by Sienna Mynx
“Then why wait for him to calm down?”
“Because if he is calm he might make a different choice. One that keeps you and the baby safe. It’s a long shot. I need to know what his next move is before I make mine. Okay?”
Lorenzo walked over and took the gun from her hands. He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “We can’t do anything tonight.”
“What if they find us? What if Gio is out there looking for us now?”
“He probably is looking, but he won’t find this place.” He put his hands on her hips and drew her closer. She knew he needed proof that she believed in him. But her heart was racing so fast she feared for the baby. After the kiss soothed them both, they were calm. Together they walked through the empty villa, and Marietta’s future with him flashed before her eyes.
A life on the run. A life where she’d never speak or see her sister again. Could she give it all up for him? Marietta turned on the light. Lorenzo went about pulling in luggage as she found sheets and made the bed. She glanced to her husband a few times, and could see the concern and worry on his face. That made her heart beat even faster. They thought he was tough, ego driven, a traitor. He was broken, but he was a good person. And he loved his family. He shouldn’t have to pay for his mistakes with his life.
“Want to shower? Together?” she asked.
“Tired. I just want to lay down.”
“Yeah, me too,” she mumbled.
He undressed her. She smiled at him. He smiled at her. Marietta was the first to get under the sheets. He joined her soon after. She turned on her side, and he spooned her. But not before he put a gun underneath his pillow.
“You know I always wanted to show you Chicago. In America. You would love the city,” Marietta said.
“America felt kind of nice,” he said.
“Or we can do Los Angeles. The sunshine and the beaches will remind you of home. Ever been to Los Angeles, baby?”
“No,” he said softly.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do America. Giovanni has power there. I had a friend who moved to Brazil. She said it’s really developing down there. Laws aren’t as strict. I’m sure we can find a place, maybe open a restaurant. You know I love to cook. And you can run some nightclubs again. That’s what you used to do. Remember? Yeah, Brazil is nice idea. Hell, we can get there by boat! Wouldn’t it be a trip if we had our baby at sea?”
Lorenzo kissed the back of her head and listened to her talk of a future he didn’t want. The only home he ever envisioned for them long term was Sicily. Italy, in his opinion, was second best. If he had to leave it would be Greece or somewhere close. The idea of going to the U.S. didn’t appeal to him. It troubled him.
“Marie?” he said.
She didn’t speak. He ran his hand over the smooth mound of her tummy. And when it stopped he felt a slight flutter. Marietta began to snore lightly. Lorenzo lifted his head from the pillow and gently pushed on her tummy where he felt the movement, and a tiny kick came again. He smiled. He kissed his wife on the cheek. Fuck it. Brazil could be nice. A fresh start for him and her.
He settled in. For the rest of the night, he kept his eye on the door.
***
Giovanni lifted his head from his hands. He had expected Dominic to arrive. He knew the word had been sent that he was home. The only person to stop in and check on him was Nico. And when Giovanni didn’t offer a smile or a response to his appearance his enforcer left. He was alone.
Exhausted and drunk, he got up from the sofa and went to the desk. He needed to put out the word. He had to call all of the clan bosses and tell them. Lorenzo was wanted dead or alive. It didn’t matter. He just wanted it done.
When he first arrived, he only saw the tapes on his desk. There had been mail and other things left behind for him since his trip. He sat back in his tall leather wingback chair, and his eyes swept the deliveries. One, in particular, gave him pause. He leaned forward and picked up a large manila envelope with just his name scrawled over it. He turned it over and saw no return sender’s address on it. The envelope had to be hand delivered. And since it rested on top of all the other mail, it must have arrived recently.
Giovanni picked up the letter opener. He sliced through the edge and opened it. He reached inside and pulled out photos.
The first image was in front of Francesca’s boutique. It showed a woman arriving. He reached on his desk and turned on the lamp. He put the photo beneath. He was certain. It was Catalina.
The next image in front of Francesca’s boutique showed the arrival of Armando Mancini.
Pulsing knot buried beneath his temples thumped faster and faster. His brain demanded he view the rest.
The third image was of Armando touching Catalina’s cheek in Mondello Sicily at his mother’s grave. It was night time so that he could see little else, but the camera lens had made sure to focus on the moment.
The next image was of Armando pulling Catalina by the hand to a door at some fashion event. The cameraman captured her going into a room with him.
Giovanni felt his heart stressing. The muscles in his chest hardened beneath his shirt. The unwelcome tension seemed to stretch up along his forearms and then to the back of his neck. Anger coiled tighter and tighter within him. He flipped to the next photo
An image of Catalina in a hotel room. The photographer had to be taking the shot from another building. The windows of the hotel were open. Armando and Catalina kissed.
It was all he needed to see. He tossed the photos and they scattered over the top of the desk. He dropped his head and let go a deep breath. He closed his eyes and tried again to breathe. This time, he could not. He panted harder, and faster, struggling for breath. And like a spring wound too tight, all of the hurt and disappointment exploded. He flipped the desk. Threw the lamp against the wall. Grabbed something heavy, some piece of art his wife had bought and began to smash and destroy everything in the room.
Catalina could hear the destructive crashing noises outside of villa Rosso. The explosion inside caught them all by surprise. She shoved past the men who tried to keep her out and rushed inside the villa. Explosion was the only word that came to mind. The office her brother held all meetings in was demolished. Giovanni had hammered against everything glass and wood, leaving devastation everywhere. He turned and glared at her when she entered. He tossed the broken statue in his hand and stared at her.
“What... what happened?”
“Boss, we told her she shouldn’t come in,” Michal said.
“Leave,” Giovanni said, and his mouth curled into an angry smirk. “I want to talk to my sister alone.”
The men looked at each other and then her. They obeyed and left. Catalina stepped inside. “Gio?”
He kicked over some of the destruction as if searching for something at the bottom of the pile. And then he found it. He knelt and picked up a photo. Catalina had no idea what it was. And then he turned it around and showed her. The last fragile lining of hope she had snapped.
“Explain this to me, piccoletta.”
Catalina shook her head sadly.
“EXPLAIN IT!”
***
Mirabella stood at the sink. She drank down the water fast and then put the cup under the tap to take another drink. She tried to settle the panic welling in her, but she couldn’t. She didn’t seem to know how. Her body had not physically recovered from the twelve hours of travel she put it through, and the lack of sleep. She was there, but not there. Thinking, but not thinking. Breathing, but not breathing. There was no hope and no ending.
The glass slipped from her hand and clanked loudly when it dropped. She gripped the edge of the sink and cried. She didn’t need Kei’s ghost or Fabiana’s to torment her now. The hell that had been trapped in her mind was her reality. No pill or doctor could fix it.
“Donna?”
Mirabella looked back. She could barely see the person through her tears. Zia Josefina stepped to her. She hugged the old woman and wept into her shoulder.
“Tell me what it is?”
“ I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“No. There’s something wrong. The tears. Everyone is crying. You and Catalina? Where is Marietta? I don’t understan—“
“It’ll be fine. I broke a glass. Nothing to distress about.”
“But I am distressed. Do you know Catalina is upset? Hysterical?”
Mirabella had forgotten about Catalina. Giovanni had taken all the mental strength from her. She wiped her tears. “I will go upstairs and talk to her.”
“She isn’t there.”
“What?”
“She left, out of the back door. She said she was going to see her brother.”
“No. No! That’s not a good idea,” Mirabella raced out of the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry!” Zia Josefina shouted after her.
***
"How long? How long have you been his whore?"
"It’s not true. Never. I never...” she wept.
"How long? When did it start? Does Dominic know? Why would you become this... this..."
She put her hands to her ears. "I didn’t do it. I did it for you. For Lorenzo. For all of you!"
He paused.
She nodded fiercely that it was true. “I’d do anything to protect you. To protect our family.”
"You didn't do it, but you did it for me? What the fuck does that mean?" he asked. He grabbed her by her elbows, and she was lifted to her toes. "Answer me! What did you do!"
"Armando had tapes, proof. Lorenzo, and he... he killed Patri. Armando said he would give them to you, and you would kill Lorenzo. He promised... so I told him, but I said no, and he said he wouldn’t, and then Domi... but we didn't.. and then… no one believes me... I had to meet with him."
"To fuck him!" Giovanni gripped her by the arms and shook her so hard she couldn’t see. “Did you fuck him?”
"You're hurting me!"
"Did you!"
"No! I swear on my life I didn’t!"
"Why didn't you come to me?” He shoved her and she fell to her knees. “Why didn't you come to me? I'm your brother!"
"I was scared," She tried to grab his leg, and he walked away. He put his hands to his head and paced the floor. She scrambled to stand. She went after Giovanni and grabbed his shirt. He tried to shove her off, but Catalina had a good grip.
"Listen to me. Please."
He spit on her. "You fucking disgust me! Puttana!" Giovanni said. Shocked Catalina wiped the glob of spittle from her face. Never in her life had she suffered such a humiliating blow. She would have rather he hit her.
"You are dead to me. Go fuck the Sicilian dog. You fucking whore. I didn't raise a whore. But that’s all you’ve become! A whore!"
"Che palle! Go to hell!" she shouted back. "You didn't raise me at all. Your groupies did! Mirabella did. But you? No not you. You’re too busy being King!"
He glared at her.
"Mama is turning over in her grave," Giovanni said as he walked away from her in disgust.
"Why would she turn over in her grave when I turned out just like her?" Catalina said through clenched teeth. “The biggest whore of us all!” Giovanni whirled around and grabbed Catalina by the throat. The chokehold lifted her off the ground. At any moment his strength could snap her neck.
“Che cazzo è!” he said and yanked her so he coudl stare into her eyes as she gasped for air. Catalina gagged and hit him, but he tightened his hold to make her still. "You leave here whore, and never come back. Do you hear me? You come here again and you are dead. Le capisce!"
"Giovanni!" Mirabella let go a blood curdling scream. "Let her go! Let her go now!"
He dropped Catalina, and she crumbled to the ground gasping and gagging for air. Mirabella ran over to her and helped her stand.
"What have you done?" Mirabella cupped Catalina’s face in her hands. Dazed and confused, Catalina could only wheeze and clutch her throat. “You hit her? You hit her!”
"Bella... she is prostituting herself to Armando... "
"You hit her!" Mirabella shouted at him through her tears. “How dare you!”
"I... didn’t. I wanted her to be quiet. I wanted her to shut her fucking mouth." He looked at his sister who was so red in the face with bulging eyes. She continued to hack and cough as she dragged in air to her lungs. Clarity returned to his mind. The drunken rage he was consumed by had lifted like a dark storm cloud blown away in the wind. He had attacked her. And if they hadn’t stopped him he might have done worse. He pleaded with his wife with his eyes. She recoiled from him and helped his sister stand. Catalina hugged her and cried.
"I didn't mean it..." he said softly.
"You have gone too far. When you turn on us, you go too far! I want you out of this house! I don't know who you are anymore." Mirabella said. "Stay away from us!"
"Bella?"
His wife left. His men didn’t stop her. And they didn’t let him go after her. There were lines, even in his family. Everyone looked at him with disgust.
“Get the fuck out!” Giovanni ordered.
The men left. He put a hand to his head to stop the ringing in his brain. Had he struck Catalina? He was certain now that he did. Never in his life could he have conceived it. He was different. He wasn't Patri. He was a better man. Or maybe he wasn't a man at all. Maybe he was the monster; they should fear.
He didn't know anymore.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Motherless Child
Sorrento, Italy
I feel like a motherless child... a long way from home...
A blast fired off in his head. Lorenzo shot upright in bed, drenched in sweat. He aimed the gun at the dark. And his mind screamed for him to pull the trigger. If it weren't for the touch of his wife, he would have.
"What is it?"
"I heard something," he said.
"I didn't hear anything."
Lorenzo got out of bed with his gun and looked around the room. He then walked out into the hall.
"Stay here!" he ordered Marietta.
He crept along the hall in the dark. He remained close to the shadows. He each room upstairs, and then checked the front of the villa. He checked the kitchen and the back rooms. He then went upstairs and checked those rooms again.
It was still late. He could sense the time was close to dawn. Had it been all in his mind? He couldn't be sure. When he was certain the gunshot he heard was in his dreams, he relaxed. He came down the stairs to find Marietta up waiting for him. She had a gun in her hand.
"I told you to stay in bed. Please."
"If someone is here I'm not safe in bed. I'm not safe anywhere but at your side."
"Do you know how to use that?" he asked.
She turned the gun over in her hand. Lorenzo chuckled and moved it away from his face. "First rule is never to point it at anyone unless you know how to use it."
"I'm from the Southside of Chicago. I know how to handle myself!" she boasted.
He smirked. "If you're going to be at my side you need a lesson."
"If?" she arched a brow.
"Okay, Marie, let go of my balls. You know what I mean. Come on." He walked her over to the kitchen where he kept the arsenal. He picked up guns he knew she would be able to manage. He laid out four. "Pick."
"I like the one in my hand."
"This one, cara, is a Beretta 93R, and see here.” He stepped behind her and put his arms around her to hold the gun properly. "It’s not a beginner’s gun. This allows you to switch between a 3 round burst of gunfire or a single. It’s the one the men who work for me carry."
"Wow, three rounds. Like a little machine gun, huh?"
"Exactly. The grab here will help you aim and be steady." He kissed her cheek. "Hold it for me."
She did as her husband instructed. He buried his face in her soft curly hair and inhaled her while running one hand over her swollen stomach, and the other over her enlarged breasts. They were so ripe he wanted to suck and touch them constantly. But she complained of
pain. At the moment she didn't stop him. She aimed the gun at the kitchen cabinet and pulled the trigger.
It clicked and clicked.
"I need bullets," she said.
"I need you," he said and took the gun from her hand. He tossed it aside and turned her to him. His lips brushed hers as her hands went up slowly over his back. Lorenzo lifted her and sat her on the long kitchen counter.
"Aren't you tired?" he asked. He stared at her breasts when he spoke. He drew her robe down her arms.
"No. Are you?"
"No."
Marietta lowered the straps to her nightgown and unveiled her breasts for him. "Lick them."
He cupped her left breast gently in his hand and brought his mouth over her nipple. He licked instead of sucked. She complained about sucking. It was good for her this way. She purred for him whenever he used his tongue. His erection was painfully stiff between his legs; his balls felt like weights between his legs. Marietta scooted as far to the edge of the counter as she could go. Her hands were behind her. Her head tilted back as he thrust inside of her with long deep strokes that made her bottom lip quiver. All he met was tightness. Hot, wet, tight. The pussy was a meltingly soft cushion as he thrust deeper and deeper. She grabbed one of his shoulders to steady herself. She gave several pelvic thrusts as he went up and fast into her. He pumped his hips and squeezed her thigh. His head dropped on her shoulder, and before he could force his boy to hold on, he went for it. The climax collapsed his dick, and he released of himself.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his face until his lips found hers. It was beautiful and delicious.
"That was fast," she panted.
"Sorry, I... You do it to me," he said.
"I know because I'm that good!" she said.
“I’m going to start calling you yummy,” he said.
“Really why?”
“Because you are so yummy here,” he grunted and patted her sex.
“You’ve been spending too much time with the kids.”