by Emma Nichols
She used to see a sparkle of life in her eyes, open and inviting. Now, shadows fell across Patrina’s eyes and obscured her feelings. Maria sighed.
Why did she feel sorry for her? This was the woman who had promised her so much and failed her, the woman who would sit back and allow a pig of a man to belittle an innocent woman. That was exactly how Don Stefano had treated Patrina. Could Patrina not see she was condoning the same behaviour she had been subjected to by her own husband? Patrina had lain in her arms many times before Stefano was imprisoned and wept. She had nursed Patrina, held her close, and showed her the love she deserved. What about now?
Patrina’s enticing lips were perfectly accentuated by the evening shade of pink lipstick rested delicately against the tip of the glass as she sipped. Soft lines fanned from the edges of her eyes as she smiled. She looked attractive enough to be a model, though distant and emotionally unreachable. Maria’s guard lowered. Perhaps she had misjudged Patrina.
They lived in a harsh world. She took a sip of her drink and admired Patrina’s dress. She had worn a similar one the first time they attended the opera together, elegant and carrying to the floor, and Maria had been suited in her black tuxedo, crisp white shirt, and a red bowtie that had perfectly matched the rose in Patrina’s hair. Were they just playing a game? Maria felt the sexual tension increasing and tried to push it away. No. She couldn’t let Patrina have that power over her. She was here purely for business and to clear her fucking brother-in-law’s debt. Their relationship was over.
The violins started to sing, the house lights went down, and the stage came to life in a spot of light, prompting the audience to silence.
Maria held out her hand and Patrina sat. Maria took the adjacent seat. The
curtains swung back, and light danced across the tobacco factory and the square depicted in the construction on the stage. Maria, determined that Patrina’s attention had shifted to the opening scene, scanned row by row; the lower stalls in front of the box, the rows of the circle that spanned to the left of them and formed an arc around the stalls to the opposite side of the auditorium, then the front two rows of the upper circle above them to the left forming a shorter arc above the lower stalls. Was she looking for Simone? Carmen started to sing, but Maria continued to scan the rows.
Patrina leaned towards her and whispered, “You seem unsettled.”
Maria shook her head and turned towards Patrina. “It pays to be vigilant.”
Patrina smiled. “Maybe that’s why I always feel safe around you, Maria.”
Maria kept her expression blank, unmoved by the compliment.
“What’s the price?”
“Shh!” Patrina brought her index finger to her lips and smiled. “I want to enjoy the opera.” She turned to the stage, closed her eyes, and swayed her head, drifting with the resonance of the song.
Maria watched Patrina, the gnawing in her gut reminding her that Patrina would decide when she would reveal the price and nothing Maria did or said was going to speed up that process. Powerlessness fused with rage, and she gritted her teeth. She turned to face the stage and tried to distract her growing irritation with Patrina. Any other time, with anyone else at her side, this would have been a poignant and pleasurable evening.
Instead, she was a caged tiger, trapped in the illusion of safety and comfort, and fighting an overpowering drive to leave its enclosure. As the music gave way to dialogue, unable to settle, she looked around the auditorium again.
Maria squinted to look more closely at the woman in an exquisite red dress seated in the back row of the stalls, bounded on both sides by men in black evening suits. The light from the stage danced off her, drawing Maria’s attention only to her. The dress reminded Maria of the vibrant red of the Love Couture orchid, bright and alluring. She narrowed her eyes further and refocused. Simone? She shuddered. Simone moved to sit upright and craned to see the stage, clearly engrossed in every detail of the performance. She made small movements, as if breathing through the emotion of the song. Her lips parted, her fingers moved to cover her mouth,
and she brushed at her cheek just below her eye. She toyed with the wavy bangs that hung full and freely to her neck. Maria watched her, absorbed by the beauty that radiated from her. Simone rubbed at her eyes again, though they never left the stage.
Maria’s heart raced, light and airy, as she watched Simone enjoying the opera. There was something pure and innocent about her. She wondered if she had ever been to an opera before, and a prickling sensation jabbed Maria in the chest. She felt the ache in her heart rise to form tears. She swallowed hard, snapped her head towards the stage, and took a deep breath. What the fuck was that about?
Patrina wiped a cotton handkerchief at her tears, but her practised show of emotion failed to touch Maria in the same way watching Simone had. The realisation clamped hard against her chest.
As the curtains closed for the interval, the lights came up, and Maria’s attention was drawn to the movement at the back of the stalls.
Simone was making her way out of the auditorium. There was no mistaking her. Simone glanced up to the box. A shiver passed across Maria’s skin, and she became aware that Patrina was watching her.
Patrina stood but not before scanning the stalls and frowning. Maria rose and made her way from the box down the stairs and towards the bar, searching for sight of Simone’s distinctive dress. She saw a flash of red disappear into the bathroom and felt her breath swiftly leave her.
“Bona sira, Mayor. Contessa,” Patrina said. “How are you enjoying the opera this evening? Do let me get you both a drink.”
Maria smiled cordially at the mayor and his wife. “Good evening, Mayor. Contessa.”
“Good evening, ladies. How very kind of you, Lady Patrina. I have some good news regarding your new development plans,” Marino said as they made their way through the crowded space.
“That is excellent news, Mayor, excellent indeed. Don Stefano will be pleased to hear that things are progressing.”
They approached the bar. Maria placed a hand on Patrina’s arm to get her attention and smiled at Marino and his wife. “If you’ll excuse me, I need the bathroom.”
Patrina nodded and continued attending to the drinks.
Maria made her way back through the crowded bar with a sense of urgency. She went through the bathroom door so quickly that the woman
stood at the sink jolted and snapped her head up sharply. Maria smiled as she took in the stunning red dress and then her smile faded. Simone’s cheeks were tear-stained, and the tenderness in her dark eyes clearly affected by the performance. Something moved inside Maria, and the disconcerting feeling was accompanied by an uncharacteristic surge of heat to her cheeks. “Sorry, I startled you.”
Another woman entered and shuffled quickly into a toilet cubicle.
Simone gripped the sink with her right hand. “Donna Maria.”
Simone’s response was clipped and mildly accusatory. She could understand Simone being pissed at her for not standing up for her at the café, but if she had threatened Alessandro on his turf it would have made matters far worse for them both.
“I…I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced.” Maria never stuttered. Simone inhaled through her nose and drew herself up in stature.
She looked as though she was trying to be strong.
“I’m Simone.”
Maria took a step closer, and Simone flinched. “I won’t hurt you,”
Maria whispered. She pulled the silk handkerchief from her breast pocket, stepped closer, and held it out. Simone didn’t move. “Please, take it.”
She took it and pressed it against her face. She seemed to inhale before opening her eyes and becoming suddenly self-aware. She held the handkerchief out in front of her for Maria to take.
The toilet flushed and the woman made her way to the sink. She smiled at Maria. “Good evening, Donna Maria,” she said.
Maria didn’t know her but smiled politely. “Good evening.”
Simone seemed to resume breathing after the woman left the bathroom and held out the handkerchief again. Maria smiled. So innocent. “Please, keep it.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Maria gestured to Simone’s face. “Are you okay?”
Simone lowered her head. “The story of Carmen is very sad.”
“It’s very romantic too.”
“It is about betrayal and a crime of passion.” Simone laughed gently.
Maria tilted her head to the side. The lightness of Simone’s response had an uplifting effect. “You are right, of course.”
Simone appeared to assess Maria, perhaps reconsidering her perspective from the café. Maybe one formed even before they had first met. Maria stared at her, wanting desperately to know her thoughts. She trembled inside. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, there was an emotional connection between them in the way Simone looked at her. And the way Simone’s eyes evaded hers and yet her skin flushed, and her lips quivered as she spoke.
“You enjoy the opera?” Simone asked, and her blush deepened.
Maria smiled. Usually. “Yes. You?”
“I have never been before. This is a birthday present.”
“Are you here with anyone?”
She shook her head. Maria observed the softness of Simone’s skin, the tenderness of lips that seemed fragile, and her bright eyes now the dampness from the tears had dried. She wondered what had caused the faint scaring over her eye and felt a twist in her gut. She glanced away to control the protective instinct before returning to face Simone. “You were given a wonderful gift.”
“I should get back. It will be starting again soon.”
She picked up her clutch bag and seemed to hesitate before taking a step towards the door that Maria stood in front of. Maria realised she was blocking the exit, cleared her throat, and stepped aside. “I’m sorry.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card. “Please, take this. If you ever need help, call me.”
Simone took it. She looked up at Maria and slipped the card in her bag.
Maria leaned towards her. “Promise me you will call.”
Simone avoided Maria’s eyes. “I will,” she whispered.
Maria opened the door, and Simone disappeared from view. She closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, recovering her racing heart.
The silky feeling flowing through her was alien and alarming. She rolled her tongue around her dry mouth. She went to the sink, and ran the cool water over her hands, then patted them dry with a towel.
She returned to the bar, thoughts of Simone distracting her from conversation which passed over and around her. Why did it feel like she was swimming in shark infested waters without a harpoon? Simone was no physical threat. No woman was. But that wasn’t the problem. Simone was far more dangerous. Simone had awoken something within her that she
hadn’t felt before, not even with the woman smiling at her now with a quizzical look. She smiled at Patrina, hoping not to reveal the weakness she felt.
They returned to the box to watching the remainder of the performance. When it ended, everyone rose for a standing ovation before the curtains closed, and the lights came up. The auditorium was alive with an excited air of appreciation as people rose slowly from their seats and started to make their way out. Maria watched Simone staring, looking almost bereft, at the stage, and then she glanced towards the box. Maria felt Simone’s intensity in a silent gasp and quickly looked away. Patrina was looking at her again, and she turned to face her with an affected smile.
Patrina eyed her suspiciously. “You see something of interest?”
Maria’s lips thinned as she shook her head. “No. You?”
Patrina’s eyes hovered on Maria’s breasts before descending to her crotch. She raised her eyebrows. “Always.”
Maria released her tension through a long breath grateful that Patrina hadn’t noticed Simone. She reluctantly pulled her thoughts back to business and ignoring Patrina’s attempt to seduce her, she plucked the champagne from the ice bucket and poured them a final drink. She wanted to give Simone time to leave without being seen by Patrina, who was clearly enjoying making Maria wait for her decision on retribution for Vittorio’s transgression. “So?”
Patrina sipped at her glass. “This is a good year.”
Maria glimpsed Simone exiting the auditorium through the corner of her eye and smiled at Patrina. Now she could concentrate. “You are right.
It’s the best.”
Darkness appeared in the emptiness that sat behind Patrina’s eyes.
This is it.
“I need a favour, bedda.”
“What do you need, Patrina?”
“Alessandro is very upset. Inconsolable, in fact.”
Maria would have rolled her eyes if it hadn’t given away her contempt for the fat pig. “What would make Alessandro happy, Patrina?”
Patrina looked away. The last few people milled around in the stalls below them, and the air was cooling considerably.
“He wants to make the business a success, Maria. You know how it is. Increasing profitability is important to him. He needs to show his uncle
that he is a good businessman, and that he can handle the responsibility his birth has afforded him.”
“You know I can’t let him supply the Riverside.”
Patrina sighed heavily. “I know, I know. That leaves us in a tricky position, Maria. What can I say?”
Maria remained silent, knowing Patrina’s question was rhetorical.
“Alessandro has a strong mind. He gets ideas in his head, and it can be hard to deflect him.”
“If anyone can refocus him, you can, Patrina. He will listen to your reasoning.”
Patrina winced. “Well… maybe, before…”
Before the night I walked out on you. Patrina was never going to take the spurned woman role easily. Patrina closed the space between them, forcing Maria to the back of the box and into the closed door, obscuring them from the view of potential onlookers.
Her warm breath brushed Maria’s cheek, starting a war between the sick feeling in her stomach and the throbbing sensation between her legs.
Maria held back a groan as Patrina’s soft lips skimmed her neck. Hairs rose up her neck, and her spine tingled. Patrina eased Maria’s shirt from her trousers and slipped her hand beneath the sheer material. Maria tensed.
Patrina grazed the skin around Maria’s waist with her fingertips, and Maria couldn’t stop a soft moan escaping.
Patrina unzipped Maria’s trousers with her other hand. Maria’s body betrayed her head, and she gave Patrina the warmth she’d clearly hoped had called her there. Patrina eased her fingers into Maria’s silky wetness, drawing a restrained gasp.
She leaned closer to Maria, nibbled her ear, and whispered, “We have unfinished business, bedda.”
Maria winced. Hate rose inside her for what she knew she would have to do to settle this fucking debt, hate for Vittorio. But even more excruciating was the hate she had for herself. The only real power Patrina held over her she would willingly execute, and if Maria didn’t comply, there would be bloodshed. This was about Maria’s family. Stability. Stopping a war between their clans. Simone’s image came to her and self-hate turned to revulsion. Fucking Vittorio. “Not here, Patrina. Not now.”
Patrina removed her hand from Maria’s crotch, slowly did up the zip, and brought her fingers, slick with Maria’s wetness, to her mouth.
“Sweet.”
Maria feigned interest, trying not to vomit the bile that had crept into her throat. This is the price. This will always be the price.
Patrina pressed her finger to Maria’s lips. “The penthouse suite.
Tomorrow at two.”
The aroma of her sex wafted temptingly in the air, and Maria nodded.
Did she have a choice?
9.
Ten kilometres in a record time of forty-seven minutes and twenty-six seconds. Maria stopped the clock and breathed deeply. She could never work hard enough for long enough to rid herself of the anguish that meeting Patrina brought, but she could sure as hell burn off sufficient rage to keep her cool. She started to spar. Something didn’t feel right about the meeting.
Patrina didn’t feel right. The vivid memory of their intimate exchange brought disgust and tightened her stomach. She trusted her gut. She punched the bag harder.
Competing thoughts challenged her. If she could stop this now, they could go back to the harmonious relationship they enjoyed before her father died. Was that delusional? Was it possible to recreate the past? Not if Alessandro was taking a lead in the Amato business. He was on a different page. Simone was in danger. She drove a hard punch into the belly of the bag. That one’s for you, fat boy. She landed another hard punch that created a deep dent in the surface. She watched the bag slowly regain its shape.
Minded of Alessandro’s stomach pressing against the table in the café, she punched the bag with as much force as she could muster. Her arms fell limply to her side, and she bent over. Her lungs burned as she inhaled deeply. She regained her breath, stood, and wiped the sweat from her face.
The urge to punch Alessandro’s smug face flooded her again. She raised her fist to hit the bag again and stopped. Boxing in anger was never good practice. You could injure yourself. That’s the last thing I need.
Arms drained of strength, she ambled into the villa and set the coffee to percolate, Simone’s eyes and the depth of emotion she had seen in them haunted her with an unsettled feeling. She picked up her phone to see a missed call from Giovanni. She would deal with that later. She typed out a text message to cancel the specialist appointment she had asked Rocca to arrange for later that evening and pressed send. Her phone beeped a response.
Would you like me to rearrange?
No.
She slid her phone onto the breakfast bar and finished making coffee and looked up to see Giovanni’s car on the CCTV. No need to make that