La Dolce Vita: Romantic Suspense (Battaglia Mafia Series Book 7)

by Sienna Mynx

  "So, what happened last night?" Giovanni asked, but didn't look over to her.

  "I saw you leave. That's what happened."

  "I gather that," he said.

  "You gather? It was the middle of the night. I was concerned," she said.

  "Why?" he asked. “Did you have another nightmare?”

  She stopped.

  “What?” he asked.

  "How dare you do that? Turn it around on me. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. You left, and you want to make me think it's in my head."

  He locked her down with his piercing gaze. She knew better than to question him. But this was different. It felt different. He wouldn’t leave her in the middle of the night and alone if it weren’t important. So, what could be more important than her and the kids? Especially now?

  "If it's business then say it was. If it's something else, something I should know then tell me. I can't handle any more surprises, you understand me."

  A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "It was business.”

  Mirabella shook her head at him.

  He touched the side of her face. "Don't worry about me, Bella."

  "How could I not? I know. I know. We have done this over and over again. I know who you are. I see what you are. I accept it. I swear to you I do. But I can only live with it when I know you are safe. Gio."

  He took her face in his hands. He kissed her brow.

  “Non posso vivere senza di te Gio--I can't live without you," she said.

  “And you won’t have to. Ever. I can take care of you, of us. You know that right?"

  "Who takes care of you now? I'm not blind. You are secretive. You aren't relying on Domi and the others. I feel that you are pushing yourself harder because of me."

  “Dammi un bacio--give me a kiss.”

  She closed her eyes, and he kissed her. And it was not ‘the be a good girl for daddy; I'll see you after work' kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made a wife’s toes curl. The contact of his lips and tongue was gentle at first. A slow tease to lower her resistance and make her forget her anxiety. His hands smoothed down the side of her face before they both went around her waist and drew her close. She lifted her arms up this neck. Heat slid through her body from her mouth. Mirabella lifted her chin and parted her mouth wide to welcome his tongue as it swept in and swirled. He lifted her up to him, and she melted against his muscular frame. Mirabella smiled as the sun sealed them with warmth and her husband kissed her deeply.

  She nearly wept when he released her.

  "I want more babies with you. As many bambini as we can make. But I've learned not to be selfish with your health, Bella. I've learned that in our marriage it will never be about what I want. It will be all about what is best for the both of us.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  He cupped her face once more. “You aren't well. Not yet. And until you are, you are my only focus. If I ever have to leave your side, leave our children in the middle of the night, you should always know it’s for us." He lifted her chin and kissed her. "Dominic will be here soon. He'll talk to us about this doctor. And I'll meet with her to decide if we need it at all."

  She glanced back at the villa. It was two stories of stone and brick. The rooms were plenty, but she imagined they were small and close together.

  "This is where Rocco and Zia first started a family?" she asked.

  "You should ask her to tell you the story."

  She glanced back at him. "How long will we stay here?"

  "That's up to you, and me. Let’s talk about it at dinner."

  "And America? When will we go to America?" she asked. "Especially if I have to do this therapy with this person."

  "Working on it. Soon."

  "Gio, it's important to my sister and me. Please don't delay it."

  "I understand."

  He stepped away from her and slid his hands into his pockets. Mirabella watched him as he stared toward the vineyard.

  "I'm going to go pay Rocco a visit. You make sure everyone is comfortable, relax," he said.

  "Want me to walk with you?" she asked.

  "I won't be long," he said and started off. "Maybe some lunch. That will be nice. I'm sure Zia had some things brought in to fix."

  She stood there with her arms crossed watching him walk down the hill to the vineyard. He paused and cast a sly look back over his shoulder. "Bella," he said in a soft manner that was still deeply heard across the distance between them.

  "Yes?" she answered.

  "I do like your hair," he smiled.

  She touched her bangs. He turned and walked away. Her heart was wrapped so tightly around her love for this man that she almost ran after him to reward him with kisses for the compliment. If anything were ever to happen to him, she wasn't sure if even the love for their children could keep her alive. Was that how his mother felt when the bullet in his father stole him away, and she died six months later? Instead of dwelling on her fears, and there were plenty, she decided to trust him. He knew what he was doing. She had to have faith. Mirabella turned and started back to the villa. She glanced back twice to see he had traveled further down the hill. She glanced at the clear blue sky after feeling the shadow of several birds circling, soaring. Vultures. Their wings were spread out wide as they soared and circled the Battaglia land under the sun.

  Italy was beautiful no matter where they visited. But with beauty and serenity, death often followed.

  ***

  Rosetta paced. She was so nervous she felt ill. Everything had to go as planned. If anyone discovered her scheme, she wasn't sure what the punishment would be. Francesca looked up from her sewing machine. Her cousin didn't ask many questions. But Rosetta caught her stares from time to time. She knew she was being watched, and by everyone.

  "What time is Catalina supposed to arrive?" Rosetta checked her watch.

  "Now. She must be on her way," Francesca said. She kept working at the sewing machine.

  "What are you doing?" Rosetta asked.

  "What does it look like?" Francesca mumbled.

  "It looks like a dress, a pretty one," Rosetta forced a smile. She rubbed her hands down her sides and struggled with her words.

  "Grazie," Rosetta said.

  Francesca glanced up once more from her work with a curious frown.

  "For... giving me another chance to stay with you. I know you heard that I lied to Mama about living here. To uhm..."

  "See Don Mancini?" Francesca spat as if the words tasted bad.

  "I should have never gone to visit him. I just... I guess I was desperate, foolish."

  Francesca stopped sewing. She stared at Rosetta for a brief pause and then shook her head. "You know what you are doing. You play innocent, but you know."

  "I can explain," Rosetta said.

  "Explain? To me? Why? You've already explained to the Donna, and she believes your lies. Why bother with me?"

  "Whoa! Slow down. Lies? I confessed my sins, all of them," Rosetta said.

  Francesca chuckled.

  "I'm serious. I made a mistake. Can we move past it?"

  "Confessed. A confession is just an admission of guilt; it doesn't mean you made a mistake. That's for the Donna to decide. And like I said, you convinced her."

  "But I haven't convinced you?" Rosetta asked.

  "That man is dangerous. He hates this family. You know the history between him and Gio. We live here under his thumb in Palermo. He only tolerates us. He makes my husband’s life miserable. He does whatever he can to flex his power against our family."

  "Mirabella is his sister. The family has accepted it. Armando has accepted it. I hear that he helped save the Donna. All of us are changing since Gio married her," Rosetta reasoned.

  "Listen to me, girl. Mirabella may be Mancini's daughter, but no one in Sicily outside of the family knows that. And when they do find out, no one in the Mafiosi will accept it. That is a fact. Stay away from Armando Mancini. You do better. Or suffer the consequences."

  Rosetta nod
ded her obedience. She waited and waited with Francesca in silence until the phone rang. Rosetta checked the time on her watch. Francesca answered and spoke softly to her husband. She then ended the call.

  "Something wrong?" Rosetta asked with mock concern.

  Francesca looked a bit panicked. She fiddled with the material under the sewing machine and then shot up in her chair, putting both hands to her head. "That was Jabari. There was an accident down at the shipping docks. He needs me to come pick him up."

  "Is he hurt?" Rosetta asked.

  "Not badly. But several other men were. He says he can't drive because of his hand. I tell him to be careful with those shipments. He doesn't have to work so hard. We have the money because business is good thanks to Mirabella." Francesca fretted.

  "Go on, go see to him," Rosetta said.

  "Catalina will be here. I want to get her settled. And we were to go to the house." Francesca said with her hand to her head.

  Rosetta smiled. "I can bring her. It will give us a chance to talk."

  "No, no, I wanted to show her my work. What I've done with the place..."

  "Please, Francesca. You know how she feels about me. Let me clear the air with her and start fresh. Please," Rosetta pleaded.

  Francesca hesitated a minute and then released a deep sigh. She reached into her drawer and gave Rosetta the keys to the store. "I'm trusting you not to upset her. Make peace. This is your chance to start over. Lock up and have the men bring you home immediately. Don't stay in the city after dark. It's Mancini territory, and, well you know it's not safe."

  Rosetta hugged her cousin. "I promise. Catalina is safe with me."

  Chapter Twelve

  Rocco

  Chianti, Italy

  Marietta felt as if she were boiling on the inside. She dug in her suitcase for a hand towel. And from the open windows in the room, she and Lorenzo would share, she heard the laughter and fast talking of men along with the slamming of car doors. Someone arrived. She wiped her face clear of sweat and under her arms. She walked over to the window and peered out of it. A car had indeed joined the others who worked for Giovanni and her husband. And amongst the men, she saw a familiar face. Carlo.

  From the second floor, she had an aerial view of the property. He wore dark sunglasses, and his hair was a bit longer. It was Carlo. The way his muscular body filled the wrinkled silk suit he wore. The wide leg stand he gave when he faced off with his friends as if they would wrestle at any moment. And of course his deep coarse voice when he spoke went deeper when he laughed. He seemed the same. She knew he wasn't. Shae called her. She told her how they ended things. Marietta didn't think Shae was right for him, but she knew Carlo needed someone. Maybe he'd find that someone soon.

  "Lunch is ready," Zia said from the door. "Come down and join us. I made some sandwiches."

  "Okay," Marietta smiled.

  Zia smiled at her. The old woman looked better. Maybe returning home helped with her fatigue and arthritis.

  "Are you okay, Zia? Besides your time with the kids or cooking I never see you."

  Zia nodded. She left without saying a word. Marietta looked out of the window again. Carlo was gone.

  ***

  Giovanni opened the door. He went inside the silent cottage. He could smell nothing distinctive. No food was cooking from Zia's kitchen, or musk from Rocco's work boots. The place felt hollow. He walked around the living room. He stopped and looked at a few pictures, and then his gaze shifted to the Bible and reading glasses over by Rocco's chair. The old man was near. Giovanni went to the back of the cottage, out of the kitchen, and to the yard. There he saw Rocco standing with the help of his cane. He wore his overalls and workman boots caked in mud. A straw hat was on his head to protect it from the blistering sun. From Rocco's perspective, he had a perfect view of the villa where Giovanni and the family had gathered. And to the right, he could see the men out in the fields hard at work along the olive groves.

  "I saw you arrive," Rocco said without looking back.

  Giovanni approached. He stopped at Rocco's side. Though his uncle was shorter than he remembered him as a child, he stood erect, even with his cane. Straight and unrepentant had always been Rocco's way.

  "It's time we talk," Giovanni said.

  "Talk? You and me? Why talk when you've already made up your mind that I'm the enemy?" Rocco asked.

  When Giovanni didn't respond Rocco looked over to him with an impatient frown. "It's been months. Why are you here now? And don't say to talk. You never talk. You give orders, and they obey. There is no talking. Like father like son."

  "I'm here because of Mirabella."

  "Va bene, Zia tells me she has nightmares. That she screams for no reason in the middle of the night. Is it poison in her making her do it?"

  "Maybe. We aren’t sure. She’ll get better."

  "How could she, after all she's been through?" Rocco asked.

  "There's a doctor. Someone that can deal with her issues. Help her."

  "Where is the doctor?" Rocco asked.

  "Firenze."

  "What kind of doctor?" he asked.

  Giovanni didn't answer. He saw the old man glance over to him.

  "What kind of doctor?" Rocco repeatedly asked.

  "A head doctor. A psychologist," he mumbled.

  "Mistake. Take her to a priest," Rocco said.

  "It's psychiatry," Giovanni said. “Not an exorcism.”

  "What she needs is for you to find Isabella and put her in a grave. The nightmares will go away after the last of your enemies are gone. Never bring strangers into the family business."

  Giovanni stepped forward. "I’ve been thinking about Patri a lot.”

  “Why?” Rocco asked.

  “I dunno. The man he was. Patri was complicated. For all his faults he did love his family, and he was good to us in his way.”

  "Is that what you think? That your father was compassionate, a good man? Did he show you compassion when you disobeyed him as a boy?"

  The remark stung. “It’s hard for a boy not to want to see the good in his father. I have sons now. I want them to be able to say the same thing about me some day.”

  Rocco walked over to the shade under the tree. He used his cane to balance his steps. He stopped. Giovanni watched him. Rocco pointed his cane toward the villa on the hill. The one he originally built for Zia. The one they would now stay in during their visit.

  "I never go there. Ever," he said. "And here you are, bringing the family to stay there. Forcing Zia into that... that... place."

  “Then why didn’t you have it knocked down old man?” Giovanni asked. He glanced back at the villa. Many of his men were arriving.

  "Do you know how Arturo, my only son, died?" Rocco asked.

  "He had an accident on the farm, and he died here."

  "Not here!" Rocco stomped his cane. He then pointed it to the villa on the hill. "He died there!"

  Giovanni frowned. He turned his gaze back to the villa.

  Rocco shook his head. "Arturo was seven years old when he found my gun. He picked it up. I don't even know if he thought it was loaded. It was. He blew a hole into his head so large we had to bury him with the casket closed. Your father told me it was my fault. It was. But to hear him say it when I was dying inside hurt more than anything you could conceive. I never felt right again. That is why I don't go up there. But I keep it there because that’s where my son died. A reminder of my failure."

  "I didn't bring the family here to torment you. I’m trying to make peace.” Giovanni said. "The kids miss you; my wife misses you."

  "What about you? Do you miss me?” Rocco asked.

  Giovanni smirked.

  Rocco sighed. “Before you married her you stomped through this life bulldozing over your enemies. It got you far, but you made a lot of enemies."

  "And all of them are circling now," Giovanni said.

  Rocco nodded. “They found your weakness. Her.”

  “They’ll never get close to her again.”<
br />
  “No. But you are shifting your focus. And that could be dangerous for the family. Are you thinking of the cost?”

  "I accepted the cost of this life long ago.”

  “But are you thinking of it? Of what it would do to your wife and kids? Of how you will be made to pay it? You killed Father Nicosia son, you wiped out an entire family of Calderones, you have blood on your hands.”

  “I know this," Giovanni seethed.

  "Don’t let revenge or arrogance blind you. Men are weak. Adam was nervous when Eve gave him the apple. Tomosino was weak when he saw your young mother walking home from school. I was weak when I stole Zia away from her family and then married her and trapped her in this life. But not you Giovanni. That’s what separates you from us. That’s what your father saw in you, what the clans see in you, what I see in you. You’re strong enough to be the man they fear and the man she loves."

  "My strength is only as lasting as my power. And I need your help. Whatever it is you can tell me about Isabella. Tell me now. No more secrets. Tell me and all is forgiven. You can come back into the family.”

  "I didn't betray you son. I am not holding any secrets.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Neither did your father. That’s why he put me here. Because once one lie is told no one looks at you for the truth. You’re branded a liar."

  “I need to know where you think she would hide? Who would hide her? She’s using people from the old Don's to help her. I’ve found that out. I’ve met with the Dons in Sicily.”

  “You have?” Rocco frowned.

  “They think you know more about her than you’re telling me.”

  “I don’t.”

  “They think you do!” Giovanni narrowed his eyes on him.

  “I don’t know son. If I had an idea that she was out there hurting our family, I would have told you. They think I do because of my sister. Our relationship. It was no secret to them that we were never loyal to your father. So, they think I’m not loyal to you.”