by Sienna Mynx
“You need something to help you sleep, make you feel relaxed?” he lifted his head and his voice was thick with desire.
“No. No. I don’t, Kei. I am okay. I was in shock. I swear I just—” she bit down on her bottom lip and blinked several times to get rid of her tears. “I was shocked that’s all. Please stop.”
“Do you remember the first time we made love?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about that,” she said. If he didn’t move soon she’d choke to death on her own vomit. The thought of him made her sick.
His gaze lowered to her heaving chest. He traced his iron-gloved hand down the front of her face. He used only one hand to hold her wrists. His fingers went to the front of her summer dress. The thin white material barely contained her breasts. He pulled down the front to reveal her left nipple. He lowered his mouth to her nipple and sucked.
Mirabella winced. She had to do something. Think of something to stop him. “Yes! I remember! I do!”
He stopped running his tongue over her nipple and looked up. “I remember,” she smiled. She nodded. “We’d been dating two weeks and you came to Parsons to pick me up.”
Kei studied her.
Mira kept fast-talking. “And… and… your driver was going to take us to dinner. We were in the back of your car. Remember? You kept touching my thigh, and, ah, you said you couldn’t wait.”
“You tried to resist me at first,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes. But I wanted it, Kei. I wanted you. I was just afraid to do it with the driver in the car. You know how I was back then. Right?”
“We were on the streets of New York. You were on my lap. So sexy,” he smiled.
Mirabella smiled. “We were so good together in the backseat of that car. I had never known a man like you, Kei. You were so handsome, and so different than me. I’d never met anyone like you. I still haven’t.”
“I loved you, Mira. From the moment I saw you, even down to the moment I lost you.”
“I remember that too!” Mirabella’s smile broadened. He let go of her wrist. She immediately covered her breast and tried to move from under him. He lay on his side and pulled her close to him. “I remember when we first met. Fabiana and I crashed that party. All those hedge fund investors and stockbrokers. She thought if we hooked up with one I could get some financial backing.”
“Ahh… so you were a little minx.”
She laughed. The laughter sounded fake, but he bought it. “You brought me a drink and asked me my name.”
Kei smiled. He nodded his head.
“You didn’t ask for my number. You talked to me a few minutes, complimented me, and then stared at me for the rest of the night from across the room. That was so sexy,” Mirabella said. She eased down her dress and his eyes lowered to her sex. She tried to cover herself naturally so he wouldn’t attack her again.
“I remember what you were wearing. A tight black skirt that made your ass bubble up,” Kei chuckled.
“And the next day I was in my flat that I shared with Fabiana and two other girls. You sent me flowers. How did you find me?” Mirabella asked.
“I had my ways.” He winked.
“You were always resourceful, powerful, caring. I was really intimidated and flattered that you chose me,” she said.
“Why? You’re all those things,” Kei said.
“Only because you helped me evolve. Right?” Mirabella said.
Kei relaxed and smiled at her praising him.
“Let me go, Kei. I’m a mother now. My babies need me. Please.” She reached over and touched his face. “I know I hurt you. I was wrong. I was angry over the lies you told, and then I told lies myself. I’m not innocent, I’m human. Can’t you forgive me? Do you really want to hurt me like this?”
“Does he know?” Kei asked.
Mirabella lowered her hand.
“Does Giovanni know?” he asked.
“Know what?” she frowned.
“Why you choose men like us?” Kei asked. “Does he know about Cedric? Does he know why his wife always wants the darkness in a man?”
She closed her eyes as shame filled her. Cedric found her in New York. She never questioned how Kei dealt with Cedric. She ignored it and pretended Kei’s reaction was normal, because Cedric was hateful and deserving of his wrath. And it was then she understood what the foundation of her relationship with Cedric was based on. In all the years she was with Kei, she was with him out of the need for protection and a nurturer. It’s why she didn’t marry Kei. She never loved him the way she loved Giovanni. She never loved Cedric that way. True love only came from the man who believed in her the way her husband did.
“You say I’m different, but you knew who I was when we met. Didn’t you, Mira?” Kei asked.
“No,” she shook her head.
“You used me to protect you from Cedric,” he said.
“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t,” Mirabella’s eyes began to tear. “You pursued me. Cedric came to New York after we started our relationship. I had no idea he’d find me.”
“You used me to protect you from Giovanni?”
“I was confused. A bomb had gone off in my face. My best friend was dead. I was scared and in so much pain. You were my friend. I didn’t use you! I had no idea who you were!” she said.
“Somewhere deep down inside you knew what I was. Just as you knew what Cedric was when you wanted to turn against your grandfather, and who Giovanni is. Ask yourself, Mirabella. Why did you choose men like us? Why make us love you, and then punish us for being what is in our nature?”
“I don’t. I don’t.”
“You do. You have. You always will, because that’s the price of loving you.” He kissed the side of her mouth, and then her lips. She rolled away from him and hugged herself. She forced his words from her head. He caressed her thigh. Spooned her from behind. Ran his hand over her body as he pleased.
“Let me go,” She cringed.
He turned her to face him. He lifted her chin. “I want you to make love to me.”
“I won’t do it,” she said.
“I want you to give in to me,” Kei said.
“No!” she said.
“I will never let you go, and when Eve comes you will do whatever it takes to make us a family. To keep me happy. To keep Eve safe. Won’t you?”
She opened her eyes and looked into his.
“Right, princess?”
He kissed her lips. Mirabella shoved him off. “Get the fuck off of me!” she slapped him. He chuckled and forced her into his embrace. “Shhh…” he said against her ear. “Too late for tears. You’re mine again,” he said and hugged her.
**
“Rocco, wake up.” Giovanni said.
Zia reached for the lamp and turned it on. “What is it, Gio?”
“Rocco, come with me. Now! Join me downstairs, in the parlor,” Giovanni said.
“It’s okay, Zia. It’s okay,” Rocco said.
Giovanni walked out of the room. At first he wanted to dismiss Armando. He was vulnerable now, and time was precious. He couldn’t waste a minute on chasing a lie. But the more the night dragged on, the harder it was to convince himself otherwise. He waited in the parlor for close to ten minutes before the old man shuffled inside. Giovanni couldn’t sit. He hadn’t eaten or taken a sip of alcohol. He was running on pure adrenaline.
“Who is Isabella Mancini Ricci?” Giovanni asked.
Rocco paused. He looked up at Giovanni with wide-eyed shock. “It couldn’t be her,” he said.
“Armando called. He shared news. He said Isabella was Flavio’s daughter. How the hell did Flavio have a daughter by a Mancini and no one knew about it? And if you did know, why the fuck didn’t you tell me this?”
“Giovanni that’s a dead end. It’s something that happened years ago. It’s irrelevant.”
“What are you keeping from me, old man?” Giovanni seethed.
“Leave it alone, Gio. It has nothing to do with this.”
�
��I decide what is relevant! I decide!” he shouted. “Tell me. Tell me everything you know.”
Rocco looked to have aged before him. The old man sat down and stared at the curved top of his cane. “My sister Isabella, your aunt.”
“What? Zia Isabella has been dead for over twenty years.” Giovanni said.
“She had a daughter, Lorenzo has a sister.” Rocco said.
It was Giovanni’s turn to be shocked. He tried to make sense of the news. Zia Isabella never spoke of a daughter. She was a bitter woman, and very controlling. In fact no one in the family ever mentioned a daughter. “How? Why weren’t we told?”
“My sister was complicated,” Rocco sighed. “She should have been born a man. She defied her brothers, our mother, anyone. When she was barely seventeen she took a lover.”
“Mancini?” Giovanni asked.
“No.” Rocco wiped his hand down his face. “It was Flavio.”
Giovanni’s brows lowered with concern. “Zia Isabella had an affair with Flavio?”
Rocco nodded. “Do you see why I say this is irrelevant?”
“It is very relevant! Secrets, Zio! Secrets destroy us. Does Lorenzo know?” Giovanni asked.
Rocco shook his head. “Tomosino didn’t know the baby was Flavio’s. Isabella and I were very close. She came to me in a panic. She told me about the baby. I forced her to confess to Tomosino. She refused to name the father. To spare her the shame, and Tomosino’s wrath, Mancini stepped in. He offered up one of his men and labeled him the rapist who impregnated her. We murdered him. The baby was born. She was sent to an orphanage in Lipari, to give the child some hope of a life. Mancini was kind enough to give her his name.”
“Kind? Don Mancini was kind? You want me to believe he sacrificed one of his men for Zia Isabella out of the kindness of his heart?” Giovanni scoffed.
“You’re a godfather. You grant wishes all the time. The debts are to be paid later. Isn’t it always this way, Gio?”
“What happened to her?” Giovanni asked.
“I know when she was older she was actually adopted by the Mancinis. Lived with Armando and his family until she ran off one day. After your zia Isabella died there was no curiosity as to who she became on my part. I forgot about her.”
“You forgot? You made a deal with a Sicilian Don to save this child and my aunt, and then you just forgot?”
“It’s the truth, Gio.” Rocco mumbled.
“Did Zia Isabella ever see the child? Visit it? Anything?”
“Tomosino forced her to marry Lorenzo’s father. She became even more resentful. She carried on the affair with Flavio for many years. Your father didn’t know, but I did. Flavio loved her. I don’t think Flavio ever knew the truth about his daughter. Those secrets are buried with the both of them.”
“Could this be her?” Giovanni asked.
“Why? What is the motive, Gio?”
“Are you dense, old man? Revenge! She was thrown away like garbage. Her father…” Giovanni paused. He had Flavio killed for what happened to Mirabella. That could explain revenge, and why Isabella would help to have his wife taken. “Santo Maria! Why wasn’t I told this? Damn it!”
“She’s in her forties. If she is alive she’s either in the Catholic Church, or married with children. She couldn’t possibly have the resources to do this.”’
“Flavio could,” Giovanni said.
“Flavio is dead!” Rocco said.
“I know that! But he was a wealthy man. His wealth was spread out to his bastard children. She could have the resources. And more importantly she is Zia Isabella’s daughter. You remember how resourceful and bitter your sister was. How she tortured Lorenzo for years until her death. What is her daughter capable of?”
Rocco stared in disbelief.
“In the morning I want the lawyers to get information for me on Flavio’s will. Where his money was given, and then we find Isabella Mancini.”
Rocco left him. He sat in the parlor staring at the floor. Giovanni wiped his hands down his face. It had been over twenty-four hours since he lost his wife. And the worry and stress had already broken heart. Now he hears news of the deception in his family, and he has to wonder if his sins, his father’s sins, have finally caught up to him.
It took an extra surge of strength to stand. He hadn’t taken a drink but he had a desert-like thirst drying his throat. He walked past the stairs. He paused. He looked up. Giovanni was drawn to the stairs. He climbed them and walked the halls of his home. With his men scattered, and his family hurting, the halls were empty. Every useable resource was dispatched in search of a clue to where his wife could be. Though he knew it would be painful, he returned to his room. He pushed open the door and peered inside. A woman lay in his bed.
For a startled moment his heart leapt. The shape of her, the way she held his son to her chest, and his daughter lay on the other side of her with the covers kicked off, were all reminiscent of how he’d find Mirabella. After a long trip, he’d come home to his family waiting for him. Giovanni stepped inside of the room. His heart sank to see it was Catalina sleeping in his bed. He held a faint smile to his face. He had to think that this was a good omen. His wife would never leave him. He knew she’d fight hard to survive. He had to believe this. He closed the door. Giovanni covered Eve and kissed her brow. His daughter rolled over to Catalina. He left the room and gently closed the door.
Unable to sleep, he walked down the hall aimlessly. When he reached the stairs he climbed them and headed to the third floor. Above were closed rooms and his wife’s studio. Rarely did he venture up there. On a few nights when her insomnia took her from him, she went there to create. He’d find her sewing or sketching. He’d groan about needing her and she’d come back to bed with him. He smiled as those memories warmed his heart.
Giovanni went inside. The darkness engulfed him. He flipped up the wall switch and looked around. It was all Mirabella. In preparation for her big event in Milano, she had several dress Mannequins draped with garments she designed for the runway. Fabric rolls and cuts of material were spread over a table and two sewing machines.
He walked through the studio. He wiped his hand down his face. The further he went into the room the harder it became for him to breathe. The lungs in his chest shriveled. His heart rate accelerated. He nearly turned and ran for the door. Then he saw her sketchpad sitting on a chair near the window. Giovanni picked it up. He sat in the chair and flipped open the lid. The drawing was of a woman’s legs and next to it were notes on measurements for something he didn’t understand. He turned the page over and paused. The next sketch was of one of his sons. It was him seated on the floor with a truck in his hand. Giovanni smiled. He traced the image. When he turned the page again it was of Eve’s face. Just her face. But the detail was uncanny. His wife had the kind of talent he often took for granted. He flipped the page once more. A smile slowly moved over his face. She’d drawn him, waist up, shirtless, with boxing gloves and a punch thrown mid air. Giovanni’s hand was useless. Earlier Catalina or Marietta had sent for the doctor who confirmed it was broken and did his best to reset it. He used his numb fingers to trace the image. It was how she saw him. A fighter. No matter what, Giovanni vowed he’d never give up. He’d track them down to the end of the earth if he had too. He’d never let her go or give up.
Morning –
The morning rays warmed her face. She opened her eyes. The castle had no windows below their room. The tower she was in had several. She blinked awake and suffered blindness from the daylight. At some point he’d drawn the drapes open. Last night she had cried herself to sleep. Her head hurt as much as her heart did. She turned over. She sat up and looked out at Kei seated outside at a table sipping tea. The man who shadowed Kei was talking to him. She wished she could understand what they were saying. She never bothered to learn Kei’s language. And he had often tried to teach her a few words.
Mirabella lay on her back flat. Kei didn’t touch her. She was afraid all night with him in the bed wit
h her. Several times she felt his hands in her hair. But he never went further than that. He said he loved her. He said he’d do anything to have her love him again. He was crazy with his obsession, and that madness could turn on her at any moment. She knew it.
“Morning, princess,” Kei said.
Her gaze dropped over to the left. He was shirtless again. The dragon on his chest drew her eyes.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Breakfast is ready. Join me.” He tossed another satin robe at her. She’d love a bath and a toothbrush, but didn’t bother to ask. She eased on the robe and slipped off the bed. She walked out to the balcony. The temperature was warm and beautiful, as was the view. And to her surprise she could see the beach and sea from her room. Along the coast were fishermen boats. Mirabella stared at them for a moment. This was a remote area, but there had to be people nearby.
“Sit.”
She did as he asked. He did as he always did and fixed her plate. Kei’s black hair was brushed from his face and then combed into a single braid down past his shoulder blades. With it so long and straight he looked more Native American than Asian.
“Are you the Dragon?” Mirabella asked.
“I’m many things.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. He put food on her plate and then poured her coffee.
“You’re a hypocrite,” Mirabella said. Kei glanced up at the accusation. “How many times when were in Switzerland did you call Giovanni a thug, a murderer, dangerous, not worthy of me? How many times did you tell me to give Eve a better life rather than pine away for a criminal? Now you want to throw me and my daughter into your criminal life. Look at you, Kei!”
Kei smiled. “I was a different man then. You changed me,” he smiled.
“No. This isn’t all on me. You pretended to be different. This is who you really are. Isn’t it?”
“And what does that make you? A lover of criminals? First Cedric, then me, and now the great Don Giovanni?”