Chapter Seven
Lorenzo craved the sharp burn of whisky to torch his throat. He decided on a bottle of wine from their family’s private stock. He needed to have a cool head. Giovanni didn’t suspect. No one did. And, dammit, he made sure no one ever would. When he returned yesterday, the men didn’t question him. It would be stupid to believe his arrival on a vespa wasn’t shared with his cousin. Lorenzo drank down half the bottle. He exhaled. “Fuck. What the fuck have I done?”
Yesterday -
Lorenzo slowed his car and circled the long front drive of a dilapidated, ugly little cottage deep in the east hamlet of Bellagio. Its forlorn, vacant appearance was a striking contrast to the candy-apple red convertible Jaguar parked in the tall grass to the side of it. Giuseppe Calderone travelled in and out of the hamlets in flashy cars with loud music. The motherfucker wouldn’t know discretion if she sat on his face and gave him a blowjob.
He let go a devilish chuckle. But soon the humor died on his lips, and anxiety cooled his thoughts.
What if Giovanni suspected something and had Lorenzo tailed? How could he explain this meeting? His vision switched to the rearview mirror. Thanks to the overgrown cypress and hundreds of wind whipped trees flanking both sides of the single lane road he travelled in on, a car tailing him could remain unseen. Therefore, he waited.
Nothing stirred. He didn’t expect this meeting to go well. Giovanni was making moves. Battaglia’s would soon surpass all families in the Cammora. How could he anticipate he’d try to expand their operation up through the triangle? The dealings between he and Calderone would have to come to an end.
“Fuck this shit.” Lorenzo threw open his car door and got out. He tossed it shut with a loud slam. Birds took flight from the belly of tangled tree branches. The evening sun blared in the sky making everything around him bright and feverish. Perspiration spread over his brow and trickled down his sideburns. Tucking his gun into the front of his pants, he did another silent sweep of the forests. It would have been wise to clue his best friend Carlo in. To do so would reveal his mistakes, unforgivable mistakes. He had to deal with Giuseppe alone.
As he strolled around the outskirts of the property, he felt the hairs on his nape rise. Uneasy and alert, he kept his vision keen to anything out of order. The front of the cottage was boarded up but the back had been opened for their meetings over the years. And now Lorenzo tired of the side hustles and back door deals behind his family’s back. He stepped through the open doorway with his hand to his gun, still tucked in his waist. Giuseppe waited alone.
“What the hell? I’ve been here for damn near an hour!” Giuseppe Calderone was a plump, five-foot three, well-dressed thug. Spoiled, sheltered, and tolerated by the men of their world only because of his father’s notoriety. The runt had the good fortune to be the only son of Don Calderone. Lorenzo dropped his hand from his gun. Calderone wiped the sweat from his brow with his silk handkerchief tucked in his back pocket. “Well? Why the fuck did you keep me waiting?”
“You’re alone?”
“Aren’t I always?” Calderone sneered. “Ah, I understand now. Your half-breed cousin is in town, and now you don’t trust me?”
Hackles rose to the back of his neck. Nothing made him more furious than lack of respect shown to his family. He took a measured step toward Giuseppe, and the turd actually grinned, too stupid to know how close to the edge Lorenzo actually was. “Disrespect my family again, and I’ll put a bullet in your gut.”
“Whoa, check out the balls on this guy. Bastardo! Baggiano! Since when do you threaten me?” Calderone took a step toward him. Lorenzo didn’t flinch. “I tell you how this works. Or have you forgotten your sins and what it cost your family.”
The pressure in Lorenzo’s temples pounded thickly; his throat grew tight under Calderone’s mockery. The fucker would be wise not to push further. But the young spoiled jackass was just a loudmouth hothead with Lorenzo’s balls in his grip. For years he did the unthinkable to bury his shame. And all of it was unraveling. The raid had opened Giovanni’s eyes. It wouldn’t be long before the dirty secrets of the past surfaced and destroyed his family from within.
“Nothing to say?” Calderone taunted. “Oh don’t blame me. Blame the Russians, like you did before.” Calderone laughed. “Your half-breed cousin spilled so much Russian blood you have enemies you cannot name. And for what? A lie. Our lie. Right Lorenzo?”
“State your business.” Lorenzo ground out.
“I went into this bargain knowing you had no authority. Doesn’t change the outcome. Our deal stands. I have another shipment to unload in Napoli in two days. Same Nigerians as before.”
“I won’t do it.”
Calderone paused. His eyes stretched in their sockets and his cheeks puffed, with nostrils flared like a bull. “Figilo di puttana! What the fuck do you mean you won’t do it?”
“The Albanians were using Francesco to run child hookers through my club behind my back. Then we’re raided? A coincidence? I don’t think so. More like a distraction to keep Giovanni off your scent. Problem is, you stupid fuck, he has shut me down, permanently, and Francesco is dead.”
“Not my problem.” Calderone shrugged, with a stiff upper lip.
“It is now your problem. I won’t deal anymore with you or the Nigerians. You need to work the transport out another way. The Amalfi is closed.”
“Bullshit! We do it my way!” Calderone pointed a finger up at him. It was almost comical considering his height compared to Lorenzo’s. “My way you stupid fuck!”
Lorenzo had more respect for cockroaches than he did him. If his father wasn’t feared and respected by the Cammora and Ndrangheta he’d have been put to sleep long ago. The bug actually mistook compliance for fear. Giuseppe ran his tongue over his coffee stained teeth, grinning at him. “Let’s not fight. What’s the point? You have no choice but to do what I wish.”
“Fuck you.” Lorenzo removed his gun. “I always have a choice.”
Calderone’s gaze dropped to the gun between them. He let go a loud gust of laughter. “You plan to kill me? Are you fucking insane? Do you know who my fucking father is? He’ll fucking skin you and your fucking half-breed cousin alive and burn what’s left of your fucking family to the ground. Put the gun away before I’m insulted.”
“I’m the nephew of Don Tomosino Battaglia, and you made a big mistake in forgetting that!”
Calderone walked away laughing, his round belly bouncing over his stubby legs like Santa Clause. He returned his oil black eyes to him. “Forget?” Calderone touched his chest. “You are the same man that ordered his uncle’s death? He wasn’t your Don when you came to me, crying for rank, for power. You are that man, are you not?”
Lorenzo aimed, and Calderone’s smile faded. “Don’t be fucking stup…”
One shot to the chest sent the man he’d loathed and served behind his own family’s back, barreling into the wall. Lorenzo marched on him and grabbed him by the throat. If Giuseppe was to die by his hand, this day, this moment, he would do it while looking him in the eye. He wanted to see the dead space fill in and the life drain from the weasel. The bullet had indeed pierced young Calderone’s gut. He spat up blood. Holding him by the throat he made sure they never broke eye contact when he placed the gun to Giuseppe’s heart. “Porca, puttana! For my uncle.” He unloaded and Giuseppe gave a dying squeal before slumping forward. Lorenzo stepped back to let him drop. He stood over him and emptied his clip. Coughing up a wad of phlegm he spat on the bloody stump that was once his nemesis and smiled.
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.” Fabiana walked into the parlor. He turned and forced a smile. Seeing her did help. She was the only ray of hope in the sea of shit he found himself swimming in. He drew her into his arms and kissed her.
“Forgive me. I was on my way to find you.”
“Are you okay? You were gone when I woke this morning. And last night, you seemed stressed.”
Lorenzo wiped his jaw nervously. Her questions were wearing on his already frazzled nerves. He would normally never speak of his problems with a woman, but he desperately needed someone in his corner. “The day is ours. No more business. I plan to treasure you.” He brushed her lips with his. “Over and over and over again.” He felt her relax against him, and damn if she didn’t smell as beautiful as she looked. The woman was a dream. When he released her from another kiss, she held on to him.
“You need something, Lorenzo. I feel it. Trust me, talk to me. What is it?”
“I made a mistake once, and it cost me my soul.”
“Sweetheart.” She stroked the side of his face. “How?”
“I’m trying to fix it, Fabiana, but it may be too late.” Lorenzo sighed.
“I’ll help you Lorenzo, any way that I can.”
“You can’t.”
“Listen to me. You have a soul, it’s why I won’t stop believing in you.”
Giovanni walked into the parlor and stopped. He studied his cousin and Fabiana for a moment. Mira at his side, he kept his cool in check. Today at the lake he wasn’t waiting on his American bella. He was waiting on Lorenzo. “I need to speak with you.”
“Can it wait?” Lorenzo pressed a kiss to his woman’s neck. Her presence strengthened him more than he expected. He gazed down into her lovely face and reassured her with a smile. “Thank you.” He mouthed to her.
Lorenzo gave him a nod and then kissed Fabiana once more on the lips, before whispering something in her ear. She drifted from his arms and headed to Mira. The ladies gave them curious glances before they left. Giovanni drew both of the large doors shut for privacy. It was just after ten in the morning, and his cousin was on his second bottle of wine.
“What have I done now?” Lorenzo asked.
“Where were you?”
“Out.” he replied, taking a drink and then pouring another. Giovanni observed. Lorenzo glanced back after the answering silence. He lowered his glass. “No disrespect. I didn’t want to trouble you.”
Giovanni waited.
“Giuseppe Calderone has defied his father. He’s working with the Nigerians or the Albanians, not sure, but I do believe he’s started moving products through Genoa. I know you have meetings with Don Calderone during your visit. I wanted to make sure none of this could be tied to the family.”
“You’re lying.”
Lorenzo sucked in a tight breath through clenched teeth. “It’s the fucking truth. I need to be on top of it. Right? That’s what I do. That’s all I do in this family. Shovel shit to clear the path for the new Battaglia.”
“I know when you’re lying to me.”
“I lost Isabella’s. Francesco, the freak, is dead. This cripples me.” He slammed his hand against his chest. “I have my own aspirations cousin. My own! Now I have to figure how to begin from ashes. I was trying to get ahead of you. To prove to you that I’m trustworthy. My lead fell through. Giuseppe never showed.”
Earlier another meeting with Don Calderone came to a premature end. The old man was furious that his son missed the event. Lorenzo could be telling the truth. His gut churned. Something felt off.
“What have I done to have you treat me like the enemy? A mistake. The raid was not my fault. And if you say it was, fine. It’s still not my greatest sin.”
“Then confess. Tell me your sins. I’m ready to listen.”
Lorenzo paled.
“Nothing more to say?”
“My sin is being born to Isabella Battaglia. To being second in everything you and I do. I need you to recognize my place in this family. I need you to trust me.”
Giovanni grabbed Lorenzo by the face. “It’s the hand we were both dealt. It’s time for you to get over it. When Papa died and you brought me the Russian scum that pulled the trigger, I knew our brotherhood was destiny. But if I ever find out that you have betrayed me, I will treat you like an enemy. You are my blood. Capsici? I love you above all else, but never, ever, mistake that love for weakness.” Lorenzo grabbed his wrists, struggling against the crushing hold Giovanni applied. He forced his cousin’s head to lower and pressed a kiss to his brow. “You and me forever.” Giovanni released him. He stepped back with disgust. Before Lorenzo made him act on his suspicions, he walked out.
****
The night ended too soon. Mira joined him for another walk under the moon. She shared some of her life with him. How she struggled in New York, why she thinks Italia would be so different. And like a gentleman he walked her to her room and bid her goodnight.
Giovanni closed his eyes. Lorenzo’s words returned to the center of his thoughts. Could he have something to do with Giuseppe Calderone’s disappearing act? Possibly. But to have done so and not tell him caused Giovanni even more concern. His cousin would never be foolish enough to weaken their bond and family this way unless there was something he had to cover up. He would never force his hand. And Giovanni could never face his father on judgment day and tell him he executed his cousin for such a betrayal. It would prove him weak and pathetic as his enemies believed his Irish blood mixed in with his Sicilian had made him. He exhaled noisily. Lying upon the bedcovers with his ankles crossed, hands behind his head, and Danny-boy, his gun, resting over to his left, he couldn’t summon sleep.
What about her?
At the base of his throat a pulse beat and swelled as though his heart had lodged itself there. What about me? The sweetest voice whispered in his ear. She eased over him, her hot channel pressed down hard on the sweltering tightness that was his groin. And she was nude. Her lovely breasts were a man’s size, each more than a mouthful but a perfect fit for his hands. She raised her arms above her head and rolled her hips. The slender line of her flat belly under her heaving breasts made him rise for the occasion. He took her breast as a babe would, and she stroked the back of his head with a soft caress. That’s right sweetie, I’m here for you. Giovanni sat up. He had drifted to sleep. His hand went to his erection, pointed north in his pajama pants. He groaned.
No sex? Bullshit. He was out of the bed and crossing the room to the door in nothing but black drawstring pajama pants. He stepped into the silent dark hall. The man seated outside was wide-awake. He averted his gaze when Giovanni emerged. It was a good thing because he did nothing to conceal his erection. Mira’s door was closed. Touching the knob sent a charge of lust through him and dismissed any doubts he should wait for an invitation. The knob turned in his hand softly, and he found it unlocked. A smile spread over his lips, and he felt the tension in his chest relax. Quiet and careful, he pushed it open slowly then slipped inside. The bed swallowed her, as did the coverlet tucked around her form. She slept on her side. Her hair was behind a checkered silk scarf; the slender strawberry red strap of her camisole could be seen half lowered on her shoulder.
It was only a dream. She hadn’t come to him as she did the night before. He should turn and let her sleep. Honor her wish to court her, earn the right to be in her bed. He sucked down a breath and willed himself to do so but couldn’t move. He felt trapped between his raw need to have her and his desire to win her trust and heart. It again dawned on him the power women could wield over a man. His father was no saint. His father’s crimes against his mother were unforgiveable. Still deep in his core he understood the madness that made his father snatch his mother from her world and keep her with him always. Slowly he untied the knot of his drawstring and loosened the waistband to his pajama pants. They dropped to his feet. He eased back the coverlet and slipped in bed with her. Mira didn’t stir. She remained on her side with her back to him. Why did she cover her lovely thick hair under a scarf for sleeping?
His lips brushed her shoulder. She responded by scooting back, directly into him. He felt her stiffen with recognition. Wiping her eyes she turned and blinked at him in the dark.
“What’s going on? Giovanni?”
Giovanni brushed his lips across her mouth and spoke three words: “I need you.”
He needs me? Mira tried to rise but he was easing over her. She was awake, her thighs parting, and his lips brushing hers, then her neck and lower. She pushed at his shoulders with her hands, but he was unmovable. His face lifted from staring at her body in the camisole beneath him, and those eyes of his impaled her. She softened to his touch, relaxed. “Something wrong?”
“Ti penso sempre.”
The translation was simple. He’s always thinking of me. He said it on their walk. He said it again when he walked her to her room. And God, help her but it was true. She was always thinking of him. “I can hold you—” Her voice faded when she felt the blunt tip of his desire press in on her. She bowed her back to lower her pelvis and slow down the momentum building between them. “Wait,” she pleaded. Her nipple escaped from the front of her camisole into his mouth. “Mmm,” she moaned.
He entered her with one strong thrust. His thickness filled her to capacity. She rolled her hips in response and felt a coiling tension tighten and cinch the inner walls of her tummy. She breathed deeply while he flexed his knees, thrusting in a faster rhythm. Mira bit down on her lip, squeezing her eyes shut from the pleasure tickling up through her pelvis. Giovanni held onto her hip and directed the way she responded, and matched what pleased them both.
Melting warmth drew him deeper. His teeth ground together as he flexed and pumped his hips rapidly to drive himself deeper into her. Her channel hotly fit him like a wet glove, which got tighter and tighter. There was no stopping. He knew he was a demanding lover. He’d had girlfriends in the past complain about his appetite. She never did. His breathing harsh against her ear, he quickened his pace and prayed she’d forgive his rough manner. He dropped his head and bit her shoulder to hold on. Her flesh was soft and sweet in his mouth; he balled his fists tight to keep from hurting her and breaking skin. His balls were so tight now they ached, as did every muscle in the back of his thighs, buttocks, and along his pelvis.
“Oh!” She cried out, and he summoned more control. Slowing his thrusts to push her closer to bliss and not the frenzied madness swirling in his head, everything shattered, including him.
Giovanni’s face was pressed into the pillow to the side of her head. He struggled to summon his breath. She soothed him by running both hands up and down his back.
“Giovanni,” she wheezed.
Immediately, he shifted his weight. Giovanni, however, couldn’t release her nor escape the warmth they generated under the covers. This was the closest he’d been to heaven in a long time. The beautiful woman in his arms smiled up at him. Her scarf slipped back to reveal the natural wavy texture of the roots of her hair. He touched her face and kissed the tiny mole to the left of her nose on her cheek. “You amaze me. I could stay like this. Forever.”
“Mmm, me too,” she agreed. She elevated her hips a bit beneath him. Reluctant, but concerned over her discomfort, he withdrew, semi-erect, and dropped over to his left side. Mira’s hand went to the bruise on her shoulder, and he felt a pang of regret.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
She smiled and shook her head no, and then bolted right up. “Dammit, we didn’t use protection.”
Giovanni reached and grabbed the scarf to pull it free of her hair. He tossed it to the floor. “Why do you wear this?”
Without a word, she escaped the bed and hurried to her bathroom. Unlike his room, her drapes were open. Moonlight bathed over her flawless body when she escaped him. He had only a glimpse of the lush curve of her backside. Touching himself under the covers, he wished his dick could get hard again, but this time she had drained him dry. He listened as water ran until his lids felt heavy with fatigue. The exhaustion of the day returned, and he felt himself slip under its pull.
“Giovanni?”
A warm wet cloth wiped over his dick. He squinted up at her. She wore a robe and again tied her hair down in a silk scarf. Mira completed her task then folded the rag and set it aside. “Come to me.” He reached for her before she fully turned away. She joined him under the covers without resistance.
“Are you okay? Earlier, things got a bit intense,” she said, her voice meek, almost shy of the hard edged woman she liked to portray. Giovanni didn’t answer. He really was in no mood to talk. Instead he brought her body to his and curled around her curves until his leg was over her thighs and his face was buried in the sweet cushion of her breasts. She said a few more things. Talked of how an ex-lover never made her feel this desired, things he catalogued for future reference. After listening and enjoying the melody of her voice and rapidly beating heart, he grunted a response. Sleep had never been this welcomed.
Fresh and re-energized Mira turned over with a smile on her face. She reached for her lover to find he had already gone. Her eyes flipped open. It was becoming a nasty habit. Here one minute and gone the next. She shook her head and expelled a deep frustrated breath. A sharp sting ripped through her left shoulder and she touched the tenderness. Things had gotten out of hand with them last night. He kept apologizing through the night for the bite. Though the pain was numb and not really too discomforting, the desperation in his lovemaking made her worry. The knocking at her door drew her attention. She soon realized it was the knocking that brought her out of her sleep. She covered herself and sat up on her pillows.
“Come in.”
“Morning sleepy head.”
“Morning,” she yawned.
“Get up,” Fabiana said. She waved car keys in front of her. “The men had a meeting this morning, so I have the keys to the Spider. It’s cuter than the Ferrari. Let’s go have some fun.”
“No Fabiana, I’m exhausted.” Mira rolled away.
“Giovanni said you were.”
Mira frowned. She looked back over her shoulder at her grinning friend. Fabiana nodded. “He told me to let you sleep in. Oh and get this. He announces that we’re going to his villa in Sorrento. You’re okay with this?”
“The man sure does think he knows what I want,” she rolled her eyes.
“Uh oh, somebody is a grumpy puss!” Fabiana teased.
“Where is he gone to now? Every night he’s here, but I swear the man must be allergic to the sun because once it’s up he’s gone.” She snapped her finger. “Just like that.”
Fabiana shrugged. “He had one of his goons wake up Lorenzo over an hour ago and demand he get dressed to come with him.”
Mira gave up. She sat back on to her pillows and removed her headscarf. “Oh.”
“Come on girl! If we’re leaving today, let’s go out and have a bit of fun.” Fabiana stopped at the side of the bed and picked up her tossed aside camisole. “Unless you’re too tired for fun?”
Mira snatched the garment from her, suppressing a smile.
“Would you please leave? I’ll meet you downstairs in an hour.”
“Mira? What happened to your shoulder?” Fabiana asked.
Instinctively, her hand shot up to cover the bruise. “Nothing. Nothing.”
“That’s not nothing, let me see.” Fabiana reached and snatched her hand down. She leaned in closer to inspect it. “Well, it looks like a hickey, but it… does it hurt?”
Mira sighed. “No. We had sex, and things got a bit rough.”
“Rough sex?” Fabiana nose wrinkled.
Quickly, Mira tried to cover. “I’m fine. Giovanni is a bit much to handle when he’s worked up. It wasn’t intentional.”
Fabiana stared at her for a moment, and Mira held her breath waiting. Her friend smiled. “If you’re cool with it, then okay. Now c’mon and get dressed. I can’t wait to get behind this car.” She waved the keys and walked out.
Mira released the breath she held and dropped back onto the pillows. Last night he was in pain and sought solace within her arms; she knew that. Touching her shoulder, she wondered about the dark side of her lover and wanted to know what tormented him. A softer memory surfaced. She remembered his kiss and smiled. She thought she was dreaming, but she was almost certain he kissed her this morning before he left.
****
Giovanni sat silently next to Lorenzo. The car held the curvy road that sloped upward into the mountains. It was a wet slick morning; the countryside glistened from the remnants of a fresh rain. His gaze remained trained on the passing landscape. He didn’t know what possessed him last night. His hand clenched into a fist. He should have more control over his emotions, over himself. He closed his eyes and remembered how she held him. How soft and sweet her breath was against his chest when she slept in his arms. And the way she made love to him, tamed him. He had to get a grip on his desires for her. He couldn’t trust it to last.
“I wanted to be included.” Lorenzo’s voice was tight and hoarse, demolishing his thoughts. He opened his eyes and glanced over at his cousin.
“I think it best you and Giuseppe explain what ties you have.”
“Giuseppe? Ties? We have none.”
“Then there should be no problem with you facing him today?” Giovanni asked with a raised brow.
Lorenzo shook his head. “I can’t stand the runt.”
“Are you sure cousin? Now is the time to tell me anything you have now. I don’t want any surprises. Do you understand? Don’t let me walk into this meeting unprepared.”
“He’s contacted me. Several times he’s contacted me to meet over one deal or another, and I’ve entertained him out of respect for our families, but nothing more. When will you trust me? Must I bleed for you? Is that it? I’m loyal to you and Battaglia. No one else comes before the family.”
It was a small measure of reassurance, but Giovanni accepted it. His gaze returned to his window and the countryside. He hadn’t slept this well since he buried his parents. Now his head was clear. He may have to make some tough choices in the future as to his role in the family, and he needed to have Lorenzo step up if he was to ever be in his place. That meant mending past mistakes and quieting his cousin’s restlessness.
****
“What about this one?” Fabiana walked out of the dressing closet. She wore a daffodil yellow dress with thin straps. The chiffon material of the skirt fell in tight pleats that moved like an accordion when she spun around. The bodice of the dress had the same chiffon material arranged in a basket weave like pattern, slimming her waistline and pushing her bust upward. Mira thumbed through racks aimlessly when she walked out. Looking over her sunglasses she wrinkled her nose in disapproval, “Not your color.”
Fabiana blinked, shocked. “I like yellow.”
“I never dress you in this color; it's not complimentary to your pale skin with your red hair. You look like some kind of tropical bird.”
She turned her friend toward the mirror to make sure she saw her the way she did. Fabiana frowned and then her eyes stretched in recognition. “Okay. Guess you have a point.”
“I know I do. I’m the designer remember?”
“Hey? What has made you so bitchy today?”
“I’m not being a bitch. You asked for my damn opinion!”
The sales woman glanced up at them both. Fabiana said something in Italian to the salesperson and then narrowed her eyes on her. She hooked her arm around Mira’s and forced her to join her in the cramped changing closet. “Okay, what is it?”
“I’m worried about us.” She sat in the chair in the corner of the closet. Fabiana eased down the zipper and changed back into her clothes.
“Go on. I’m listening.”
“Look at us. We’re businesswomen, driven and successful, but look at us. What are we doing here?”
“Having a vacation, Mira! Good grief, we have next week to return to our lives but this week is ours okay? And don’t make this about us. This is about him. What happened between you two?”
“I told him yesterday we need to go slow, that we need to take time to get to know each other, and then he just shows up in my bed.”
“He just shows up huh?”
“Well I sure as hell didn’t invite him.”
“So why not kick him out?”
Mira cut her eyes away. “I’m not angry that he came to me. Trust me I had restrained myself from going to him.” She dropped her head back against the wall. “I’m not even angry that he can make my body sing. I’m mad because I woke up and found him gone, and it hurt. You know that sinking feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you're lovesick? Pathetic! What am I getting myself into? The man just does whatever the hell he wants, when he wants, and how he wants me. What am I doing falling for this guy?”
Fabiana’s eyes grew round with shock. “You’re falling in love?”
“No, of course, not!” Mira hadn’t realized she used the word.
“You just said you were.”
“I said it makes no sense. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Let’s go get something to eat.”
Fabiana shook her head. “Fine, but I’m buying the damn yellow dress.”
“Go right ahead, be a parrot. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she called out after her as Fabiana left the changing room. She rose and picked up her purse.
Villa Calderone ~
“Benvenuto del Giovanni il mio ragazzo.” Don Calderone rose. A short, rotund man, his face was rather long and pale under a grey stubble of a beard. He had tired eyes that suggested a hint of trouble. The men greeted him with respect. The Calderone family ran the region of Genoa, but vacationed often in Como. It was to their advantage that he too was here while Giovanni had planned a visit. The old man gave Giovanni a hug and then a kiss to both sides of his face. To Lorenzo he did the same.
Angelo, a stout man looked every bit the same as his weasel cousin Giuseppe. None of the Calderone men would win any beauty contests. The Don’s nephew stepped forward. He greeted Giovanni with a respectful kiss to either side of his jaw.
“Join me.” Don Calderone gestured to the chairs.
“This meeting was to occur close to an hour ago. I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.” Giovanni’s voice was low but resonated with his disapproval.
The old man nodded. “Scusi.” He touched his wide chest. “I was waiting on that absent-minded son of mine. He was supposed to have returned in time for the meeting. We can’t locate him.” Don Calderone waddled on his stumpy legs back around his desk and sat.
“Patri, he may still be in Genoa. He mentioned business there.” Angelo dropped a comforting hand to his uncle’s shoulder. All the men in the family referred to the old Don as their father, just as Lorenzo referred to Tomosino that way.
“Business?” Giovanni asked.
Don Calderone put his hand up. “Family business out of Sicily.” The Don turned his attention to Lorenzo. “Giuseppe said that you two may have a very lucrative agreement in Napoli in the works?”
Lorenzo stared at the Don unfazed. Giovanni didn’t read any reaction to the news. “I agreed to meet with Giuseppe to discuss his interest in hosting parties at Isabella’s. Nothing was ever confirmed. He hasn’t called to schedule.”
Don Calderone smiled then reached for his cigar box, pulling out his half smoked stogie and a lighter. “I heard of your troubles,” he lit the end of the cigar and pumped his fat cheeks to draw and release rings of smoke.
“Yes. The club is gone. It was an unfortunate incident and completely blown out of proportion. My cousin understands.” Lorenzo answered.
“I know my son can be an ass at times. I keep him on a short leash, out of respect for your family and my dear friend Tomosino.” He glared over at Lorenzo. “I tire of the bullshit. My son needs to keep with tradition. Traditions from Sicily. It means that you are to make no alliances with Giuseppe in or outside of the triangle without my explicit approval. No matter how tempting the offer capisci?”
Lorenzo nodded.
Don Calderone took a drag of his cigar. He dropped the blunt into the ashtray. “My words are not an accusation. I spoke with Giovanni and we both agree that what happened at your place was just, shall we say fortuna difettosa, bad luck. I want Giovanni to know that the Calderone’s won’t be bringing any more of that luck your way.” The Don reclined and puffed a ring of smoke up into the air.
The Don smiled. His nephew continued to glare at Lorenzo. Giovanni observed it all in silence. “I will go see if we can track down Giuseppe.” Angelo nodded to the men and walked out. Lorenzo remained disinterested in the open animosity.
“Now that the unpleasantness is over, Giovanni, shall we get down to business?”
Giovanni gave a look to his men and they left the room behind Calderone’s men. He nodded that they could proceed.
****
Mira held tight to the inside of the door. Her friend drove the flashy convertible faster than Giovanni. And along the mountainous curves it was a daredevil event that kept Mira’s lunch lurching to her throat. “Could you please slow down?” She winced.
“So we leave for Sorrento! I’m so excited!” Fabiana shifted down into third gear. She eased off the gas pressing the clutch to take the upcoming curve.
“Apparently he thinks we can get to know each other better there.”
Fabiana shifted up to fourth, accelerating again as she looked over at Mira, “Well it sounds like fun.”
They swerved up into the drive. Mira counted six cars parked to the front. “Looks like the men are back.”
“I’m ready.”
“I guess we are.”
When they exited the cars, men walked out of the front doors with luggage. A few pieces looked like hers.
“C’mon.” Fabiana sashayed in front of her.
Inside the place was abuzz with activity. “I’m going to take these upstairs and make sure whoever packed my bags didn’t forget anything.” Fabiana tossed over her shoulder, running up the stairs. Mira stopped a man who walked in a hurried fashion to the door.
“Where’s Giovanni?”
“The parlor, signora.” The man answered and kept on his course. None of these men offered her much conversation, and many didn’t speak English. She thanked his retreating back and tried to figure her way from one hall to the next to find one of the three parlors in the villa on this floor. Eventually, she found him with a room full of men. He was seated, most were standing. He listened to the man before him who talked with his hands swiftly moving. For a brief moment, no one noticed her. Then her eyes met with Lorenzo’s. He smirked, and it drew Giovanni’s attention. A small welcoming smile spread over his lips. He said something in Italian that silenced the room. All attention switched to her.
It felt awkward. No one spoke as he crossed the room and approached her. He leaned in to kiss her lips but she turned her face giving him her cheek instead. He looked at her confused and some of the men lowered their eyes. “Have I upset you?” he whispered in her ear.
“Can we speak? Alone?”
Lorenzo appeared. “Where’s Fabiana?”
“She’s upstairs packing the things she bought.” Mira replied, continuing to hold Giovanni’s stare. He slipped his hand in hers and squeezed it. With a small tug, he pulled her from the room and led her out. She knew he wasn’t pleased with the way she refused his kiss in front of his men. She didn’t care. She hoped it hurt his feelings like her feelings were hurt when he left her bed without saying a word. Taking her in a billiard room, he closed the door. “What has you displeased today?”
Mira stepped away from him. She placed her purse in a chair and removed her sunglasses from her hair. “Had a good time last night?”
“Did you?”
“Oh, it was a blast until I woke up feeling like some cheap tramp.”
“Now why would you feel that way?” he frowned.
“Let’s see, maybe it’s the Houdini act you keep pulling after you have an orgasm between my thighs.”
“You were sleeping, I had an early meeting, so I could get you out of here to Sorrento I might add.”
“Interesting.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “You had no problem waking me when you wanted to make love, but you can’t wake me to say goodbye?”
Giovanni rubbed his jaw. She knew he struggled with her reasoning. It was unfortunate that something so casual and addictive could be a source of frustration for them both. Mira sighed and turned away. She didn’t want to make the mistakes she’d made with Kei, over analyzing emotion, labeling his actions, pre-judging the man based on her fears of abandonment.
“I’m a bit different than most men, American men, Bella.”
She stared down at the pool table. “How’s that?”
“My mother was Irish, my father Sicilian. She was his mistress just after she reached puberty. Not a story you share with a woman you want to know. I’m the product of that affair.”
“Affair?”
Giovanni chuckled. “Yes, my father was married to another woman until his dying breath. And every man out there wishes to remind me of that fact. I see you struggle to find your way, to be your own person. I know that struggle.”
Mira faced him. His words weighed heavily on her heart. When she opened her mouth to say so, nothing escaped her. She preferred he do the talking.
“It’s okay to question my motives, Bella, everyone does.” He took a step toward her, “I’m used to it. Inside we have some of the same fears.”
“Maybe we do. Still, the more I know you, the more questions I have.”
“Come closer, and I’ll answer them,” he said, reaching behind him to engage the lock on the door.
“Smooth,” she smiled. She loved the way his dark tailored suit crisply outlined his large frame. His deeply tanned skin and the way his hair darkly framed his face was a huge turn on. She wasn’t really upset anymore. She enjoyed having his attention solely focused on her. Selfish as it sounded, she would prefer he didn’t speak or touch another woman after her. Mira went to him. “You liked what happened between us last night, not just the sex. After?”
He nodded that he did enjoy the intimacy. He dropped his hands on her hips and pulled her directly into him.
“You know I did,” he answered.
Mira moved her face to avoid the kiss pending between them. Her breasts rose sharply as she drew in a breath. And the burn for him intensified “If you ever make me feel lonely for you again Giovanni, it’ll be the end of us.” He heaved her up and half-spun her to the door. Fire spread between her thighs as his pelvis pressed into hers.
“Are you threatening me, Bella?”
“Yes,” she panted softly.
He nipped her bottom lip. “That’s my girl.”
At last her lips parted and he tasted her sweet mouth. Infuriating woman. A sexy, almost apologetic little murmur of surrender escaped her. Mira wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his passionate kiss. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth with quick little butterfly flicks that drove him wild. Giovanni parted her soft thighs with his to press in against her warm center. He seized upon her vulnerability with kisses to her neck while both of his hands cupped her ass and lifted her off the ground, pushing her higher up the door. His face went in between the separation of her wrap dress, he moved the crossed over fabric and exposed her left breast effortlessly as his lips brushed across her nipple still covered by the cup of her bra. He drew it down with his teeth. Mira grabbed his hair, wrapping her leg high around his hip to keep him close. She moaned once his tongue circled her nipple while in his mouth.
“Slow down, we can’t, people are waiting on us,” she panted weakly, which he ignored. Reaching for the tie of her dress he pulled on the long belt loosening it.
Nico’s voice sounded on the other side of the door. He knocked hard and fast.
Giovanni let her breast go. “What is it?” he shouted. Mira pushed her breast back down inside the cup of her bra, and lowered her leg so she could fix her dress, although he refused to lift up and release her.
“Don Calderone and his nephew Angelo are here to see you. They say it’s important.”
“I’ll be right there,” he grunted finally releasing her.
Mira tied her dress and looked up at him concerned. “Let me guess, you have to go again?”
He cupped her face and kissed her. Then he turned away, adjusting his erection in the front of his pants, trying to shake off his arousal. Mira watched him pace to collect himself and walked over to him, touching his arm. “What’s wrong? Who are these men?”
“No one. Visitors. Go upstairs and make sure the boys have your things. We’ll leave soon.” He kissed her jaw. Before she could say more he walked out, leaving her to wonder again what just happened.
Giovanni stormed down the hall. “Find Lorenzo and tell him to join us. The girls leave now. We’ll meet them at the airstrip.”
The men nodded and marched away.
He rounded the corner and entered the open parlor on the lower level. “Come va?” Giovanni asked. Don Calderone turned with his cigar in his hand. He had three of his thugs including his nephew at his side. Giovanni gave him a proper greeting by kissing both of his cheeks.
“Forgive the intrusion. We have a problem.” The Don said with concern in his voice.
Lorenzo appeared at his side. Angelo seemed to tense and focus his hostility again at his cousin. Giovanni frowned at the exchange. “I’m listening. What can I do for you?”
“It’s Giuseppe. He hasn’t been seen since yesterday evening. We can’t locate him, and it’s not like him not to check in.” The Don shook his head in disgust. He glanced over at Lorenzo. “Earlier you said he was to meet with you yesterday?”
“No. I said he was to call to set up a meeting. I never heard from him.”
“Where were you to meet?” Angelo asked.
“Are you deaf? I said he was to call, nothing more.” Lorenzo shot back. From the rigid tension in his cousin’s jaw and neck, Giovanni felt odd about the entire matter.
Angelo addressed his uncle. “How could he have a meeting with Lorenzo and be expected in Genoa the same day?” he said.
“Are you calling me a liar?” Lorenzo demanded.
Angelo’s brow arched, and his mouth took on a similar mean twist. “Are you a liar?”
Giovanni threw up his hand and silenced the men. “If Lorenzo says that Giuseppe didn’t call, the matter is closed. I am sure he is probably caught up handling family business, Calderone.”
The Don put a hand to his brow. “It’s not uncommon for him to pull these stunts. I keep telling Angelo he’s worried over nothing.”
“Patri! Lorenzo knows something. I’m sure of it!”
“SILENZIO!” Don Calderone commanded. “Apologize.” He grabbed his nephew’s arm. The move was humiliating for Angelo and his face turned a deep shade of red. Angelo looked up at Lorenzo with searing hate. “My apologies.”
“No need. I understand Angelo’s concern, Don Calderone. If you need anything from me of the family let me know.”
The Don nodded “Diotiguardi,” he said, kissing both sides of Giovanni’s cheek. He gave the same parting to Lorenzo and summoned Angelo to follow. Alone Giovanni returned his focus to his cousin. “Is there something I should know?”
“Absolutely not!” Lorenzo walked out.