“I don’t know. Where is it? Can I think about it?”
“Here, you ask him, but don’t hang up when you’re done, I need to talk to him.” She handed Mina the phone.
“Ciao, Gino, what’s this about a party?”
“I’m having dinner with an old Italian friend.” Her heart skipped a beat. “She is one of the organizers and…” She. “…it’s for the arts. Raising awareness about Italian art anyway. I thought it would be nice to have at least a few real Italian people among the Italian Americans. Right? It’s at a private residence, by invitation only, come on, Italian wine and Italian music. It’ll be fun, and you can use some fun in your life.” How would he know what she needed?
“Can I let you know in the morning?” Come on, Mina, think of a good excuse.
“No, I need to sign us up tonight. I’m adding your name… consider it done.”
“You’ll owe me.” It was the best threat she could come up with before handing the phone back to Margo.
CHAPTER 21
What am I doing? How could I let Margo talk me into this? Mina sat in the back seat of Gino’s Audi, wearing her red Valentino, her hair cut and styled by the same man who did Margo’s short do. She hadn’t had a haircut in over five months, and he convinced Mina to keep her hair long. He ‘rinsed’ it with some product that made her hair fabulously shiny, and he thinned her long bangs. She had to give him credit; she looked pretty good, in a very grown up way. Contrary to her negative expectations, the strapless dress didn’t annoy her and the built-in bustier lifted and shaped what Margo called boobs.
Still, something nagged at her. Gino’s pressure for her to say yes, not knowing who really did organize the soiree. Too many loose ends. The thought of Gino setting her up for an encounter with Diego had crossed her mind. She went as far as asking him when Margo wasn’t around, and he absolutely promised her Diego had nothing to do with it and was probably laying low on some other continent anyhow. Maybe she was paranoid. Too many bad things happening to her lately. Gino spent an afternoon with De Fiore, supposedly to see how the American police function, and he concluded that Italian or not, De Fiore was a nice man.
It was a beautiful clear night with stars in the sky and luxury cars crossing the gate of the mansion on the hill. The party was in progress when they arrived. Valets wearing vests of golden fabric and fabulous smiles scurried around to open doors and park cars. An older man who seemed to be in charge took the Audi’s keys and scratched their names off a clipboard list. Extremely organized. He then pointed them to the main door. An entrance hard to miss. It reminded Mina of an old Italian villa on the hills surrounding Vicenza, multiplied by at least three as this one was massive. Built on a slope, it sort of hugged the hill, with terraces at many levels.
“I’m told you can actually see the Pacific Ocean by day time,” Gino said.
Margo seemed too overwhelmed to talk. She hung onto Gino’s arm with both hands. And he was the picture of sheer bliss. Mina relaxed a little as they reached the last step. Italian music spilled to the outside. Recorded music, but it was an old folkloric song her grandmother would often hum, something about a guitar and Roma. Mina didn’t know the words, and yet it stirred something deep down inside. She wondered who owned such a villa, an Italian movie star? Some high fashion designer?
Gino turned to her. “Still grumpy about coming? Isn’t it wonderful? I hope to casually bump into the Italian Consul.” He winked at her. So, he came looking to make a professional connection? Soon they found themselves among other guests, paying guests as Mina liked to call them, since she had to write a thousand dollar donation check for the privilege of being there. She only agreed to it after Adams assured her it would be tax deductible. Most of the people spoke English. Others spoke real Italian, and then there was a little of everything in between. Communication skills were as diverse as the age of the guests, but everyone was dressed to kill, regardless if old or young. A few men wore tuxedos, but mostly it was black tie. Her red dress felt perfect, a welcome respite among the number of women wearing boring black. And Gino seemed to know quite a few people. They made their way to the bar where Gino promptly started an animated conversation regarding the origins of the wine served. He spoke a mixture of English and Italian, and to Mina’s surprise so did the bartender. A young man stood at the end of the bar listening, an amused smile on a handsome face. Margo sat on one of the stools, and Mina felt sort of invisible, standing there, being the shortest and youngest one of all. Gino’s discussion ended with the bartender opening a new bottle of some white wine and pouring for everyone around. Mina couldn’t care less about the flavors of wine. She was fascinated by all the beautiful people and a bit too shy to go talk to any stranger. And then the young man at the end of the bar made his way toward her. He moved slowly, pausing to say hello here and there but keeping his eyes on her. A snake hypnotizing his prey. Stop it, Mina.
When he reached her spot, he inserted himself between Margo’s stool and Mina, nodded at her, and said, “Hi, I’m Julian.” He offered his hand
“Hello, Julian, I’m Mina.”
“Mina? You’re Italian?”
“I am, and you are not?”
He laughed softly and didn’t answer. Up close he looked older than she first thought. Late thirties? Gorgeous blue eyes. He moved a little closer. “I’ve never seen you around here.”
“True. I came with my friends, Margo and Gino, one Italian and one American, the perfect mix.”
“Are you talking about me?” Margo turned around and stared at Julian.
Before Mina could introduce them, Gino also turned and casually said, “Ah, ciao, Julian.” Then went back to his discussion. They knew each other?
“We met years ago,” Julian said to Mina as if he read her mind. “This house belongs to an Italian opera star. Well, she is retired now. Her husband is Egyptian. He built the villa so she wouldn’t be so homesick all the time.”
“You seem to know a lot about everything, don’t you?”
Just then a peculiar thing happened, a hush descended on the large room, as a white-haired woman walked the length of the salon, alone, her apparent destination a secluded corner. Guests parted to let her through. She nodded here and there but kept on moving. She also wore a black dress, black nylons, black shoes, and a few strands of pearls. NO. Could that be possible? What was it that Gino called her? Madonna of string pearls. The woman reached a grey silky divan and sat. A waiter rushed to her side, hiding her from Mina’s view. But she could see Gino, and his face left no doubt–the woman was his boss. By his stunned expression she had to assume that the arrival was totally unexpected. Margo sat, clueless, and Julian seemed uninterested.
“Would you like a tour of the place?” he offered.
“We can do that?”
“Who’s going to stop us?” He smiled and took her hand. “Let’s go.”
They tracked back toward the same imposing door the white-haired woman had come from, but then they took the marble staircase up to the next floor. “The stairs reach all the way to the top, with wide landings by each terrace, and then they circle around to bring you back to the same first floor through a different set of terraces, different views.” They climbed as he spoke.
“How do you know all this?”
“My mother was friends with the diva’s personal assistant. They let me run around while they visited.”
“Wait.” Mina stopped at the first landing and went to look back into the main salon where all the action was. She could see Gino by the grey divan in the corner, his back to the bar where a bored Margo probably searched for her friend Mina. Oh, well. The other side of the landing opened to the first terrace, hanging right above the spot where guests entrusted their cars to valet service. The night was mild, and a sense of quiet descended on Mina. “Must be beautiful all year around,” she said. “I had no idea there would be so many people, and I don’t know anyone but Gino and Margo.”
“You know me.”
“D
o I?” she flirted. She rested her elbows against the ornate banister, admiring the sea of light that was Los Angeles at night. “I bet the view is breathtaking by daylight.”
Julian had his back to the view, looking at her instead. “It was much better before pollution was invented.” He smiled.
“Wow.” A flashy silver car crossed the gate and stopped by the valet post. It looked different that any car Mina had seen.
“What?” Julian turned to see what deserved her wow. “Oh, you like that? It’s one of the few DeLoreans left, and that particular one was customized. Somehow I pegged you for an older, more classic car.”
“Well, Julian, you seem to have all the answers, but not regarding my taste in cars. I drive a little old Volkswagen, nothing classic.” A few of the young valets crowded around the unusual vehicle, and Mina was even more surprised when the driver’s door lifted up like the wing of a gull, and out came a gorgeous long legged, dark-haired woman. “Double wow.”
Julian chuckled. “That’s Kalinda. She has that effect on people.”
“You know her?”
“Kalinda,” he repeated, “the Matchmaker to the Stars? No?”
Mina shook her head and watched, fascinated as the woman moved gracefully, chatting with the car admirers and throwing them the keys, her head held high, her throat exposed. Something familiar about that gorgeous creature…who bent to retrieve her purse from the car seat and said something. Mina felt like a voyeuse… then the passenger side door lifted, and a man got out. None of the valets paid much attention.
Mina’s breath caught, and she closed her eyes. No. Dio mio, why? Diego had just emerged from Kalinda’s DeLorean.
Control your emotions. Control your emotions. She waited to speak, aware of the inner turmoil bound to carry in her voice. But Julian seemed as intent staring at the couple as she was. She turned her back to the sight below. She could hear Diego arguing with the exotic beauty.
“Stop it, Kalinda, and no, I’m not driving your damn car. The sooner you get that through your head the better.”
Wow, that wasn’t a very loving attitude, and yet she had no doubts Kalinda was the long-haired woman Diego had kissed up at the house on the mountain. Mina breathed deeply and sent thanks to the stars above for the lucky break of allowing her the time to mentally prepare before they faced each other. She counted to ten. Maybe she should count to twenty so she didn’t go straight downstairs and kill Gino in front of the whole crowd of fancy guests. He set her up for this. Didn’t he? She had moved away from the balcony, but Julian was still there staring into space. Strange man. Could he have a crush on that Kalinda? Well, not her problem. At some point she was bound to come face to face with Diego. Plus, she wanted to witness the Diego-Gino accidental meeting.
As if per mutual agreement Mina and Julian headed downstairs. Suddenly all the enthusiasm of their first encounter seemed gone.
Diego, wearing black tie, headed to the grey couch and the white-haired woman. The woman with the pearls. Gino was still there. Did he see Diego yet? A tingling ran up her spine. How could she listen to their conversation? Poor Margo was still perched on the stool at the bar looking quite bored. Julian stopped suddenly, pulled a mobile phone from his coat pocket, glanced at it, then put it away. His whole expression morphed into brooding concern.
“Hey, Mina, something came up, and I need to scoot. Can I get your phone number?”
Her phone number? So taken by surprise was she that she stood there batting her lashes, not in a flirtatious way but under too much stress to think straight. He shrugged, took her hand and turned her open palm up. A ballpoint pen appeared in his other hand, and he scribbled something on her palm.
“Still doing the phone number on her palm trick? Oh, Julian you’re so predictable.”
The woman’s voice came from somewhere around the bar, and it was loud enough that people around stared at them. Mina blushed and tried to retrieve her hand. Julian’s anger showed in his eyes. He held on firmly to her wrist. “Well, if it isn’t our dear Kalinda, Matchmaker to the Stars. What happened? Lost directions to the Milky Way?”
Did he say Kalinda?
Mina turned, and the tall beauty was feet from them. She winked at Mina. “Don’t believe a thing he promises you.” Then to Julian, “My, oh my, you’re still holding a grudge because of that silly prank six months ago?” She had a charming English accent so that everything she said sounded–sophisticated.
Julian didn’t answer. He closed Mina’s hand into a fist, hiding whatever he wrote on the palm, turned on his heels and left. Kalinda laughed, too loud? Too forced? Then moved closer to Mina and said, “I was just joking of course. Julian and I are old friends. What’s your name, sweetie?”
Mina noticed Margo marching over with an attitude, not now. Margo knew nothing about Mina and Diego, and the last thing she needed was for Margo to get into an argument with Kalinda. She couldn’t help herself, she looked around, the minute her eyes wandered they locked into Diego’s. He stood by the divan where the white-haired woman sat. His face turned to where Mina and Kalinda were, a heartbeat or a world away. She somehow was aware of Gino’s presence in that same corner of the room. She seemed to remember his face, ashen.
“I’m Mina Calvi.” Breathe, Mina, breathe. “Why is Julian calling you the Matchmaker to the Stars?” Without waiting for an answer, she started in the direction of the bar, avoiding looking at Margo whose eyes shot poisoned arrows at Kalinda. The tall beauty smiled back. “Let’s grab a stool and a glass of bubbly, and I’ll tell you all about. Where are you from?”
“Margo, I bet you’re tired of sitting at the bar, aren’t you? Gino is in that corner talking to an old acquaintance of his.”
Margo took off with a sigh of relief, and Mina sensed Kalinda’s level of curiosity rising. Did Gino and Kalinda know each other?
The two women sat at the bar. Mina occupied the stool where Margo spent most of the evening. The bartender poured champagne for both. So this was her rival, well not really. Diego had made his choice. And he chose Kalinda, and to her disappointment Mina had to admit the woman was as beautiful up close as she was from a distance. She wanted to hate her, but couldn’t. Every fiber of her being was aching to be in that corner by a silky grey divan.
“I’m Italian,” Mina said. “My friend Gino coerced me into tagging along with him and Margo.” She didn’t need to turn. She could feel him moving closer, that unspoken, indefinable link they had shared, unbroken. Before Kalinda acknowledged Diego’s presence Mina could swear she smelled mountain pines and summer breeze.
“Hey. Lover boy. Care to join us?” Why would she call him lover boy? Did she know? Was she making fun of her?
He rested his hand on the bar top, next to Mina’s. She willed herself not to move, not to react. Prayed he couldn’t hear the thunder in her chest, the wailing in her soul.
“Funny to meet you here.” He leaned closer to her.
“Totally unexpected.” Touch my hand. Tell me how you missed me.
The bartender said something to Diego, waited then moved on.
“Hey, you two know each other?” The surprise in Kalinda’s voice genuine.
“Know each other?” Mina tilted her head, searched his unreadable eyes. “Hard to say.”
“Really?” He kept his eyes on her. Probably regained his sense of balance after the shock of finding her there. He put his hand on the back of her stool and spun it so that she faced him. The edge of his sleeve brushing against her bare shoulder. She knew Kalinda followed their every move, but Mina didn’t care. She wished the people to disappear and time to stand still. There, now. Forever. The electricity between them could have scorched the earth and the air they breathed.
A phone chimed, and Mina sighed. The spell now broken.
“Damn.” Kalinda fished her mobile phone from her beaded bag then turned her back to them. “Yeah, of course. And it can’t wait…yeah. Fine.” She put her phone away and looked at Diego. “Duty call.” Her expression differe
nt, her fingers tightened on her purse.
He shook his head. “Take the car. I’ll get a ride.”
“You’re sure?” They exchanged glances.
“I’m sure.” His hand was still on Mina’s stool as if he was making sure she couldn’t get away.
“Okay then, I’ll see you later?” Those glances between them. Kalinda slid off the stool and walked up to Diego. She was a whole head taller than he was. She bent and kissed his cheek, right next to his mouth. He didn’t react.
Just then Margo and Gino approached, and Gino whispered something to Diego. Both looked toward the grey divan in the corner.
“Sorry,” Diego said to Mina. “I’ll be back.” He hesitated, as if waiting for her acknowledgment, when she didn’t react he walked away. Kalinda headed for the front door, and suddenly it was Gino, Margo and Mina.
“What a tall gal,” Margo said to no one. “That guy who just left, he looked so familiar.”
“All Italians look the same,” Mina said and immediately hated herself for it.
“That’s so mean…my Italian is better than all the rest.” Margo hugged Gino.
“Can we go, please?” Mina begged.
“They have a silent auction,” Gino started.
A sudden anger rose from her chest to her throat. Why should she always be the one waiting for him? “If I stay one more minute, I’ll scream.”
“Okay then, let’s go. And, Mina, for what’s it’s worth, I honestly didn’t know.”
They left. She didn’t look back.
CHAPTER 22
Margo snuggled so close to Gino that from the back where Mina sat, the front passenger’s seat seemed unoccupied. “How come you knew so many people?” Margo asked.
Good question. Mina waited for the answer. Would Gino flat out lie to Margo or come up with some ambiguous, creative answer?
Ashes of Autumn (Mina's Adventures Book 4) Page 14