by Sienna Mynx
“What else, Papa?” Armando demanded.
Mancini wiped his hand over his mouth. “Mirabella and Marietta are my daughters. They are your sisters. I named them. I held them when they came into the world. Had them christened under my name. And I lost them both.”
Armando sat back. In all of his pondering over the trouble with his father and his fixation with the Americans he never guessed this. His mind wouldn’t allow it. They took vows as men. What made the Mafia pure was his vow of family—it was the first vow instilled in each man that took the oath of omertá. The men of the mafia put tradition and Sicilians first. It was disgusting to take another woman, especially one who wasn’t Sicilian and give her your seed, taint your legacy. It was why he had not decided on a bride. It was why Giovanni was laughable to him with his Irish blood and his Negro wife.
He didn’t understand his father at all.
“It’s not true.” Armando rejected the thought. “We do not have niggers in our family,” Armando said.
“It is true boy. They are you sisters, twins. They don’t know each other exist. Giovanni keeps them separated. And I can’t protect them from my grave. They need to know the truth before I die.” Mancini lifted the gun and put it on his lap. “I may be old, and feeble minded, but I’m still in here and I am still the Don of this family. You will help me bring them home. Or I’ll bury your dreams of inheriting my legacy first.”
Armando stood with the aid of the back of the sofa and glared at his father. “If you want this then I want something in return, the end of the Battaglia truce. I want Giovanni dead. Give me this and I’ll give you your bastards.”
Mancini nodded his head. “You have my blessing.”
* B *
Lorenzo knocked. After a brief pause the door opened. Carlo walked back into the room. “Giovanni rises at five. I think I should see him first.”
“He knows you’re here. You know the men have told him.” Carlo paced.
Lorenzo saw his friend was on edge. He understood his anxiety. Giovanni would punish them both. “I can handle Gio. I saw Renaldo. He told me Santo arrives in the morning. There is a sit down with Giuliani Mottola. Gio has a lot on his plate. Hell he needs me. I can’t even believe Giovanni returned to Sicily with all that he knows. He can’t trust the Mancinis. I’ll help him see that.”
“You married her, Lo. That’s a game changer and you know it. We have no way of knowing how Giovanni will deal with this, us, her! The one thing we do know is he is a madman when it comes to protecting his wife. If he sees Marietta as a threat he could hurt her, Lo.”
“Let me worry about my wife, I’ll protect her. You stick to the plan. We meet with him at five. Agreed?”
Carlo wiped his hand down his face. He scratched his brow. Lorenzo understood there would be no convincing his friend. Whatever the consequences of their return he’d face them and make sure Carlo didn’t. Carlo had suffered enough heartache because of Lorenzo’s mistakes. He wouldn’t add to it. “See you in the morning.”
When he left the room and started toward his own his thoughts returned to his wife. He reached in the pocket of his trousers and fingered the necklace. If he gave it back to her she’d wear it. And that could spell disaster. If he told her it was lost she’d be broken hearted, and he hated the idea of hurting her. Lorenzo opened the door to their room. Marietta stood and wiped the tears from her eyes. She hadn’t changed into one of those sexy camisoles she wore for him. It looked like she’d been crying and pacing the entire time he was gone. “Did you find it, Lo?” she asked with meek quivers in her voice.
“No, sweetheart. I’m sorry I didn’t,” he replied.
“Oh no,” Marietta put a hand to her mouth. He closed the door and went to her. She hugged him and cried against his chest. He stroked her back and tried to soothe her. But she was inconsolable. Lorenzo scooped her up in his arms and carried her to bed. He joined her. He held her.
“Why does it mean so much to you? It’s just a necklace,” Lorenzo reasoned.
“It was all I had. The only thing from my mother,” she wept.
He lifted her face. “Let it go, Marietta. You have me. We’re family now. That will never change. You have my ring.”
She nodded, and rested her face next to his. She held him and continued to cry and tremble in his arms. It was not how he wanted to spend his wedding night. But he accepted his role as her husband willingly. After all he was the cause of her suffering.
9.
Cold steel pressed in against his temple. There was only one source or reason. Lorenzo’s lids parted. He looked up into Dominic’s glaring eyes. The gun aimed at his head was steady with its lethal intent. Lorenzo nodded that he understood Giovanni’s wishes.
Dominic lowered the gun and stepped back in the darkness. Lorenzo lifted on his elbows to watch Dominic walk out the room as silent as he arrived. He sat up in the bed. Marietta wrapped herself tighter around him. At some time during the night, despite her grief, he had to have her. Lorenzo stripped Marietta of her wedding dress and made love to her until she climaxed and professed her love to him. Now she lay close to him, her beautiful body only partially covered by the sheets.
“Shit,” he said, and checked his wristwatch. It was three in the morning.
He tossed aside the covers. He found his pants and pulled them on minus his boxer shorts. He picked up a wrinkled white shirt and slipped it, on misaligning the buttons in his hurry. He had no time for shoes. When he opened the door Dominic stood in the dark with the silver gun clasped before him in his hands. Nico and Renaldo leaned against the wall. The three men stared. All of them were ready to escort him to the boss.
Defying Giovanni would often send a welcome party. Though he considered these men brothers they would not hesitate to deliver his punishment.
“Let’s get this over with,” Lorenzo said.
Giovanni drummed his fingers on his desk. Like a power surge when all the needles swung over to the red he felt his anger mounting to a nuclear event. His gaze never left the door. The minutes ticked on and his patience ebbed with each. When he pushed back in his chair Dominic entered.
“Where is he?” Giovanni asked through clenched teeth.
Dominic gave a nod and Lorenzo walked in. His cousin looked at him with a sly smile. “Gio? Come sta? Miss me?” Lorenzo said with open arms.
Nico delivered the first blow. It was a sledgehammer punch of his massive right fist to Lorenzo’s kidneys. His cousin dropped immediately. In deadly earnest Nico and Renaldo began kicking and pounding on Lorenzo with their fists. The eruption of violence turned and Lorenzo fought back. Furniture was broken as he overpowered Renaldo. Dominic and Giovanni watched. Renaldo suffered Lorenzo’s wrath until Nico brought his strong arm around Lorenzo’s neck and his cousin went near limp from the stranglehold. His face turned red. It was smeared with blood from his nose and mouth. Giovanni sneered and enjoyed the suffering.
“Basta! Stop it, Gio. Give Nico the order,” Dominic warned. “Before he kills him!”
Lorenzo’s eyes rolled in his head.
“Gio!” Dominic said in a panic. Nico looked at Giovanni with pleading eyes, not wanting to be the man to take down their brother.
Giovanni slowly nodded for it to end.
Lorenzo was released. He dropped forward hacking. Eventually the desperate gasps and drags of breath turned to laughter. Lorenzo laughed. He cursed in a hoarse choking voice as he struggled to rise off the floor.
“What the fuck is so funny?” Dominic asked. Giovanni just stared on. Lorenzo looked up with blood shot eyes and a goofy grin. He held up his left hand. Giovanni zeroed in on the ring finger. It was a gold wedding band.
“Che cosa?” Giovanni asked.
Lorenzo sat back on his haunches. He wiped the blood on his face off with his white sleeve. He wheezed his response. “Congratulate me, Gio,” he said. “I’m married. Marietta is my wife.”
* B *
A monstrous bolt of pain hammered his skull. His vision blur
red. Every breath Armando breathed, every throb of his pulse increased his suffering. Blinded by his misery he reached in the darkness for the pain pills. Carmella woke. She turned on the lamplight next to her side of the bed.
“Are you okay? Do you need more ice for your face?”
“No.” Armando swallowed three pills, dry.
Carmella sat up. “Let me see.” She touched him and he knocked her hand away. “We need to call the doctor. You could have a concussion.”
“Wait.” He grabbed her arm. He let her go and she reached for her robe to cover herself. Armando studied her beauty with his good eye. After all these years she remained the most beautiful girl in Palermo. “Do you continue to have feelings for Giovanni?” he asked.
“Why would you ask me that? No,” Carmella answered. “I feel nothing for him, nothing romantic.”
“You’re lying.” The alarm in her eyes was the only answer he needed. Of course she denied it.
“How am I lying? It’s been over fifteen years since… you know. We were kids, Armando. And you won that battle. I’m yours. I always have been,” she said with not a hint of satisfaction in her voice. He had once loved her, but the fight for her love as kids turned his stomach on her loyalty when later he saw whom she truly longed for. He’d never marry her. Hell there was a rumor once that Giovanni would. Armando knew the truth on that score.
“Let me get you more ice, at least. I really wish you’d allow me to call the doctor.”
“Sit. I want to know some things,” Armando said.
Carmella sat.
“Giovanni sent you away from Mondello, because his wife didn’t like you?” Armando asked.
Carmella sighed. “I told you this already. Madre and Anthony stayed behind. I’m not needed.”
Armando chuckled. He immediately stopped and winced. It hurt to laugh. “Sounds more like you’re not welcome.”
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to return.”
“And she carries twins?” Armando asked.
“Yes. She does.”
Armando sighed. “You will return.” He cast the sheets aside. “I want you to find a way to get close to the family, namely her. I need to know the movements of his wife. Her routines. Everything.”
“Why? You and the Battaglias have a truce. Right?” Carmella asked.
Armando smiled. “Of course. But truces are made to be broken. How do you feel about twins? Giovanni having sons from that woman?”
“It’s none of my business.” Carmella replied.
“But how do you feel?” Armando asked.
Carmella looked away. “What is it you want me to say? He married her. Giovanni hasn’t touched me since we were fifteen. What does it matter how I feel?”
“It matters, cara,” he touched her chin. He turned her face to look at him. “If he is widowed who will he turn to?”
Her eyes stretched. Armando forced a smile, one he used to calm her. “I’m willing to let you go. I’m willing to help you have what you always wanted, Giovanni. But you have to help me.”
“By doing what?” Carmella asked.
“I have a contact who says that Lorenzo has bought a ticket to Sicily. He’s on his way home, with an American black woman he has married.”
Carmella frowned.
Armando laughed. “Why look surprised? Lorenzo has copied Giovanni all his life. This is no different.”
“I don’t understand any of it,” Carmella said with evident disgust.
Armando shrugged. “The two American women with the Battaglias are trouble. They don’t fit our world, neither do Giovanni’s bastards.”
“Again I have to ask you what do you want from me? I won’t spy on the Battaglias, they’re my family,” Carmella said.
“Was he your family when he tossed you to me and my boys to play with when we were kids?”
“He didn’t do that. It was you and Lorenzo that set it all in motion. Don’t rewrite history.”
Armando chuckled.
“My mother, my brother, their lives will be in jeopardy if I’m caught conspiring with you,” Carmella pleaded.
“You will do whatever the fuck I tell you.” Armando eased back and closed his eyes. He would try again to rest. The room was filled with silence. Still he sensed her distress.
“What am I to you, Armando? A plaything? A companion? A friend?” Carmella asked. “No matter how many years are between us you still hate him more than you can ever love me.”
“He deserves every bit of my hatred.” Armando opened his eyes. “Trust me. No one will suspect. I’m not at war with the Battaglias. I’m at war with those two bitches they’ve married.”
“Why?”
“Stop asking me why!” he shouted.
The women were a threat. If his father did anything to include them in his will he’d lose everything. If their children were born they could lay claim to his fortune as well. He wanted them gone. And Mirabella’s difficulty with her pregnancy as explained to him by her doctor was the key. If she dies because of those complications it will weaken Giovanni. He’d seen proof of it with the Calderones. Armando’s father would never suspect him. It was a perfect plan to destroy Giovanni and the Battaglias once and for all. He cast his gaze to a stunned Carmella. “You will help me. What’s left of Giovanni when I am done with him will be all yours.”
She looked away. “What is it you want me to do?”
* B *
“You married her?” Dominic asked.
“Nico. Renaldo. Vattene!” Giovanni said. Nico and Renaldo left. They closed the door behind them. It was do or die. Lorenzo spat a blood clot on the floor.
“Did you marry her?” Dominic repeated.
Lorenzo didn’t look to Dominic. He fixed his gaze on his cousin who met his stare with an unwavering intensity. Deep down he felt a sense of triumph at finally having the upper hand on Gio. But for the sake of his new bride and his return to the family he had to reach a common ground.
“Yes, Domi I married her. I love her. Like Gio, I followed my heart and married American.”
“Does she know?” Dominic asked.
Pain covered his limbs. He couldn’t summon the strength to stand. He swallowed blood and pushed at the loose tooth to the back of his mouth with his tongue. “She does not,” he answered. “She has no idea who she really is or how she is related to the Donna. She’s just a woman who fell in love with me.”
“Madonna Santa!” Dominic slapped his forehead.
“I can’t let her go.” Lorenzo quickly added. “Marrying her was the only way to make sure she stayed. You gave me no choice, Gio. What if I turned her lose and Mancini got to her? I didn’t expect to fall in love with her. But she’s a passionate woman. I spent every day of the past four months seducing her to be mine. What did you expect would happen?”
Giovanni wiped his hand down his face. He turned away. He faced his desk and leaned forward with his hands spread apart and arms straight and rigid. “I’ve pretended at being a man of patience,” Giovanni began. “I do this because of what I am. But you, Lorenzo, you test me, at every turn. You tempt me.” Giovanni dropped his head. “You will be the death of me, or I of you. Either way you tempt me.”
Lorenzo stared at his cousin’s back. He wore a dark black silk robe tied over black silk pajama pants. Giovanni grabbed the edge of desk and it lifted on two legs an inch from the ground before he slammed it back down. “I told you what was at stake. My fucking wife! The birth of my sons. I told you why I needed you to keep that woman away from us.”
Lorenzo grabbed his side. He forced himself to stand. “Marietta is harmless. The sisters’ knowing each other can’t hurt Mirabella.”
“Mira has been diagnosed with Placenta Previa,” Dominic said. “Giovanni has not told her. She also suffers from anxiety attacks. She’s had many episodes in Sorrento but none since we’ve arrived in Mondello. Keeping her calm and safe is not only for the life of his sons but Mira’s life as well.” Dominic informed Lorenzo. “Tha
t is why Giovanni is here with her instead of in the Campania.”
“No one told me! Gio, I didn’t know,” Lorenzo said.
Giovanni didn’t respond.
“There’s something you both need to know. Something I just picked up on,” Lorenzo winced as he staggered forward. “Mancini tracked us. He had his people tailing us in France. Carlo confirmed it. Marietta was his target. Gio, I think he wants to tell her the truth.”
“We are done, Lorenzo. Leave. Get out,” Dominic warned.
“Gio? I am trying to tell you the truth!” Lorenzo pleaded.
“Out! Out! Out now!” Giovanni flipped the desk sending it crashing with a thunderous boom. Lorenzo looked over to Dominic. The consigliere nodded that he should go. Lorenzo turned and held his side as he managed to walk out of the room without assistance.
Before Dominic could say a word Giovanni put his face in his hands and spoke. “You go too. Get the fuck out.”
Dominic walked over to the desk. He heaved it up from its side and set it right. He then went to the bar. He needed a drink. Not only had his sweet love with Catalina ended because of jealous rage. But now he had a new war in the family to contend with. No matter what transpired Giovanni would not admit defeat. But he was certain that his Don knew in this situation he was defeated. He’d have to tell his wife the truth.
“There is a benefit to this, Gio,” Dominic began. “If we think on it.”
Dominic drank the brandy and exhaled as the bitter and the sweet coated his tongue. “She’s his wife. She’s one of us now. You can turn this around. Take the credit for uniting the sisters. Tell Mirabella you didn’t know who she was until he brought Marietta here to Sicily. Let the sisters get to know each other under your supervision.”