by S. W. Frank
The man who traveled from the heat of a mother’s womb nodded. Weapons were lowered. The threat eradicated.
Upon Bianca the intruder looked, not at nakedness but in the lens of one who had been taught ancient customs, weaponry and the history of Semira. An outsider without royal blood given a privilege at the request of a descendant of Semira, Alberti Luca. He’d been her teacher for many years and it was by his hand she would have died. This male offspring of their beloved Semira was of their blood. He was the last on their shores of a dishonorable King. They were wiped out by dissidents, treacherous conspirators who spoke of artifacts belonging to kingdoms. Like an endangered species the half-breeds would fall, slaughtered like the Native American Indians. Not land did thieves seek; she knew the blue-eye one carried a gene, a marker in his DNA irrefutable by historians. Mistress Semira they called her is blasphemous to a royal woman. The Princess married in their custom a King. The injustice and moral wrong was that the King set her aside for a second wife, caving under pressure to denounce their union to appease the prejudices of those accustomed to seeing white-skinned Queens. Queen Semira was mistress to no man. The so-called bastard off-spring was in fact the legitimate heirs of Italy’s monarchy. But, convincing one to change their biases even with documentation meets skepticism. Thus to live and carry-on a line from the House of Semira the Protezioni Giacanti kept her safe until her body was returned home. The children with skin too light and eyes of the shimmering sea remained in Italy. In Eritrea the hatred for the Italian regime was strong. Tensions in war-time presented unfavorable politics and put Semira’s children in danger. Therefore, Semira’s sons, sun touched Princes were guarded in the homeland of a King and absentee father.
The second Queen soon bore the King children, the first was a son. He was small when his father died. The Queen knew of Semira and with the assistance of a conspiratorial papacy wiped clean historical mention. In fact, the campaign did not stop there, she brandished Semira a whore and a thief, claiming she absconded with heirlooms which was not the case. There are many jewels the King had given his brown Queen and among the collection the tiara seen in old paintings gracing great halls of Italy’s former Queens. The crown remains in the possession of the rightful heirs. This is a relic descendant and historians seek. But, in the custody of the true Prince it belongs. Far beyond Italy there are other artifacts more priceless than a woman’s jewels. Carved gold and gems of an ancient people predating the Pyramids are the legacy of Semira. Far greater is she. A line of pharaohs, pure blood royalty until tarnished by a weak Italian King. The bracelet of her great ancestor is priceless, far exceeding a sparkly crown.
Transcribed in Eritrean history, Semira is revered as the first African princess to defy a father and marry for love and not politics. Indoctrination is what Bianca Luca was given and an honor. Yet, she spoke and the council deliberated for months. Philosophers and scholars debated. They were at odds on the matter. Bianca disclosed her identity to an heir Protector under the threat of death. They did not care a daughter first spoke to save her mother. She is the one blame befell. Thus the caretaker and her daughters were sentenced in absentia by a council to die by torture. The African’s eyes softened on Bianca. Once he considered her fondly, like a daughter. Her appeal at his feet if he had authority may have been granted. But he could not usurp the council. Nico, the Highest of Protectors and with Semira’s blood is who spared her life. Secretly, he was glad. The fair-skinned woman, not of his continent had been one of his finer pupils. He dipped his head in reference. “Semira, we are one.”
“To Semira,” Nico nodded respectfully and watched the men file out as quietly as they came. He sighed when the men were gone, thinking how screwed of a predicament yet again.
Bianca hugged his waist, her head at his chest, and tears of relief absorbed by his pores. She thanked him profusely, apologizing for complicating his life. She rushed to draw him a bath, and then scooped up his clothes to wash away the evidence of her to ward off Nico’s troubles at home. He let her do these things because ice froze him. Sprawled on the bed, arm over his forehead, he stared at the ceiling. A painter’s brush had designed a lovely mosaic above. The colors were blended beautifully; he could not distinguish where the reds or yellows touched. His abstract life was filled with strife, sometimes he wished he was never born. Alfonzo shared this sentiment once when he was burdened. He remembered thinking, how lucky, how sweet to have passionate kisses and the love of family. He thought Alfonzo free, but he wasn’t. None of them were as long as their blood existed. A transfusion is what they’d need to peaceably live. Their lives were a repast, solemn and feasting in respect to the dead.
Nico would have stayed there, depressed, but Bianca lovingly coaxed him to the tub and gave him the treatment afforded ancient Kings. His skin was washed tenderly, the sponge squeezed by feminine hands sending streams of water down his face. He reclined his head as she entered the tub and straddled his thighs. Out of despair she brought him alive. He became aroused in response to her too easily and his worries intensified. It was if she had been hand-picked for his body and mind. The tip of his erection peeked from the waters like a drowning man seeking a lifejacket. She became the flotation device around him, gripping tightly, sliding, lifting, and making him choose life when he had resigned to give up. They were moving the waters, one force in sync in a river of lust. Engorged, unhurried and titillated by the beauty he let her suckle his neck as they rode the tumultuous waves. He moaned breaths of rejuvenation and shed the self-pity. A killer…has no soul.
“Your wife will not know of this from me Nico. I am bound to protect you as well. Do not worry about children from our acts. After Alberti’s death I ensured I will not have other children.”
He held her waist. Throbbing in the waters of her body. “Bianca, that’s drastic. You’re very desirable. Someone worthy will come along.”
Her eyes were bright stars. “No Nico, no. I cannot remarry or allow anyone other than you to touch me. It is in the manifesto and my oath. I can speak freely now.”
“That’s crazy. This is crazy.”
“It is tradition.”
“My father knew about this, didn’t he?”
“Yes. I was given great honor when Alberti chose me. ”
“Don’t tell me my mother also had a hand in this nonsense!”
“Sí Nico as did your Uncles and my father.” Bianca nodded and leaned forward causing a wonderful friction to his dick. “Your mother bestowed her blessing. We are the last of the Protectors in Italy. My daughters are free and in time your sons will carry the legacy of duty. This is how we preserve Semira.”
Nico frowned. “You’re not subservient to me or anybody else Bianca. I release you. We’re not in medieval times.” He palmed his head chuckling from the absurdity of the night. Dammit, this was as bad as it gets. “Sweetheart I release you if words are needed to do that.”
“Nico.” She smiled seductively with her cherry lips. “Our journey is united until I am released in death.” She stroked his hair, kissed his cheeks and cupped his face, sensually moving on his rod. Intently she stared in a killer’s eyes. “Do you want me to die after you have saved me?”
“Of course not.” His eyes softened admittedly enjoying the feel and view of Bianca. Her womanly body was a delight to a lover’s dick. Selfish is how he felt for wanting more of the woman. She noticed his desire peaking higher and held tightly to his thighs; leaning back to ride him and stripped Nico of thought. A killer confessed he would honor their way and not go against his lot. He also confessed his desires when he grabbed hold of her breasts to lather with his tongue. “Aaaahhh,” were the moans elicited by his sucking lips and thrusts so deep she could only bend her torso and ride harder in response.
Erotic and forbidden were Nico’s adulterous actions, but he stood a cursed man long before the deed. A fork in a road is the choice of an adult, but he had no such choices as a kid when he killed in protection of family over and over again. The jour
ney of a reformed and devoted husband had split the moment he partook in this carnal act. There’s no refund on sex, once done it can’t be taken back. Executioners, assassins, death dealers and their wicked companions cannot concern themselves with morality. The philosophy interferes with their profession and makes for questions that in lifetimes go unanswered.
Bianca’s fingers squeaked along the porcelain edge as she held tight as Nico’s passion took over. A gasp became cries of devotion and pledges from sultry lips. With a combination of rough tenderness he twisted her face sideways as he stretched over her to claim her lips, drinking her dry, pushing with semen water to fill her high. Bend and bow by fate’s coarse humor. Painted strokes of violent colors jerked her flesh until she shivered. Replaced by absolute fealty by his vassal as in the days of feudal lords she was bound. The secret protector Nico dominated the body of a feminine elite; a dark partner in killing, a twin is what Alberti the master manipulator inserted into the dual life of a burdened son to balance him out.
A lonely woman assassin received pleasure and memories to hold on empty nights. Branded with Nico and thoroughly sealed she convulsed. She bathed his dick in liquid flushes. Again the dam of desire broke raining fluids and leaving her spent. He rubbed her neck with prune hands upon withdrawal, sliding away through tepid water to stand. He toweled dry his hair and body as she lingered watching him dress.
“Don’t drown in there, get some sleep,” he advised to awaken the dreamy widow as she’d done to his flesh.
“Do not worry for me. Be a good husband. That is your duty as well.”
“Sí bella,” he said over his shoulder as he placed the gun back in the underarm holster and snapped it shut. “Ciao!” Nico bellowed as he strode out. He accepted the duality called responsibility and took a mistress in arms, yet maintained the place of high honor for his wife. His love for Ari had not diminished. Bound to Ari by choice as a husband, sealed by love were their souls and that would never change. Bianca on the other-hand was a pleasurable duty afforded a wicked man.
CHAPTER THREE
Sophie assisted in setting the table for the guests. Today they would sit as family. Shanda had prepared several dishes including pastries and many exotic foods for everyone. The laughter filling her house was always a welcome sound. Peace with her future daughter-in-law occurred in the kitchen. The culinary arts gave them a bond aside from Carlo whom she loved. Amelda and Matteo had decided to take a vacation to Maui for their anniversary and her grandchild was with Matteo’s mother. Sophie did not mind, she saw both grandchildren often therefore what more could she want?
Shanda worked in silence. The clicking of her heels on the floor, so annoying Sophie suggested she take them off. “You will be more comfortable with bare feet, yes?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks though,” Shanda said flippantly, marching to get the cellophane to cover a green bean salad.
“Have you spoken with any of your family?” Sophie asked, taking a tray down from the overhead cabinet.
Shanda coughed and then made a face. “They’re coming around, slowly,” she lied. The truth is her father loathed these people and any conversation regarding them received a stern, “I don’t want to hear anything about that. Just tell us how you’re doing from time to time.” So, at least once a week she called to say hi, give updates on Carlo’s milestones and left it at that.
“That is good.” Sophie smiled, although she wasn’t fooled by the woman. Men when they hold grudges are unlike women. They cut ties with the object of their ire and go on with their lives. Women pummel issues to death and this is why many worry and have sleepless nights.
“I’m going to take this to the dining room,” Shanda informed Sophie to distance herself from the woman’s prying. She bee-lined out of the kitchen and placed the platter in the center of the table just as Giuseppe entered holding Carlo and talking to the child like a man. He smiled at her and then winked. “Look at tua mama isn’t she pretty?” he flirted.
Shanda smiled. “Pretty fly, you got that right.” She grinned and walked around to take the oversize boy from his daddy. “Hey munchkin,” she said to her son and gave him a big kiss on the cheek before putting his heavy ass down. The boy took off in a toddle-run and Giuseppe laughed.
“He’s gained some confidence,” she said to the father when his eyes were riveted on the child.
Giuseppe smirked, his pride in seeing his son blossom was a gift to someone who not long ago escaped death. His bella was trying very hard to get along with the women. Lucia of course was the exception. He expressed his concern about another matter which weighed unfavorably on his relations with his brother’s family. He picked a cooked carrot from one of the dishes and tossed it in his mouth as Shanda counted the placement settings for accuracy. “I do not like your decision not to attend nipote’s graduation.”
She lost count and had to start again. “Giuseppe, he’s not graduating college. I’m have a fitting that day. He won’t miss me as big as Al’s family is.”
“You’re the Godmother. These are the times you support family.”
Shanda put her hands on her hips and faced the tall figure dwarfing the room simply by his presence. “It’s not that serious.”
“I cannot force you to go but I suggest you begin to prioritize. Mi famiglia comes before a dress.”
Shanda laughed. “Not when trying to find the perfect wedding dress. You have a lot to learn about women.”
This statement received a response tinged with sarcasm. “And you have a lot to learn about family and duty.”
Alfonzo appeared with Carlo who had a hand full of dirt from one of Sophie’s house plants. The boy’s mouth was smeared with the stuff. “Look who I found when I came in.”
Shanda shrieked, “Carlo…oh goodness look at you.”
Alfonzo smirked at the response as Shanda took Carlo from his outstretched arms. “He’s hungry like me, can we eat?”
“Ya’ll are just fucking greedy,” Shanda said with the roll of her eyes when Nico and his band of wild people and that bitch Ari filed in the room.
“Hey Aunt Shanda!” One of Nico’s twins exclaimed and sat right at the table although she wasn’t finished.
“Hi,” was the greeting they got before she hurried to the kitchen to clean up Carlo and let Sophie know everyone had arrived. She found Sophie on her cell and mouthed, “They’re here.”
Sophie nodded and walked to the opposite end of the kitchen to finish her conversation. “Sí, of course. Very good, grazie.” She had hung up when she felt a kiss to her cheek and inhaled the nice masculine aroma of her nephew Nico. “Ah, nipote. You always sneak up on an old woman.”
Nico grinned. He loved the motherly woman beyond words. “An old woman, ha!”
“Is Ari here?”
“Of course. You know she cannot pass on an opportunity for your cooking.”
“Shanda is responsible for most of the meal. She is a wonderful cook,” Sophie expressed aloud, hoping the lady heard the compliment and released the sourness.
Nico turned in Shanda’s direction as she toweled Carlo’s small hands. “Grazie.” His eyes took in her disposition. The woman did not like his wife and he hoped she did not poison the food.
“You’re welcome.”
Nico and Sophie shared a secret smile. Sophie had worked wonders. “All right, you need any help ladies?”
“No grazie,” Sophie answered and shooed him out.
Soon they were seated at the long table in Sophie’s dining room. The meal was complimented as was the chef by the consensus of diners except Carlo who deci
ded to throw a piece of food. Everyone laughed and Giuseppe tossed a small roll at the kid.
“No throwing food!” Sophie chastised the boys.
Aaron giggled because that’s what he felt like doing with the string bean salad. The stuff tasted nasty.
Alfonzo and Nico had their heads close talking. “The problem isn’t anything I can’t handle,” Alfonzo said in answer to a question posed by Nico.
Nico scoffed. “Too many favors. First they want this and then what else?”
“Giuseppe didn’t have a problem with it. He thinks it’s workable. I agree.”
Nico nodded. “Trash collection’s a big thing. There’s nothing to lose I suppose. Maybe, they’ll get the trucks rolling out on time and stifle the many complaints.”
“They get a six month trial. If their performance is satisfactory then we’ll discuss a contract.”
Nico assented. “Sounds good.” He looked at Alfonzo’s bruised cheek. “You guys wait until I leave to get into a fight over bullshit.”
“Geo started it.”
“Goddamn boys. Sergio told me about it. The little runt wanted to get ballsy.” Nico scoffed. “We’ve bypassed that drama you and I, haven’t we cugino?”
“We have.”
“That’s what matters…that’s what important and never let anybody use a sensitivity to make you explode. A man finds your weak spot; he’ll exploit it every time. Got me?”
“Got you,” Alfonzo replied.
“Good.” Nico chuckled as he glanced at Giuseppe who was busy playing papa. “I heard you guys trashed Matteo’s spot.”
“Let me guess the informant, Sergio right?” Alfonzo said.
“Who else?”
“What else did he spill?”
“After thinking he could go toe-to-toe with me and I shut that shit down he said you cock-blocked.”
“Yeah, I did.”
Nico smirked. “I’m sorry I missed the action.”