Intimate Knowledge Part 1 (3 page)

Only now it‘s suddenly got way more concrete.  I try to keep my voice steady, but I know it probably wobbles and maybe even squeaks a little.

“I don’t get it.  Why does he have photos of me?  I’m not on the case.”

“We don’t believe it has anything to do with the case.  He
doesn’t appear to know you are on the force.  You’ve been on a leave of absence at law school for about six weeks, correct?”

I nod.  My voice has d
eserted me.

“And that’s what he thinks you are -a law student
.  A little more mature because you have worked your way through school.  We believe he has developed a romantic interest in you during that time.  Well, more specifically, over the last ten days.”

I find my voice again. 
“When?  How?”

“You attended a gallery opening about then and we have traced that to his first contact with you.  We have a digital CCTV feed from the gallery.  He can hardly take his eyes off you.  If you just watch closely you can see...”

“No!”  I stop them before they can start the feed.  I am terrified I will reveal too much.  I know there is no way I can calmly sit in this room and watch my desires come to life under the eyes of two cocky agents and my crusty old chief!  I modulate my tone and give a reasonable excuse for not watching the feed.  “No need, I can brief myself on it in my own time.  You guys are usually on the money, I’ll accept your conclusions.  Why don’t you just cut to the chase.”

Agent Wilson nods.  He closes the laptop and leans back in his chair.

“What do you know about Simba?”

I sit up and start my
spiel.  I have a photographic memory and his file is emblazoned on it.  “He is the youngest of the current generation of the Gold Family.  Actually the bastard son of Craig Gold and an Italian foreign exchange student.  She disappeared around the time of his birth and later resurfaced back in Italy.  There is some speculation of dubious consent in his conception, fuelled by his mother’s refusal to marry the father or even legitimize Leo.

The matriarch, Rosa Gold found out about him two years after his birth and tried to bring him and his mother back to get married into the staunchly Irish Catholic dynasty as Craig was her favorite son and she wanted his child.  It appears that Craig Gold actually had feelings for the girl and some guilt as he accepted her refusal and allowed her to live undisturbed but fully supported with her son in Italy.  She still lives in Italy and she has consistently refused to return stateside.

Craig Gold was killed in a gang execution when Leo was ten and his mother, moved to pity by a grief stricken Rosa, was persuaded to send him back to live with her and be educated in the States.  He was schooled here and spent his holidays and summers in Italy with his mother.  Rosa Gold is reputed to be inordinately fond of him and there is every indication he returns the affection.

He earned an engineering degree in the States, followed by an architectural degree in Italy and actually has his own small architectural firm in Rome.  So far
, we have been unable to link it to any of the Gold assets.  It appears to be fully legitimate and he spends a significant portion of his year back in Rome running it.  As well as English and Italian, he is fluent in French, Spanish, German and some Mandarin.  While in Italy, out of deference for his mother, he goes by her Italian family name.  He maintains a small pied a terre in Rome, a condominium here in the city and his mother’s family has a small vineyard estate in Northern Italy.

Originally, he appeared clean and we believed Rosa Gold ha
d succeeded in keeping her word to his mother to separate him from his paternal family’s crime associations.  Then two years ago, the only son of his uncle died in a car crash.  After a number of meetings with his uncle, Leo was legitimized and we believe he is now being groomed to take over.  His increasingly frequent appearances at the family clubs and institutions and his closer association with his Gold half-siblings and cousins supports this theory.

Although we identify him as the heir apparent, we have no evidence of him being involved in any of the family crime activities, but as noted, his frequenting many of their club establishments more recently indicates a watchful eye over his inheritance.  The main evidence
we have on him is a number of documents with his signature that have dubious connections, but no concrete proof, to illegal trafficking, internationally.”

I take a deep breath, the two agents look impressed, and my chief beams proudly.

Agent Wilson looks across at my chief and says, “You weren’t exaggerating; she is good.”

He turns back to me.  “What isn’t in his file is his romantic history and, as he has been at great pains to keep that private, you won’t have read much in the media.  The
guy is not a player.  He has had a number of relationships with women in Italy, all long term, no infidelity on either side, and all ending amicably with continued friendships.  The last relationship ended two months ago.  Our informant claims it waned on Gold’s side for some time before that, but he wanted to let her down easy.  He likes women, women like him and he treats them well.  There is every indication that when he falls for a woman, he falls hard.  A fact we are hoping, with your help, to use to our advantage.”

“Because you believe he’s fallen for me.”

“Exactly.”

Chapter Two

Wednesday 19 June   Leo Gold’s Penthouse

“By the window, Mr. Gold?”

“Yes, thank you.  It should look best there.  Just check with my grandmother, this is her show.”

The gallery owner smiles and nods.  He is here to personally oversee the delivery of the painting Nonna Rosa chose from the exhibit.  In addition to ogling Raisa, I did actually pay some attention to the art that night.  I brought my grandmother the next day and as I suspected, she fell in love with this painting.  It is perfect for the art piece she chooses every year as a memorial to my father.  It is auctioned for a donation to the wing in the hospital dedicated to his memory.  As usual, I am hosting the gathering where she will unveil it Sunday evening here in my apartment.

The gallery owner makes his way out towards the rooftop patio where Nonna Rosa is directing her court of sorority pledges.  Although there is the token poor girl, they are mostly from Boston high society families.  Before he exits, he turns back.

“About the other piece?”

“Yes?”

“When would you like us to deliver it?”

“Does she still come to view it?

“Daily.  Usually in the morning, sometimes at lunch.”

“Then leave it to the last minute
.  Late afternoon before the evening unveiling should be fine.” 

Since the gallery opening, Raisa has regularly viewed one of the paintings.  It seems to fascinate her. 

I bought it five days ago. 

I am looking forward to enjoying both the painting and her in my bedroom in the not too distant future.

He nods and makes his way out to the patio now cluttered with a massive amount of young women.  At only ten am, it is shaping up to be a humid scorcher.  I was outside enjoying my pool just before my grandmother and her female hordes descended on me an hour earlier than agreed.  I leave them to their machinations. 

Pulling on a light button down shirt, I leave it open and zip up my chinos over my damp trunks, not fastening the restrictive top button.  I figure that this is just enough deference to propriety without making me uncomfortably hot.  I combat my resentment at the invasion of my home.  Nonna is one of the
reasons I still come to America, so no point in getting uptight when she takes over.  Her I don’t mind, but I am used to the elegant deference of Italian women and these giggling and in some cases brazen, brassy girls get on my nerves.

I leisurely pad through to the kitchen, my bare feet welcoming the coolness of the wooden floor in my living room and the even cooler feel of marble in the kitchen.  I pull a cool beer from the fridge and enjoy
it’s coldness against my face.  Still holding the fridge door open with my knee to let its cold air reach me, I unscrew the bottle and tip my head back to let the coolness of the amber liquid glug down and caress the back of my throat finishing over half of it in one long gulp.  I close my eyes, emitting a satisfied growl, my head tipped back still enjoying the sensation, shamelessly.  What the hell, it’s drinking time somewhere.

There is a sort of squeaky cough and I open my eyes looking towards the sound in surprise. 
What. The. Fuck.
  Just how strong is this beer! On the opposite side of the breakfast bar, the star of all my sexual fantasies for the past two weeks has somehow materialized in my kitchen.

“Sorry.  Rosa told me to come right in.”  She waves her cell as if that explains everything.  Her hair
is pulled sexily round in a side braid and her dark navy eyes take on a doe like expression.  She is dressed casually in sexy heels, dark blue skinny jeans and a white oversize man’s shirt that manages to make her appear even more fragile and feminine.  The top buttons are undone, dipping as far as her voluptuous cleavage and the swell of her breasts seem to spill invitingly towards me.  I am glad the breakfast bar is between us so she can’t see the effect she is having on me.  Unfortunately, I have no such protection from my grandmother’s prying eyes.  She throws a pointed look at my arousal, gracing me with a knowing frown as she passes around the breakfast bar to greet Raisa.

I curse her untimely appearance.  I am only moments away from dragging Raisa off by the hair (that braid just begs for it) into my bedroom.  I figure she really is just a
n apparition so I am required to act as my desires dictate not behave in the correct manner of a dutiful grandson towards what appears to be my grandmother’s latest pledge.  I realize with a start that she actually has this role as she is burdened down by any number of various paraphernalia my grandmother seems unable to function without.  I will my erection back into somnolence and cross over to her in order to relieve her of all that stupid crap in her delicate, overstrained arms.

************

I really thought I was prepared to finally meet him in the flesh.  This moment has been carefully orchestrated by Special Agents Wilson and Alexander and all their various informants and minions.  They placed all the calls, pulled all the strings, planted the misinformation and the false identity, and spent hours briefing me, so we could successfully pull this off.

It’s
just that I didn’t expect there to be quite so much flesh.

All I can do is stare stupidly wide eyed at the gorgeous man’s golden, ripped chest, glistening with sweat, suntan oil and droplets of the amber liquid that I watch him drain down in a profoundly erotic display of primal satisfaction.  My knees almost buckle when I hear that growl and my nipples peak.  My pelvic area contracts and the humiliating wetness his fantasy image produces flows so freely in his actual presence that I am sure its musky fragrance fills the kitchen.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have accepted this assignment.  After Agent Wilson succinctly laid out the bureau’s belief in Leo Gold’s romantic interest in me and what they hoped to gain from it, I really should have admitted to having the ultimate hots for the guy.  It might have ended their plans or it may just have adjusted their strategy.  I wasn’t prepared to take the chance.  Sure, I am on my way to a new stage in my career, but this is the perfect swan song.  It is too good an opportunity to pass up.  I want to be on this task force so bad I ache for it.  I thought I ached for it more than I ached for him.  Now as I watch him in movie action slow motion, I am no longer as convinced.

Their strategy of placing me as a pledge in Rosa Gold’s sorority is genius.  She is still mega active since she joined in her college years in the late 1950’s and particularly since her son was killed.  It is a good way in, as it makes use of my law school affiliations and the recent bad press for sorority hazing gives me a good counter cover
should my cop identity be compromised.  Sticking as close to the truth as possible is the best way to make a cover credible and it lets me get close to Leo without a romantic approach. 

That’s
the danger with going undercover as romantic bait; at some point not putting out creates suspicion.  The secret is to get close to the guy but have some obstacle in the way to consummation, but still play up the guy’s feelings for you to get close enough to find what you need.  A sorority pledge is a bit like a vestal virgin.  As his grandmother’s vestal virgin, I am pretty much untouchable or so the plan goes.  But the plan didn’t count on a vestal virgin who is a hot little tramp for the target.

He is clearly stunned to see me appear in his kitchen, but once the initial shock wears off he starts to look at me the way a
guy looks at you just before he picks you up and throws you on the bed.  Jeez, I love it when a guy does that – the looking and the throwing - but it’s been a while.  I should get out more, maybe then I would stop fantasizing improperly and keep my libido out of the workplace.  Just when the look starts to get serious, Rosa Gold appears.  She gives him a surprised look and then greets me.

“Raisa, you found the place.  I see the
doorman let you up, alright.  Oh good you have all the materials.”

Behind her, I see Leo compose himself and then he moves towards me at a graceful, long-legged pace that passes her.  He reaches me and makes to take my burden in a soft voice
.

“Please, cara.
Allow me.”

Oh fuck me
, how dare he have that sexy, unusual accent.  It is the last straw, gorgeous body, gold-flecked eyes and now a super, sexy voice.  That is it; three strikes.  In my dreams his voice is that of the Boston Irish Mafia or the Italian Gangsta twang, never that mix of Boston upper class and undulating, cultured, Northern Italian.  It makes sense.  Ultimately, he is the merging of the two - born and bred in Italy, but raised and educated in the best Boston schools.  He is not an American with Italian heritage - he is part Italian native and part Boston Irish dynasty and he has the voice to go with it.

Dazedly, I make no move to hand him the junk his grandmother ordered me to bring.  He brushes against me
, electric tingles shoot up my arm and the whole area we inhabit seems to sizzle with current.  I suck in my breath.  You read of this in books or watch it in movies and think its hyperbole or metaphor, but it is so fucking real I can’t stand it.  I clutch the junk against me for protection and glare at him.

“It’s fine. 
I’ve carried it this far, just let me know where to put it.  I’m not as fragile as I look.”

I know I am being rude
, but it goes a long way to establishing the hands off persona the task force mutually decided I present.  And it might just get him to stop looking at me like he could drink me down as easily and greedily as he did that beer.  It works.  He backs off and I sense his hurt.  Yes hurt.  I didn’t expect that and feel lousy.  I shake myself.  It’s bad enough I’m sexually into him, the last thing I need is to connect with him emotionally.

I start to go through the process in my head
I’ve developed over the years for undercover work when the specter of emotional connection arises.  I just run the images of the victims of the crimes I am trying to gather evidence to prove through my head like a movie projector.  It works even better than a cold shower.  The crack houses, the teenage hookers, the terrified beaten image of a young woman who showed up with her two big eyed, undernourished kids at a women’s shelter only to return in fear to her pimp after a threatening phone call.  The images work their magic and his attraction miraculously wanes.  Through my montage, I hear Rosa’s voice.

“Seriously, Leo.
  When are you going to understand American women can hold their own?  You don’t need to coddle us they way you do your women.  Through there, Raisa.”

She points toward the living room and I go through struggling to hold on to the junk, wishing contrarily that I
was
one of those coddled women.  The stuff is actually pretty heavy and awkward and a secret part of me wishes I could just unload it on to him.  I hear her voice chiding him.

“You really should make yourself
decent, the place is full of impressionable young women.”  She lowers her voice and I strain to hear.  “Raisa is a serious contender for your father’s scholarship award this year.   You know my rules.  I’m surprised.  You usually prefer Italian women.  I don’t think I have ever seen you show interest in an American girl since you left high school.”

His reply comes through clenched teeth.  “Maybe if you arrived at the agreed hour I would be better dressed.”  He makes no comment on her other statement and then there is a sigh and his tone
changes, obviously regretting his harshness and a soft fondness creeps in.  “Just try not to let those impressionable young women destroy my home too much.  I’ll be in my study if you need me.”  I hear a soft sound that indicates he most likely gave her a peck on the cheek before padding away.