by Sienna Mynx
The door closed. Shae glanced back to the villa. Umberto was now outside with his men. He was laughing. The others, too.
“Fucking asshole,” Shae said. She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. It was time to go home. Doris was right. The only thing she could do for Carlo was protect their child. And after seeing what was in Italy she knew for certain her baby would not be safe here.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Manifestazioni D’affetto
Sorrento, Italy
MIRABELLA WIPED HER tears. She closed the album she’d made last year of the family time in Mondello. Those memories were now burned to ashes even with the photographic evidence that the place once existed. Giovanni said they could rebuild. And that one day they would, but a new place can never restore the authentic serenity she’d found in Sicily. Mondello was as much a part of them as Melanzana.
She got up from her chair and left her bedroom. She went to Zia’s door and hesitated before going inside. Immediately she was greeted with the warm comforting smell of the family.
“I wish you could forgive me,” Mirabella said as if Zia were there, rocking in her chair and knitting. She walked over to the photo of Zia and Rocco when they were younger. In the picture Zia held her only child in her arms. A treasured memento she knew Zia would want with her. Mirabella sat on Zia’s bed with a heavy heart. The family was in danger. And she was deeply afraid for all of them.
“You were right. I made a mistake. I should have never banished her. I should have never sent Marietta away. Now it’s all disappearing. I’m going to lose it all.”
Mirabella lay on her side and closed her eyes. She conjured the memory of the ceremonies of her life. From her learning to sew with her Me-Ma to her becoming a career woman, and then her learning to make fresh pasta and new traditions with Zia to be a strong wife. She’d learned so much over the years, why was she failing now? She let her burdens and sadness lull her into a restless sleep.
“You’re in the Mafia, girl. Don’t be surprised.” A peal of laughter followed.
Mirabella shot upright. It wasn’t Zia in the room with her. She wasn’t even in Zia’s room. She was in her own. The room she shared with Fabiana in their studio flat her second year in fashion school. And she wasn’t alone. Fabiana sat on the rattan chair they bought in Soho for twenty dollars. The mere sight of her friend in her canary yellow dress sent such happiness through her. It had been so long since she’d dreamt of her. It had been even longer since she had thought of her time in New York. Her best friend pushed up from the chair and came over to the bed. She sat on the side of it. Her hand went in a slow caress over Mirabella’s belly.
“Another one, girl?” Fabiana teased. “I thought we weren’t doing this baby thing again?”
“I didn’t do it. It was done to me,” Mirabella smiled. Fabiana released another one of her infectious laughs and Mirabella found herself laughing with her. This was no dream. It felt so real. The laughter softened and then faded between them.
“What is it like?” Fabiana asked. She didn’t look at Mirabella when she spoke. She stared at the windows that surrounded their loft studio. “What is it like marrying the man of your dreams and having his children?”
“It’s different every day. Some days I’m so happy I feel guilty, and some days... not so much.”
“Guilty?” Fabiana asked. “Why would you ever feel guilty?”
“For your death. Even for Kei. Both of you would be alive if you had never met me. And I feel guilty most days when I’m happy. Then I feel angry most days when I’m not guilty. It’s different now than before. It’s feels like waking up early every day to your birthday and going downstairs to see no one has come to your party.”
“You miss them? Zia, Catalina, your sister, Marietta?” Fabiana asked.
“I’m not supposed too. How can I miss Zia after she kept such horrible secrets from Lorenzo and Giovanni? Protected Rocco from his crimes, then blamed me for not doing enough to keep things from falling apart. And Catalina betrayed me. She killed Rosetta and ran off with Armando.”
“What about Marietta? Do you miss her?”
“I don’t think we ever shared anything real. At least not the love I wanted with her. A sister? All this time I had a sister, and now look what it has cost me. You were my sister, the only one that truly loved me.”
“Stop being dramatic. You know she loves you. But she loves him too. How is her love for Lorenzo any less obsessive than your own?” Fabiana asked.
Mirabella shook her head no. “It’s different because I have never made a decision out of malice. Only love. And Marietta has never made a decision out of love only survival. Sometimes I think we should have never come to Italy.” Mirabella put her hand to her brow and closed her eyes. The tears slipped from her cheeks.
“You can’t fight your past that battle is done. Be honest, would you really want to erase or give any of your life up?” Fabiana asked.
“No. I wouldn’t.”
Fabiana came in closer. She hugged her. Mirabella clung to the comfort. She missed Fabiana so much and so desperately she found solace in a ghost embrace.
“Giovanni is going to kill him. And when he does this family will never be the same. I can’t stop it. Don’t you see? I’m a fraud.” Mirabella wept. “I don’t belong in this world. I’m faking—”
“Shhh—” Fabiana touched her cheek. “You aren’t fooling me. You tell me you’re faking it, that you don’t fit in, but you do the exact opposite. You can’t hide what you really believe.”
“What do I believe?”
“You believe in what he believes in. And what he’s doing. You want him to win. Deep inside you know your life feels right. So, stop thinking you need to pretend with yourself.”
“Why do you come to me, why aren’t you in heaven? Why are you always here in that damn yellow dress!”
Fabiana laughed. “I’m the better part of you, and I think you are beginning to see that you don’t need me anymore,” she teased.
Mirabella smiled through her tears and closed her eyes. “No, Fabiana, I don’t need you anymore, but I will always miss you.” And then like a turn of a page her eyes opened and Fabiana was gone. She lay in Zia’s bed holding the photo of Zia and Rocco to her chest. She sat up to face the darkness.
There was plenty of work to be done.
She knew exactly what her role in it should be.
GIOVANNI ARRIVED AT his hotel just before midnight. The same hotel he stayed in whenever he visited Rome. He wanted a shower, needed one after the night with the Russians, but he could not. There was an even more important call to be ready for. He sat down in a chair reserved for him as Renaldo poured the drinks. Nico walked out of the suite and Dominic paced the floor. No one had yet to speak on what they witnessed that evening. What their collective restraint forced them to tolerate. In the end a deal was struck with the Russians, and a young woman was dead.
“Do you trust the Russians? That’s what I want to know? Can we trust the Russians?” Dominic paced.
Before Giovanni could answer the phone in the room rang. Renaldo handed Giovanni a half-empty whisky glass. Dominic answered the phone on the second ring. Giovanni observed. To answer Dominic’s question, he’d have to say ‘yes’. He trusted Ludwig Ivankov to do exactly what Russians do. And for now, that would serve his purpose.
Lorenzo.
Giovanni accepted the phone.
“You should have seen it burn, Gio. All of it, including the blue rose garden. Everything in Mondello is gone. And that’s just the beginning. Give her back to me. Give her back and we can find a way to co-exist.”
“If I don’t?”
“If you don’t, if you do anything to harm her—”
“What? Tell me what you will do Lorenzo? Burn more roses?”
“Bagheria burns next. I’ll burn it all to the ground with everyone in it. Then like the Phoenix I’ll rise from the ashes and rebuild because I can do it. We both know I can.”
“No, we both know the opposite. You never could. Burning shit down is all you’ve ever done. That’s why Papa sent for me, why he gave me la Camorra.”
“He gave you la Camorra because you are his only bastard son! Not because you are better than me!”
Giovanni chuckled. “I’m no more a bastard than you.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Without me there was never a you. If you want war I will teach you how to have one. So burn Bagheria, burn all of Sicily. And there will be nothing left of your wife mentally or physically in the ashes. After I send you Marietta and your child piece by piece.”
“Ti ucciderò! Ti ucciderò! Ti ucciderò! Do you hear me Gio? I will kill you!” Lorenzo shouted into the phone. “That is my wife. My child! They are innocent.”
“Your innocent wife is living on borrowed time. Tick. Tock.”
“She did not shoot you... Armando—”
“Is dead. Catalina is pregnant. And you’re a fucking dead man no matter what you say on this phone tonight!”
“You’re alive now because of me, Gio. None of this was planned. I made a mistake. And you’re making a bigger one now.”
“You should have let me die.”
“A mistake! One mistake. Marietta is no different than her sister. She loves me no less than Mirabella loves you. She pulled the trigger because we gave her no choice. Because you refuse to believe in me. Don’t make this worse! I’m offering you a way out.”
Giovanni laughter filled the room.
“I thought she was innocent? I thought you were the big bad coming for me? The phoenix? Sounds to me like you’re begging... are you begging me Lo?”
“Who is more innocent than my child? I want my child and my wife returned to me—what man wouldn’t?”
“There is a way to save your baby. To spare Marietta’s life,” Giovanni offered. “Only one way I can think of. The old way.”
“No.”
“A trade. You crawl back to me on your knees, and I’ll make sure Marietta lives. I’ll make sure your child is taken care of. I’ll be the Godfather they deserve.”
Lorenzo fell silent.
“Those are my terms. Your life for theirs. Mama and baby for you.”
“But you’re not in a position to make offers. La Cosa Nostra knows about Gambetta. He’s at the bottom of the ocean with Mancini. Fish bait. I now have Sicily, and I have another gift coming your way, Gio. One to let you know that I’m not your fucking dog to kick or pet. I’m my own man now. You will either respect me or we’ll destroy each other, and everyone close to us. I’m not bending or crawling to you, motherfucker. Not anymore.”
“Then it’s war.” Giovanni hung up. He glanced to Dominic. “How soon before the baby is born?”
“Carlo says a month maybe he can convince the doctors to take it sooner.”
Nico returned. The men all fell silent as Giovanni sat contemplating the next move. He tapped his index finger against his temple. He wiped his hand down his mouth and stroked his chin. He then looked to them and spoke. “Plans changed. We aren't ready. Carlo isn't ready. We need to be.”
Renaldo and Nico nodded. Dominic nodded in agreement. The brotherhood no longer mattered. They were never brothers, never truly. They were born out of their father’s sins. And what’s done in sin ends in sin. That was the way. The only way.
MIRABELLA HAD RETURNED to her room. She woke shortly after another attempt to fall asleep due to the phone ringing. She reached for it only half awake.
“Hello?” she yawned and lifted her weight by the support of her elbow.
“Bella?” Giovanni answered in a deep yet gentle tone.
She smiled.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Mirabella managed to reach over and turn on the lamplight. She squinted at the time on the digital clock next to the bed. It was after two in the morning. She’d been praying all day for his call.
“You were asleep?”
“I’m up now,” she spoke eagerly. “Everything okay?”
“I wanted to hear your voice,” he said.
“Seeing me face to face is much better.”
He chuckled and then fell silent. Mirabella could always read his mood in his silence. And this mood concerned her. He was hurting. Only she knew or sensed when that was the case.
“Tough day at the office?”
“I wanted to keep my promise. You get some rest.”
“Gio? I’m up. Talk to me,” she said.
Neither of them had completely recovered over the sorrow they felt for their loss of Mondello.
“How long before you come home?” she asked.
“It’s complicated.”
“Yes. It is. But that’s not going to change. Sometimes it’s best to come home and let me take care of you, for a little while.”
Giovanni didn’t respond.
“We’ve had that conversation before. I don’t want to pressure you.”
“It’s not pressure to know my wife understands me. I need that. Especially now.”
“Okay?”
“You’ve done everything I’ve asked. I’m sorry to say Bella but you will have to do more,” he said.
“What can I do?”
“I want you to call the family in Sicily. Anyone who wants to leave, arrange it. They won’t be stopped. I made sure of it. Renaldo has spoken to Kyra. She will be returning to Melanzana with the kids and so will Renaldo’s mother. From here on out no one leaves the compound. Take Eve out of her schooling. No tutors or unapproved guests.”
“And? That can’t be all.”
“You’ll have to shut down operations in Naples and Milan. Stores in America can stay open but the ones in the UK will close permanently.”
“We can’t just freeze my business without dealing with the media. I have employees, contracts, commitments. It’ll draw a lot of attention. I’ve already bowed out of the fashion events this year and closed three of my brand deals.”
“Remember what happened in Rome?”
“Yes but—”
“Bella, I’m barely able to keep this out of the press since Mondello. You don’t want more of your staff in jeopardy. I have the polizia breathing down my back. Domi suggests—”
“No!”
“What?” Giovanni asked.
“Domi doesn’t decide. This is you and me. I’ll talk to my people and make some announcement of a big reveal. A secret project. Kyra and Jamie will run cover for us. Let Dominic deal with the attorneys. But the answer is no to closing my business. I want you to release my money to me. I want to give everyone a year salary upfront to keep them under contract so whatever pause we take on operations would guarantee me their loyalty. Capisce?”
“Agreed.”
Mirabella could hear the smile in his voice.
“It won’t be long before this is all over Bella. And when it is we’ll put it back in order, together.”
“Of course, caro,” she said.
“I won’t be seeing you Bella, not for... awhile.”
“Wait... wait... Gio that’s not our deal—.”
“I’m sorry. Non posso annegare il mio amore in questa bruttezza—I can’t drown our love in this ugliness anymore. It’s best I stay away. I have to... I will try to call. Every day. I promise.”
“I have an idea.”
“Bella, I have to go.”
“Gio. I’ve been thinking of something, a different way to end this. I had a dream and—.”
He laughed, and the laughter stung.
“Bella, I don’t have time for this.”
“Make time. You said what you had to say. Now listen to me. We have Christmas in two weeks. I’m going to be six months pregnant. Our anniversary is New Year’s Day. This month and the next three are very important for us. You can’t disappear. What will I tell your children?”
“That Papa loves them.”
The call ended.
Mirabella slammed the phone down and stopped herself from calli
ng him back. Giovanni was stubborn. But what he forgot is that even though she is loyal, she’s stubborn too.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Madre Africa
Doma, Tanzania – Africa
“GIN! TWENTY-FIVE POINTS!” Marietta slammed the cards down on the table. Carlo’s dark gaze lifted from his hand of cards to the winning one spread before him.
“Gin! Gin! Gin! Gin! Gin! Gin!” Marietta sang with giddiness.
Carlo mumbled disgust and then shook his head. She could read him better than the hand of cards he held. He was impressed, but his ego wouldn’t allow him to admit defeat. Marietta had grown to like his mood swings. It helped soothe her aching loneliness for Lorenzo. Carlo rarely smiled since her captivity, but like Lorenzo she could always see humor in his eyes or hear it in his voice. To be honest if she had met Carlo before Lorenzo that same spark of attraction that gave her heart to her husband would have been given to him. Men like Carlo and Lorenzo had a way of sneaking up on a girl, making her want to tame him, to understand him.
“I got skills! Admit it,” she teased.
“That’s the third time you won. I don’t think I trust this game,” he grumbled.
“Oh don’t be a sore loser!”
“Loser? I said you’re cheating, I’m not losing.” Carlo tossed down his cards. He rocked back on the two back legs of the chair before he picked up his beer. He had bloodshot eyes on most days. She wasn’t sure what he did when he wasn’t visiting her but whatever it was it took a toll on him.
She watched his head go back and his eyes close as he guzzled down all the liquid in the bottle. The Adam’s apple at the center of his thick neck bobbed up and down his throat. His hair had started to grow in. It covered the grotesque scar she’d given him with espresso brown locks. Part of the old Carlo was returning.
“Prove I’m cheating. One more hand,” Marietta smirked. “I’ll let you deal and shuffle the deck.”
Carlo cocked his head to the side, as if noticing something interesting about her. She couldn’t fathom what. She looked hideous, fat, and tired from the isolation and stress.