Omerta

by Sienna Mynx

Dominic wiped his hand down his face. “I—.”

  “Say it!” Giovanni shouted.

  “Catalina, she... signed over control to Lorenzo. All of it. And I think by force. She has a date in court to enforce the order since she’s legally married to Armando.” Dominic eyes teared. He couldn’t bear the news he had to share, but he was the messenger, and he had to take his emotions out of it. “I told you she’d been in the hospital in Spain—more than once. Marcello gave me the facts during my visit with him.” Dominic rubbed his knuckles. They were bruised with cuts from Marcello’s teeth after he beat him repeatedly.

  “And? And!” Giovanni shouted.

  “Catalina’s pregnant. She’s pregnant with Armando’s heir, that’s why the courts are willing to hear from her. It’s why the Sicilians are willing to work with Lorenzo. We both know what that pregnancy means.”

  Giovanni glanced out to his family eating on the verandah. The laughter and smiles they wore. Mirabella looked up and saw him staring. She blew him a kiss. Giovanni leaned forward. He put his face in his hands. Dominic knew his brother was thinking the same thoughts he was. Even if they wanted to change course, there was no way to do so now.

  “I need a drink,” Dominic stood and started to look for a bar.

  “Sit down, Dominic.”

  “Did you hear me Gio? She’s pregnant and Lorenzo is in the streets. We have to be—.”

  “Sedere.”

  Dominic had worked hard to keep his emotions caged. He wanted the anger. He wanted the rage but if he gave in to any of it he’d break. He knew it. And Giovanni wouldn’t allow weakness. Not now. He walked over and sat back down.

  Giovanni wiped his hand down his face. “Before we act. Before we break Lorenzo, you need to know something he doesn’t.”

  Dominic frowned.

  “Rocco, after the accident, he had a bedside confession with my Bella.”

  “About?”

  “Patri, the past, the reason he says Lorenzo and I are who we are.”

  “I don’t think we have time for this—”

  “We’ll make time for this, Domi. Bella was right. I should have told you sooner. Zia Isabella is not Lorenzo’s mother. Rocco gifted her Lorenzo shortly after she married Vincenzo Alazaro. A marriage arranged by Patri.”

  “Rocco gave her Lorenzo? What sense does that make?”

  “Patri had women, girls, mostly foreigners, all of them young. He had these girls as lovers before and after he met Madre. Many looked like her.”

  “What does that have to do with Lorenzo and Rocco?”

  “Everything. Rocco envied Patri the same way Lorenzo has always envied me. And he’s spent most of his life competing. When he failed he took his anger out on a young girl. A victim of Patri’s. And she was then tossed aside after the affair was uncovered. According to Rocco he had guilt because of Isabella losing her daughter with Flavio and rage at Patri for not giving him more power in the family. The girl who was pregnant had a child and he gave the baby to his sister. Vincenzo agreed to the facade. He never loved Zia Isabella. Her lover had been and always was Flavio. When she returned from an extended trip with a baby boy no one questioned her. And she named that baby Lorenzo.”

  “Rocco is Lorenzo’s father?”

  “He denied it. He says the young woman was pregnant when he had sex with her. But Patri didn’t believe either of them. Rocco says the math didn’t add up. He says Lorenzo is my brother. By blood. Famiglia blood.”

  “That’s fucking ridiculous! It’s not true.”

  “I’ve traced the woman’s history and she existed. Everyone’s dead but the records are there. Two days ago, before we left for this trip I got the final piece of the puzzle. The birth record, the original one kept in a monastery, placed there by my mother.”

  “Madre Eve?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was the young woman who swore that the child she carried was Tomosino’s. Of course, that was all changed when Lorenzo was given to Zia Isabella. But its evidence.”

  “It’s fake evidence. If Lorenzo was Patri’s no matter the conception, he would not dump his first born. He wanted a son too bad. Look at me. He adopted me. It’s fake.”

  “Does it matter if it’s true or not? It’s documented evidence Lorenzo could use against me. Against this family.”

  “Does Lorenzo know this? Did Rocco tell him?”

  “No. Only you, I, Zia, and Mirabella know.”

  “He can’t find this out. We must keep this contained. Zia—”

  “She’s in Bagheria. Refusing to speak to me, or Bella. I doubt she’d tell Lorenzo.”

  “Catalina? We need to protect her Gio.”

  “I don’t care how, or what you need to do but I want my sister brought back to me.”

  “If she refuses to come?”

  “She’s piccoletta. She’s not with Lorenzo willingly. She’d never take revenge against me.”

  “How can you be sure? How could she marry Armando?”

  “That one may be on me too.”

  “I don’t understand?” Dominic said.

  “It’s a long story. The short version is Catalina was promised to Armando. I was the one who broke that agreement and made her marry Franco.”

  “She was promised by who? Patri?”

  “Yes. And Armando has always known it. He’s always taunted me about it, wanted her. He set us both up to get her. That’s what this whole Mancini bullshit was about.”

  “Then Lorenzo was right in taking his fucking life.” Dominic slammed his first into his hand.

  “Lorenzo played this one wrong. Catalina would never sit back and watch our mother’s home burn. If he did this, he did it without her consent. And that is the wedge between them that we can seize upon. We will use it to snap his fucking neck.”

  “Brothers, Gio? All this time and neither of you knew you could be brothers? What if it’s true. Could it be possible?”

  “Possibilities don’t matter to me any longer. What matters to me is my wife and children, Catalina, this family, la Camorra. I almost lost it all. I don’t know how long I’ll live to hold on to them. But before this world, our world, takes me out for good I will make sure Tomosino and Rocco’s curse will do no harm to my children or this family again.” Giovanni grabbed Dominic by the back of the head and pulled him over. He put his forehead to Dominic’s while he spoke. “You are my brother. My only brother. Are you with me?”

  “Always.”

  “Bravo! Now let’s find Lorenzo and cut his fucking throat.”

  “HE’S BURNED VILLA MARE Blu down. There’s nothing left.”

  “It’s gone? Our beach home, gardens, all of it?” Mirabella wept. “Are you sure? Gio? Are you sure!”

  “I’ll have a better understanding of the damage no later than tomorrow. The Mafiosi knows about Gambetta, they’ve given Lorenzo your brother’s territories.”

  “The family in Bagheria? What about them?” she asked and wiped her tears.

  “They can’t leave. My truce with the Sicilians is over. They’re trapped in. My cousins are keeping them safe.”

  “They’re holding our family hostage? We left them there, Zia is there! Omigod. This isn’t happening.”

  “I know. I know. But Catalina is coming back to Sicily with Lorenzo. She won’t let anything happen to the family. Lorenzo won’t go that far.”

  “He will! You would!” Mirabella stepped back. “We should have gone to Mondello. We should have stayed in Sicily. If we had they wouldn’t have been this bold.”

  “Calm down Bella.” Giovanni got her a glass of water. She drank it and slowed her breathing. He rubbed her belly and kissed her cheek.

  “I can fix this.”

  “No.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to the family.”

  “You can’t stop him.”

  Giovanni frowned. “He won’t go that far—”

  “If I was taken from you pregnant what would you do? What did you do when you lost me? Both times? We just
talked about it, Gio. You know how far he can go. Give him Marietta.”

  “No!”

  “Zia and the rest of the family could be hurt. This has to stop.”

  “I won’t do it!”

  “Damn it, Gio!”

  “I don’t want you to be upset. It’s not good for the baby,” he said.

  “I knew it. I felt it. When I woke up and you were there, and I was happy. I knew that feeling wouldn’t last. I knew something terrible would happen.”

  “Shhhh.” He took her by the face. He cradled her face in his hands. “I talked to Carlo. The baby is developing healthy and Marietta is doing well. We talked about the plan, Bella. You know what must be done. We see this through.”

  She nodded but wept. “Villa Mare Blu is gone.”

  He hugged her. He stroked her hair and back to calm her.

  “There’s something else. Catalina is pregnant. She’s carrying Armando’s child.”

  Mirabella went stiff in his arms. He let her go to look at her. She didn’t need to say a word. He understood what the news meant to them both. He cupped her face and held it while kissing her lids until they closed and then kissing her lips. “I’ll bring her home with Zia. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises Gio. I’m not going to hold you to any of them.”

  “Look at me.”

  She opened her eyes.

  “I will stop Lorenzo. And you and the kids will be fine. Trust me. Believe in me, Bella, per favore. I need you.”

  “I do,” she said. He kissed her forehead. “I’m okay. We stick to the plan. We see it to the end.”

  “Pack your things. We leave in an hour.”

  OMERTA BOOK I

  ACT TWO

  Winter

  December 1994

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Più buio prima dell'alba

  Tossa de Mar, Spain

  CATALINA SUFFERED FROM insomnia. It started the night she had what felt like the worse stomach flu she’d ever experienced. It was so bad that they rushed her to a small hospital in the Spanish village she and Lorenzo absconded too. Lorenzo paced at her bedside and yelled at the doctors to cure her. There was no cure, at least none that she wanted. The doctors informed them both that it wasn’t the flu that had her so ill. She was pregnant.

  Pregnant.

  From that day forward, she couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes they opened. And when fatigue finally did overwhelm her she’d be jarred awake before rest could truly calm her. Lorenzo suffered his own form of madness from their isolation. The first time she saw it was when a servant served him cold food. In the middle of shouting at the young man for insulting him he drew his gun and killed him.

  Madness.

  The longer he was separated from Marietta the more vicious and unforgiving he became. And the longer she was exiled from her family the more her guilt and regret over Armando’s death assailed her. So, there was no cure. They were both damned.

  The morning started early for her. She was now in a tiny one-bedroom cottage on land that was surrounded by the sea. Men with guns roamed the roads. She heard a few speak Italian and found that odd, because they didn’t look like Armando’s men. Lorenzo was up to something. After he forced her to sign over power of attorney to him he disappeared from her life. She was all alone. And she feared she’d be that way long after the war between Giovanni and Lorenzo ended. Dominic wouldn’t want her or her child. Mirabella hated her. How could she ever face Zia again?

  “Bari yereko,” a young man said in Armenian.

  Catalina glanced up. No one visited her. And if they did the cottage was small enough for her to hear them enter through the only door. The young man wasn’t tall. He was thin and average in his appearance. Nothing about him seemed familiar. He had mahogany brown hair and a lean face. He looked to be no more than nineteen or twenty.

  “Where did you come from?” the young man asked in English. Perfect English. That too was unexpected. Catalina closed the magazine she was reading.

  “I’m Catalina. Catalina Battaglia,” she said. “Where did you come from?”

  The young man glared at her. The curious glint in his eyes shifted to a darker understanding. He paused on his thoughts before entering the room.

  “Battaglia. I knew of a Battaglia once. Back in America.”

  “What’s your name?” Catalina asked.

  “Callisthenes, it means beautiful and strong.” He walked over to the table. Catalina didn’t find him attractive or strong. He looked gaunter and puny to her. But she smiled politely. “In America they called me Jasper.”

  “You’ve lived in America?” Catalina asked.

  He nodded.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Las Vegas. Have you been? I was in college there. UNLV, it stands for University of Nevada Las Vegas.”

  Catalina frowned. She glanced beyond the boy and realized that they were alone in the kitchen.

  “How did you get in my home?”

  “Is this your home?”

  “It’s where I live, and you weren’t invited.”

  “Do you know Carlo? He works for the Battaglias. He’s the one I met in Vegas.”

  Catalina nodded her answer.

  “He’s my friend. A good friend. I want to see him again. Is he coming here?”

  “How did you get in here, Callistehenes?”

  “I said call me Jasper,” his tone dropped.

  “Fine. Why are you here? Jasper?”

  “I see my uncle’s men leave with supplies from the house every week. Women things and it makes me curious. So, I followed them here. And I find you.” Jasper smiled. “When I asked Caleb who you are he tells me you are a Battaglia. Now I’m very curious.”

  “I think you should leave,” Catalina said. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way he looked at her or how silent he was when he moved around. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. And then there was his mentioning of Carlo and Las Vegas. Whatever happened with Carlo in Vegas wasn’t good. That much she did remember.

  He blinked at her and nodded. “I’ll go. It was nice to meet you Catalina Battaglia.”

  Catalina went to the door right after him. She closed and locked it.

  FIRST CAME A KNOCK on her bedroom door. Catalina removed the knife from under her pillow. The doorknob turned. She eased out of bed with the knife aimed and ready to strike. In her gut she knew who the visitor was. After all he did say he would return. She’d cut his skinny throat before he got close to her.

  “Go away!”

  “My name is Marissa.”

  “Marissa?” Catalina repeated the name again and tried to remember if she were one of the girls sent to clean her place. She had met many Spanish servants since they arrived in Spain but not one who had an American accent. With the knife in her hand she had the courage to open the door. A woman around the same age as her smiled. She had long black hair and deep set dark lashed eyes. She wore fitted jeans and a silk blouse with expensive shoes.

  “Who sent you?”

  “Alik. You’re Catalina, right?” The girl glanced down at the knife. “Are you okay?”

  Catalina realized she had the weapon aimed at Marissa’s face. She stepped back with embarrassment but wasn’t ready to let her guard down or her protection go. Marissa entered her bedroom.

  “I have everything I need. Tell your uncle to not send anyone else here.”

  “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you. I just arrived with my brother yesterday. My uncle told me that you were here, pregnant, alone.”

  “Are you related to Jasper?”

  “How do you know Jasper? Yes. He’s my brother.”

  “He came here. Walked right in without my permission.”

  Marissa looked at the knife again and then back to Catalina. “Did he threaten you?”

  “No, not really. He’s not welcome here. I don’t want visitors.”

  “I understand. You’re Catalina Battaglia. I’m such a big fan of
Mirabella and Marietta Battaglia.”

  “I’m Mancini not Battaglia,” Catalina said. She raised her left hand to show her ring.

  Marissa stared at the diamond and then her. Her mouth opened as if to speak then closed. Catalina sat on the bed. She set the knife down. “It’s a long story.”

  “It’s none of my business. Have you eaten?”

  “Not hungry,” Catalina mumbled. What she was, was tired. But she couldn’t sleep. Especially now with the strangers constantly showing up at her door.

  “You look... pale?”

  “I’ve been sick.” Catalina shared. “The doctors say it happens the first trimester. And now I can’t sleep. No matter what I try I can’t sleep. I don’t know what to do.”

  She didn’t cry. She’d lost the ability too. But her voice was so burdened with despair she might as well shed some tears. She looked up and saw Marissa staring at her with pity.

  “Please leave. And tell your brother to stay away too.”

  “I think I can help.”

  “I don’t want your help.”

  “What you want and what you need is two different things,” Marissa said. “You need my help Catalina. That’s why my uncle sent me. I have eight sisters. I’m the youngest of the girls in the family. I’ve been around so many pregnant women in my life I should have gone to nursing school.” Marissa smiled.

  Catalina did not. It hurt to smile. It hurt to be happy. She preferred numbness. She felt safer when she felt nothing. Marissa glanced around the room and dropped her hands to her hips.

  “First, no electronics for you,” she said and pointed at the television. “You need complete darkness and silence.”

  “I’ve tried that,” Catalina mumbled. “I hardly watch the thing.”

  “Second, I’m going to make you a tea. A special tea.”

  “I can’t.”

  “This you’ll like. It’s not even herbal. It’s not even tea. It’s a tart cherry juice I mix with yogurt. I know it sounds strange, but it really does work. A little valerian and passionflower mixed and you will sleep like a baby.”

  Catalina stared on too tired to argue, and too defeated to care. She nodded her consent.