Chapter 4

 

Michael

 

“We got ’em, Pop. I just got confirmation that Alberto and Victor are dead,” I say, reporting to my father.

“Good, and his children?” he asks.

“I think Vince and Mia got out, but Zaira…” I trail off.

“Was she shot?” my father asks. I can tell he is worried for her.

“No, I think she might have fallen and hit her head in the chaos. I found her unconscious just outside the solarium. I checked, no gunshot wounds but a nasty gash to her head.”

“And?” he asks. He knows, but he wants me to tell him. I love my father. I respect him, and I would never lie to him. And he knows it. That’s why he so graciously allows me to run things before it’s official. I’m definitely ready. I’ve been groomed for this position all my life.

“She’s in the west wing,” I reply. He looks at me quizzically, encouraging me to go on. “I wasn’t gonna leave her there. I didn’t know where Vince was, and well, Pop… She was hurt and unconscious. There was total chaos, and I knew she would be safer with me.” Because he knows of my feelings for Zaira, I feel the need to justify my actions to him more so than normal. “So I brought her here. Once she gets the care she needs, then I will call Vince, and he can come and get her”

My father nods but doesn’t say anything. Is he angry with me? It’s hard to tell. I watch him intently as he comes around from the back side of his desk and walks toward me. Pulling me into a hug, he says, “You’re a good man, Mikey. Compassionate, caring, and always putting others before yourself. I’m proud of you, son. You did well.”

“Thanks, Pop.”

“So how is she?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked on her since I had her brought in. I wanted to come touch base with you first. I called Dr. Siegel as soon as we got back, and he has been with her though,” I reply.

“Before you go and check on her, I want a minute.”

“Sure, Pop,” I reply. He gestures for me to sit. I take the seat across from his desk.

“Michael, I may be an old man, but I know what you’re thinking.”

“What do you mean?” I reply. I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I have a sinking feeling it has something to do with Zaira, again.

He sits in the chair next to me. “We need to talk about what you are hoping to achieve with Zaira. I know you, son, and I think you are hoping that by nursing Zaira back to health, you will win her love.”

“I’m not trying to achieve anything, Pop,” I say defensively. “She was hurt and needed help. That’s all it is.”

“Michael, don’t play that game with me. I can see right through you.”

He’s fucking right, and I hate it. “But—”

“I understand. I really do,” he says, not giving me the chance to finish. “But I need you to acknowledge that you can’t force her to love you. She will not fall in love with you because you saved her. It may happen in the movies, but it won’t happen in this situation. You killed her father and her fiancé.”

“Two men whom I doubt she will mourn,” I snap.

“That doesn’t matter. Whether she loved them or not, she will be angry and forever look at you as a killer. She will hate you. Maybe one day she might forgive you, and I hope she does, but you will always have their blood on your hands. You can never take that back.”

Again, my father is right, and I have no argument to retaliate with. When she is told what I’ve done, not to mention the fact that I was the one who actually pulled the trigger to kill them both, she will hate me. I never thought about the ramifications of my actions until this moment. Well, I’m fucked.

You can never take that back. My father’s words echo in my head.

“Pop, she does love me,” I say quietly.

“I know,” he replies. “But that was before she believed you were a murderer.”

He gets up from his chair, walks back to his desk, and picks up the receiver of the phone. Yes, my father is old school. He refuses to use a cell phone, so the house still has a landline. After pushing a button on the dial pad, he says, “Annie, please ask Salvatore to come in.” Salvatore Roman is my father’s consigliere and his closest friend. He’s been like an uncle to me all my life, and I love and respect him as much as I do my father. I already know he will remain consigliere when I’m Don. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

A minute later, Sal walks in. “Domenic, I heard all went well with the Bonitas.” He looks at me and says, “Well done, Mikey. You’ve done your father proud.”

“Thanks, Sal. We all knew our purpose. The boys covered while I took care of Alberto and Victor. We’ve got good men who work for us, men we can count on,” I reply.

“Yes, we do.” He turns toward my father. “Dom, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Tell Francesca we are on a high-security alert until further notice. Nobody leaves without permission from you or Michael. Talk to Alex and Gina too.”

“Yes, sir,” Sal replies. “Is that all?”

“No,” my father says. “I want you to put together a meet between all the capos—today. I’m making a change.”

“A change?” I ask.

Sal looks at him curiously, but I think he knows what my father is up to. There isn’t much my father does that Sal isn’t privy to. “You sure you’re ready to do that tonight?” Sal asks.

“Yes, make it right before dinner. That way, we can finish the meeting and they can go home and have dinner with their families.” He pauses and then asks, “You having dinner with us tonight?”

“Sure. Teresa is still at her mom’s with the kids. I’d love some of Di’s cooking.”

My father nods.

“Is that all?” Sal asks.

“For now. But stay close,” Pop says, and Sal turns toward the door. “When does Teresa return?”

Turning back, he replies, “Day after tomorrow.”

“You might want to move Teresa and the girls into the big house until this blows over. I don’t expect any retaliation, but I don’t want to be careless either. Make sure all the capos and soldiers are on alert.”

“Will do.”

Sal and his family live on our property but have their own separate residence. Our Proprietá Terriera de Vitali—also known as the compound, as we usually refer to it—encompasses roughly eighty-nine acres of land off the North Shore of Long Island. The big house is where I live with my younger siblings, Alex and Gina, and our parents. Gina is your typical sixteen-year-old. She’s caught between wanting to be a grown-up and holding on to her childhood. Sometimes it’s difficult to deal with her teenage antics, but I am confident this is just an adolescence issue and she will mature into a mature young lady. Well, one can only hope.

Alex is twenty-five, four years my junior. He is third in command of the family, directly under me. Alex is a good man, and I’ll take him as my wingman any day. He’s a bit more reactive than I am, but between the two of us, we make a good mix.

“Go check on Zaira,” my father says. “Call Vince and let him know she is here and that she is safe. Whatever care she requires, son, you make sure she gets it.” He pauses briefly. “Make sure you are at the meeting this afternoon.”

“Okay, Pop. I’ll report back shortly,” I reply and turn to leave.

Just as I am about to walk out the door, my father calls back to me, “Mikey, remember what I said. And don’t forget, no matter how this plays out, sono veramente orgoglioso di te.” Nothing means more to me than to hear him say he’s proud of me, no matter what.

“I know, Pop. I know.” I turn back toward the door. After walking through, I close the door behind me.

 

***

 

Zaira Bonita is beyond beautiful. She is the crowning jewel of the Bonita family. It has always pissed me off that her father never treated her like she deserves. She was used and abused by him. He took and took from her until there was nothing left but the shell of a woman going through the motions like he expected of her. He never took her seriously, despite the fact that she is a very smart, strong, and brave woman.

As my father stated, Zaira and I grew up together. Our families used to be close, and Vince, Zaira, Alex, and I were inseparable for a long time—well, up until five years ago. That’s when everything changed. I’d like to think those accusations wouldn’t have been believed by our closest friends and it wouldn’t change things between us all, but we’ve been so far out of touch for so long now, I really don’t know. When Vince and I talked a couple weeks ago, it wasn’t like old times and more like we were nothing but associates.

Everything fell apart when Zaira’s mother was murdered five years ago. Zaira was nineteen, and I was twenty-five. The last time my family was ever invited into the Bonita home was the day of Maria Bonita’s funeral. It started out like any other normal day in which you would attend a funeral. After the service, everyone was invited over to the Bonita home. Every member of the five families was there to pay their respects. It was a sad day in our world. Yes, murder and mayhem happened all the time, but when a woman was involved, especially the wife of a Don, it was crippling and devastating.

 

***

 

Five years ago…

 

Zaira Bonita is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, even at nineteen. She has reddish-auburn hair that rests on her shoulders in soft silky curls and brown eyes with sparkling flecks of amber that I swear can literally see directly into my soul. Every time she looks at me, I feel undone and vulnerable yet at the same time complete and whole. I know that doesn’t make any fucking sense, but it’s how this woman makes me feel. I’m falling in love with her and falling hard.

And then there are her curves; holy fuck, they’re fucking perfect. Many times I think about having her moan beneath me as I claim her body, her calling out my name, begging for more. There has always been a general understanding between our families with their hopes for a marriage between the two of us. For now, we’re just friends, but it doesn’t mean I don’t think about her being my wife someday.

Her smile is infectious and brightens any room, but that isn’t the case that today.

She’s sitting under the willow tree off the veranda of the back patio of her family home. Everyone, her family and guests, are all in the house acting as if they didn’t just bury her mother. For the first time since I have known Zaira, she can’t put on the brave face like she has been trained to do. No, today she is sad and missing her mom.

Zaira has always been one who would wander off when she is sad about something, using the solitude to work it out. My heart is breaking for her though, and something compels me to walk toward the willow tree to be with her.

When I approach, I say, “I’m sorry about your mom, Zaira.”

“Thank you, Michael,” she replies solemnly.

“How come you are over here all by yourself?” I ask as I sit next to her. “I hope you don’t mind the company.”

She nods and slides closer on the swing. “All those people, telling me they know how I feel, telling me they are sorry… I just couldn’t take any more.”

“But maybe they really are sorry. Did you ever think about that?” I ask. I nudge her shoulder. “I’m really sorry. You know I always liked your mom, and the last thing I would wish upon you is to be without her. I know how much she meant to you.”

She looks at me and smiles. “You’re not like them, are you? You’ve never been like them.”

“Like whom?” I ask. I have an idea where she is going with this, but I think it best to allow her to explain further. My father taught me to be cautious.

“You’re not like my father or Victor,” she says. “Your father and you, you’re respectful and caring. My father is cold and unfeeling. Personally, Michael, I think he is rejoicing that Mama is gone, and it breaks my heart.” She begins to cry, and I don’t hesitate and pull her into my arms. “I miss her so much, Michael.” She chokes out her words between sobs.

“I know, sweetheart. I know. You just cry. Go ahead and let it out.” I hold her and stroke her hair. “You know you don’t have to be brave for me.”

“I’m getting your shirt all snotty.”

“Now don’t go worrying your pretty little head about my shirt. It can always get cleaned.”

“Hold me, Michael,” she begs.

“I am, love. I am.”

“Forever, will you hold me forever?”

I look down at her, and she looks up at me. Her eyes shine with wet tears, but for the first time, I can see her feelings. She loves me. She loves me as I love her. “Darling, I’ll hold you for forever and a day, but that will still never be enough.”

“Let’s get married, Michael. We can run away and get married, and you can take me away from here. I don’t want to live here without my mother. I can’t!”

“Zaira, we can’t just run away. We can’t be disrespectful to our families. It’s not how we should do things,” I reply.

“I can’t stay here another minute. Michael, you don’t know what they’ll do to me. I’ll lose you!”

“You are not going to lose me. I promise you, love, we’ll get married, but we’ll do it the right way, with a big goombah wedding and all the bells and whistles.”

Defeated, she puts her head down and says, “You’ll see. It will all be over soon.” She is silent for a moment and then says, “Michael, no matter what happens, remember that I love you. You are the best of men, and no matter what happens, know I’ll always see the truth in your eyes. You have the kindest eyes, Michael.”

“Stop worrying. Nothing is going to happen. I love you too, and everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

Just then, we hear a gunshot, and pandemonium erupts from inside the house. “Zaira, run. Run to the clubhouse—you know, the one we used to play in—and stay there. Do not come out until I come and get you, understand?”

She nods, and I take off toward the house, pulling out my gun.

Approaching the veranda, I hear Alberto yelling. He’s yelling at my father? “Domenic Vitali, you killed my wife. I want you and your filthy family out of my house, now!” He fires a shot into the air. Well, that explains the gunshot we heard.

“Alberto, you’re wrong. I would never put a hit on a woman, let alone the wife of a friend.”

“Fuck you, Domenic. You wanted all the power. You always wanted the power. Well, now you’ve crippled me. Get the fuck out of my house, before I shoot you now in front of your wife and children! Better yet, why don’t I just shoot your fucking wife?” He aims his gun at my mother.

Ricco, Jude, Marco, Augie, Benny, and Sainte immediately surround my parents, guns raised, all aimed at Alberto. They will fight to the death for my family. Not one of Alberto’s men shows any type of defense to protect their Don.

“I feel sorry for you, Alberto. You’re accusing an innocent man. Look inside your organization, for there you will find your rat.” My father turns toward me. “Michael, get your brother and sister.” He grabs my mother’s hand and says, “We’re leaving,” and proceeds to the door.

I look back toward the willow tree, but Zaira is not there. When I scan around the veranda, I see her standing off to the side, alone. The look on her face says all I need to see: I told you so. Alex, Gina, and I then leave, followed by our bodyguards, guns still ready in case some crazy asshole decides to shoot us in the back.