by Sienna Mynx
Armando chuckled. “He is truly your boy, Gio.”
“He makes his papa proud,” Giovanni agreed.
“Mirabella is my sister. She has my blood. Your children have more Sicilian blood in them than you. I think I see my father in il piccoletto.”
The insult burned as if a hot coal was thrown in his lap. And if it weren’t for his children being present he might have reacted. Instead he let his temper chill over the truth. In this game Giovanni held the cards, not Armando. A far different balance than the war games they played when they were kids.
“Of course, there’s a blood tie. I’ve accepted it. And my men are aware. Are yours?”
Armando didn’t answer. Giovanni cocked his head to the left and studied Armando. The motherfucker was obedient because he was a coward. “How will la cosa nostra feel about your connection to me? The bastard Don of the Camorra owns two-thirds of your legitimate companies. The same bastard Don who has now put the Ndrangheta on their knees? Who wiped out the Calderones, Mottolas, and still evokes fear in the Bonaduces.”
“Don’t stroke your dick in front of me,” Armando seethed.
“You’re right. I prefer you do it.” Giovanni smiled.
The silence lengthened. Giovanni was the first to speak. “Stop with the bullshit of them being your sisters. Admit your cowardice. Ask me again nicely and I’ll put a price on your release.”
“This war between us is a waste of time and energy. We aren’t kids anymore, Gio. We belong to different worlds and it should remain that way. But if that has changed and you want to make an enemy out of me…”
“I agree we need to reach a compromise,” Giovanni cut in.
Armando looked unconvinced. Giovanni continued. “Presently the press is at my fucking door. My actions, finances, everything accessible to those bloodsuckers is being picked apart. Do you understand?”
“You’re being investigated?” Armando clarified.
“Aren’t we always? It’s why I asked you here. There is a need for discretion with the severing of our ties. A necessary delay.” Giovanni reached over and put Gino on his lap. “Come, bring your men and join us in Bellagio for my Bella’s birthday. We’ll show the world we’re friendly. Consider it an act of good faith.”
Armando swiped his hand back through his hair. For the first time since he arrived he saw the torment and conflict in his nemesis. He also understood why Lorenzo wasn’t so willing to let this fish off the hook. At first all Giovanni could think about was keeping Mancini from his wife. Now he had a taste of something he’s wanted since he was fifteen. Revenge.
“I will see you at the party.” Armando stood.
To Giovanni’s surprise Eve walked over to him. “Ciao!” she said.
Armando looked down at her. “Ciao, bella.”
“Sono Evie,” she grinned.
“Mi chiamo, Zio Armando,” he replied.
“Zio?” Eve wrinkled her nose. She looked to her father for an explanation.
“We’re done,” Giovanni said. His daughter immediately came over to her father and climbed on the sofa. She found a place on his lap next to Gino. Armando looked to her once more and then winked. He nodded at Giovanni before he left.
“Who is he, Papa?”
“A ghost. You won’t see him again.”
**
“Thank you very much, Mirabella, for inviting us here today with you. I know you must be under such pressure with the show less than a day away.”
Mirabella walked Margot Duval through her show room. The Vogue fashion reporter and critic had a new television show in the States that was even broadcast in the U.K. Not only did Mirabella invite her for an exclusive, but she refused any payment for the interview. She wanted a genuine honest critique of her work. She needed it.
“Larry, get that shot,” Margot said. She pointed to Zenobia, Mirabella’s model, being fitted for one of her dress slips. Mirabella waited for the cameraman to get the footage Margot requested, and then they moved on.
“I’m excited to sit down and have this conversation. It’s long overdue.”
“Yes! The last time I saw you was six years ago in Paris. Remember Fabiana had the party at Chateau Vicci?” Margot said.
Mirabella smiled fondly at the memory. “That was some night.”
“One of the most memorable,” Margot agreed.
“This way.” Mirabella led the reporter to the private room she had polished for the interview and photos. Fabiana taught her many things about the press. Today she hoped to make her mentor proud. They passed through the door where Giovanni and the kids waited. Gino and Gianni wore matching blue knickers with tweed vests and bowties. They chased after each other, playing merrily. Eve wore a blue and white tea dress with blue ribbons on the ends of her two long French braids. She sat next to her father reading a book to him. Giovanni glanced up. Of course he was as handsome as ever. And with the studio lights burning bright in the white on white room, his violet blue eyes sparkled like gems. Mirabella smiled with pride. “Meet mia famiglia,” she said.
“Oh my! They are adorable. May we?” she signaled for the cameraman to film the boys wrestling over a toy. Giovanni’s gaze narrowed on the man but he didn’t object.
“Only for a few minutes,” Mirabella said.
“Of course. Hello, sweetheart, what is your name?” Margot asked Gino.
He glanced to his mother and then to the reporter. She knelt in front of him with the microphone. He grabbed it with his hand and turned the bulb. The reporter laughed.
“This is Gino, and he’s Gianni.”
“They’re identical. Blue eyes? My, their eyes are striking,” the reporter said with a confused frown. She glanced to Mirabella and she understood the surprise. Brown, blue-eyed children were not common.
“And my oldest daughter Eve,” Mirabella said. She picked up Gino, and took Gianni by the hand. The reporter turned her attention to Giovanni and Eve.
“All of your children have blue eyes? That is very rare for black… ah children of mixed race.”
“They all look like their father,” Mirabella corrected her.
“Tell her that’s enough, Bella,” Giovanni said in Italian. She knew the American reporter didn’t understand his statement. So she gave a pleasant smile. “Okay, babies, let’s go. Come on, Eve,” Mirabella said.
She walked over to the door, and her assistant who followed them in opened it. Cecilia waited outside. Mirabella passed Gino to her, and handed over Gianni and Eve. The first part of her mission completed. The interview would be her greatest challenge.
**
“Is that the reporter?” Marietta asked.
Catalina stood at the top floor balcony and peered down. “Yes. Giovanni is in there.” She pointed to the private show room. “He’s with the kids. Mirabella wanted to bring the reporter in. Look at her. She looks beautiful.”
Together they watched Mirabella. She wore a knee length black pencil skirt that had a high waist, with a crisp white blouse tucked in. Marietta had put curls in her hair and the make up team had done their magic. She was flawless. The scarlet red shoes and matching lipstick were the right amount of flare needed.
“He’s going to do this? He’s really going to do it,” Marietta said in disbelief.
“My brother loves her. Of course he’ll do it. Did you see the twins? Oh my goodness they are so cute,” Catalina said.
“Yeah, those devils will be heart breakers,” Marietta chuckled.
“I’m proud of Gio,” Catalina said with the upward toss of her chin.
“Don’t give him too much credit yet,” Marietta chuckled.
“What the hell does that mean? Too much credit?” Catalina frowned.
“Nothing. I have to admit I didn’t think she’d convince him to sit down for the interview. And with the kids too? The man barely lets them see daylight. Now he has cameras in their faces. It’s a big compromise.”
“Oh stop. You always have to say something negative,” Catalina turned to wa
lk off. Marietta caught her by the arm and stopped her.
“I’m not trying to be negative. I’m saying you and I should make sure nothing goes wrong. Give him a way out of the interview after about ten or fifteen minutes. And then sit at her side and take over the rest.”
“I don’t think that’s what Mirabella wants.”
“What she wants is to be her self again. And this industry is cutthroat. There are so many people wanting her to fail. Read the fucking papers. They aren’t all predicting a success.”
Catalina nodded. She glanced to the reporter who walked into the private room. Marietta continued. “Your brother is only tolerant of her fashion business because he loves her, and it benefits him. Right? Right?”
Catalina nodded again.
“How long do you think he will sit through an interrogation by an American reporter? Trust me that bitch is all smiles now, but she will try to provoke him.”
“Why isn’t Domi in there with them?” Catalina frowned.
“Because this has to be done by Mira and Gio. Let’s give them fifteen minutes and pull him out of there.” Marietta raised her hand and Catalina gave her a high five like she taught her. They nodded. It was done.
**
“Signor Battaglia, my viewers are dying to hear about the love story. I’ve read a little about you.” Margot smiled.
“Don’t believe everything you read,” Giovanni joked. Margot gave a genuine laugh. Mirabella smiled at her husband’s relaxed demeanor.
“Before Mirabella you were one of the top ten most eligible bachelors in Italia, hell in the UK. Can you share with us how you two met?” the reporter began.
Mirabella’s hand was in Giovanni’s. He stared at the reporter. For a moment she didn’t think he’d answer. And the next moment she was afraid of his reply. To her he spoke like a poet about their love. She’d never once heard him speak of his devotion to her to strangers. Not intimately, not from the heart.
“I first met Mirabella in Napoli, at a restaurant my cougino owned. The most beautiful woman in all of Italy walked in through the doors and I couldn’t turn my eyes away. Do you remember, Bella? We talked about this the other night.” He kissed her hand. She glanced over to him. His eyes sparkled with mischief. She remembered his hands between her thighs as he told her about how it felt to fall in love with her. She felt flushed and was rendered speechless as the memory overcame her. More to the question she recalled him in the hall chasing away that rude man who wanted to pursue her. She remembered that same look in his eyes when she thanked him.
“I didn’t know who she was,” he continued. “I soon learned. She was American, successful, a talented woman who was invited to my country to share her creativity. I had to see her again. Here in Milano I made that happen.”
“Do you often pursue beautiful strangers like Mirabella?” Margot asked.
“No. They often pursue me,” he corrected. It was Margot who blushed as she stared into Giovanni’s eyes. Mirabella saw it all over the woman’s face. That heated look of desire he evoked from women. She didn’t like it. “Mirabella was different. Rare. I touched her hand and it was soft.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “She smelled beautiful, the dress she wore,” he stared into Mirabella’s eyes and her throat went dry. A sly smile tilted the corner of Giovanni’s mouth. “Benissima. I attended her fashion show. I watched as she walked the runway in another beautiful dress. Her long legs, and sway of her hips, she was again the most captivating woman I’d ever seen. At the end of the runway she looked me in the eye. She owned me. It was amore,” he confessed.
“So you met here in Milano?”
“No, in Naples, and then again here,” Mirabella smiled. She drew Margot’s gaze back to her. The woman was now flushed and kept looking over to Giovanni, finding it hard not to stare into his eyes. “He’s quite charming.”
“Yes, he is,” Margot tossed her hair and crossed her legs for Giovanni. Mirabella narrowed her eyes on her. Was the woman flirting in front of her? Giovanni held Margot’s gaze every time it slipped his way. The bitter bite of jealousy clenched Mirabella’s gut. She tried to not let it show. She continued.
“My husband’s a little intimidating too. I’d never met a man like him before.”
“How nice. And that was when your business partner Fabiana was alive, correct?”
“Yes,” Mirabella answered.
“And you’ve named your new fashion house after Fabiana. She was quite a force in your company. I know the loss of her must be hard on a day like today.”
“She is missed. Deeply. Fabiana’s my inspiration. Red was her favorite color. I feel like each garment I make for House of Fabiana’s is a tribute to her style, passion, love for life.”
“Can we talk about her death?” Margot sat back and crossed her legs. “The world was shocked by it… and your supposed death. I attended your fake funeral. The first lady attended your fake funeral.”
Mirabella squeezed Giovanni’s hand. She knew this part of the interview would come. She had hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon. “It was awful. What do you want me to say? My best friend died in a terrible accident. And the man I trusted, Kei Hyogo, he made me believe that disappearing from my life was the only way to cope with my trauma. The press has lied and exaggerated my story to sell magazines and papers. The truth is I fell in love with this man, and made a life for myself. A life I wouldn’t trade for anyone or anything in the world.”
“Yes, you were pregnant when you went into hiding. You kept the pregnancy from this man you say you loved. Surely there’s a reason why.”
“She’s answered your question. Move on,” Giovanni said.
The reporter frowned. “Signor Battaglia, there has been much speculation on who you really are. Interpol has you listed as one of the clan bosses of the Camorra, a crime organization that has terrorized southern Naples for close to a century. Do you want to respond to any of these allegations?”
“I’m a husband, a father, and a business man, in that order,” he replied. “Americans romanticize the mafia. Interpol has a file? So what? I have nothing to hide.”
“Giovanni’s family has been in the export wine business out of Chianti for many decades. Trust me you’d be bored to death if you get him talking about it,” Mirabella chuckled. Giovanni didn’t. She cleared her throat and continued. “As for, ah, uhm, Fabiana died in an accident. I lied to my fans, colleagues, and friends by faking my death. I accept that. I can’t change it. Kei and I both have paid a heavy price for the deception. He manipulated me. I trusted him when I shouldn’t have. But today isn’t about the past. It’s about the present. You want drama? Wait until you see my show,” Mirabella smiled.
“I can’t wait… but I have one more question before we move on. Signor Battaglia, only recently have you and your wife been seen in public together. Even your wedding excluded the press. If there is nothing nefarious about your lifestyle, can you or Mirabella explain the secrecy around your lives? I’m told it’s because of you. If you are a simple business man, then why all of the security?”
The door opened. Mirabella looked up to see her sister and Catalina appear. The reporter looked a bit startled by the intrusion as well.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I hate to interrupt, Mira. Giovanni you have a very important phone call. You have to take it,” Catalina informed them.
“But, we’ve just started,” Margot protested.
“And you will continue,” Marietta replied. “With an exclusive. Me and my sister.”
“Oh yes? You are Marietta Battaglia. I’ve wanted to meet you,” Margo stood. She extended her hand. “I’d love to interview you.”
Mirabella leaned over and kissed Giovanni on the cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“I will say goodbye to the kids before I leave,” he said. “It was nice meeting you, Signora Duval,” he said.
“Signor Battaglia, grazie. You’re quite a man,” Margot batted her long lashes at him and held his hand a little longer than
Mirabella liked. Giovanni smiled at the woman. He never smiles! Mirabella’s brows lowered and gathered together. Now she was certain the heifer was flirting with her husband. It happened so naturally between them she had to wonder how many women he came across when he was away on his trips did the same thing. She hated it.
Marietta occupied the seat Giovanni vacated and tossed her curls from her shoulder. She crossed her legs and smiled. “Mira? What’s wrong?”
“She better sit her ass down and get out of his face,” Mirabella said. Marietta gaze swung to Margot. The reporter said something else to Giovanni and he nodded before he cast his gaze over to Mirabella once more. He gave Mirabella a wink and left.
“I’m here now. Let’s handle the bitch,” Marietta said through clenched teeth.
Mirabella nodded.
Margot took her seat once more.
“Now. Where do we start?” Marietta asked. “Ask me anything you want.”
**
“Where’s this call?” Giovanni asked.
“No call. It was time to put an end to that little circus, don’t you think?” she asked.
“You did this?” he smiled.
“It was Marietta’s idea. The interview should be about Mirabella. Not you.” Catalina hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about her, Gio. We have her. She’ll be fine.”
He kissed her brow. “I’ll see you at dinner.” She nodded and let him go. Giovanni headed for the door. He remembered the kids and glanced up to the stairs. He made sure to go and pay them a visit first. He had no idea how long the day would be.
Later –
“Do they mind if I smoke?” Shae asked. She lit her cigarette without waiting for a reply. Marietta sat next to her in a wicker chair on the terrace. They both looked out to the sun hovering just above the mountains.