by Sienna Mynx
"No sex. That is what three hundred buys you. Anything else you pay more. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."
He chuckled. He stepped to her. "You think you can dictate anything to me?"
She smiled. "Did your little hitman tell you what happened to him when he got too close?"
Carlo nodded. "So you’re a fighter too?"
"I'm a lot of things. But right now I'm tired. And from the looks of it so are you. Do you accept my terms or not?" she asked.
Carlo stared at her for a moment. He then looked over to the bed. She was right. He was tired. And he wanted to sleep. "I accept... for now."
She nodded. She walked over to the bed and began to undress. Carlo went to his dresser and picked up the bottle of wine he took from the vineyard. He opened it and drank from it as he watched her. She stripped down to her panties. She then went to her purse and retrieved the bottle of Shalimar she brought with her. He paused mid swig when she rubbed the lotion between her breasts, and then down her stomach. The room filled with the sweet aroma of Marietta. When Adara got under the covers and turned off the light, she looked like Marietta in the dark.
Carlo’s heart began to race. Last night it worked. Tonight it had a different effect on him. And he couldn't quite pin down the emotion because it wasn't one he was accustomed to. Then it hit him. He was afraid.
Carlo set the wine bottle down. He'd taken down half the bottle. It was enough to boost his courage to lay in bed with a woman and pretend to be with his best friend’s wife. He removed his slacks and joined her. The moment he was in bed she reached for him. Surprised by her welcoming touch, he hesitated at first. And then he relaxed and rested his head against her breasts. She stroked his hair the way Shae often did after they made love. Her nails gently scraped his scalp. Women were soft and tender at times. He'd hated and resented the part of him that needed a woman. He'd punished many women to suppress his urge to be weak. And the truth was, he was weak. Because the minute her soft breasts and skin were pressed to his face, he slipped into that comfortable feeling of being normal. And it was enough.
***
Mirabella closed her eyes. The water was tepid, but warming. She stood there under the spray and waited. Ten minutes later he came. She didn't look back. She didn't speak or acknowledge him. He drew the curtain to the shower. It wasn't big and spacious as the one in Melanzana. This one had a sit-down tub, and could only fit two people at the most, if they were standing. So it was no surprise when he stepped up behind her, that his body was closely pressed to hers. He carried with him the woodsy musk of being outside in the muggy barn all night. Giovanni wrapped one arm around the front of her from over her left shoulder, preventing her from moving. He pressed in so close he could easily enter her if he wished. Instead, the bone of his erection tucked in between both halves of her buttocks. A little move of his hips caused his meat to glide as his other hand stroked and caressed her pussy.
Mirabella’s eyes did not open.
Giovanni's tongue had traced the outer shell of her ear before it dipped inside. And just as it did he rubbed the suds and water coating her body down to the delta between her thighs before he inserted his middle finger into her vagina. She rose on her toes and parted her knees. The masterful way he did all of this, pulled down on her insides and made her shiver as all the blood rushed to the very spot he touched.
"I'm sorry, Gio. For..."
"Tacere--be still..."
She obeyed, except for her head. She turned her face to look back at him, and the moist tip of his tongue crept in between her parted lips. The words were lost on her last breath. From that moment forward she could only breathe as one with him. He kissed her with a slow and teasing manner. She wanted to turn around so she could kiss him thoroughly, but he didn't let her. He wouldn't let her. And his finger stroked in and out of her. The motion, the steamy from the shower, the kiss, all of it left her knees shaking. She was on her toes, the water spraying over her body and ran streams down his arm, wrist, and hand, to her vagina. Making her wet and ready.
It was too much. She turned her face from his. She panted for breath under the stream unable to concentrate on breathing. Only focused on the feelings. And there were plenty. His mouth against the back of her neck as he lubed his dick while she leaned forward with her hands pressed flat to the slippery tiles.
"I wish you would have told me about your grandfather, but it's okay, Bella. I accept you didn't."
She opened her mouth to speak. It would be hard. The shower covered her head, back, and neck. It dropped from her brow, her lashes, and nose. It ran in a long stream from her chin. She closed her eyes as he thrust into her anus and she stretched and stretched. Mirabella was pushed forward. Her longs nails scraped against the shower wall. Giovanni kept thrusting until she pitched so far he had to grab her hip to keep her steady. And then he slipped out. Mirabella exhaled a sigh of relief. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her to him and lifted her up against him. She kissed him with all the love and power with her. He turned her to the wall and pinned her there. Against the wall, he trailed his kisses from her mouth, neck to her nipples and lowered. She closed her eyes and let her husband remind her body what it meant to be his again.
Once she climaxed and cried out her submission, he let her go. He had bathed her and himself before he fucked her against the wall again. And the day was forgotten. Her mistakes and his. She slipped down into bliss.
***
Someone knocked on her door twice. Rosetta opened her eyes confused. She turned to her side to see her door open, and Catalina squinted in the dark. Rosetta closed her eyes and pretended at being sleep.
"Rosetta? Rosetta?" she whispered.
Pretending at waking, Rosetta sat up. "Who is it?"
"It's me, Catalina," her cousin said.
Rosetta reached for the lamp and turned on the light. She frowned. "Something wrong?"
"You need to pack. This afternoon we leave for Paris. We'll fly out of Florence. Don't worry about having the right clothes. I'll have you fitted when we land."
"Really?" Rosetta asked. She was unable to hide the excitement from her voice. Rosetta needed to be more poised. She placed her hand on her chest. "Designer clothes? For me."
"Yes, dummy. You'll be in front of the fashion world, the press, the company, you have to represent Mirabella.”
“Va bene, whatever you say,” Rosetta smiled.
Catalina turned to leave but stopped. She cast another look at Rosetta. There was something more she wanted to say, but couldn’t.
“Something wrong?” Rosetta asked.
“I... I'm going to need your help in Paris. Can I trust you?" Catalina asked.
"You can. I swear, Catalina. I swear it on my life! I don't want to fight with you. Not anymore. I only want my chance to be someone special, and to show the world..."
"Basta. I get it." Catalina waved off her words. "Here's your chance. And make no mistake if I find out I can't trust you, you won't get another." Catalina walked out.
Rosetta stared at the door and smiled. She couldn't believe how easy it all was. And now she knew something else. The real reason why Catalina and Marietta were arguing and plotting together. Lorenzo killed Patri Tomosino. That truth changed everything. Catalina wasn't so special. She wasn't even that pretty. And once Armando Mancini was done with her she won't be that cherished. Rosetta dropped back on her pillows and kicked her feet and pounded her fists with joy.
"Yes! Yeeeeesssssss!" she cheered.
This was the good life!
***
They lay together in each other’s arms. Husband and wife. Her wet hair was stuck to the side of her face. She listened and waited until the rapid succession of his heartbeat calmed. She waited until she knew he was relaxed.
"My grandfather’s name was Abel. Like in the Bible," she began. "Everything in my life since my mother’s death was always guided by the Bible. He was a preacher until the day he died. A respected man in our
town. And I was what he would call ‘the pearl’ of his heart."
"You are the pearl of my heart," Giovanni said and kissed the top of her head.
She smiled. "My childhood was good, better than Marietta's. I was loved and spoiled. I was also sheltered, protected, watched closely, and when my grandmother died things changed. It broke him to lose her. It broke something in me too. No mother, no Me-Ma, the loss was really hard for me. Grandfather clung even tighter to me, Giovanni. And I clung to him. The only escape I ever had was sewing and reading books. Not much else. Until I met Cutter. He was six years older than me. A street fighter, training to be a boxer. He boxed at the local recreation center. My church did an event there. It was the first time I saw him. From that moment on I used to sneak away from home to see him box. And then... more. When my grandfather heard the whispers in the church, he was furious. And that's when the struggle between he and I began. My rebellion was against his desire not to make the same mistake he had made with my mother. It was like he didn’t see me anymore. Only her. And the things he would say, accuse me of, it wasn’t fair.”
She paused. She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight. She wasn't sure she could continue. Giovanni didn't speak. All she felt was the body heat from his embrace. And the way his hand went up and down her arm lovingly. Soon the tightness in her heart loosened and the sob in her throat dissolved. She could speak and breathe evenly again.
“The day of his heart attack was the day Cutter, and I had a fight. My grandfather found us on the farm. He and Cutter...argued. Threats were made. I got in between them, and Cutter shoved me aside. I was pushed to the ground. My grandfather lost it. He fought Cutter. I had never seen him raise his hand in anger. But he did more than that. He.. in the fight... it.. he had a heart attack. Twelve days later he died."
Giovanni stared at the ceiling as he listened to his wife's history. He felt ashamed. The only history he ever cared to know was her tie to Marsuvio Mancini. He never considered there was more. There was so much more to know and to love about her. He wanted to be the husband she shared everything with. He worked hard at being that man.
“I’m sorry Bella,” he managed to say.
"I've blamed myself for my grandpa’s death for years. It’s been hard to let go of the guilt."
"Guilt for our fathers. At times we are more alike than different, Bella."
She kissed his chest. "Yes, you are my destiny. Always and forever."
***
The phone rang. Mirabella glanced over to the side of the bed her husband usually occupied. He was gone. She checked her watch and found it was just after nine in the morning. She was surprised no one answered the phone downstairs. She picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Signora Mirabella please?" The person asked.
"This is she," she said.
"Ciao, this is Sera... ah, Dr. Marchetti. I wanted to let you know that I accept your offer to work with your family."
Mirabella sat up. "Really?"
"Yes, when do you think you will be returning from this trip to America?”
"I'm not sure. We will leave in a day or so, probably stay no longer than a week," Mirabella said.
"Okay. I guess we will speak when you return. I have an office in Napoli. I think it might be best for the upcoming months to work there. So we can start meeting."
"Yes. And thank you, Doctor."
"See you soon."
PART TWO
The Afterlife
Chapter Twenty-One
The Family Travels
Firenze, Italy
The line was long. And with three cranky kids, she felt unprepared. Giovanni pushed Gino in the stroller. Gianni refused to sit in it. What would he do on the plane? It had been years since she’d flown internationally. She was beginning to worry that maybe the ten-hour flight was a bad idea.
"Mama? Mangia! Mangia!" Gianni said and patted her breasts telling her he was hungry. He was dressed like Gino in blue overalls and a plaid short sleeve shirt. She had smoothed his curly hair back into an afro puff. The only difference between the twins was Gianni’s hair grew faster and thicker. Her poor son couldn't see under his cloud of hair when it was picked or combed out. And he was so adorable when it was smoothed back.
"Mangia," he said with a sad pout.
"Soon, baby. Mama promises.”
Mirabella heaved Gianni up on her arm. She glanced over to her husband. It was rare she convinced him to dress so casually when out in public. But they were traveling. His dark suits would draw unneeded attention to him, perpetuate a stereotype about him and his lifestyle that she refused to acknowledge. Giovanni wore a short-sleeved black shirt and dark blue jeans. He had a large leather duffle strapped across him as their carry on. Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes. She turned her head and looked behind her and saw Marietta chatting up Eve, who wore a blue jean skirt and yellow shirt to match the yellow bow in her hair. Her daughter's blue eyes were stretched wide as she pointed and asked questions about everything. The customs agent signaled for Giovanni to step forward. He removed his duffle and tossed it on top of the table, and took her baby bag carry-on as well. Mirabella glanced over to the Carabinieri. Her husband didn't seem fazed by the tense, piercing, and hateful glares they gave him. She was. In fact, there were more Carabinieri gathered in their customs line than the other four. They seemed to wait for the Battaglias to come forward. They looked like military men in blue uniforms and Kalashnikov assault rifles.
The customs officer snatched the duffle bag and unzipped it. He tossed the clothes out without care and glanced up at Giovanni for a reaction. Her husband showed none.
"Mama! Eat! Eat!" Gianni began to whine again.
"Shh, baby, soon. I promise."
She couldn't hear what the customs agent asked Giovanni, but she heard her husband answer with one single word: No. He ignored the contempt from the officer and casually reached down to pass a hand toy that fell to Gino. The agent slid the bag over and then went after the diaper bag next. Another officer checked the duffle bag after the first to ensure the integrity of the search. It was overkill. Tourists and travelers stopped in their lines to gawk at all of the Italian military presence. The customs agent dumped what was left in the bag out on the table, and a few items dropped to the floor. The search was personal. A challenge to Giovanni and Lorenzo both. And Giovanni seemed to expect the insult. He stepped forward and allowed a patdown. Lorenzo came from behind Marietta and gave over his carryon bag to allow his pat down. The entire ordeal took over thirty minutes.
Once done the angry agents handed over the passports, and Giovanni smiled at one. He took Gianni from Mirabella and she and her sister re-packed the bags.
"This is bullshit!" Marietta seethed.
"Scusi, signora? Something to say?" one of the customs guards asked Marietta. She glared at the man while continuing to stuff her bags.
"Hurry up, let's get this over with," Mirabella said. She glanced up to see several of the Carabinieri had zoomed in on her. One, in particular, had a mean smirk on his face, as if he itched to say something cruel but held himself back. She finished. She and Marietta were searched and then allowed to pass on.
"Mama?" Eve gave her a curious frown. Her daughter knew something was wrong, but she couldn't comprehend it. That hurt her heart. She never wanted her children to feel targeted. She joined Giovanni, who had convinced Gianni to sit in the stroller. The family proceeded to pretend that the delay never happened. But it was too late for Mirabella. Anxiety was a part of her life. She found herself breathing harder, and looking around to see if they were being followed.
"Are you okay?" Giovanni asked her once they reached their gate. "You're sweating, Bella."
"Am I?" she said. She smiled and gave him a sassy smile to play off the trauma. "That was intense. But I'm all right."
"It was our first time leaving the country together," Giovanni said. "It was the first you have left the country outside of traveling to Sicily."
"In years. Yes
. The very first time," she said.
He reached for her hand. He kissed it.
"Relax. I've taken care of everything. We will be all right."
***
Paris, France -
"Wake up," Catalina nudged Rosetta. The driver drove along the Avenue des Champs-Élysées headed to the Four Seasons hotel where they were registered to stay. Rosetta wiped the drool from the side of her mouth. Their flight was delayed, so they spent more time in the airport than on the plane. Both of them were exhausted.
"I've never been to Paris before," Rosetta said and gazed out the window.
"Here, clean up, and put on this lipstick."
Rosetta accepted the mirrored compact case and tube of lipstick. Catalina fixed her hair. There were photographers in the city. They camped out near the major hotels in hopes of capturing a shot of celebrities or designers during Fashion Week. They had to look their very best. She'd given Rosetta a purple Mirabella's original, and she had taken the time to curl and style her hair. Though she didn't like her much, she had to admit Rosetta was quite stunning when she wanted to be.
"What do we do first?" Rosetta asked as she slicked her lips with a fresh coat.
"We check into the hotel. I want to call Jamie and let her know we are in town. I know she just got in from visiting Kyra. Then we meet with some of the staff from the Paris office."
"Oh? When will we go sightseeing? Can we go visit the Eiffel Tower?"
Catalina sighed. "We are here for work. You will be lucky if you get a chance to see the sun or moon."
"What?" Rosetta said with disappointment.
It dawned on Catalina for the first time how fresh and exciting this life could be for a person that was new to this. The first time she traveled to America to handle business for Mirabella she too was bubbling with excitement. She glanced over to her cousin who stared out the window pouting.
"Rosie, look. Up ahead. You can see Arc de Triomphe de l'Étoil. There!"
Rosetta leaned in and gazed out the front window past the driver. "Oh my goodness! It's magnificent!"