Cosa Nostra by Emma Nichols) 16656409 (z-lib.org) (1)-compressed

by Неизвестный

  He sighed and looked away from her. “Maria pays me for a job well

  done, Simone,” he said softly. “I have a career in the business that doesn’t

  involve…”

  “Killing people?”

  “Vittorio would be dead if it hadn’t been for me.”

  Simone stared at her shaking hands.

  “But this isn’t really about me, is it? You’re not blind. You must see

  that Maria is in love with you, and it’s clear you love her too. I’ve never

  seen you so happy. And for what it’s worth, Im glad you’re not working for

  Patrina anymore. Surely love is all that matters. So, why are you here when

  she is there?” He indicated to the door.

  Simone didn’t respond. She closed her eyes. She had never thought

  of Roberto as a romantic, but he was right. In the words that echoed in her

  heart and released butterflies into her stomach, words that made her head

  giddy and absent of thought, she knew she was deeply in love.

  She itched to go back to the Riverside and back to working under

  Maria’s protection. The surface of her skin prickled at letting Antonio down

  so soon after starting work there. Then a surge of anger flared within her

  and fuelled her justifications for deserting Maria. Vindication didn’t make

  her feel any better and dejection resonated through the story she’d

  fabricated in her mind. “Maria has betrayed me and lied to me. Is that

  love?”

  Roberto shook his head. “She tried to protect you. You know this

  business well enough. The less you know, the safer you are.”

  She stood in silence. He was right.

  “Simone.”

  She looked at him as every ounce of energy leached from her and

  lowered her head.

  “Maria loves you. She told me herself.”

  A silent gasp jabbed her. She lifted her head and saw frustration

  behind Roberto’s half-closed eyes, and the walls around her heart crumbled.

  The exposure left her feeling raw and weak and struggling to process what

  she had done. Maria hadn’t betrayed her. Maria hadn’t even come close to

  being dishonourable. On the contrary, Simone had felt adored and respected

  by her, coveted in a way that she had never experienced before. She had felt

  safe in Maria’s arms, safe in her presence, and safe just knowing Maria was

  in her life.

  She had trusted Maria.

  She had no sound reason not to trust Maria.

  I’m an idiot.

  She saw her own disappointment reflected in Roberto’s eyes as he

  took a pace backwards and shook his head at her. She hesitated to speak,

  and he turned away and walked to the door. Fire burned with the tension in

  her throat. She swallowed hard, and it throbbed fiercely.

  “Do what you like. But I’m staying in this job, and nothing you say

  is going to stop me. If you had any sense, you’d go back to Maria now. She

  made you happy, and she’ll keep you safe. That’s more than anyone here

  can promise you.” He closed the door quietly behind him.

  Simone walked to the window and watched him ride down the

  street. It wasn’t her place to fret about where he might be going or what he

  might be doing, but that didn’t stop her worrying. At nineteen, he was more

  of a man than many men she knew, and yet he was still a kid to her. She

  shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  He had always been street smart. He had an instinct to know which

  relationships to forge and which to avoid…unlike her. She couldn’t deny it;

  his wit had served him well. It still did. And now, she needed to let him fly.

  He was right about her taking the offer of support from Patrina, though she

  hadn’t considered that Patrina had bought their silence. But it turned out

  that was exactly what Patrina had done, and Simone had accepted the deal.

  She went to the kitchen and made a coffee. The aroma elicited

  memories of being at the breakfast bar watching Maria as she prepared

  food, setting out biscuits for the dog, and tending the orchids on the window

  ledge.

  And then, that dreadful night when she had walked out after seeing

  Roberto interacting with the men at the square and with Maria outside the

  DIA. She’d thought about nothing else in the days and nights since. The

  hours spent moving around the house, fretting, a little too afraid to venture

  to the plaza now that Angelo wasn’t looking out for her, and then tossing

  and turning her way through the sleepless nights that haunted her.

  She rubbed her forehead. Had she known deep down about her

  father’s involvement with Stefano? She had wanted to believe her school

  fees had been paid with clean money, earned fairly and without detriment to

  another human being, but Roberto’s words tolled bells that she could no

  longer deny. Maybe the fear that she had carried with her since the death of

  her family had been too much of a reminder that she too was like the

  Amatos. She had deceived herself. Their money was tainted with blood, and

  she had not once declined the inflated salary that Patrina had paid her. She

  was more like them than she dared imagine and certainly more like them

  than Maria.

  What have I done?

  Maria was different.

  Maria cared.

  Maria’s protection had given her the space to be herself. She had

  travelled with Maria and seen the beauty that surrounded her through new

  eyes and experienced the purest sense of awe and joy. Maria’s hand had felt

  strong and reassuring in hers as they had ventured down the cobbled village

  streets, and her lips had tasted sweet when they kissed after drinking

  cocktails and eating tapas. The evening sun had spilled reds and oranges

  from behind the snow-capped mountains and sparkled in Maria’s eyes, and

  they had danced to music in the street. With Maria, she had lived.

  She sipped her drink. Roberto’s statement nursed her conscience and

  eased the pressure in her head. “She loves you and you love her, and that’s

  all that matters.”

  The sensation of Maria’s soft tender mouth exploring her became

  tangible, and she licked her lips. Her heart raced, and a shudder spiralled

  swiftly down her spine. She bit her lip as the tingling lifted the small hairs

  on the surface of her skin.

  Love is all that matters.

  She lowered her head and closed her eyes. Harsh, prickly heat

  crawled inside her for the accusations she had levied at Maria in her fit of

  anger. She’d ignored Maria’s tears after attacking her integrity, and she had

  walked out on Maria without giving her a chance. She had failed Maria. She

  had broken Maria’s heart. And in doing so, she’d eradicated the only joyful

  thing from her life.

  She shook her head. Just thinking about Maria made her ache with

  longing. She needed to talk to Maria and make things right between them.

  She would go back to working at the Riverside, and they would get back to

  the life they had started to create. The future they might share together was

  still within reach. Here, the Pyrenees, wherever Maria wanted to go, she

  would be there at Maria’s side.

  35.

  Simone stepped out of the taxi at the bottom of
the road and walked

  quickly to the gated entrance to the villa. She stood at the security keypad

  and looked into the camera, fire and ice dancing in her stomach at the

  thought that Maria might be looking back at her. She wanted to be with

  Maria so badly…but what if Maria rejected her? Her trembling fingers

  clumsily pressed the buttons. She squeezed through the smallest gap as the

  gates started to open and ran up the pathway. She looked at the villa

  suspended in a soft haze behind which the night sky became intangibly

  distant and dark. Waves of tingling swept over her. One moment, she was

  giddy with excitement and in the next, worry took hold. Her head was

  spinning. Her heart thundered. She was stalling.

  She loved the way the bright slithers of light from inside reached

  out, streaked across the veranda, and spilled into wider path onto the beach.

  Late, in the blackness of night, the absence of light gave an eerie feel to the

  cove. She remembered the evenings they shared, strolling along the beach,

  chasing through the shallow water, and laughing together. She recalled the

  cool sand on her feet and then her shoulders as they lay together, staring up

  at thousands of stars. She’d missed Maria’s warmth close to her, the

  softness of her kisses, and the feel of her as she covered her and moved

  inside her. With a dry mouth, and trembling from her vivid recollections,

  she approached the front door.

  Maria would have already answered the door if she had seen her on

  the CCTV. She peeked through the window. With no signs of Maria or

  Pesto, she wandered around to the side of the villa where the boxing bag

  cast a motionless shadow on the slatted wood. She gazed along the beach,

  nightfall and the light at her back restricting her visibility, and the emptiness

  caused her heart to thunder harder.

  She stepped onto the veranda and looked through the window into

  the kitchen and living room. She opened the door and warmth brushed her

  skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled, comforted instantly by the familiar

  feeling the villa had imprinted on her. The memory of standing there, with

  her suitcase at her side, flashed into her awareness and then the scent of

  Maria came strongly to her. She opened her eyes, looked directly into

  Maria’s, and gasped.

  “Simone.”

  Simone jerked her hand to cover her mouth. “I…” Words wouldn’t

  come.

  Pesto’s toes clipped the floor as he wandered between them and

  settled into his bed.

  The bathrobe hung freely from Maria’s shoulders and revealed her

  beauty within its opening as she rubbed her hair with a small towel.

  Simone tried to avoid staring at her, but her eyes were drawn to the

  rise and fall of her chest, and the taut muscles across her stomach. Her eyes

  drifted lower, and she swallowed. She looked into Maria’s eyes.

  Maria closed the robe around herself and secured the belt around her

  waist. “What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m sorry. I let myself in. I thought. The CCTV.” Words tumbled

  from Simone.

  Maria rubbed the back of her neck with the towel. Her dark eyes

  shone as she smiled. “I was just taking a shower.”

  “Yes.” Simone tried to speak, but her mouth was dry and the words

  hard to form. “I came to apologise.”

  Maria’s breath seemed to catch, and she looked away before turning

  and walking into the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

  Simone nodded.

  “Coffee? Wine?”

  Simone cleared her throat. “Wine would be nice.”

  Maria poured Simone a glass of wine and handed it to her.

  Simone frowned. She took Maria’s hand and studied the yellow

  bruising around Maria’s knuckles that extended in patches across her hand

  and up her wrist. She winced, and Simone looked at her with wide eyes.

  “You’re hurt?”

  Maria shook her head. “Embarrassed more than hurt. I boxed in

  anger. One should never box in anger.” She squeezed Simone’s hand and

  smiled. “I was angry with myself.”

  Simone lowered her head. “Me too.” She left the warmth of Maria’s

  touch, picked up her glass, and sipped her drink. “I’m so sorry about the

  things I said.”

  Maria went to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, removed the

  top, and took a sip. She walked back to Simone and reached up to stroke

  Simone’s face. She brushed a thumb across her lips.

  “I’m sorry about the things I didn’t say.”

  Simone shuddered at the tenderness and closed her eyes to the

  image of Maria’s mouth pressed to hers. She moaned as she kissed Maria’s

  thumb and held the palm of Maria’s hand to her cheek. The warmth and

  soapy scent of Maria became potent, and the yielding pressure as Maria

  closed against her, stole her breath. She opened her eyes as Maria’s mouth

  claimed hers. She fell into the kiss, clashing teeth with Maria then jerked

  back and giggled with nervous relief.

  Maria wrapped an arm around Simone’s waist, cradled her head to

  her chest, and placed soft kisses to the top of Simone’s head. She inhaled

  and moaned at the tingling at her scalp. She slipped her hand beneath

  Maria’s loose robe, and the unique scent of Maria came to her and

  quickened her pulse. She grazed her fingertips across Maria’s back. “I love

  you,” she whispered.

  Maria squeezed her tighter. “You can’t stay here tonight.”

  Simone felt the words jar in her chest. She took a deep breath, eased

  out of Maria’s arms, and looked into her eyes. “I understand.”

  Maria sighed. She brushed her fingertips across Simone’s cheek and

  rested them on Simone’s lips. “I have work I need to do tonight.”

  Simone lowered her head. The heaviness through which her world

  had just tumbled became dark and impossible to navigate with logical

  thought. Maria lifted Simone’s chin. She stared into her eyes for a long

  time, breathing slowly and deeply, and then smiled and her eyes turned a

  shade lighter.

  “I love you.”

  Simone’s focus shifted slowly from despair through recognition to

  hope. A sparkle appeared in Maria’s eyes, and her smile radiated love. The

  pounding in Simone’s chest expanded, and the quake that followed

  trembled through her hands, and her legs felt suddenly fragile beneath her.

  Maria’s strong arm pulled Simone back into the warmth of her body

  and then she kissed her on the head.

  “I will come and get you in the morning,” Maria said firmly. “We

  can go away and start a new life together. Spain, France, the US, Australia?

  Wherever you want to go. We can talk about it tomorrow. I have some plans

  in place already, but we can make our own arrangements. We can do

  anything you want, Simone. Sicily has no hold over me. Only you do.”

  Simone lifted her head and locked eyes with Maria.

  “Will you come with me, Simone?”

  Simone smiled. “Yes.”

  Maria shifted in focus, and her eyes became more distant. “You need

  to go home now. I have to work.”

  Simone shivered with the chill that moved down her spin
e. “You’ll

  be safe?”

  Maria blinked. “Of course.”

  The trembling imploded within Simone, nausea sat low in her

  stomach, and dizziness claimed her mind. “I don’t want to leave you.”

  Maria took Simone by the shoulders and forced her to look at her.

  “Listen. I will be fine. You need to go home. I will come for you tomorrow.

  Look at me, Simone. I need you to understand. You have to trust me.”

  Simone looked at Maria, but her eyes wouldn’t register beyond the

  fear that squeezed the life out of her. “I understand,” she whispered.

  “I’ll get Angelo to take you home.” She kissed Simone firmly on the

  lips.

  Simone stood dazed as Maria moved around the villa. She turned

  her head and looked out over the beach and couldn’t stop the thought. What

  if this is the last time? When she looked back, Maria was stood in front of

  her, dressed in jeans, a light blue shirt, and a dark blue jacket that she knew

  concealed the butt-nosed Smith and Wesson 637. The thought that Maria

  might be intending to use the gun was fleeting, but the dark knowledge that

  Maria might murder someone tonight turned her stomach.

  36.

  The deck of the Bedda rocked gently, moored to the outer edge of

  the cove where the sea currents were more active. Maria could see to the

  horizon in all directions, though that distance was limited by the dark sky

  crowded with stars that crowned her and sprinkled shimmers of light onto

  the gentle waves below the boat. The crescent moon reflected the black

  depths of the sea where cargo ships edged along the horizon, a long way off

  in the distance. The sereneness wasn’t lost on her. It was settling. She

  turned to face the villa. Light beams danced on the water between the

  cruiser and the shore, and the small motorboat that had been pulled from the

  water reclined on the beach. On the cliff top adjacent to the shore, Giovanni

  watched her.

  With the Smith and Wesson tucked at her side, the metal warm from

  the heat of her skin, she closed her jacket and placed her hands in her

  pockets. Eyes closed, she breathed deeply, slowed her heart, and focused

  her mind to prepare for what was to come. She had to trust Patrina, but she

  would do so with one eye on her movements. The small vessel appeared in

  her peripheral vision long before she opened her eyes fully and turned her