Falling for Italy

by De Ross, Melinda

  Still, he pasted a smile on his face, wrapping his good arm around her waist.

  “Much better, cara,” he lied. “In fact, I want us to go out. Remember we have a Christmas gift exchange planned for New Year’s Eve? What do you say we go out and spend some money?” he suggested, winking at Lucia, who smiled indulgently at them.

  Sonia looked hesitant, but a hint of excitement sparkled in her eyes for the first time in days. She glanced up at him, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “I would love to go out,” she said. “But…do you think it’s safe? I mean…have you talked to Commissioner Romano?”

  “I did, just now. There’s nothing new,” he replied, letting out a breath. “The guy is still not speaking, but Romano is confident they’ll get a break soon. It’s the holidays, baby. Everyone’s enthusiasm and motivation is a bit worn out these days. I’m sure that, when things get back to their normal schedule, the investigation will see some progress. Now, go and get dressed,” he told her and kissed her cheek. “Let’s have some fun.”

  “How about you? Don’t you want to change?”

  He looked down at his jeans and blue sweater, then shrugged.

  “I’m fine. I’ll have plenty of time to return to starched suits when the year begins,” he joked, ushering her toward the door.

  When she left, he sat sipping her coffee. Lucia approached the table with a pot of coffee in her hand.

  “Let me pour you some fresh coffee, signore,” she said, proceeding to do just that.

  “Thank you, Lucia.”

  “It’s good that you’re going out. You need to get away from the house for a while.”

  “Yeah. I’m so sorry to have ruined your Christmas, by the way. I didn’t have the chance to tell you and Paolo that. Both of you were great, such a big help for us,” he remarked, looking up at her with apology in his eyes.

  “Nonsense. How can you say such a thing?” she replied, turning to look at him, her thin face alive with earnest concern. “You didn’t ruin our Christmas. You needed us and I’m only sorry we could not help more. You are always so kind to us, signore. There is nothing that my husband and I wouldn’t do for you and for signorina Sonia.”

  He smiled at her, warmed and pleased by her words. Although the couple hadn’t been working for him for more than a few months, a family-like bond had already formed between them.

  “Thank you, Lucia. It’s very sweet of you to say that, and I know you mean it,” he told her and got to his feet, squeezing her shoulders in a half-hug. “Get Paolo and go home, get some rest. Sonia and I will be out for the day.”

  Remembering something, he patted his jeans pockets.

  “Damn, I forgot my cell phone in the study.”

  “Do you want me to bring it?” Lucia offered.

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll go up myself. I have to take my jacket and wallet anyway. Go home,” he prompted again and quickly kissed her cheek, making her blush like a girl.

  He climbed the stairs, noticing with deep frustration he was a bit winded when he reached the study door. His phone was on the table and, to his surprise, it started ringing just as he was tucking it into his pocket.

  He looked at the display, but didn’t recognize the number. Cautious and somewhat irritated, he answered.

  “Pronto.”

  “Signore Coriola?” a male voice asked in upper class Italian.

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “This is Niccolo Marco, the director of the Institute for Cancer Research in Rome. We had a meeting last week, do you remember?”

  Giovanni relaxed, propping a hip on the corner of the desk.

  “Of course, signore Marco. What can I do for you?”

  Marco sounded hesitant—far from the self-assured man Giovanni remembered.

  “Well, I am sorry to disturb you, but…I have to talk to you regarding a very urgent matter.”

  “Yes? Is this about the discussion we had about my brother-in-law and his cancer treatments?”

  “Yes, it is. I…” Marco took an audible breath and went on, in a more determined tone. “Signore Coriola, I was contacted this morning by a person who asked me not to help you. In fact, this person demanded I do all that is in my power to stop your brother-in-law from coming here and patenting his treatments.”

  The blunt statement took Giovanni aback. He didn’t expect anything of the kind, and his own voice seemed stunned and strained when he asked, “Who is this person, Mister Marco? And what interest does he or she have in this matter?”

  “I am not sure about the interest he has to demand such a thing of me, but I assume you should know more about it, since it is someone you know very well.”

  “Who?” Giovanni asked again, impatiently twisting a pen through his fingers, without actually being aware of the action.

  Marco cleared his throat.

  “Tony Barella. Your sister’s ex-husband.”

  The pen froze between his fingers. Giovanni couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly, so he asked the man to repeat his last statement.

  “It is true,” Marco said, his tone firmer now. “Tony Barella came to my office today. He threatened that if I gave you and your family any assistance in putting Gerard Leon’s cancer treatment on the market, he would…”

  He stopped, swallowing audibly, then started again.

  “Barella knows something that could ruin me. He threatened to expose me to the media if I didn’t comply with his request.”

  The pen broke in Giovanni’s clenched fist, but he didn’t notice. Rage stormed through him in hot, murderous waves, and he felt his jaw go rigid with fury. So now the pieces of the puzzle were sliding into place. Tony had been sabotaging Gerard all along, creating obstacles to impede his progress. And he’d probably done it just for spite, because Linda had left him and found her happiness next to a good man.

  Still, it was unbelievable that louse Barella could have so much influence and an arm long enough to reach England. How could he make so much trouble? By blackmailing other people? People with power, who didn’t have Marco’s balls and had gone along with his game, for fear of the repercussions? Or for other reasons? Gerard’s theory about a worldwide conspiracy was even more credible now.

  Suddenly suspicious, he asked Marco, “Why are you telling me this? Why aren’t you afraid of Tony exposing your secret, whatever it is?”

  Marco hissed out a breath. To Giovanni it seemed half resigned, half relief.

  “I have a lot to lose if Barella goes to the press with what he has on me, yes. But if I do as he asks, I could never look myself in the mirror again. To me, it would be like selling my soul to the Devil, signore. And I can’t live with that. I have dedicated all my life to research against this terrible disease. I have lost family and friends to it, and fought it with all the weapons I could devise. If someone could have saved my loved ones, but would have chosen to save his reputation instead, I’d say that man does not deserve to live.”

  He paused for a moment, and when he resumed, Giovanni detected a philosophical melancholy in his voice.

  “Even if my life depended on this, it’s just one life. One life sacrificed for thousands of others. In the grand scheme of things, I think it would be worth the exchange. Don’t you?”

  Giovanni looked at the pieces of the pen. Some of the shards were still embedded in the flesh of his palm, now crossed by tiny scratches lined with blood. A tide of purposeful calm descended over him—the kind of calm that precedes a dangerous and powerful storm. He knew now what he had to do.

  “I think you are a good man, signore Marco,” he said into the receiver, looking out the window, his eyes cold as steel. “I appreciate very much that you called to tell me about this. As I told you during our meeting, someone—whom I now know to be Tony Barella—has been sabotaging Gerard’s work for a long time. That spiteful action has cost lives, destroyed families, shattered hopes. But I promise you that will end today.” After a beat he added, “What Tony is blackmailing you with
is your own business. It’s noble and altruistic of you to risk sacrificing your reputation for the sake of others. I doubt you will be judged so harshly after people learn about this, no matter what you did before. But I promise you I will do all that is in my power to prevent that bastard from betraying your privacy.”

  Marco laughed softly, humorlessly.

  “It is kind of you to say this. Now that I told you, it doesn’t seem so important anymore. I thought about resigning from the institute to avoid it being implicated in a scandal, but…”

  “Don’t. The institute needs people like you, signore Marco. I will deal with Tony Barella, you have my word. Thank you again for this valuable information.”

  He put the phone down and supported himself using both hands on the desk, breathing deeply. He had to think, not unleash this fierce blaze of anger irrationally. Not yet. He had to go to Rome. Today.

  Lifting his head, he saw Sonia standing in the doorway, dressed for going out in black jeans, black sweater and black leather boots. He noticed absently the silver ruby amulet hanging around her neck.

  She looked at him inquisitively, then asked, “What was that all about?”

  He tried to think quickly of something to tell her. He had to confront Tony and there was no way he would take her with him.

  “Uh, I have to go to Rome, to solve some business there,” he told her, hating himself for lying—even if it was for her own good.

  She advanced into the room, staring at him unflinchingly, her gaze hard on his. He should have known she wouldn’t buy it.

  “Giovanni, you’ve never lied to me. Why are you doing it now?” she asked, and he could see the hurt in her eyes.

  That undid him. He bent his head, letting out his breath in a deep sigh. He felt suddenly tired and ashamed. He dropped down into the chair and when she came toward him, he pulled her into his arms, resting his forehead against her chest.

  “Please forgive me, amore. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just wanted to protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?” she asked puzzled and worried, stroking his hair with her long, graceful fingers.

  He recounted to her the telephone conversation he had with Marco. When he finished, he lifted his head to look into her face.

  “So Tony is the one responsible for all the delays, for all the obstacles, for making Gerard’s life a living hell. I ought to kill him, but I won’t,” he rushed to add when he heard her intake of breath preceding a no-doubt-vehement protest. “But I will go to Rome and confront the bastard,” he went on in a determined tone, lifting his hands to forestall any arguments.

  She took his right hand, examined the palm and exclaimed, “What the hell have you done to yourself?”

  “Oh, that.” He dismissed it with a wave. “Just a scratch, that’s all.”

  “A scratch, my ass! It needs to be cleansed and bandaged. And what’s this nonsense about you driving to Rome? Did you forget the blasted bullet hole in your shoulder? And now the scratches on your palm,” she continued, forming quotation marks with her fingers. Her voice dripped sarcasm and frustration, rising tone by tone. “Bloody man! In more ways than one!” she snapped as she went into the bedroom. She returned after a moment with antiseptic and bandages.

  “Sonia,” he began in his most authoritarian tone, but she interrupted him, furious.

  “You shut up, just shut up! You’re driving bloody nowhere, do you understand me? I’m not gonna stay hidden behind the desk this time, do you hear me?” she yelled while she worked on his hand, her cheeks reddened in fury and outrage. “You want to go to Rome? Fine. I’ll drive. Let’s go. We’ll face the son of a bitch together and let me warn you, I’m taking your gun. And if you dare tell me again to stay home,” she hissed between her teeth close to his face, “I’m going to kick your balls up to your throat! I’ve had enough of this stupid ‘male-protecting-the-little-helpless-female’ bullshit to last me a lifetime!”

  That speech left him wordless and somewhat dizzy. His left ear still rang a bit from her yelling, but his spirits had lifted considerably. He looked at her as she moved around the room, throwing the used cotton balls into the waste basket.

  “You know, I’ve forgotten how formidable you can be, princess,” he told her, a smile tugging at his lips despite the bone-deep fury Marco’s revelation had unleashed in him. He knew it was pointless to argue with her now, but he tried one last tactic.

  “Sonia, I don’t plan to go kill Tony. I confess beating the shit out of him is a serious option, even with my shoulder busted, but I don’t know what I’ll do when I’ll get there. The situation might get nasty.”

  “That’s why I’m going,” she retorted. “You’re not going to leave me behind, no matter what you say. So if you want to drive to Rome, we’d better go now. Don’t waste your breath arguing with me.”

  Her tone was so final he couldn’t think of a reply. Not one that would work anyway. Sighing, he asked her to bring his jacket and wallet.

  When she left, he took out his gun from the drawer. The smile on his face was completely gone as he made sure it was loaded and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back, concealed under his sweater. He wasn’t an idiot, nor did he plan to rot in jail for a maggot like Tony Barella. But he wouldn’t go anywhere unarmed, especially since he had Sonia to protect.

  Barella had proved he could be much more sly and dangerous than he’d initially thought. He would not underestimate his enemy again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The trip to Rome was long and miserable. It was drizzling and the roads were covered in sleet. It was one of those drowsy afternoons that invited people to stay indoors, lazing the day away in bed, watching TV or making love.

  But they were not ordinary people anymore. Their life had undergone irreparable changes and today was the apogee of one hellish week.

  Sonia drove carefully, her hands clasping the steering wheel tightly. She glanced across at Giovanni, who sat silent in the passenger seat, looking straight ahead. She studied his profile, his tense features, and the apprehension in her heart grew even more.

  Despite his apparent control, she knew Giovanni had a wicked temper. The news about Tony Barella’s scheme had been a blow, but once the shock had worn off, calculated fury had taken its place. She was truly afraid of what Giovanni might do, but she couldn’t blame him for anything. She was also afraid for his safety. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have worried about him. He was a strong man, capable of dealing with almost any kind of situation. But now he was weaker than usual, wounded—though the doctor said it wasn’t anything serious. A fistfight might not be the ideal treatment for his healing process and she feared this was at least one of the potential outcomes of the visit they were about to make to Barella’s house.

  She debated the wisdom of voicing the thought that kept spinning in her mind. Eventually, she concluded Giovanni had probably contemplated the possibility already.

  “Do you think Barella is responsible for hiring that man to shoot at us? And for the break-in in Rome?” she finally asked him.

  Jarred out of his own ponderings, he glanced at her, not looking surprised.

  “The thought has occurred to me,” he admitted with admirable composure. “Now that I know the kind of power and means Tony has, I realize I’ve underestimated him. In fact, he wasn’t even on my radar—which was stupid and maybe arrogant. But now I think the possibility is very plausible, especially since I can’t think of anyone else who would be crazy enough to do such a thing. Or hate me that much. I’m sure it wasn’t about you,” he added as an afterthought. “He wanted to get back at me and Linda. You were just what they call ‘a collateral victim’. But I swear to you, Sonia, if he’s responsible, he’ll pay for every second of fear and dread he provoked in you.”

  The statement, said in that deliberate tone, made her stomach experience a sinking sensation, as deep-bone cold liquefied in her veins.

  “Yes, he will pay,” she said, trying to put conviction
and reason in her voice. “The police will take care of it—we will make sure of that.”

  He didn’t reply, which made her feel even more uneasy.

  “Giovanni, what are we going to do when we get there?”

  “You’ll stay in the car and I will go inside and talk with Tony,” he answered, his fake calm not deceiving her for a moment. She gritted her teeth and hit the wheel with the heel of her hand, vexed by his condescendence.

  “Don’t start with that bloody crap again! We’ve been over this a thousand times!” she screamed at him in frustration.

  “Yes we have, and you’ll do as I say!”

  “The hell I will!”

  “Sonia,” he began, his voice raised.

  “Tell me where the fuck I’m going,” she interrupted annoyed. “Do you know where that asshole lives?”

  The road to Rome hadn’t been complicated, but now they’d got there, she was lost in the network of streets.

  “Of course I know. Linda lived there for several months, remember? Take the first one on the right.” He indicated the next turn. “He lives in a more or less peripheral area, a neighborhood built by and for slimy, shady bastards loaded with dirty money,” he said with disdain.

  He guided her on the narrow, mostly one-way streets, until they reached the neighborhood where Tony Barella resided. The houses were large, widely spaced, having tall brick fences and steel gates with bars as thick as her wrist.

  “This looks like a perimeter for mob members,” she remarked, throwing wary glances around.

  “I’ve always thought he has ties in that department. But he charmed Linda for a while, so I tried to get along with the bastard. Thank God she came to her senses soon enough and filed for divorce just seven months after becoming Mrs. Barella. There, that is his house. Park at the curve.”

  She did as he told her, then killed the engine and got out of the car before he could protest.