Destino (Battaglia Mafia Series)

by Mynx, Sienna

  “No. No.” She laughed nervously reaching to touch his chest. She kept her hand there and felt the strong rhythm of his heart. Was he excited to be near her also? Something had accelerated his pulse. “I only wanted to see if you were free. That’s all Giovanni.”

  “You miss me?” He gave her hip a gentle squeeze. Giovanni pulled her up under him. She was forced to put both hands to his chest to keep from colliding with it. His hand then eased lower, and she was now secure in his hold. For some reason, he found her discomfort pleasing. The man knew the control he wielded over women, and she was sure he frequently got whom or whatever he wanted. This man wasn’t one she should tease. “I owe you lunch, don’t I? It’s the most important meal of the day. Though we never finished breakfast,” Giovanni chuckled. Humor softened his gaze, and she dismissed her previous assessment. He was just being friendly. She noticed in this country men were a bit more forward. Maybe she had let too many boundaries down for him to understand what affect he was having on her?

  “Okay?” she said.

  “Lorenzo has had food prepared, I’m sure. We can join him and your friend. Would that make you comfortable?”

  “Who says I’m not?”

  His left brow arched in response.

  “I’m perfectly comfortable,” she answered. “Evident by the way you have your hand on my ass.”

  This time laughter exploded from him. He lifted his palm and put his hands up in surrender. Mira smirked. She stayed close, however, to emphasize her point. Lowering her hands, she felt the light brush of her nipples over his chest and knew he did too. “Besides we can eat anywhere.”

  “I think it best we join them.”

  She didn’t hide her disappointment. Her lip dropped in a pout. He winked at her and ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. Funny, earlier she told Fabiana she had no intentions of being alone with the man again. Oh yes, as usual her mind and desires were at odds. She lifted her gaze from his lips to stare into his beautiful eyes again. This time she wouldn’t retreat from him like a schoolgirl. Giovanni extended his hand to her. She accepted it, allowing him to lead the way. His palm was warm and large. It covered her entire hand. She felt a sense of protectiveness in the way he assumed the lead. Together they walked down the stairwell, wide enough for them to descend side by side. Below she found the hall and the dining room to be empty, but a very romantic setting with blue roses and candles were placed as the centerpiece. Mira stared at the fresh blooms, curious of their history with his family. When he drew out her chair she only half hesitated. Where were Fabiana and Lorenzo? Before she could ask, her friend sashayed in from the other end of the dining room. She blinked at Giovanni, then at her, and the romantic place setting for four.

  “Everything okay?” Mira asked.

  “Oh yes. Lorenzo’s changing. The man was covered in dirt and mud. He said his car broke down, and he had to borrow a motorbike to make it back up the hill.”

  “Car trouble?” Giovanni asked.

  Fabiana nodded. “He’ll join us soon.”

  Giovanni’s attention returned to Mira. Her eyes were constantly drawn to his. Fabiana’s arrival was quite a relief. The wine poured and food was brought to the table on silver platters and in large shiny red and yellow ceramic serving bowls. Mira heaped pasta and a meaty sauce onto her plate, keeping her focus singular. Eat, drink, that is all. She managed it for a few moments until he spoke.

  “So where did you ladies go today?”

  “Everywhere. Our driver was pretty good.” Fabiana answered.

  She felt his stare and looked up. It was clear he could care less what Fabiana said and was more interested in hearing the details from her. “We found some boutiques and did some sightseeing.”

  “I wish I had the pleasure, to show you more of Bellagio.” He forked a large portion of the dinner in his mouth, chewing.

  I wish you had the pleasure too. Mira sipped her wine.

  “Is it true? You found her purse?” Fabiana asked.

  Giovanni stopped mid chew. He looked to Fabiana and his expression stilled. Mira frowned at his reaction. It wasn’t a secret. Why did he glare at her friend as if it were none of her business? The silence at the table felt awkward so she interceded. “He had it brought to me. It was very nice of you Giovanni. To go through the trouble.”

  He continued to eat. Fabiana shot her a quizzical look.

  “I hear your family name quite a bit in Napoli. You’re very respected.” Fabiana began again. “One of the most powerful families in the Campania?”

  “What’s the Campania?” Mira asked, with a nervous chuckle. Why her friend’s questions of him made her nervous she wasn’t sure. It was more of an underlying feeling she got from Giovanni’s silence.

  “It’s the region of southern Italy where Napoli is. Our new home.”

  “Oh.” Mira feared for a moment that Fabiana would mention the mob. God, she prayed not. The tension at the table was already so thick she found it hard to catch a good breath.

  “Are you the Godfather?” Fabiana chuckled.

  Giovanni continued to chew, but the action seemed more mechanical than organic. His hooded gaze lifted from his plate and locked on Fabiana. Mira braced for a response.

  “You think this term Godfather applies to me?” Giovanni picked up his wine and sipped. “Why do you think this?”

  “I’m asking a question. Does the term ‘Godfather’ apply to you?”

  “I’ve seen the movie.” Giovanni sneered. He sat back in his chair and cocked his head giving Fabiana his undivided attention. “Bella?” It was clear when he said the word, bella, he addressed her and not Fabiana. Though his gaze never wavered from her friend. “We’ve spent some time together today. I’m curious as to what you think?” he switched his focus to Mira. “Am I what you Americans call the Godfather?”

  Why is he asking me?

  Giovanni waited. Fabiana gave her an apologetic shrug. Both of them stared directly at her.

  Mira cleared her throat.

  “I think the movie was all fiction, a story steeped in some cultural references that Americans associate with Italians. Seriously, what does Godfather mean anyway?”

  “The term has meaning. For both Sicilians and Italians. Many of our families have deep roots in the Catholic Church. The Sacrament of Baptism is where it comes from. It’s where the church baptizes for the remission of sin and the family appoints a trustworthy person to oversee the welfare of the most innocent. A child. Sponsores, offerentes, susceptores, fidejussores, this is what we consider a godparent. Am I one? I am, for many children, a blessing from many families to have been requested to sponsor the life of their child before the holy sacrament. It’s my honor. Why you Americans want to sully the term and associate it with organized crime is beyond me. I guess you, Signora,” his gaze swiveled to Fabiana. “Watch too much TV.”

  “She didn’t mean to offend you Giovanni, she only—.”

  “Let her finish her questions, Bella. I’m sure she’s quite capable to explain what the meaning is behind them.” He reclined in his chair and regarded Fabiana with open hostility. He did so in a way that Mira didn’t appreciate. It was killing the sexy flirtatious banter between them that had her considering him in a new light. In that moment the man seemed quite dangerous.

  “We’re done with this topic. Let’s move on.” Mira said to them both. Fabiana gave Giovanni a gracious smile and bowed her head slightly in respect. He however continued to glare.

  “Yes, let’s move on.” Mira said to him directly.

  “Agreed.” Fabiana spoke, sipping her wine, swallowing, and speaking again. “Besides, I think we are all past introductions. I was just making conversation.”

  “We are past it, aren’t we Giovanni?” Mira asked. He looked her way. She smiled sweetly at him and hoped whatever it was that had offended him could be forgotten. It was rude to insult the man. If she had put Lorenzo on the hot seat the way Fabiana did she would be furious. What the Battaglia’s did or didn�
�t do was none of their business.

  “I thought I introduced myself properly earlier.” He moistened his lips and smiled her way. Mira’s eyes stretched. She noticed how Fabiana watched the exchange and tried to cover her embarrassment. She couldn’t be more mortified. If he even insinuated what they’d done in his room she would sink through the floor. “Like I said the movie was just a movie. I don’t have a label for you. Don’t need one.”

  “Girl, what has you squirming over there?” Fabiana gave her a critical squint.

  “Come va!” Lorenzo stormed into the room freshly changed. He wore a dark blue shirt and khaki-brown slacks. He yanked a chair back and sat down in a huff. Lorenzo had a flushed hurried manner about him. Wait. Was he sunburned? How long was that hike back to the villa? His face and neck was red as a beet.

  “What happened to you?” Giovanni asked. “Your woman says your car broke down.”

  “His woman!” Fabiana exclaimed. “Excuse me?”

  Mira drank her wine and hoped her friend would let the reference pass. Fabiana rolled her eyes and laughed it off.

  “Yes. I had car trouble. I had to walk then I found a vespa unattended on the side of the road.” Lorenzo dismissed the concern. He lifted a glass. “I want to propose a toast. To our lovely guests, and the next two days. May they be as promising as the first.”

  Mira lifted her glass. She glanced over to Giovanni who clinked his with hers. She kept her eyes on him during her long sip. The night had already started off with a bang. When Giovanni looked her way she caught that gleam of desire in his eyes again. Despite the tension earlier she relaxed and nodded his way.

  ****

  Despite the numbness weighing down her lids, Mira woke exhausted and sensually disturbed after the day she had. There would be no hope of sleep. Blame it on the wine, her handsome suitor, or the whirlwind adventure her life had turned into since she left New York. Dinner had been nice. The conversation flowed. She even practiced a few words of Italian with everyone’s encouragement. Giovanni was charming. The more time she spent with the man, the more she felt drawn to him. And just when she thought the night had promise for her to get to know more of him, he was summoned away. A tall brooding giant in a suit entered the room, said a few words in his ear and they were gone. Gone!

  Frustrated, she rolled over under the coverlet and squeezed her eyes shut. Her mind refused to turn off. She remembered everything. From his touch, to his kiss. She recalled every single sensation that made her toes curl. Reaching for her pillow she stuffed it between her legs and sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Nothing offered relief.

  A door slammed.

  Every bone in her body stiffened. Did she hear a door slam? She glanced back over her shoulder. She was positive she heard it. What time was it? Mira sat up, her hands flat to either side of her. She stared through the darkness to her locked bedroom door. “No girl. Don’t do it. Sleep. I’m going to sleep!” she grunted falling back on her pillow, and turning over. “I’m going to sleep.”

  Giovanni shrugged off his sports coat. He tossed it to the chair. Some vacation this turned out to be. No matter his travels, there was business to be had in nearly every hamlet. Tonight had been strange. Don Calderone, who had been enraged that his son Giuseppe missed a very important meeting with Giovanni’s men, had summoned him. After the opening hostilities subsided, Giovanni felt sympathy for the old man. Giuseppe was a royal fuck up and his only heir. So he tolerated another reschedule of meetings in exchange for additional land purchases in the triangle. The old man had the nerve to try to remind him of the way business was done in the past with his father. As if he cared.

  Once he unbuttoned his shirt and took off his shoes, he felt the tension drain from his neck and shoulders. The time had come to bring in his latest shipment. The Russians knew better than to interfere. He’d secured a deal that would remind all other families that he was indeed his father’s son, and give him enough capital to wash his hands of blood. Move Battaglia away from the stigma of Baldementi. That was his father’s dream. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his face in his palms.

  At times the loneliness became as heavy a burden as managing the lives of men sworn in blood to follow him. He tired of the long nights spent alone and grew bored and disinterested with the women that shared his bed. There was no peace for him.

  A soft rapping at the door drew his face up from his palms.

  Who would dare defy his orders and disturb him now? Rising with his shirt open and in bare feet he strode to the door and flung it open. Mira emerged from the dark hall into view, successfully disarming him with a shy smile. She wore no makeup. It shocked him how much prettier she was without it. Blown straight, her dark brown hair with honey colored highlights faintly seen within, flowed from a center part to her shoulders and framed her oval shaped face. Her eyes were a soft hazel under a ring of dark lashes, and her skin flawless, creamy like melted caramel. Giovanni’s gaze lowered. A silk belt tied neatly defined her tiny waist and gave her breasts a full lift to the deep V at the front of her robe. She rose on her small feet with her hands behind her back to look up into his eyes when she spoke. “Hi Giovanni.”

  “Hi.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Giovanni didn’t speak. He was too busy staring at the sweet indention of her exposed cleavage.

  “I know it’s late, but I wanted, oh this is awkward, can I come in to talk?”

  As if on autopilot he stepped aside, holding the door for her. The suggestion of nubile curves underneath the short robe she wore was further enhanced by the sweet sway of her hips. No woman on the planet had a better ass than her. He smiled, surprised. Closing the door, he locked it. She would not leave.

  She strolled about and stopped in the middle of his room, surveying it as if she hadn’t seen it before. Of course, he hadn’t forgotten her, the day they shared, the night he wished to share between her thighs. He forced himself to accept the fact that a little flirting was all he’d achieve with this one. Especially with all the bullshit he was swimming in.

  “You left again. We seem to have a habit of not being able to finish a meal together. Why is that?”

  So she noticed? Asked the little voice inside of his head. “It couldn’t be helped, Bella. I wanted to stay.”

  “Did you?”

  “I did.”

  She crossed her arms over the swell of her breasts. He resisted the urge to sweep her over his shoulder and take her to the bed. She smelled heavenly. Even from a distance her presence made his room soft, enticing. He took another step toward her, and she didn’t back away from him.

  “So?”

  “Yes?” he answered.

  “This can go nowhere.” She opened her arms in gesture. “This thing between us. Nowhere. I have my business. I mean my business is really demanding of me now. I’m not really into dating. I don’t want to date. I, just... I’m interested in enjoying myself that’s all. And a friend. Maybe. Do you understand?”

  Did she think he’d talk her out of this late night visit or convince her to stay? She seemed to want something, but couldn’t decide on what. Giovanni dismissed her little speech. They both knew how the night would end. And right now he wanted to ease past the formalities and get to the sweet part, where she lay beneath him in his bed. The lamplight from the small dresser near the bed chased most of the shadows to the corners of his room. The drapes were drawn preventing the assistance of the moon. Still he could see enough of her. She had fine hips and shapely thighs.

  “This.” He pointed to her, and then himself. “Has already gone further than you imagined. It is why you’ve come to me. You do remember what I told you the last time we met in my room?” He stopped before her and lifted her chin with his finger. “You remember, don’t you Bella? That’s why you waited up for me, came to me as soon as you heard my return. Isn’t it?”

  “We’re different,” she answered meekly. “I’m not talking about race. Fabiana and I are different and we’re best friend
s. We’re different in other ways.”

  “And that matters to who?”

  “I’m not usually this brave, okay?” She tossed her hands up in defeat. “I don’t screw around.”

  “It’s your first time. I’ll be gentle.”

  “Oh brother, you don’t beat around the bush do you?”

  The saying had no meaning to him so he ignored the question. She made the first move. He couldn’t be held responsible for what was to come. Maybe his sweet dearly departed mother was getting a kick out of this moment. How many women had she and Zia tried to pair him with. And it was she, Mira Ellison, a black American woman far removed from anyone they’d imagined for him. “What’s under the robe?” he asked and shrugged off his shirt.

  She stood motionless. He intended to ask again but slowly her arms unfolded and lowered. She reached around to the belted sash at her hip and untied the knot. The silk folds peeled away to uncover a very delicate lace negligee that barely reached past the bend of her hips. Black, lace, with a bra like bodice, it lay against her curves like a second skin. Her heart shaped hips and the dark V of her sex made him run his hand back through his hair for restraint. Even the dark extended tips of her nipples appeared.

  “Sei incredibile,” he stammered. “You’re incredible,” he translated.

  Mira relaxed her shoulders and the silk robe drifted to a pool of fabric at her feet. Tonight had purpose; it was no accident or chance encounter. “Destino. Mine. You’re my fate, Bella.”

  “I’m not sure about that.” She crossed her arms across herself out of reflex. He intended to corrupt her in every way. The woman had come to tease him, seduce him, and she wanted him to think it was his idea. Giovanni chuckled.

  “Something funny?” she asked.

  He swallowed his smile. “No. Not at all.”

  When she turned to go to the bed he reached and caught her hand. He brought her small palm up to his groin. Startled at first, her eyes stretched in surprise. Giovanni nipped her nose and then her bottom lip. “Touch it, feel how much I want you. I want you to know,” he breathed against her mouth. Her gaze flickered down and then up to his eyes. He let his touch drift away, and her hand remained firmly pressed on the erection. It gave him a small measure of relief. Like a good girl she unbuckled his belt. She fumbled a bit and stepped closer to steady her pursuit as she lowered his zipper.