by Sienna Mynx
Dominic gave a snide smile and walked off. Mirabella tracked him with his eyes before returning her glare to the doctor. “I asked you a question.”
“Sì, ah yes. I have. In fact, your staff was really gracious too. They gave me a room.”
Mirabella stared at the doctor. “And?”
“We went for a late lunch and a drive. We talked.”
“About?” Mirabella asked.
Sera smiled. “I’m sorry, Mirabella, that’s not how this works. If he is to be my patient, then I can’t speak with you about his sessions or...”
“He’s not your patient doctor. Not if you fucked him.” Mirabella took a step toward the doctor. “Or is that how therapy works?”
Sera frowned. “I’m a professional.”
“This is my fucking home. He is my family and he’s in trouble. I brought you here to help him not make matters worse.”
“He opened up to me,” the doctor said.
“And you parted your legs for him.”
“I think I should go.”
Mirabella grabbed her arm. “We aren’t done.”
“Mirabella....”
“Donna Mirabella,” she corrected her.
The doctor nodded. “Donna Mirabella, I want to help, but you have to trust me.”
“I don’t trust you. But right now, I do need you. And what I need you to do is focus on the job I gave you. Help him get off the bottle and set his mind straight. If that means you do it by sucking his dick then so be it. But don’t you forget I will be watching you.”
The doctor snatched away.
“You have to understand me. And understanding me means if I ask you a question you answer it. I want to know something. You tell me. It’s that simple. It’s the only way to gain my trust.”
“I understand,” Sera said.
Mirabella’s frown deepened. The way she said she understood, but mocked her with defiance in her blue eyes, reminded her of Fabiana. Years ago, when Mirabella put her foot down regarding their business, when she reminded her that she was the artist, the fashion talent, Fabiana would give her the same conciliatory smile. But, did what she thought best anyway.
“Bueno. We’ll speak tomorrow. I think it’s late, don’t you?”
Sera nodded and started up the stairs.
“And doctor?”
Sera paused.
“Welcome to my home,” Mirabella said.
Sera smiled and then continued up the upstairs. The nausea returned. Mirabella needed to eat. She went to the kitchen and found Zia inside. The old woman sat at the table. Dominic sat with her. Their moods seemed lighter. That was until she entered the room. The smiles to both of their faces dimmed. It had to be close to midnight. Finding them together at this hour was surprising.
“We want to talk to you,” Zia said.
Mirabella glanced to Dominic who drank a glass of water and avoided looking at her. She walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. She sat down. It helped. The dizzying light headedness passed.
“What is this about?” she asked.
“Marietta,” Zia said.
Mirabella glanced from Zia to Dominic. Zia continued to speak. “She’s out there in villa Rosso screaming her head off. The men won’t let me see her. She’s not my favorite person in all of this. I think she keeps secrets with Lorenzo. But she is pregnant and Cecilia tells me that the doctors have warned her about stress.”
Dominic finally looked over to Mirabella. “What are you doing? This isn’t you. If your sister loses that baby you will never forgive yourself.”
“Are you two done?”
“Mira!” Zia said. “I tried to talk to Rocco, but he’s... he’s an old stubborn man, Mirabella, and he’s living some gangster dream now that he has a position of power in this family. You don’t know the man he used to be. The man I thought he left behind.
Dominic interrupted, “And you don’t know what this will do to you if you don’t stop and understand forgiveness.”
“Marietta shot Giovanni,” Mirabella said.
Zia and Dominic both fell silent.
“Where did you hear that?” Dominic demanded.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m her twin, I’m her sister.”
“So, being her sister makes you psychic?” Dominic snarked.
Mirabella picked up a banana from the fruit bowl and began to peal it. “In a way it does. I knew from the day she came into this family she never cared about anything but herself and Lorenzo. Period.”
“Where is the proof? That’s a serious accusation Mira. Have you said this to any of the men here? To Rocco? How could she be the shooter? It’s not possible Mirabella.”
“Zia! Catalina killed Rosetta and Marietta shot Giovanni. It happened. Accept it. And accept the fact that whether you two like it or not I am the one in charge of this family. I will protect us all. I will also make sure no one hurts my husband, because trust me, there’s an army of monsters outside our gates wanting to do just that.”
“If Catalina killed Rosetta she needs forgiveness. She needs us. Not Armando Mancini. And if Marietta shot Giovanni then her life and the life of her baby are doomed.” Zia said. “No one will pardon her. Not even Giovanni. Bringing her here is a death sentence for her and that baby! What are you doing, Mirabella?”
“Who else knows your suspicions?” Dominic asked.
“Renaldo, and Carlo. They put it together based on what happened the day of the shooting.”
“Have you spoken to Marietta?” Dominic asked. “Are you one hundred percent certain?”
“No. Not yet. She stays there, until I’m ready.”
“Is it possible that you are wrong? Is it?” Zia pleaded.
“Anything is possible, Zia. But I don’t think I am. As for Catalina, I agree, she made a choice, Zia, when she went to Armando she sent this family, me, a message. She did that on purpose. As far as she knew Armando shot Giovanni, still she went to him instead of me, instead of you, so stop crying for her. I’ve had to live with the consequences of loving Giovanni and belonging to this family since my best friend blew up in a car in front of my face. We all make sacrifices. Trust me. I know that better than either one of you.”
Zia wiped her tears with her apron. But the tears kept coming. Dominic got up and went to get Zia paper towels. Mirabella reached for the old woman’s hand and took it. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said it that way...”
“Because you meant it. That’s why,” Zia said and pulled her hand away.
“One thing at a time, Zia. I have to help Giovanni, help us all. I have doctors here that will tend to Marietta. By keeping her here I’m sending a message to my brother and Lorenzo.”
“The baby? If it comes? Lorenzo won’t be here,” Zia said.
“This is revenge? Isn’t it? Pure and simple.” Dominic said as he gave Zia the paper towel sheets.
“It’s justice,” Mirabella replied.
“Let me warm something up for you to eat.” Zia said and accepted the paper towels. She blew her nose and then went to the sink to wash her hands. Dominic sat at the table.
“This thing with Marietta. I’ll speak to Renaldo and Carlo. No one else can know she’s the shooter. Especially Rocco,” he told the women. “Do we all agree?”
Mirabella bit into the banana and kept chewing a bit before she swallowed. “Why not Rocco?”
“If it’s true Marietta shot a clan boss, no matter her reason, there are consequences. Right now, the world believes Lorenzo or Armando did it. If you don’t want your sister dead, you have to agree not to say anything.”
“If she dies it’s her fault not mine...”
“Mirabella! Stop this immediately! Death is permanent. Never wish it. Never say it unless you can live with it. Can you? Can you?” Zia asked.
The room filled with silence. They stared at Mirabella wanting to hear her answer. The problem was, she couldn’t truly say whether she wanted Marietta to live while the man she loved, and partly hated now, was con
fined to a bed and trapped inside of his mind.
“Mirabella?” Zia pleaded.
“What I want is justice. What I want is my husband back. What I want is for my kids to grow up with a father, not the ghosts that haunt all the men in this family.”
“Then Marietta must be punished. We both know it Zia. We can’t ask Mirabella to be our Donna and then question her when she is,” Dominic said.
Mirabella stopped chewing. She stared up at Dominic with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. Was he defending her? Dominic pulled out his gun from the back of his pants and set it on the table in front of Mirabella. He placed his hands flat to either side of it and leaned forward to look Mirabella in the eye. “Give the order. Say it and no man in our clan will hesistate. She shot Giovanni. There is no coming back from that.”
Mirabella looked down at the gun. She glanced over to Zia. The old woman lowered her gaze and turned away.
“What is it you want us to do Donna?”
Mirabella reached for the gun. She picked it up and studied it. She wanted justice for Giovanni. Her heart demanded it.
“Tell me,” Dominic said. “I can take her for a drive and you never have to see her again. Give me the order.”
“Not yet,” she said and set the gun down. “For now, no one else knows what I suspect. But Marietta stays in villa Rosso.”
“I’ll take care of Marietta,” Zia offered.
“No need, Zia. I’ve sent for help. She’ll be arriving some time tomorrow.”
Dominic continued to stare at Mirabella. The offer still on the table. She was forced to look up into his eyes. “There are many ways to punish our enemies Domi. A bullet to the head is yours and Giovanni’s way. Marietta will know all the pain I’ve known from trusting her and Lorenzo. Every bit of it. And when its over,” Mirabella pushed the gun to Dominic. “She is over.”
Dominic stood back and picked up his gun. He gave a single nod of understanding. The food was brought to the table and she began to eat. Dominic and Zia watched her, as if the woman before them had just arrived and the woman they knew lay upstairs in a coma next to her husband. That’s how they all felt. Who she used to be didn’t matter. Who she had to be from this day forward would though. And everyone, including her, would have to learn to accept it.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Arrival
Naples, Italy
“Donna Mirabella?” Don Piero Tacchini announced as if surprised to see her standing in his home. He approached her with a stride of confidence and a deceptive smile. She smiled in return. His charm worked. Men like him and her husband compelled that level of respect when they addressed you. Mirabella took in every detail of the tall handsome criminal. He wore a black shirt, and dark pleated black slacks, without a speck of lint. The front buttons were open to reveal a tiny gold cross around his neck. His salt and pepper beard was trimmed to his long sideburns. His hair was neatly cut.
“Grazie, for the invite, Piero.”
“Benvenuto!” The Don said. He leaned in and planted a gentle kiss to her left and then her right cheek. The contact was brief, but she felt nervous and awkward for appreciating it. She tried to shake the feeling of attraction. Kei’s warning about her attraction to dangerous men surfaced in her mind.
“Vieni con me, I have coffee. Your men can wait here.”
“Donna,” Umberto objected.
She glanced back to him and smiled. “It’s okay, Umberto. We’re amongst friends.”
“I have my orders, Donna. I’m not to leave your side,” Umberto glared at Tacchini and made his threat clear.
“You get your orders from me,” Mirabella corrected him. The Don gave Umberto a sly smile that Mirabella caught from her peripheral vision.
“I will be fine.” Mirabella said.
The young enforcer looked confused by her reassurance, and she too was surprised by it. Who was she to vouch for the Don’s intentions after what he’d done to lure her to his home. It was best to appease at least one of her men, or they could very well turn on her. Giovanni had them under that much control.
“Ah, I changed my mind. Umberto comes with me. The others stay here,” Mirabella said. The tension on Umberto’s face softened. He nodded respectfully. The other men relaxed as well. Mirabella allowed Tacchini to touch her elbow. The Don walked her past the parlor to open French doors that led to an outdoor atrium. It was divided by four different archways, each one a different path to take to return to his home. A hand painted mural across the mosaic tiled floors had the exceptional beauty of Michelangelo’s talent. It depicted angels and demons at war. Mirabella stared down at the imagery for a moment finding it too beautiful to be beneath her feet.
“My bella had this done two years after we married.”
Her interest peaked at his referring to his wife as ‘bella’.
“A private joke between us.”
“Joke?” Mirabella frowned. She saw nothing comical about the intricate mural. The Don smiled. “She saw the battles I faced and always asked me to choose a side.”
“Have you?”
“Have I what?” he answered.
“Chosen a side?”
“I have, and so has Giovanni.” The Don replied. “Welcome to my home, Donna Mirabella. Where the battle of good and evil have been fought and won.”
“By who?” she asked.
“Depends on your perspective,” he said with a wink. “I’ve wanted to extend this invite to you many times. Giovanni has never been open to you dining with my family.”
“Why?”
“You tell me. None of us ever met you outside of the social events that you’ve hosted. You never leave Sorrento. Not even for your own business affairs. Unless it’s a fashion event in Milano. And even then, glimpses and parting glances is all we get.”
“You sound disappointed?” she asked.
Piero chuckled. He glanced to Umberto, who watched the Don with angry eyes. Mirabella caught the glare on Umberto’s face. There was nothing she could do to make him respectful. This was where the young enforcer drew the line. So she didn’t bother admonishing him for it. And she wasn’t sure how to answer the Don, but she tried.
“Giovanni is a protective man. The world knew it. You know it. I learned to live with it.”
“Why? I’m curious. You’re American, wealthy, used to being your own woman. Why give up that life for this one?”
“The same reason your wife gave up her life and became yours. And don’t tell me it’s customary. Every woman like her, and me, makes a sacrifice. A choice. Even if it’s a subtle one. We do it out of love.”
The Don nodded as if she passed his first test. Immediately she regretted sharing that insight into her marriage with him. So instead of continuing she cast her gaze up to the cloudless sky. The beautiful warmth of the Italian sun cleared her head, and she was drawn out of Piero’s quiet spell.
“Donna, please join me,” he gestured to the terrace chairs with thick fluffed, cushioned seats. A young woman no more than fifteen arrived with a tray carrying a pot of coffee, cups and pastries.
“Again, I want to extend my personal condolences for the terrible loss of Vito and his daughter Rosetta. I’ve met him several times over the years.”
Mirabella accepted the cup of coffee.
“How is Giovanni? Any change in his condition?” Piero asked.
“Forgive me, Don Tacchini, I’m not one hundred percent sure of the customs. But how long do we play this act of civility before we get to the reason you sent me pictures of my husband and another woman?”
“Aah, and there it is. The real answer to why I’m graced with your presence.” The Don sat forward with his hands clasped, and elbows resting on the top of his thighs. “The woman’s name in the pictures is indeed Arielle. And she is a dear friend to me and Giovanni.”
“How does she know him?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me!” Mirabella snapped.
“Trust me, the how isn’t i
mportant. It’s the why, you need to ask. Why is she a friend to both me and Giovanni? Why is she useful? And why did Giovanni keep her away from you?”
“So I suppose you’re the only person to explain the why to me?”
“Unless Giovanni is waking up any sooner, I’m all you have.”
Mirabella narrowed her eyes on him. The Don ignored her angry stare and sipped his coffee as if his charm was enough. He cleared his throat before speaking.
“You can lock him away behind the gates of Melanzana. You can threaten the private staff you hired to not speak about his condition. But information on a boss as big as Giovanni will always be for sale.”
“Are you saying I can’t protect him?”
“I’m saying protecting him is not hiring nurses and nuns to rub his feet, or doctors to tell you what you want to hear. Protecting him is understanding who he is. And your time is short, beautiful. You made a big move by bringing the Camorristi into the Bay. Big move. Everyone is preparing to make their next. Do you know yours?”
“What the hell does this have to do with those damn pictures?”
Tacchini dismissed the question with the cut of his eyes, but answered her. “Those pictures are the only evidence of meetings that he and I both had with Arielle since the day you disappeared and Giovanni thought you were dead.”
Mirabella frowned. “You took them? You betrayed my husband and took them.”
“If you go into his safe, I’m sure Giovanni has pictures of me, or something on me. It’s the way we are. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t a friend.”
“Sounds like you weren’t!”
“You heard of the Calderone war.”
“Of course I did but...”
“Then you know of the year of blood that changed everything for the Camorra in the triangle. The N’drangheta has never forgiven Giovanni for it. Baldamenti has never forgiven him for it.”
“I know about the war.”
“The most tragic part of that war was the loss of innocence. Yours, because you had to live with fear while pregnant and hiding away in Switzerland. Lorenzo’s, because he had to live with his guilt and find you before Giovanni took them all to hell. And the Camorristi, because all of us had to respect and live under the thumb of your husband with all the new power and fear he carried. Who would go against him if he was able to hunt the most powerful family in the N’drangheta and exterminate them? It gave your husband the ruthlessness he needed in reputation to be capu di tutti capi—boss of all bosses.”