by Sienna Mynx
“Having doubts, cousin?” Lorenzo asked.
“I’m not sure,” Giovanni replied. He went to the door and opened it. The Dons of the Camorra were gathered. All thirteen were present. But of course only the men who held the most wealth and influence were seated. The others stood in silence.
Giovanni addressed the three. “Benicia, Racchini, Tacchi.”
The men nodded their hello.
“Thank you all for coming. I regret keeping you waiting,” Giovanni said.
“Everyone is clear on why you wished to have this meeting,” Dominic began.
“Some of us think it’s premature, Gio. Santo hasn’t proven himself.” Benicia was the first to speak.
“The man has lost his family and clan,” Racchini responded.
“Doesn’t make him loyal,” said Tacchi. “In fact it makes him weak. Have we not forgotten why Santo put us at risk? We’ve all been in meetings with him and Mottola. Where was his loyalty to Gio then?”
“No one has forgotten,” Lorenzo replied. “Including us. Gio has reason to believe that Santo has paid his debts to the Camorra. That we should reward his dedication.”
“I will speak on my beliefs,” said Giovanni. Lorenzo nodded. Giovanni walked over to the window. He gazed out at the party. He could see his wife amongst her admirers. He again was reminded of how fragile their happiness remained.
“Santo isn’t trustworthy,” Giovanni said. The men exchanged baffled looks.
“Gio? We discussed this. Santo’s punishment and rewards guarantee loyalty, not only from him, but from all our men. The clan bosses have to show compassion. What are the men to believe if they make a sacrifice? That there is no justice?”
“Benicia is right. Nothing is certain with Santo. I propose we give him the legs to walk on, for now. But each family, each clan, keeps a close watch on him. Including my own.”
Giovanni ignored the shocked and confused look on Dominic’s face. They knew better than to question him further on the subject in this forum. The men nodded in agreement. And after a brief discussion of other business affairs they left and returned to the party. Soon he was left with his brothers.
Lorenzo closed the door. “Gio, you surprise me.”
“What is this, Gio? Why have you changed your opinion on Santo? We agreed he has paid enough for his mistakes. We agreed.”
“Am I not allowed to change my fucking mind?” Giovanni asked.
“I meant no disrespect,” Dominic began.
“Then shut the fuck up.” Giovanni went to the bar and poured himself a drink. The gnawing feeling in his gut persisted. He turned with his whiskey glass in hand. “Something is off. I felt it earlier with Santo. He’s desperate.”
“Can you blame him?” Dominic grumbled.
“Desperate makes a man weak. And a weak man can be bought,” Lorenzo agreed.
“But who made him weak? That’s the fucking question!” Dominic said. “How many years of loyalty and sacrifice until he’s broken?”
“I’ve decided. We keep a close eye on him. He rides with you, Lorenzo. Give him some false hope that it’s to bring him back into position. But keep the family business closed to him, for now. It could be nothing.”
“Or it could be everything, Gio,” Lorenzo said. “It’s what I’ve been saying all along. Santo is a snake. He is not to be trusted. Don’t worry. I will appease him or put a bullet in his skull.”
Lorenzo winked at Dominic and then left. Giovanni sat and stared into his drink. He loved all his brothers. It didn’t feel right to question the motives of any of them. But Santo had a price.
“Carlo didn’t lie.” Giovanni said.
“About what?”
“Santo,” Giovanni took a sip.
Dominic looked confused. Giovanni continued. “You were too young to remember when they took Carlo away. I went to Patri and asked him to help Carlo.”
“And Patri said no,” Dominic said. “I do remember.”
“Yes. He did. But Lorenzo wouldn’t let up. He loved Carlo. He knew it was a setup. We later found out that Santo could help him,” Giovanni said.
“Are you saying that Lorenzo and Carlo’s hatred of Santo is because Carlo went to jail for raping that girl?”
Giovanni nodded. “He didn’t rape the girl. He was at Santo’s house that night. His father had beat him up. He needed a place to hide from him. Mancini paid Santo’s father, and Santo was forced to go to the prosecutors and lie. Or so he says. What choice did Santo have really?”
“He had a choice. We always have choices, Gio,” Dominic said.
“True. It’s why Lorenzo never trusts Santo not to be bought off.”
“If you forgave him then, why convict him now?”
“The only time Santo was unable to look me in the eye in all the years I’ve known him was when he was guilty in his heart.” Giovanni finished his drink and looked up at Dominic. “I trust you the most, Domi. I love Lorenzo, but he is what he is. You’re my conscience. My heart. Prove me wrong and I’ll reward Santo. But I will not risk any of my men and family again if my gut tells me not to.”
“Of course, Gio. You’re right,” Dominic said.
“Check into his story about the sick brother. Put a man on him and see where he goes, where he sleeps, eats, fucks, everything. You know what must be done.”
Dominic nodded and left.
Who Can You Trust?
Lorenzo had managed to remain standing. All night he drank, smoke, laughed and argued with his friends, cousins, and uncles. The last of their guests left just before dawn. When he staggered into his room the shadows hadn’t departed. He flipped up the light switch. The lamps on either side of the bed vanquished the dark. Marietta wasn’t there.
“Damn it!” he grunted. He glanced to the bathroom and found she wasn’t there as well. “Where the hell is my wife?”
**
“You still up?” Marietta asked.
“I wanted to help. Is everyone gone?” Catalina yawned. She plopped down and kicked off her shoes. “What time is it?”
“Five or four, not sure,” Marietta sat. She needed to find Lorenzo and have his men carry him to their bed. But she was in no mood to deal with his drunkenness. Carlo’s words to her burned through the chambers of her heart all evening.
“Something wrong?” Catalina asked.
“I hear you and Domi have set a date?” Marietta asked.
“Sí, we have. It was time,” she replied.
“I thought you wanted to wait another year, stay in Milano with Kyra and Jamie. Build up our offices in Paris—”
“It’s time.” Catalina cut her off. “No need to discuss it further.”
“Then let’s change the subject,” Marietta said. She put her face in her hands. “I’m worried, Catalina.”
“About what?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Marietta lifted her face from her hands. “I’m just concerned. When things are at their very best for me, somehow I manage to screw it up. I’ve already started to screw it up.” She wished she could say more to clarify but the words were lodged in her throat. Catalina sat forward. She stared at Marietta with concern.
“I know it’s hard to trust the good when you have had so much bad. I know it’s easy to be tempted to test everything for proof of love. Trust me. Sometimes love is just enough. There is no dark cloud looming. This is our family being happy now. Enjoy it,” Catalina said.
“I know. I know. You’re right. Lorenzo and I are trying for a baby,” Marietta smiled.
“I can’t wait to see you as a mother,” Catalina chuckled.
Marietta had to laugh at the thought. “You sure about marrying Domi? Now?”
“Am I sure?” Catalina tilted her head so her dark locks cascaded past her shoulder. She was so young and beautiful. Sometimes Marietta saw that beauty and was taken aback by it. Catalina let go a girlish giggle and closed her eyes as if she were wrapped up in Dominic’s arms. “Of course I am. I have wanted to marry him since I was el
even years old.” She opened her eyes and looked at Marietta. “It’s time. I just wished my mother were alive to be part of my wedding. My real wedding. The one that lasts forever.”
“Do you think your mother would approve?” Marietta asked.
“I don’t know. I miss her. I miss her everyday.” Catalina sat upright. Her eyes were bright with excitement. “I know she would approve of you! And she would love Mirabella for Gio. My mother had no prejudices. Not like the rest of us. She suffered so much scorn in her younger days, she could never be mean to anyone. And she always loved the good in people.”
“She sounds like a sweetheart.” Marietta smiled.
“Your turn. Do you think your mother would approve of Lorenzo?” Catalina asked.
“All I know about my mother is her pain and her murder. I would like to think that she’s happy for me. I don’t know what it would even be like to understand her.”
Catalina stood. She stretched. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”
“In a minute.” Marietta smiled. “Go on. I have a big brunch planned for us before we head home. Sleep in.”
“I intend to,” Catalina winked. She started to walk off and stopped. Marietta could sense her staring at her. When she looked over she saw concern on her face. “Did you know that Armando was going to gift you and Mira that portrait? Is that why you’re worried?”
Before Marietta could answer Catalina continued. “Don’t be. I was thinking about it tonight. Maybe I was wrong and you were right. Armando is your family too. Gio and Lo will have to accept it. Mira will have to accept it. Maybe together we help to make sure they do.” Catalina looked at the covered portrait. “I think the gift was sweet. A nice gesture.”
“Sweet?” Marietta frowned. “It’s creepy how he did this. The damn thing looks like we actually posed for the portrait.”
“But you said you loved it,” she said.
“I only said that to avoid the awkwardness. To be a gracious hostess. The more I look at it I have to ask myself if Armando truly did this from his heart or for some other reason.”
“Coming from a man like Armando Mancini, trust me, he doesn’t have a gentler side,” Catalina turned and left the room. Marietta hadn’t thought of the gift. She had been too busy seething with jealousy over Shae and Carlo to be bothered. She stood and went to the corner of the private room. She removed the draped cover from the image.
Marsuvio Mancini stared into her eyes. Marietta stepped back and stared at the portrait. Her father had a cruel unwavering look. Armando had found a way of softening him. Marietta knew who she was because she was depicted as the fairer skinned of the two. She stood to the right of her father on the portrait, with her hand on his shoulder. Mirabella was to the left. She didn’t touch Marsuvio in the portrait but she did smile in that gentle manner that her sister often did.
“Why are you in here?” Lorenzo asked from behind her.
She glanced back. He staggered into the room. He closed the door too abruptly and straightened his back. When Lorenzo did he stood taller than most men. But his bloodshot eyes, and that sly smile tilting the edges of his mouth, revealed plenty. He was drunk.
“What do you think of this?” Marietta asked. She turned her gaze back to the portrait
“I think we should throw it in the trash,” Lorenzo said. “Let’s go to bed. I want to fuck.”
“I’m serious, Lorenzo. I really think it has meaning. How did he get our likeness so well done? It looks like we posed for it. Is this how you remember Mancini? He was a powerful man, larger than life. Wasn’t he?”
“He was an asshole.” Lorenzo said as he stepped behind her. “I believe he’s part Spanish.”
Marietta ignored the comment. Lorenzo was the only one who constantly mocked or commented on who was a legitimate Sicilian. But he never cared to explain to her how he too had blue eyes like his bastard cousin.
“We’re all mixed with something. The point is, he’s my father. And Armando was very generous to give us this. Look! It has the Mancini crest.”
Lorenzo pushed the portrait and it fell over to the side. Then it dropped flat on the ground. Shocked, Marietta whirled on him to shove him in retaliation. But he caught her by the wrist. “I told you, Marie, you can’t trust the fucking Mancinis. Especially Armando. He’s a figlio di puttana!”
“You’re jealous, and an ass,” she shouted.
He grabbed her by the hair and pulled so hard her chin was forced up. Marietta grimaced. She closed her eyes when the tip of his tongue traced her neck to the diamond stud in her earlobe.
“You’re drunk!” she said and fought harder. This time she got him off her. He stumbled back. She slapped him. His inebriation reduced his balance and he fell to his hands and knees. “You’re such an asshole!”
Lorenzo laughed. He looked up and grinned at her. Marietta rolled her eyes and started to smile. He managed to stand. He wiped his hand down his face. He put up both his hands in surrender as if she were going to strike him again, and then laughed harder. He went to the portrait that was lying facedown. He stood it upright and placed it back against the wall. And then he dusted it with his hands.
“Welcome to the family, you fucking cocksucker,” he said to Mancini and gave him a salute.
“Let’s go to bed.” She turned for the door but he caught her by the arm and pulled her up against his chest. “You smell so good, bambina, and your hair. Yes. Your hair smells good too.”
“Lorenzo, stop pulling on my hair!” she pushed at him again. She tried to turn in his arms to lead him away, but his grip was too strong. She struggled with him as they both went down to their knees. “Jesus! Why must you be such a jackass?”
“Happy birthday, Marie,” he kissed her face and neck as he pinned her beneath him.
“Lorenzo, stop!” She kicked her legs and tried to buck underneath him. She broke free and grabbed his face. “Stop,” she said. “It’s a turn off.”
He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. His focus became the rise and fall of her breasts beneath him. “They’re so pretty. Your tits, Marie, I fucking love them. Will they get bigger when you become pregnant?”
“Shut up!” she said.
“I love them. I love your pussy, sweet, sweet, pussy!”
“Lorenzo, you’re heavy!”
“Your skin, and your thighs. I love your fat ass. I love to fuck you in your ass.”
“Stop it!”
“I’ve fucked a lot of women, Marie.”
She stopped struggling. She lifted her gaze back up to him.
“I haven’t fucked anyone else since I met you. No woman has had everything I wanted. Not even Fabiana. No woman.” He kissed her face. “There is no woman like you, Marie. My dick gets hard when I’m sleep just because you’re next to me. Gio said Mira was different when she was pregnant.”
She laughed. Lorenzo laughed. He dropped his head and laughed. “He said her body felt different. He said he loved her more. It’ll be like that won’t it? And your breasts. I’ll suck on them every night.” He dropped his face between her breasts and started to bite and nibble on them.
“Damn it that hurts, Lo!” she started to fight him off her again. He lifted his head to her screaming.
“Do you love me?” he asked.
“Don’t be stupid.” She shoved at his immovable shoulders. Her heart beat hard, and then harder in her chest. Even though she doubted her ability to protect her love for him, she could never deny it. She kept her expression carefully neutral when she answered.
“Yes, Lo, I love you. With all my heart,” she said.
He looked up at the portrait. His gaze hardened as he stared at the man who was her father. “You cannot trust Armando. I’m the only man you need, Marie. The only man you trust.”
“Only you. Now stop,” she said. “You’re drunk. You stink with liquor breath. Let me take you to bed.”
Lorenzo grinned. He dropped his face to the side of her neck as he clawed at her designer original.
He forced himself between her thighs. He was in her. Swift and hard he thrust into her. Marietta held to his sides to try to slow down the invasion. She turned her face away to avoid his sloppy kisses. She locked eyes with her father. He stared at her from the portrait. Was it her imagination or did he smirk?
**
“Ciao?” she whispered.
“Ciao,” he answered.
“What are you doing in here?” Mirabella asked. “I thought you had a meeting?”
“I missed them,” Giovanni carried Eve to the bed. He put her on top of the mattress gently. Mirabella adjusted the covers over the kids. The bed was large enough for both her and Giovanni to join them.
“I had a talk with her while I waited for you,” Giovanni said.
“Good,” she eased her arm around his waist.
“Eve loves Captain Hook, but not as much as she loves Papa,” Giovanni smiled.
“Maybe we should stay a few more days. Go out on the lake. You and I both have been distracted,” Mirabella said.
“True,” he kissed her brow. “Unfortunately we need to return home.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why so soon?”
For close to two years the tension in the family had eased. If it returned it only meant one inevitable truth, there was more conflict and danger in his world. “Should I be worried, Giovanni?”
“Never, Bella. Cautious. Always. But as long as I’m alive and by your side, you should never be worried,” he replied.
She lowered her arm from around his waist. She took his hand and squeezed it. “They are so beautiful,” she said.
“Like their mother.” He turned her and she came into his arms. His hand held hers and the other was snug around her waist. They danced to their own music. And she smiled with happiness.
“We’re going to America!” she silently cheered.
“You will show me where you grew up,” he kissed her brow.
“And where my grandfather preached. I’m so excited. I wanted to tell Marietta, but I’ll wait. I plan to call home. There’s an aunt and cousins that I haven’t spoken to in many… many years. They probably have questions since we’ve gone public.”