 

 

Dedicated to

Jennifer, Trish, Michelle and Rachel

Thank you for your helping hand, making Forbidden Temptations everything I hoped it to be.

I’m so thankful for you ladies.

Dear Reader,

 

Thank you for choosing to read my book. It humbles me so much that you have taken the time to read something I have created.

Illicit Temptations was meant to be a stand-alone and not part of a series. However, the characters have taken on a life of their own and I couldn’t be happier. This next book in the series, Forbidden Temptations, is truly a piece of my heart and I am already working on the next two books that follow Anthony and Adrianna’s story.

There are a few things I hope you keep in mind while reading this book. Remember, this is a work of fiction and while I try my hardest to deliver a story that is realistic, there will also be aspects of it that are not. The characters in this book are not meant to be collegiate men. They aren’t meant to speak proper English. They are street guys and you will find a lot of slang in this book. You will find the characters speak of Anthony’s time away in prison. They will call it jail, they will call it prison, they will say he did a bid and they most certainly will say he was locked up. In my experience, this is how people actually speak. While they may know the difference between jail and prison, they aren’t stopping to differentiate the two before speaking.

Again, thank you for taking the time to read Anthony and Adrianna’s story. I hope you love them as much as I do.

 

Lots of Love,

Janine

Prologue: May 2012

I had eight months and six days left of sleeping on this piece of shit bunk bed, in this piece of shit jail cell with an annoying little fuck for a cellmate. To say my life had turned to shit was an understatement. I was doing a three-year bid for possession and distribution of narcotics; if that’s not a fucking joke I don’t know what is. I have done a lot of fucked up shit, most of it illegal, but I never did drugs. Never sold them and never fucking snorted them, so it was pretty fucking funny that I went away for both. I didn’t have a say in the matter though; if I wanted to climb the ranks in the mob, I had to do whatever the fuck I had to do. So, when the boss told you that you needed to do a bid – you did it. The same goes for when the boss tells you the sole purpose of being incarcerated is to murder the man who ordered the hit on his Underboss. You don’t ask questions – you just do it. Too bad that plan went astray when my mark moved to a maximum-security prison before I could get the job done.

I stared up at the ceiling trying to tune out the little shit that was in the cot below me running his mouth. I swear to God he loves to hear himself talk.

“Overheard the C.O.’s talking about your next fight Bianci. They’re worried that you’re going to get your ass kicked like you did the last two fights.” Cheech said pointedly, getting my attention with that.

He was right, I got my ass handed to me and was still sporting a black eye as proof, but not because I couldn’
t fight. I was built like a machine. My power was undeniable, and when you put boxing gloves on me, I was a goddamn bull, fucking indestructible. I had purposely thrown my last two fights because I wanted to feel the pain. Each hit a reminder that I was a greedy bastard living in a self-created hell. I had destroyed everything that mattered to me. I had destroyed
her
.

“I don’t give a fuck what people are saying. They’re only concerned about who they’re going to bet on and which inmates are going to bring them the sweet payoff,” I replied angrily.

The correction officers here were a bunch of jerkoffs, always thinking they’re invincible just because they had a badge. It made me want to look at their smug faces and tell them they weren’t real cops, that their mother’s probably made them take the city test because they knew their sorry asses wouldn’t amount to shit. These guys didn’t respect their badge or bleed blue, they fucking bet on the inmates, slipped us cigarettes, and turned their fucking heads so we could beat the living fuck out of one another. My boss, Victor, had half these guys in his pocket and if my mark hadn’t been shipped to maximum-security, they would’ve locked me in a room with him and walked away so I could murder him. Don’t get me wrong, they were fine with me, but that’s because they didn’t have much of a choice. If they wanted that extra cash in their pocket, they had to treat me like a fucking king or Vic would cut them off.

“You going soft Bianci?” Cheech asked, trying his best to rile me up. He probably had half his commissary down on my fight.
     

I cracked my bruised knuckles, debating if I should tape them now or wait since I still had time before the fight. The C.O.’s wouldn’t be bringing us out to the yard until after visiting hours were finished. Sunday’s were a big day for visitors and the hours stretched long, everyone and their mother trooped it up here to see the guys. Me? I didn’t get visitors, not on Sundays, not on any days, not really even on holidays.

It wasn’t always like that. When I was first incarcerated, I had many visitors. Victor and the guys would come up to talk business with me and make sure I was keeping my head. Vic was really concerned that I’d go fucking crazy in the pen. I kept my cool, keeping to myself, spending most of my time boxing, and at night, when I closed my eyes, I’d dream of
her
.

She didn’t visit me much in the beginning but she did write to me on a weekly basis. The letters stopped after one visit, when I told her I didn’t want her coming up here anymore. I just couldn’t stand sitting across from her looking into her sad eyes, knowing I was the reason she looked so broken. I broke her heart the day I stepped on that state bus, and then I completely crushed it the day I made her believe that I didn’t love her anymore. I told her she needed to stop coming to visit me because she was only making a fool out of herself.

She was no fool.

I was the fool. The fool that pushed her away and let her go.

I didn’t just love her; I fucking cherished her. That woman owned me; my body, my soul and my black heart.

I jumped off the top bunk needing to shake her from my head, I positioned myself on the concrete floor and started to do push-ups. It was the one thing I did to distract myself whenever I thought of
her
. Sometimes I would feel my arms burn from the vigorous repetition before the ache in my heart dulled, or the vision of her gorgeous face faded from my mind. I wondered if I’d ever forget her luscious full mouth or what it felt like kissing her until her lips swelled, or even just looking into those chocolate eyes that looked at me like I was something, even though I was nothing. Would I always be haunted by the memory of long, brown hair that I’d tangle my fingers through, or her body that I had worshipped like it was my temple?

I grunted as the sweat beaded on my forehead, pushing my body up and then dropping my weight half way off the ground, doing it over and over in an effort to erase her from my mind. I ignored the sound of the bars sliding open and pretended like I didn
’t hear the C.O. had just stepped inside my cell. I prepared myself to block out what would happen next, telling myself I didn’t give a fuck, that no one came to see my sorry ass anymore or that it didn’t sting when Cheech left our cell because his woman came from Yonkers to see him.

“You too Bianci,” the correction officer said, forcing me to pause mid push-up. “Something happen to your hearing when Gomez knocked you out? I said you too, now let’s go.”

I rose to my feet, slowly turning around to glance at him. Cheech patted me on the back and stepped out of the cell following the other officer into the visiting room. The C.O. raised a single eyebrow as he crossed his arms against his puffed out chest.

“Move it Bianci, I don’t have all day.” He grunted impatiently,
before mumbling something about losing fifty bucks on a schmuck like me. My wide shoulders brushed past him through the tight entryway of the cell and I made my way down the cellblock. I could make out the inmates whispering as I passed by, wondering just as much as I was, who the fuck could my visitor be. The C.O. walked me through a door handing me off to another officer who would take me to the visitor
’s room.

I tried to go through the list of people that were approved to see me, trying to figure who I’d have to face, but then again, it didn’t matter, whoever was here probably only came on Victor’
s behalf anyway. I cracked my knuckles as the C.O. opened the metal door to the packed room, the loud sounds of hundreds of people talking washed over me, forcing me to look around at the mostly happy reunions of the prisoners with their loved ones.

I froze in my tracks, all the noise faded away as my eyes landed on her. She had her back to me as she sat alone at one of the metal tables. I might not be able to see her face, but I had memorized every single thing about her before I had left – and I’d know that backside anywhere. Her hair was a dead giveaway too, always so shiny. If I touched it, I knew it would feel like silk under my fingertips. I should turn around and deny the visit, go back to my push-ups and try to forget that Adrianna Pastore existed, but my feet moved towards her betraying my common sense.

The truth was I could never deny myself of her. I had set my sights on her when we were teenagers. I tried to talk myself out of having her but she consumed me from the moment I laid eyes on her. I had to make her mine. The shitty thing about that was, after I finally had her I got cocky and arrogant and thought I’d never lose her. I wasn’t fucking around when I said I never did a drug, but still – I was a junkie. I was addicted to Adrianna and was too weak to deny myself a fix of her.

I rounded the table feeling her eyes on me as I took the seat in front of her. I tried not to look at her right away, knowing that when I did, I’d start to feel that burn in my chest I seemed to get every time I looked into those eyes of hers. I clenched my fists in my lap so I wouldn’t reach out and take her face in my hands, trace my fingers over every perfect feature on her face and kiss her until they carted me back to my cell. I blew out a breath, lifted my head, and succumbed to my own torture as my eyes met hers.

BOOK: Forbidden Temptations (Tempted Series Book 2)
13.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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