Chapter Three
1970 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.”
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.
Again Mira checked the time on her watch. Maybe she would join them for a drink and retire to give them some privacy. Lorenzo stopped in the middle of the room and swept Fabiana up in his arms for a long kiss. Mira watched and waited, a bit uncomfortable. Her friend swayed when he released her. “If you don’t mind waiting here, I have someone coming to take you to your room. I’m sure you’re exhausted from your eventful day.”
Neither girl objected, but they exchanged looks after his announcement. Mira half expected Fabiana to speak up. Instead, her friend held his hand and winked at her before she was swept out of the room. The pair passed another tall man, again with a gun tucked to the front of his pants. He positioned himself at the entrance of the parlor. His dark eyes, encased in long lashes, fixed on her.
Alone, she glanced around. It was a well-furnished parlor with bright lamplight. The cozy seating arrangement softened an elegant room divided into two distinct conversational areas. The L-shaped white sofa and a few large peach upholstered back sofa chairs were to the left. A mirrored bar with wine racks and a few large conversational chairs were to the right. How long did he intend to have her waiting here? Her gaze lingered on the bar. She loved Italian wine, and she was sure Lorenzo would have the best. She’d already had enough to drink for the evening, so she decided against the temptation. Mira passed the sofa and dropped her rectangular clutch purse. She ran her hands over her hips in her tight white pants, rubbing out the exhaustion in her fingers. Instead of a nightcap she decided on some air. She approached the outside balcony that overlooked the lake and smiled at the breathtaking sight before her. The moon had receded behind the clouds, but the lights of the city twinkled against the mountainous landscape.
“Amazing isn’t it?”
She whirled on the voice behind her.
“I was below you staring out at the same moon. One of the loveliest moons this season." Giovanni entered with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Like you, I couldn’t stop thinking of its beauty.”
Stunned, she managed a reply. “You don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You’d be surprised all the things I know.”
For a short moment, he enjoyed watching her. When he entered the parlor, he watched her stroll around the empty room, then out the French doors. She wore what she had on earlier and looked even more beautiful under the moonlight. The long layers of her hair blew slightly around her shoulders. His gaze lowered to her apple shaped bottom and slender legs. Lorenzo was right. He wasn’t prone to pursuing women who didn’t return his desires. However, from the moment he met her in the hall of his cousin’s restaurant, she’d been quite unforgettable. She intrigued him. Was his keen interest because of her stubborn refusal of his charm or the suffocating loneliness he’d endured? He wasn’t sure.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I could ask you the same. As I recall, you had too much to do to entertain my dinner proposal.”
Swiping her hair from her face, she expelled a frustrated laugh. “Did you know I was coming? Is this some kind of setup?”
“It’s a response to your invitation.”
“I didn’t invite you here.” she frowned.
Giovanni walked in closer to her so she could read the determined look in his eye. “Here, in Italia, if a woman takes notice and makes direct eye contact with a man like myself, it’s considered an invitation.”
“Oh please. So I can’t look at an attractive man without him thinking I want something more?”
“You find me attractive?”
After a flirty laugh she turned back to the banister and faced the lake. She cast her gaze over to the left revealing her profile. He studied the delicate perfection of her slender nose, high cheekbones and full lips. “You find yourself attractive. Guess I was just agreeing with you.”
Her head turned, and she continued to stare out into the night. Unable to resist, he stepped directly behind her. He was sure she could feel the heat of his desire radiating from his chest; his heart beat so fast and hard inside of it. But she didn’t acknowledge his closeness, and it disappointed him. Flowers hadn’t softened her, and his charm had no effect. What excited this rare beauty in his midst?
“I owe you an apology, Bella.”
“Do you?”
“Si. I should have never insisted on you granting me access to your building.”
“So now it’s my building? Thought I only had a lease.”
“It was impolite. I’m a little rusty on negotiating with someone… as beautiful as you.”
At any moment, she’d know what it felt like to receive his touch; he stood so close. The smell of him caused her stomach to flutter. A spicy mix of cologne with a hint of something smoky and potent like the dark whiskey she watched him drink earlier. It was the most masculine appealing smell she had the pleasure of knowing in quite some time.
“You find me arrogant?”
“Extremely,” she admitted.
“Pushy?”
“Definitely.”
“Presumptuous?” he said, not hiding his amusement in his tone. Mira was grateful he couldn’t read the smile lifting the corners of her mouth.
“When it comes to the way you’ve approached me, I’d say that word is key.”
“And you still have to turn away from me so I can’t see how much you enjoy this, us.”
“I was here first. I’m not turning away from you Signore Battaglia. I’m just enjoying the night.”
“Then why did you give me the same sexy look you gave me the first night we met? Forced me to rise from my chair and follow?”
“So you admit to following me?”
“I’ll admit to much more if you turn around and face me.”
If she honored his request, they’d inevitably be closer than she needed at the moment. The man was right. He did excite her a bit. But he was wrong to presume closeness would grant him any access to her past the sparring they’ve indulged in so far. He stepped back. She felt his body heat withdraw and exhaled, tightness forming in her chest. She turned and stretched her arms out with her hands gliding over the smooth surface of the railing she leaned against.
“That’s much better, Bella. Tell me how do you like Italia so far?”
“I’ve had a very interesting time,” she began. “After a few days here, someone stole my purse. I lost some precious items including my passport. Then I learn that the Mafia isn’t a myth and wants to force me to pay them to operate my new business in Napoli. To make matters worse the Italian Republic puts a padlock on the doors and forces me to shut down my operations three days before the biggest show in my life. And wait. There is more. A handsome business man who seems to command a small army of men that follow him around with concealed weapons comes to my rescue, only to ask that I now pay him for the courtesy. And, of course, now I’m here with that same man, who thinks he can charm me with a few smiles and sexy winks.”
“Someone stole your purse?” he frowned.
“My point is, I’m tired Signore Battaglia. I only have two weeks of vacation, then I return to a life that requires all of my energy. I’d like to spend the next few days relaxing, not fighting off the advances of men like yourself.”
“Forgive me. I understand.” He nodded.
“Grazie.” She tried to step around him, but he slipped his arm around her waist so smoothly she stumbled forward and landed up against him bodily. Out of instinct her hand rose and pressed against the hard planes of his chest. He was tall. She stood in heels and had to tilt her head back to meet his intense gaze. “We’re not done. What of my request?”
“For?”
“Redemption.”
She swallowed. “How?”
“It’s really simple Bella, I’m here in Bellagio for a few days. You and your friend are guests of my cousin. Let me show you some of the beauty of the city. No strings attached.”
The firm way he held her didn’t lessen. She felt drugged by his clean-cut manliness and the firepower in his heavenly blue eyes. How did she go from escaping awkwardness to standing within his embrace and loving every inch of him?
“If I say no, will you leave without further argument?”
“Leave?” He seemed surprised by her request. “No I won’t leave. I like the idea of arguing with you. We’ll discuss it further until you see things my way. I’m a good negotiator.” His gaze traveled from hers to the opening of her shirt, which she knew revealed the swell of her breasts pressed into the hard ridges of his chest.
“I think you should let me go now.” Mira said under her breath, making no effort to pull away.
“If you insist. I wish you wouldn’t.”
“I insist.”
He released her.
Mira adjusted her blouse. “If you want to stay here, it’s your family’s villa. I can’t object. Do it. Just don’t touch me again until I give you my permission.” She walked around him and fast.
“There you go extending invitations again. Sounds to me like you’re considering it.” He called out after her. Mira stopped and looked back. He stepped to the balcony when he spoke. Not bothering to address her directly. “I’m a man of words so be careful of the ones you choose with me Bella. I may just take you up on your offer and do exactly what I want.”
Her mouth opened to say something more, but she was out of words. He finally cast his gaze back over his shoulder.
“Lorenzo said you would be able to show me to my room. Do you mind? I surely can’t find it on my own.”
Giovanni nodded. He walked out to join her. “That’s easy, your room is next to mine,” he smirked
“Of course, where else would it be?”
Together they walked side by side with his long strides matching hers. Again she admired the artwork on the walls. It was a welcome distraction from the glances he kept slipping her. And when he spoke, her heart beat so fast she nearly jumped out of her skin. The man had her on edge.
“Care to tell me more about this purse incident?”
“Huh?”
“You said your purse was stolen.”
“Oh, that. Yes. I keep trying to put it out of my mind. Fabiana and I were on via Toledo shopping. It happened so fast. A commotion in the streets then the next thing I know some madman on a motor scooter snatched it off my shoulder. My wallet was in it with my grandparents’ picture. I also lost something irreplaceable.”
“May I ask what?”
“A bracelet. My father gave it to me when I was a baby. It’s gold with the name Mirabella engraved on it. I keep it with me always. Stupid to have it in my purse I know. But we moved here, and I’ve not really unpacked everything, so I kept it on me. I can’t replace it or the pictures of my grandparents, which are all I have of them.”
“Mirabella? Sounds like Mariabella.” Giovanni said.
“And what does Mariabella mean?”
“My beautiful Mary, a Sicilian name given to precious little girls by their father. Your father Sicilian?”
Mira laughed. “Do I look like my father was Sicilian?”
“You look beautiful,” he responded. “And your father thought so. He named you my beautiful Mira. You were precious to him.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Mira smiled. She felt precious every time she looked upon that tiny bracelet. Now its loss burned a hot ache into her heart. Giovanni’s hand went to her lower back, and he gently held it there. To her surprise it was a comfort. She glanced at him, and he smirked down at her. They fell again into a comfortable silence. She stopped at a painting and smiled. “This is lovely. Who was the artist?”
“Morandi.”
“It’s bright. Lights the entire hall with the oranges and purples.”
“I have a few of his originals at our family home in Chianti.”
“Really?”
“Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”
Mira smiled and started walking again. “Maybe.”
Stopping, he pointed. “Here we are. Your room. Should I come in and turn down your sheets? Wash your back, make you comfortable?”
The laughter felt free of tension and genuine when it escaped her. Despite her inner voice warning her to keep things light, she was beginning to like her charming suitor. She glanced over to the man positioned at the end of the hall with his hands clasped in front of him, standing stoic. The tall gentleman wore a gun tucked in the front of his pants. He looked at her and then moved his eyes away quickly.
“What’s with the men all over the place with guns? What kind of business do you do?”
He looked over at the man then returned his gaze to her. “Occupational requirement,” he said softly.
“So you are some kind of thug?” she asked frowning.
Giovanni only smiled. “No, Mira. I’m not a thug, just a business man with a gun.”
She turned up her nose. “Good night,” she said turning to leave. He grabbed her hand before she could escape him.
“Will you give me an opportunity to show you who I am without prejudice of who and what you think I am?”
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“It’s okay, I’m a big boy. I can handle it. I only ask that you let me show you a nice time for a few days. You might enjoy yourself.”
“Okay,” she said letting go of his hand, going inside of her bedroom door.
Giovanni watched her close it in his face and wiped at his jaw, wishing she’d chosen to invite him in.
“Boss?”
Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Dominic appear from the top of the stairs, coming toward him, and he stared irritated “What is it?”
“Just wanted to let you know that all is handled. Don Calderone would like to meet.”
Giovanni nodded. “I don’t want Lorenzo involved in this meeting.”
“Understood.”
“And where is Catalina?”
“I’ve sent her back to Melazana,” he said referencing the house that Giovanni owned in Sorrento, which was south of Napoli.
“Send word to Calderone that we will meet tomorrow.” He entered his room and closed the door. He needed a cold shower.
****
The sun waking her was a welcomed event. She would’ve overslept if not for the warmth that covered her face and burned away the remnants of sleep from her eyes. Normally, she preferred that all curtains and blinds were drawn shut. But after her goodbye with Giovanni Battaglia, she lay in her bed and stared out at the lake thinking of her heart's failing choices in the past. She didn’t need a man. What she needed was a new life full of independence and adventure. She wanted to make her grandparents proud.
Mira squinted and slowly opened her eyes to the serenity beyond her large oval shaped window facing Lake Como. She lifted on her elbows to stare out across the calm waters. The serene beauty of it all made her a believer in paradise. In the morning the blue waters, green mountains and hills, and ice cream colored buildings looked vibrant and wonderful. She’d get out today and explore.
Rested, she dropped back against her pillow. The time check of her watch revealed it to be just after nine. Mira rarely slept this late. Most mornings she was awake at five, consumed with thoughts of her next big project. She’d work off what fatigue she had left on her treadmill and then begin her day.
Vacationing meant a complete change in plans. Sinking in to the soft cushion of the pillows she stared at the ceiling with thoughts of Giovanni Battaglia returning to her. The intensity in his stare and his self-confidence sent a rush of desire through her veins. He was unlike any other man she’d met. Feeling inspired, she rose from the bed in her revealing black lace camisole, and retrieved her portfolio folder. Her large sketchpad and sharpened pencils slipped out.
Maybe she knew how to vacation after all. Walking over to the vanity barefoot she dragged the chair to the window. Propping the sketchpad against her bent knee she began to sketch the scenery. Paying attention to details, she smiled as she felt herself relax under the flow of her pencil.
A soft click echoed from the door and her gaze lifted from her sketch. At first she smiled, waiting for Fabiana to enter. She had one pencil in her mouth and the other in her hand. The sketchpad rested on her lap with her knees raised and the heels of her feet pressed at the edge of the chair. Before she could lower her feet, the door opened, and Giovanni’s head appeared. He walked in staring at her empty bed. Mira scrambled to cover herself. She rose abruptly with the pad clutched to her chest. “What are you doing in my room?” The pencil dropped from her mouth.
His gaze swiveled to the left. He dropped his stare to her exposed thighs, hips and the barely shielded dark V of her sex. She hadn’t worn panties to bed. The camisole didn’t pull down smoothly over the rise of her backside. So she discreetly pushed the pad down lower to keep that intimate part of her body shielded, which only revealed the tops of her breasts. It would be the best she could do. The blood began to pound in her temples and her breath quickened. He stood silent, staring, and her embarrassment soon turned into outrage. Mira wanted to scream at him. For some reason she didn’t. The tension building between them forced her to reserve her energy for breathing. She glanced at her robe on the bed and knew it was too far of a walk to retrieve it. He’d see more of her. To her relief he understood her dilemma. Instead of leaving, he entered the room and picked up her robe then walked over to hand it off to her. She accepted the robe, and he turned his back.
“Why are you in my room?” she asked again, tying her sash into a double knot.
Instead of answering, he ran his hand over her sketchpad. “This is beautiful.” He lifted it, held it in front of him, and compared it to the scenery beyond the window.
“Excuse me, I asked you a question?” Mira took the pad from his hand. She tossed it on the bed and faced off with him.
The new gentle persona he’d adapted to gain her attention had become exhausting. He wasn’t used to overcoming suspicion over his motives when vying for the affection of a woman. Even his time spent abroad in college hadn’t been strained when he had pursued young coeds of all races. This one here appeared to wake with a sourpuss. Yes, he found her attractive, and he enjoyed her coyness, but he wanted to be done with her refusal to trust him. “I came to wake you, but looks like you’re an early riser like me,” he forced civility in his tone.
“Will you leave, please, so I can get dressed?” She nervously ran her hand through her hair to smooth down the puffiness. Last night her dark tresses had a silky flow. Now it was thicker, untamed.
“Forgive me. We will be leaving for breakfast in an hour.”
It would prove best if he honored her request for privacy, so he turned for the door. He paused. When he cast his gaze back to her, he saw the irritation in her face. She wore little to nothing under that robe. He’d seen enough of her curves to know any man who ever touched her had to be a lucky bastard. Fuck it all to hell, he wanted to be added to the list.
“Is there something else?” she asked.
“You’re a designer, so you might care to know today is pretty casual.”
“In Italia, no one dresses casual.” She sassed him.
He suppressed his smile. “True. Maybe you can wear something you’ve made, anything but green. I think you’d look really nice in yellow today.”
“I’m supposed to believe that you don’t like green, and then put on green to spite you? You really must think I’m stupid.”
“No Bella. I think you’re quite beautiful. That’s the point. I’ll be waiting.”
She rolled her eyes at his remark, hearing the door close behind him. “Jerk!”
Mixed feelings surged through her. She tried to force her confused emotions into order. At this point she wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or frown. Who barges into a room uninvited? The man had nerve. At her foot was one of her many bags. She heaved it up to the bed, unzipped it and rummaged through the many pieces she had created.
“Dammit I didn’t hang any of this up last night.”
The crumbled silks and linens would require ironing, and she hated ironing. Snatching one colored delicate garment after another, her hand landed on a pale yellow sundress. Holding it up, inspecting it closely, she smiled. “Green huh?” She turned to find an iron and stopped. Mira sighed. She glanced back to her luggage. “What is it about that man?”
The angry voices echoed from the parlor to the hall. Fabiana wavered, trying to comprehend what she was hearing. The loudest voice of all was Lorenzo’s, and it appeared he had reason to be upset. His business investment in Isabella’s, the restaurant, went up in smoke. He shouted in Italian over the injustice. She turned the corner and peered inside. Lorenzo leaned forward on the mantle above the fireplace, his head bowed, his hands gripping both ends. Without warning, he exploded and swiped his arm across, knocking over the small alabaster figurines. Several went crashing to the floor and shattered. He whirled on the two men watching, and his eyes flashed up to her. That glare held her frozen in limbo where all her decisions and actions hinged on what would come next.
The men took notice of her as well.
From somewhere deep in her core she summoned her voice. “I’m sorry, I thought we were um, leaving. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Fabiana took a few hurried steps back and collided with a wall of a chest. The man steadied her on her feet and stepped aside. She became acutely aware of his tall presence. It felt as cool as the shadow of a passing giant. Like her he observed Lorenzo and the destruction around his feet with interest. She sensed the stranger's gaze shift to her, and she dared to look him in the face. He had dark black hair, and a dimple that dug into the crease of his cheek when he smirked down at her. It perfectly matched the notch in his chin. It was his eyes that threw her. Lorenzo’s eyes were a dark shade of blue, almost like sapphires. For a moment this man’s eyes shifted in color from clear blue like rain to a seductive shade of violet. She blinked. Was he for real? The guy smelled rich, stood taller than most, had broad shoulders and arms, and an edge that was razor sharp. Who was he?
The moment passed. He returned his gaze to Lorenzo.
He spoke in Italian and addressed the one he called Carlo. The man answered. He said he just arrived to deliver the news to Lorenzo that the club was gone and the whores were gone too. They spilt little blood in the entire ordeal. Apparently none of these men, except for Lorenzo, knew that she spoke Italian too. Fabiana’s stomach turned sour.
Lorenzo cleared his throat and silence fell over the room. Again the eyes of the men returned to her.
He approached. “You look beautiful.”
She rose in her heels and gave him her cheek to kiss. He ran his hand down her back and around to her hip, and Fabiana tried to remain unfazed by the brazen act. The truth was she had been rocked to her core. She suspected they had dealings outside of the law, but she couldn’t deny it now. These men were dangerous.
“Is Mira joining us?”
“She’s dressing.” The man said in a tight controlled voice. Now he was staring at her again. As were all the men.
“Giovanni, allow me to introduce Fabiana Antonia Girelli. She is Mira Ellison’s manager and business partner. Fabiana this is my cousin Giovanni Battaglia.”
Fabiana felt momentary panic as her mind jumped on the name. This was the man Mira had told her about. “He’s your cousin?”
“Yes,” Lorenzo chuckled. “My mother was Giovanni’s father’s sister.”
“Oh.” A renewed wave of apprehension swept through her.
The tall handsome stranger nodded. “Nice to meet you Fabiana.”
“Thank you for your help. We both are appreciative. I think you men have business to conduct, maybe me and my friend should go, um, we were thinking of continuing down to Tuscany and um, I mean to Firenze or no, maybe Venice. Yes. We had plans to go to Venice to visit friends, so, we, um, we will leave.”
Giovanni’s brow arched.
“Silence woman.” Lorenzo dismissed her ramble. “You and Mira are my guests for the next few days.” He then addressed his cousin. “We’ll rejoin you and Mira out front.”
He tugged her by the hand and walked her out of the sitting room away from the glaring eyes of the other men. Fabiana stepped briskly in her heels trying to keep up with his long strides. They headed in the direction of the dining room area. She yanked hard on her hand, freeing it from his grasp. “Stop pulling on me!” She backed away from him. “You lied to me. Who is your cousin really? Is he connected to the Cammora?”
“No.”
“And back there. Telling me to be quiet? How dare you!”
“You talk too much! Ask too many questions that are none of your concern. Don’t speak on things you don’t know. There is no alliance with the Cammora. My cousin is a businessman. That’s it.”
Fabiana narrowed her eyes on him. “Are you kidding me? I heard what they said. Whores, blood? What was that about?”
“None of your affair.” Lorenzo dismissed.
“Then why were you so enraged?”
“It is none of your affair!”
“Mira said he asked for access to our building and payment for his friendship. Now I know why. You set us up, all the while you’re telling me how good things can be between us. Go to hell. Mira and I are leaving.” She turned to march away, but he grabbed her and brought her back to him.
“We are not done, Fabiana.”
“Release me.
His hold tightened and his face came in close. “Relax, there is nothing to fear with me. Shhh…”
She stopped struggling, and he released one of her arms to stroke the side of her face. “Ah, Cara, so lovely. Forgive my rudeness. I reacted impulsively and frightened you.” His voice was smooth in ways that thrilled and frightened her. His mouth brushed hers, and she felt currents of desire ripple through the tease of a kiss and warmly course down her neck to her breasts and quivering belly. She was brought up against his tall imposing frame, and his tongue escaped his mouth entering hers slow and easy. “Yes, relax,” he breathed between the kiss until her arms lifted and circled his neck. He kissed her wildly, seizing her breath and draining all of her resistance. Fabiana’s head rolled back, and she fought to remember why she should be cautious. All of her ached to be explored by him.
The kiss ended naturally. His forehead pressed to hers, his nostrils flaring, he held her tight to him. She blinked at his closed eyes and the long lashes that rested upon his high cheekbones. He was the most complicated sexy man she’d ever known.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He confessed in a soft unsteady voice. “I had hoped that if Giovanni and your friend met, this entire mess with your lease could be settled. What happened wasn’t how she perceives it, how you perceive it. It’s business. How things are done.”
“Bullshit.” Fabiana touched his cheek. “That’s bullshit, Lorenzo.”
He kissed her again. She circled his neck with her raised arms, returning his passion. The taste of him intoxicating, she felt weightless. He sucked on her tongue before his kisses trailed the slender length of her neck. He lifted her in his arms, feeding on her as her feet left the ground. She tried to say more, but her voice melted into soft moans.
Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she brought his face back to her mouth, devouring him with her own desperate kisses. Lorenzo walked her backward, pushing her up against the wall, causing her to lose one of her shoes as his massive frame pinned her to the wall. Fighting for control, she turned her head, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” she said putting her hands up to his chest. Kissing her forehead, he lifted up from her, allowing her to ease to the floor.
“Too fast?” he panted, his face desperately close.
“Don’t confuse me,” she said trying to escape him. His arm flew up and kept her before him. Their eyes met. She struggled to catch her breath, staring into his eyes.
“Slow and easy. I can do that. Don’t punish me for this misunderstanding. Trust me. I’m not the bad guy here. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she smiled up at him shyly.
“Sono spiacente bella. I’m sorry, beautiful. You keep me wanting more.”
Timing could seal a man’s fate. The perfect example would be the first time Giovanni watched the woman, who would soon own his heart, descend a flight of stairs. In a single moment, he was changed. It began innocently. After a brief update from his men on why Lorenzo threw his temper tantrum, he strolled out il soggiorno headed for the front foyer.
And then he saw her.
She wore a classy, yet sexy sundress. It was simple, strapless; the skirt did flare a bit at the hem and swirl around her knees. And she’d chosen the loveliest shade of mint green to flatter her medium brown skin, which stirred the loneliness in him. How long had it been since he felt anything outside of raw lust for a woman? What was this fresh, new desire that calmed his inner beast when she smiled his way? She hadn’t fallen for his trick, or maybe she knew what would please him and for once decided to give in a little. Whatever her reason for the dress choice, he was grateful. Her hair was a riot of curls, picked out lovely and bouncing on her shoulders behind a matching headband.
Their eyes met.
“Ciao,” she said.
He admired her legs as they came into view with each measured step she took. Smooth, hairless, and flawless as he imagined the rest of her body to be.
“Bennisma,” he said more to himself than to her.
“Grazie.”
Giovanni touched his chest. “I knew you were beautiful, but even I didn’t know how much more lovely you could become.”
She stepped down and walked directly toward him. “Is Fabiana around? I’d like to talk to her before we leave.”
“Yes. She, uh, she is,” he said, held captive in the deep brown swirls of her irises. They remained silent for a moment staring into each other’s eyes. Fabiana and Lorenzo reappeared. Mira noticed first. Giovanni, however, could not look away from her.
“There you are!” She smiled in a way he wished she had for him. He blinked out of his longing trance and watched her go to the redhead and embrace her. He felt like a lovesick schoolboy. It had become ridiculous. He could see the smirk of humor on Lorenzo’s face, and it made his chest tight with frustration.
“Excuse us.” Fabiana said, taking Mira’s hand and pulling her toward the hall out of earshot of the men. Her friend began to pace, wringing her hands. “I had no idea Lorenzo would bring him here. He’s the one, isn’t he? The one with the flowers, the man you said threatened you?” She spoke in a hushed hurried manner that alarmed Mira.
“He didn’t threaten me.” Mira touched Fabiana’s arm. “What’s wrong? Did he say something to you?”
Fabiana put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “Here’s the thing. I think I might be wrong about these men. The two of them could be connected to some dangerous people. Wait. No. The two of them are dangerous people. Lorenzo denies it, but I’m not stupid. I’m sorry Mira. I screwed up. Again. I can think of something to get us out of here. You don’t have to go anywhere with him. We can leave today. Let me think of something.” Fabiana began to pace again.
Mira’s heart sank a bit. She couldn’t hide her disappointment. The more she felt herself drawn to this man, the more she tried to ignore that he might not be who he appeared to be. But this was just breakfast, and her time for fun was short. She glanced back out to the hall. The voices of the men speaking in Italian drifted along the hall, indicating they remained close. A small voice in her head warned her that she should tread carefully.
“I got it. I’ll have Angelique call. You stall the men, and I’ll have her call here. Say we have some trouble in Napoli, that we need to come back.”
“No. No. That’s silly. Do you think they will do us harm?”
Fabiana sighed. “No of course not. But I sure as hell don’t think we know enough about them to stay here.”
“Well, we are here.” Mira shook her head. “And we accepted their help. Look. I spoke with Giovanni. We’ll have breakfast and do some sightseeing. That’s all. I don’t want to antagonize them. And be honest, you aren’t done with Lorenzo. Are you?”
“You don’t have to stay here for me. I like Lorenzo, but you and Giovanni are not part of that.”
“I know this. Fabiana stop. It’s okay. Let’s go.” Mira turned and walked back out to the men. She could hear Fabiana on her heels.
“Shall we?” Giovanni extended his arm. Mira exchanged a look with her friend. For a minute he thought she’d further humiliate him by not responding. But she graciously walked over and hooked her arm in his. He walked them out, a bit more encouraged by her willingness to comply. Four armed men climbed inside cars and she was led to his Ferrari. The doors were raised and she eased inside covering her thighs with her skirt like a lady.
“Nice car,” she said when he climbed in and the doors lowered.
“Would you like it drive it?”
“No thanks. These roads are kind of narrow and scary.”
“Hold on.”
The car spit a cloud of dust and gravel as he wheeled it around and zoomed toward the open gates. Mira’s heart lodged in her throat. “Could you slow down please?”
He nodded and eased them into a manageable speed. “We’ll dine at Villa Melzi. I’ve had it arranged. I believe your friend and Lorenzo will take the yacht out.”
“Wait? We’re splitting up?”
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
She chewed on the inside of her jaw. “I suppose not.”
“I was hoping to take you on a tour of the eastern hamlets, especially after seeing your sketch this morning. It’s what you see from your window.”
“Oh. Okay.” She tried to force the nervous quiver from her voice. She needed to be confident. The man made her anxiety spike. Again she wondered about his interest in her. It couldn’t possibly be her lease. And she did see him with a drop dead beautiful Italian girl, so he couldn’t be lonely. Stop it Mira. It’s just breakfast and a tour not a proposal. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax.
“Do you design men's clothes?” he asked.
“I do.”
“Maybe you can design something for me?”
“I’m expensive.”
Giovanni chuckled. “A lady of your talents should be.”
Mira blushed and looked away, back out the window. They glided along until they entered the city. The cobblestone roadway made him more careful of his speed. From her peripheral view, she could see him shifting gears. Looking down at his strong powerful hand, she noticed the ring with the B on it, and she wondered about him.
“Is that a family heirloom?” she asked pointing to the ring.
He looked to his hand then at her. “It belonged to my father.”
“It’s beautiful, you two close?”
“I loved him very much,” he answered.
His car phone began to chime, and she saw his hand leave the gearshift and him navigate the car with one hand while he picked it up with the other. She wondered more about his life and the kind of man he was. Deciding before she went any further with him that she would ask. He spoke in Italian, and Mira stared at his profile. When his gaze slipped to her instead of the road, she glanced away. She didn’t need an interpreter to know that the call wasn’t good news. Hanging up the phone, he down shifted.
“Is everything okay?”
“It will be,” he said, and a hint of a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. She smiled back and relaxed in the soft leather of the bucket seat that seemed to be molded to her body perfectly. The day had promise.