Omerta Book Two

by Sienna Mynx

  “I think it’s a clever idea,” Mirabella said and wiped the tears that had formed in the corner of her eyes. “But I’m not doing a women’s line next year.”

  “You’re not?”

  Mirabella shook her head no.

  “Oh?” Belinda said dejected.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t train to be a model. I have contacts. There’s a very good school in Milan. A better one in Paris. How about school instead?”

  “Are you for real?”

  “Are you ready to commit to some hard work?”

  “Yes! Yes! Oh, my goodness! Thank you! What do they say here? Grazie!” Tante grazie!”

  Mirabella chuckled. “You have been spending time with Leo.”

  “We’re taking it slow. Friends. Like you suggested. And he’s started to let me teach him English again. He’s teaching me Italian. It’s a partnership.”

  Mirabella gave a nod and walked over to the chair in the room. She sat. Belinda continued to stand and watch her. She then knelt before Mirabella. “I will make you and mama proud. I swear.”

  “Did you know that when we visited America Marietta predicted this future for you?”

  “She did?”

  Mirabella nodded. She sat in the rocking chair she had brought upstairs to her room. “She took one look at you and said you should be on the runway. I agree. Zenobia needs some competition.”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Belinda squealed and jumped up and down. Eve came walking in with her puppy. She immediately began to clap and smile with Belinda. The girls’ excitement was contagious.

  “Eve! Evie! I’m going to be a model!” Belinda picked her up.

  Eve laughed. “Me too!”

  Mirabella doubted her little girl understood what that meant. Belinda left the room carrying Eve saying she wanted to call Jamie and Kyra. Alone with Lorenza, who had wakened, and was just staring up at her blinking mobile, Mirabella relaxed on the happiness shared. And then her thoughts drifted again to Marietta and Lorenzo. Happiness was fleeting. Reality was much more complicated.

  Palermo, Sicily

  THE LAST TIME GIOVANNI walked through the doors of Palazzo Mancini the Don and his son were both alive. Under Battaglia occupation the place didn’t have its original formidable presence in Giovanni’s mind. It looked more like a wasteland. He scanned the faces of the few men left from Lorenzo’s war. All of them being held by the guns of his own men. Some of them he’d use; others would suffer the fate of most casualties of war. And he could see that knowledge in the hollow looks on their faces and in their eyes.

  “Gio?” Catalina asked.

  “Yes?”

  “How’s Mirabella?”

  “Pregnant, like you,” he said.

  “Pregnant? When? How?”

  “You know how,” he smiled. “It happened a few weeks before I was shot. When we visited America. She’s due soon.”

  “I had no idea she was pregnant. Zia never said a word.”

  Giovanni had to wonder why Zia hadn’t shared the news. Inside of the villa he and his sister walked the halls together. Catalina seized on the role of Donna Mancini. She gave him a formal tour and explained her staff attendance. She talked about the things she had done to make the place more comfortable. She presented the rose garden she had nurtured and spoke of eventually planting roses.

  “Do you know about Mondello?”

  “I didn’t at first,” she said and her gaze lowered in shame. “I found out long after he burned our home to the ground. I feel responsible. Like I should have prevented it, Gio.”

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  “I guess there is enough fault to go around.”

  “There is only one person at fault and we both know who that person is.”

  Catalina looked as if she would object. She didn’t. Giovanni’s gut told him that his little sister knew much more than she revealed. Just as Zia did. That was the real purpose of his visit. To get the answers they’d both eventually give.

  When he turned the corner, he saw Zia seated in a lounger on the terrace knitting. She either didn’t hear their approach or didn’t care. Catalina walked a little ahead of him to reach their aunt first.

  “Zia. Look who’s here.”

  Zia glanced up from her knitting. She looked over the top of her reading glasses to Giovanni. She lowered her gaze back to her work and continued to knit.

  “Ciao, Zia. Miss me?”

  “Ciao, Gio,” Zia replied, again, she didn’t look his way.

  “You and I are due for a talk,” he said.

  “How about dinner first, Gio? It’s late. The sun will be down soon. Zia, did the cooks prepare anything for Gio?”

  “There is food for you,” Zia replied.

  Catalina flushed with embarrassment over Zia’s rude reply. She looked to Gio to explain but he winked. “Leave us, piccoletta. Zia and I need privacy.”

  “But... she’s tired, Gio. Stay the night. I have a room perfect for you. We can talk in the morning after dinner. Please?”

  Giovanni gaze lifted from Zia to his sister. Her eyes were tearing. He then looked at her pregnant state. Catalina was the one in his opinion that needed the rest. “I’ll join you for dinner in an hour. Then you get some rest. Deal?”

  Catalina blinked away her tears and smiled for him. She walked over and hugged him again. “I’m so glad you are well. I love you,” she said.

  He kissed the top of her head and she was gone. Giovanni walked over to the chair across from Zia and sat down. He faced his aunt. “We’re alone now Zia. No one here to offer excuses for you or shield me from blame.”

  Zia stopped rocking.

  Giovanni leaned forward. “I know the truth old woman.”

  “Lorenzo is your brother. That is the only truth to know.”

  “I know the truth. He is Rocco’s son. And you and my uncle conspired together to cover that secret. Didn’t you?”

  Zia removed her glasses. “He is Tomosino’s first born. Deal with it. Non puoi cambiare niente del passato, anche volendolo.”

  “I don’t need to change the past. I need you to confess it.”

  Zia frowned.

  “A son is all Tomosino ever wanted. From his whore to his wife, a son was his only wish. If that poor girl was carrying his child, he would have never kidnapped my mother. Would he?”

  Zia didn’t budge.

  “Rocco raped that girl and made her pregnant. He did it for revenge, or power, or just because he was twisted as Papa. I don’t know why he did it, but it’s his crime. Isn’t it? So, what happened? You saved Lorenzo? Then what? You used my mother to protect Lorenzo out of guilt. Why? Why this lie? Why push it this far?”

  “Rocco made a mistake,” Zia stammered.

  “You are speaking to me. Men like my uncle don’t make mistakes.”

  “Your mother was a good woman. She knew the future; she knew it the moment she gave birth to you. And she gave her life to protect you. Do you want the truth? Or do you want a way to fix this family? Because accepting Lorenzo as your brother fixes this Gio.”

  “The truth,” Gio said.

  “I did beg Eve to help Rocco after everything was discovered. To try to convince Tomosino to not kill him.”

  “For raping a girl Tomosino wanted?”

  “No, no,” Zia sighed. “Tomosino didn’t know about the girl at first. Tomosino had never met her.”

  Giovanni’s left brow winged up.

  “Rocco took her when he saw Tomosino pursuing your mother. His obsession to compete with Tomosino is just like Lorenzo’s obsession to compete with you. Rocco took her from her family and used her. She was so young and confused she didn’t know what to do about his attentions. She didn’t understand it was a crime, until it was too late.”

  Zia paused. She seems to struggle with speaking the truth. Giovanni felt no sympathy. He knew she never struggled with spreading her lies.

  “Go on Zia, continue,” he said.

  She nodded. “When Rocco... after h
e was done manipulating and using her she was tossed aside like garbage. It was the 1950s. Things, people were different. Your uncle was different then. He changed...”

  “No excuses Zia. I want the truth,” Giovanni demanded.

  Zia nodded. “She returned to her family. Tomosino didn’t know that his brother took out his resentment of him on women this way. But I don’t think he would have cared, not unless it affected him. Your father didn’t know until the girl’s father went to the authorities and named him as her attacker. The father demanded justice for Rocco’s crime. Tomosino killed her father for the insult and forced Rocco to deal with the baby they said she carried. So, she was kept in Mondello with your mother until she gave birth.”

  “My mother?” Giovanni frowned.

  “They were friends, Gio.”

  “Mama was kept in Mondello alone.”

  “Not at first.”

  Zia let that news sink in before she continued. “They were in misery together. They were forgotten girls—together. And they protected each other from Isabella and from me.”

  “You? You blamed that young girl for Rocco’s crimes?”

  “I was sick with grief over the loss of my son. I blamed the universe,” Zia said.

  “Finish the fucking story,” Giovanni said.

  Tears slipped from Zia’s cheeks. “They had no one else but each other. Your mother was always strong. No matter what we threw at her she wouldn’t break. But that poor girl, never recovered. She wanted her family and innocence back. She broke when her father was killed. Eve told me later that she was to heartsick to know how to fight back. And your mother cared for her. She was there when Lorenzo was born. She helped deliver him into the world. She loved that baby boy as if it were her own when the girl couldn’t find the strength to do so.”

  “Mama delivered Lorenzo?”

  “She did,” Zia nodded. “And she was there when the girl slipped deeper into depression. She killed herself in front of your mother with a butchers’ knife to her chest. Told your mother to protect her baby before she died. That’s how the story was told to me.”

  Rocked by the confession Giovanni couldn’t speak. This time he wanted Zia to be silent. There was no escaping the truth. Zia continued: “Eve went a little mad herself. Only two months later she found she too was pregnant. She threatened to kill herself if she wasn’t returned to her family. Tomosino was furious that Rocco had caused all the drama. I’ve never seen your father so angry. He took Eve to a monastery and told Rocco to get rid of the baby that Eve now loved as her own. He said Eve could never see Lorenzo again because it would remind her of her friend. And it’s true. Lorenzo looks just like his mother. Even has her eyes.”

  “How did Isabella get the baby?”

  “Rocco conspired with Flavio to have Isabella take the child. And that’s where it all began; the lies, the secrets, the cruelty.”

  “Why did mama write the journal?”

  “Your mother wanted her friend to exist. Her story to be told. She knew when she saw Isabella’s child who the real mother was. She confronted Rocco, and me. She wanted Lorenzo protected. When we refused she cursed us both and tried for years to do it herself. Years of Isabella’s meanness wore your mother down. She had to focus on what she could control. She focused on saving you.”

  “So Madre, just let Lorenzo live a lie?”

  “Let? You think she had a choice? We made a different bargain. She kept the secret from Lorenzo and Rocco agreed to never claim him publicly or privately. But eventually, many years later, Tomosino did find out who Lorenzo’s real mother was. And he punished Rocco. He sent him to Chianti.”

  “It explains Madre’s relationship with Lorenzo. It does,” Giovanni said.

  “Eve hated the way Isabella treated Lorenzo for being a bastard and not her birth child. Isabella didn’t even have Lorenzo christened. Eve fought constantly to protect him. When she couldn’t protect him she vowed to give him what he deserved, and free you from Tomosino. So she went to Isabella with a different plan and she made me support her. This plan could legitimize Lorenzo and give Isabella more power in the family. I don’t know how she did it. Neither me or Isabella believed she could. But your mother... she was something. She convinced Tomosino to agree, because he always feared your mother would run from him again. We were older now, his control over your mother wasn’t the same or as complete as it was when she was young and naive. He learned that lesson when you and her ran away to Ireland. Plus, he had a baby girl, Catalina. He adored Catalina. He wanted your mother to never leave him. Sound familiar?”

  Giovanni narrowed his eyes on his aunt. He didn’t bother to respond. His obsession with his wife was nothing like his father’s crimes. He and Mirabella were bonded by love.

  Zia shrugged as if hearing his inner thoughts. “The men didn’t control us like they had before. We women had the power this time. And it went our way.”

  “Mama fought back. The three of you fought back but Lorenzo was the sacrifice.”

  Zia nodded.

  “For all the evil in your father and my Rocco, Tomosino did love your mother. That is why he sent you to America. That is why he gave Lorenzo a chance at being legitimate. Rocco and me watched from the sidelines. We were grateful not to be included.”

  “Did Patri ever plan to make Rocco claim Lorenzo? Tell him the lie?”

  “He considered it after Isabella took sick. But by then Lorenzo was rebellious, and Flavio was constantly whispering against Rocco to your father. Tomosino loved Lorenzo. He wanted to protect him, but he loved you too. And he wanted you to come home. So, he chose you. It broke Eve’s heart.”

  Giovanni remembered. He remembered the day his father switched his and Lorenzo’s fate. He remembered thinking he was free because he could go to America. But he never really was.

  “After a while Lorenzo’s failures were too big for Tomosino to ignore. He just wasn’t you, Giovanni. So Tomosino sent for you to come home. It made Eve sick with grief. Do you understand? For all your mother’s purest intentions she was as selfish as the rest of us. She didn’t want the mafia for you. She’d rather sacrifice Lorenzo instead. When Tomosino was shot Eve wrote the truth in that diary. She came to me and Rocco and told us to protect it. Gave the book to Rocco and asked for him to put it in a safe. I asked her why. Why did she insist on drudging it all up again? She said that the truth didn’t belong to us, it belonged to you. She said you two would grow up to fight over this life and the truth may be the only way to save you from making the mistakes of your fathers. I refused. I wanted it destroyed. Rocco had another idea. He ripped the pages out and I wrote a different story. Lorenzo had been through enough—being Rocco’s son wouldn’t save him from misery. But being Tomosino’s son could redeem him. He was the one that should have been freed from this. Rocco wanted his only son to have what Tomosino never gave him. I had my guilt too. Don’t think for a second my guilt went away. Not for a second. I love Lorenzo. I was responsible for his suffering. I was just as guilty.” Zia put a shaky hand to her brow. “But I love you too. When Rocco was dying, he confessed to me that he would burn in hell for his sins. And that he could not make up to his son for his actions. Giving him a real purpose could stop the war between you two. The lies we put in the dairy could save both of your lives.”

  “And you changed your mind? You tried to destroy the diary, but Mirabella stopped you?”

  “I shouldn’t have. Lorenzo shot you. That angered me to the point... I didn’t agree with Rocco. But I should have listened to Rocco. I tried. The lie is all we have left Gio. If you accept him as your brother no one would care if you spared his life. Even if they care everyone will know that you had good reason to.”

  “I can’t believe a word you say.”

  “It’s the truth!” Zia insisted.

  “No, I believe that mother did exactly what you confessed. I believe that Rocco was guilty of destroying that girls’ life. I even believe that Patri loved Lorenzo and bargained with my mother to secure
a place in this family for him. I can believe all of that.”

  “Then what is the lie?”

  “You. You are the lie Zia. Tomosino wanted a son. And I know that after Arturo died, Rocco did too. But you couldn’t give him one. Could you? That young girl was your replacement. Wasn’t she?”

  “Basta!”

  “You were the reason Lorenzo was given away. You refused to let Rocco claim him. You were the one who kept Lorenzo from a relationship with Rocco, because you were jealous.”

  “You don’t know my life!” Zia said. “What I had to endure. Rocco stole my life away just as he did that girls. No one wept for me. I lost the true love of my life because of Rocco. I lost my family, because of him. No one cried for me! Rocco did the same to me! And it was his gun that killed my boy. How could he have Lorenzo, the son he wanted and I could not have Arturo? My baby boy! How? I have been faithful to God and my family, and I’ve known more pain than Eve, Rocco’s whores, or Isabella ever knew. If I was punished to be barren and cast aside, then so was Rocco. That is his penance.”

  Giovanni nodded. “And there it is.”

  “What are you going to do? Blame Lorenzo for my actions? For Rocco’s Lorenzo is a victim. Can’t you see that?”

  “There are no victims in this family. Lorenzo has made his coffin. I intend to bury him in it.”

  “Gio? No! Did you not hear anything I said! This is not his fault! He isn’t responsible for all of it, he is what we made him to be. Don’t do this!”

  “What I know is that this brotherhood we have is a lie. It’s not a choice. It’s a curse. Neither of us ever had a chance to be anything more than who we are. Thank God we didn’t turn into rapists like our fathers.”

  “But, Gio he is your blood!”

  “If Lorenzo can’t be held responsible for the man Rocco and you made him. Then I can’t be responsible for the man my father made me.”

  Giovanni stood over Zia as she wept. “Tell Catalina I won’t stay for dinner. Keep me informed on her health. And Zia?”

  She looked up to him with tears in her eyes.

  “Call Mirabella and apologize.”