Destino (Battaglia Mafia Series)

by Mynx, Sienna

  Chapter Three1970 Virginia –

  “Me-ma, can I have it? Huh? Can I?”

  “What is it baby? Bring it closer so that gran can see.”

  Mira hurried, though she’d been told countless times not to run in her grandmother’s sewing room. She dodged a few boxes of clothes out of practice, and chairs stacked with books on different sewing techniques. She would be six in two days and her Me-ma had sewn a new dress for the party. Mira couldn’t hide her excitement. She’d drawn three pictures and prayed really hard for a puppy. God would bring her one. Mira was sure of it. Bouncing on her feet she opened her palm and showed her grandmother the shiny thing she found in a soft black box in the back of the closet.

  Her grandmother’s smile dimmed. She didn’t look happy.

  “Me-ma?”

  “This is yours baby.” Her grandmother nodded. She plucked the gold link bracelet and fastened the clasp around her wrist. It fit. “See here…” Her grandmother turned the gold pate in its center around so she could read it. “It says Mirabella.”

  “That’s not my name.”

  “It's what your father called you. You can wear it today, and then we’ll take it off and put it back in the box.”

  “My father?” Mira’s eyes stretched. She touched the engraving on the gold plate and blinked in wonder. All of her cousins had a father, and a mother. She knew her mother. They had her picture in the living room. She prayed to heaven for her and often visited her grave with her grandparents. But no one told her she had a father. “It’s prrreeeetty.”

  Her grandmother pinched her chin and lifted her face. “You are a special little girl. Very special. Never forget that.”

  “I won’t Me-ma… I promise. I’m Mirabella!”

  The crescent moon against the starless sky cast such a lovely romantic glow across the mountains and sloping hills they drove through. The misty atmosphere rolled across the valley. Mira slouched against the backseat of their chauffeured luxury vehicle with her lids sagging to the point of closing. Every bone in her body had succumbed to exhaustion. The driver said it would be a little over an hour drive into the mountains to reach the lake. She prayed for speed.

  “Where are we going again?” Mira yawned.

  “To Lake Como,” Fabiana mumbled. She used the tiny light pad on her day planner to cast enough of a glow to review something Mira couldn’t see.

  “What about Tuscany?”

  “We’ll do that in a few days.”

  Mira closed her eyes. “You’ve been rushing me since we left the club. What’s up?”

  “Oh stop. I wanted to get you out of Milan before you switched up on me and found an excuse to return to Naples. I called Angelique before we left, and New York is hammered with orders already. The press is climbing the walls to get an exclusive with you. Neiman Marcus wants to get your daywear line in their stores by August. Even the Prime Minister is inquiring. See here?” She turned the planner to show a calendar with the meetings and events planned for next month. “He’s invited you to a charity dinner. Now be honest. If you found out any of this, you would have called off our vacation.”

  Once again her friend had her nailed to the wall. Mira smiled and relaxed. “It was a success, wasn’t it?”

  “Of course. It’s time to celebrate. Reap what we sewed, pun intended,” Fabiana smoothed her hand out across the plush peanut butter leather interior. “It's like we’re floating instead of driving down the street, to paradise. I love this car. Hell I love our life. Don’t get me wrong I’m a New Yorker, but I can really see Italia as home. You know?”

  “You like him, huh?” Mira asked.

  A sheepish smirk crossed Fabiana’s glossed lips. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I saw you with him. When we got back to the hotel you were on the phone. Don’t think because you’re speaking Italian I can’t tell. I saw you. My guess is he’s coming to meet you in Como isn’t he?”

  “Close.”

  “Close?”

  “We’re going to his place.”

  “You have got to be kidding me!”

  “What? I told you the other day he had extended an invitation for us to visit his vacation home. You seem fine with it.”

  “Driver! Stop the car!”

  Fabiana let go a gust of laughter. Mira had to suppress the urge to join her. She was half-serious.

  “All joking aside, if you will stop and listen to me I have something to tell you. Giovanni Battaglia propositioned me. I think he threatened me too.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “At the club.”

  “How? How did he threaten you?”

  “He didn’t exactly, he implied I had to give him access to our building and pay him for his inconvenience. He was rude about it.”

  “Oh, Mira. They aren’t in the Mafia. Damn I wish I had never mentioned the Cammora to you. The villa Lorenzo owns is in Bellagio. It’s a beautiful lake city in Como. They call it the ‘Pearl of the Lake’. I want us to really start again here. Enjoy everything Italia has to offer. Giovanni Battaglia helped us cut through some red tape. He knows how successful you are. He’s working through the political landscape of Napoli to clean up the city’s reputation and draw more foreign investors, I think. I’m sure I read it in the papers. He’s trying to align with us, and that’s to be expected. But he’s not a threat.”

  Mira couldn’t shake the uneasy dread filling her. “Fine. I sound like a broken record.”

  Sighing deeply Fabiana looked away to conceal her smile. “No. You sound like my best friend. The cautious wise one. I’m the impulsive wild one. We balance each other out.”

  Mira burst into disbelieving laughter. “Please Fabiana. When it comes to business you’re a shark with lipstick. No one takes advantage of you. I want you to be the same way about your heart.” Mira reached over and took her hand. “We’re a team. We’re sisters. We look out for each other.”

  Fabiana nodded. “Thank you for being the sister I always wished I had.”

  “Promise we’ll keep it light, and you won’t be too impulsive this weekend,” Mira said under a raised brow.

  She smiled in defeat. “I promise that Lorenzo Álvaro Battaglia will have to part the red sea before he parts my legs.”

  Mira laughed leaning over to hug her friend. “Good enough.”

  On the lower level of his cousin’s villa there were few doors and many open walkways that led to the outside veranda with a stunning view of the lake. The lonely rustle of the night breeze echoed softly. Giovanni stared out across the lake at the villas and hotels. When darkness covered the small city of Bellagio, the golden amber lights from residential windows and street lamps almost made the city and the lake appear mystical. Under a crescent moon the water shone like polished glass. He clasped his hands behind his back The violence was the least of his worries. The fact that a man like Francesco could disrespect him under his cousin’s watch unsettled him.

  “Shall we discuss it now or later?” Lorenzo asked.

  Giovanni cast his gaze back over his shoulder. “My decision is final. Arranging all of this won’t change my mind. The club closes. Carlo will see to it. The insurance on the place should more than compensate you after all debts are repaid to me of course.”

  “You think I invited the ladies here to appease you? I invited them and you here so we can get past our differences and understand each other again. I know Isabella’s was my idea. I had no idea Francesco was the monster he turned out to be. It doesn’t convict me. Ignorance is my only sin here.”

  Weary of the argument Giovanni turned and faced his cousin. Lorenzo understood him better than any of those in the family, next to Catalina. They were raised together, blood. However, his cousin wouldn’t be above arranging a romantic interlude to soften him for manipulation. What irritated him more after all these years was his cousin’s continued struggle for recognition. They were supposed to be stronger than this petty jealousy bullshit.

  “You failed.”

&n
bsp; Lorenzo threw up both his hands in defeat. “The family cannot survive like this. It’s bigger than the grudge we hold with the Russians for Papa’s death. Or the Albanians! You control la Cammora. Which means the girls, the business; all of it should belong to us. You can’t have part of it; you have to own it all.”

  “We are not this bullshit!” Giovanni shouted. “Not anymore. Two hundred years ago we changed our fucking name to decide the family destiny. Baldamenti and the blood legacy that’s washed through our family for two centuries is over. We are Battaglia men.” Giovanni stepped closer. “Why do you think this was done? So we never evolve? Continue to wallow in scum? Become the men not fit to sit at the table with our ancestors? Can you only find glory in the slums with those gypsies you let in and out of our business? Or are you planning something else cousin? With Calderone?”

  “Never.”

  “I know you aren’t totally blameless. If I could prove your motives, well you should be grateful I haven’t proven what motivates you lately cousin.”

  “La Cammora is fracturing. The Calderone family plans to make deals with the Albanians that you won’t, and they are growing in numbers. In Sicily, we’re tied to tradition within mafioso, but here we can do things differently. That’s why Papa Tomosino loved it best here. I know you have another vision for us, and I respect it, but I would fail you if I didn’t advise you. The time to strike is now. Now.” Giovanni shook his head in disappointment. Lorenzo continued. “You desire to legitimize us, and it’s a lofty dream. No one would dare speak to you like this but me. Flavio is Consigliere, and where is he? Listen to me, Giovanni, gambling, extortion, weapons, it’s who we are no matter what deals you and Flavio make in the Republic. Nothing changes that fact. Why not go after the real money?”

  “Stai zitto! Shut up.” Giovanni walked away. “The Calderone’s and other families are laughing at you. At you cousin! And you expect me to lower myself for your glory?” Giovanni silenced. “I will tell you about lofty goals. Before the week is out, I plan to own the triangle.”

  The announcement landed hard between them. Lorenzo blinked in astonishment. Giovanni nodded to be sure he understood his words.

  The triangle consisted of Milan, Turin and Genoa. The Battaglia family had run the Cammora out of Naples for close to eighty years. But Tomosino always wanted to expand into legitimate business. Real estate was prime in the triangle now, and Giovanni intended to fulfill every one of his father’s dreams.

  If he hadn’t returned six years ago and accepted his birthright, the Battaglia family would belong to his cousin. He knew Lorenzo denounced the old traditions of the Sicilian Mafia publicly, but at his cousin’s core, Lorenzo believed in the restrictive values that clearly said a non-Sicilian should never run the Mafia. Giovanni’s mixed blood made some snicker behind his back. He had hoped by now that prejudice wouldn’t be between him and his cousin. He had to wonder if that too was a lofty dream.

  “While you were off in your fancy schools, I was here. I should be your consigliere at the very least. Flavio is out of practice and you seem to rely more and more on Dominic. He’s a fucking kid that we both raised. What of me?”

  “I can’t trust you. I know this disappoints you, but it’s the truth.”

  “I have earned my place at your side!” Lorenzo’s voice boomed.

  Giovanni shrugged. “Drugs will never be part of this family and neither will prostitution, not going forward. Let’s be clear, though part of you thinks we are equals because we’re blood, we are not. We took an oath. I run this family. You never will. If I hear of you meeting with Giuseppe Calderone again on my behalf, I will be forced to make an example of you cousin. And I’ll enjoy it.”

  Lorenzo drew his lips in, and his jaw quivered with restraint. They were the same height, the same physical build; they even had the same blue eyes. At first glance, a person could mistake them for brothers. But they were as different as night and day.

  He watched his cousin approach. Lorenzo kissed Giovanni on both of his cheeks and grabbed his shoulders to be heard. “Ti amo cugino. I love you, cousin. Of course, of course, you are the boss of all bosses. Now let’s stop fighting and enjoy the ladies. They will arrive soon.” He stepped back with acceptance.

  As an act of forgiveness, Giovanni pulled Lorenzo into a fraternal hug. He hated to fight with him as well, but the divided loyalties were becoming a real problem. He’d heard from Dominic: that Giuseppe frequented Lorenzo’s restaurant, and the men were becoming allies. The Calderone serpent only intended to feed Lorenzo’s greed. Giovanni and the elder Don Calderone had bartered an agreement, which would allow the Calderone’s to conduct business within the Campania. In return, Calderone would help him with his bid to acquire more land in the northern territories. Giuseppe didn’t want to see this deal through, and he needed Lorenzo at his side if he were to present a strong family front.

  “Now, do you like this friend of Fabiana’s, this designer Mira?”

  Giovanni blushed. He’d been unable to stop thinking of her since he saw her long legs sashay down the runway. Even now his blood surged to his groin when he recalled her full lips and dark brown eyes. “She pleases me.” He cleared his throat to rid it of the wavering confidence he heard in his voice. Together they walked inside.

  “I don’t ever recall you making a request for me to set you up cousin. I would say she does more than please you.”

  “Let’s just say I’m intrigued. She’s different.”

  Dominic, an enforcer and adopted little brother to them both, stepped in. Giovanni’s father had taken him into the family at the age of three, and both men loved him like blood.

  “I need to speak with Giovanni.” He switched his gaze over to Lorenzo. “Alone.”

  Lorenzo nodded. “You can use my office. When the ladies arrive, I will send word to meet us upstairs in the parlor.”

  Giovanni turned and followed Dominic out. He glanced back over his shoulder. Lorenzo watched him. His cousin looked to be accepting of his decision. Only time would tell.

  The narrow road paved in cobblestones jostled them in their seats. The car climbed upward at a reduced speed. Their destination appeared to be a villa carved into the mountainside. Mira gripped the inside door jam. “I feel like we’ll roll back down the road. Jeesh, how far does he have to drive?”

  Fabiana leaned forward with a hard squint. “The gates. Look.”

  Double wrought iron gates were pushed open by the aid of men who blended with the night. Their suit jackets parted under their outstretched arms to reveal guns tucked in their pants. Mira careened her neck to be sure she saw the weapons. But the car moved on.

  “I’ve been trying to convince you to buy a vacation place in Italy for years. Maybe now you’ll consider one for Como after we finalize our real-estate issues in Napoli.”

  “Not sure if I can afford the army to guard it. Did you see that? Those men had guns.”

  “Guns?” Fabiana’s gaze swiveled to the back window. “No they didn’t. It’s illegal.”

  Mira frowned. “I know what I saw.”

  The car came to a complete stop, and the ladies collected their purses. Mira emerged inhaling the sweet fragrant air. Wind whipped through the large palms circling the drive, and their leafy skirts rustled, as did the other lush cypress that was groomed immaculately. Her hair was blown away from her face. She smiled, fixated on the three-story block shaped mansion that was painted a soft melon orange with a flat rust-colored, shingled roof.

  Fabiana walked around the back of the car. “Nice right?”

  The villa appeared spacious enough to really make this mini vacation worthy of the effort. Mira glanced over at the driver who removed their luggage. Her most treasured piece being her leather portfolio case. “While you and Romeo do Lake Como, I’ll sketch some new designs that have been keeping me up at night. Oh and sleeping. I can’t wait to sleep in late for a change.”

  As they climbed the stone steps, Lorenzo filled the open doorway. The warm yellow
light behind him cast shadows over his face, making him even more handsome. Mira watched Fabiana quicken her steps. Maybe Mira had been too judgmental of him. He did seem to be taken with Fabiana, and she knew how much her friend wanted to find love again.

  “Fabiana, Mira, benvenuta all'Bellagio.” He withdrew, allowing them to enter.

  “Ciao Lorenzo.” Fabiana blushed.

  They were led inside between two regal Corinthian pillars. Mira entered a home of vast dimensions, as if someone with claustrophobia designed it. And what a beautiful villa it was. Vivid cool colors reminiscent of a spring garden covered the walls. Crystal, silver, and gold antiquities perched on marble pedestals all punctuated the cultural flavor. The high ceiling hall they were led down opened into an oval shaped entranceway with two elegant stairwells that connected up to the second level. The floors were polished marble under a massive pewter chandelier that absolutely sparkled. Tucked to the corners of the wide stairwell were two eight-foot tall statues of goddesses that looked authentic. Mira’s eyes swept over the artwork. When her gaze returned to her host, he was staring at her intensely. A shiver went through her from the dark hard stare he gave her. In a blink, his gaze moved on, but she was sure she’d noticed something in the exchange.

  “This way, ladies.” He continued toward the large semi-circular staircase to the second level. Fabiana followed without thought, and Mira forced her legs to move. Pondering where they might lead, she slowly and cautiously climbed the stairs, all the while running her fingers across the smooth polished banister. What was there not to love about Italy? Who knows what the future held. The country had already inspired her work. As they strolled into an open parlor, she noticed how her friend’s suitor slipped his arm around Fabiana’s waist, keeping her close.