Hidden Deceit
A Mafia Romance
Corrupt Minds Book 2
Camille Alexander
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental.
Also By Camille Alexander
THE CORRUPT MINDS SERIES
Forbidden Desires (Book 1)
Hidden Deceit (Book 2)
Ruthless Captor (Book 3)
THE OBSESSED BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE SERIES
The Brokerage - Book 1
The Catacombs - Book 2
The Catacombs II - Book 3
The Catacombs III - Book 4
The Sentinel - Book 5
THE OBSESSED BILLIONAIRE BOX SET
CONTACT CAMILLE Newsletter
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Chapter One
ELEANORA
“You know he’s staring at you, right? He’s so good looking. His friend’s not too shabby, either. Come on, Ella, flirt back. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Bria never missed a beat when it came to rooting out the best looking man within a two-mile radius—it was her thing. She was tall, lanky, and a hell of a dancer. Her height gave her an advantage over me, making her the perfect scout when it came to finding cute guys in a crowd. There was no shortage of willing partners in the club. There never was, but Bria and I were particular when it came to our choices in men.
“Yes, Bria, I see him. He’s gonna have to do a little more than stare a hole through my jumpsuit. The harder they work, the more grateful they are, as my mother always says.”
I’d learned the hard way not to make it too easy for the fellas. Italian men were all great lovers of the female body, but when it came to monogamy, they fell a little short. Perhaps it was the mood in Sicily in the 1970s. Young people were in need of distraction. The Second Mafia War was raging, consuming the region with violence and turmoil, the new way of life.
Italo Disco was blaring through the overhead speakers of the nightclub when the sexy, young man with jet black hair and piercing green eyes made his way to our table. He was tall, built like a bulldozer, and carried himself with confidence. He was most certainly a somebody—entirely too put together to be a wannabe.
“Uomo sexy,” whispered Bria as they came closer.
“Yes, Bria, I can see that. Keep your voice down, you horny girl.”
I’d worn my figure-hugging, shiny, electric blue jumpsuit. It was a showstopper for sure, accentuating my hourglass figure. My mother usually had a mini-stroke when she’d see me leave the house in my painted-on dancing clothes—I wore a coat when I thought my father was home. But it was the era of disco and platforms, and I was determined to rock it.
My admirer was wearing a flashy black shirt and white flared pants. His friend smiled like a Cheshire cat as he shimmied over to us. Bria, my best friend, was a gorgeous blonde, with pale blue eyes and a cute dimple when she smiled. She wore a silver miniskirt with knee-high white boots. A dance student, she attracted male attention on the dance floor. We were invariably up to our eyeballs in free drinks once she’d been under the glow of the disco ball for a few minutes. There was no doubt that the suppliers of the drinks wished her drunk enough to encourage her to wrap her long, shapely legs around their waist.
The temperature rose as the four of us squared off. The game was about to begin, and I had every intention of getting behind the ball, jumpsuit and all.
JOE
The newest nightclub in Palermo was pumping. It was at least ten o'clock when Fabio and I arrived, dressed to kill and ready to show off our Saturday Night Fever moves. The dance floor was illuminated with a large silver disco ball, colored lights flashing to the beat. The white and black checkered floor was a hive of sweaty bodies, gyrating and moving to the music.
Fabio was watching a beautiful blonde with gorgeous legs and a miniskirt that couldn’t possibly have been any shorter. She was a looker, alright, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her friend, the dark-haired stunner in the painted-on blue shiny jumpsuit.
“Ooph, I’d rather feel her than feel sick,” Fabio commented as he ogled the blonde. Her friend is definitely your type, bud. Dark, tanned, voluptuous. Yup, we’re in for a treat tonight, my friend.”
“Slow down, Romeo, pace yourself.”
My best buddy, Fabio, and I had been thick as thieves since we were in diapers. He was a good looking boy, skinny and tall but strong as an ox. He loved the ladies, and they adored his easygoing, fun approach to life. He had no type per se—if she was hot, he was willing to do her.
“That brunette isn’t going to sit on the shelf for too long, buddy. I can see you like her,” he mocked as he looked at my groin.
“You’re a chop, Fabio. Don’t worry about me, you perv. I’ve got this.”
He gave me one of his signature “love ya, bud” grins and made his way to the bar to buy us a drink. I watched the brunette as she moved. She was sensuous as hell, and her hourglass curves sent goosebumps up and
