by Sienna Mynx
“How long for what? I can fix you something quick. Or I can cook something you like. Boys, ah, men come here almost daily. At first I wouldn't answer the door. But they started sleeping in the yard. I finally spoke to a few of them and they went and got groceries and your medicine. Anything you need. Carlo, it's like twenty of them... and they keep coming...staying.”
“How long have I been out?” he raised his voice.
“It’s off and on. You wake, but then you go right back out. It's noon, or a little bit after,” she said. “Not sure.”
Carlo grunted.
The last time he was up and coherent it was two in the afternoon. Was that yesterday or the day before? And why was it hard to remember her? He reached for the pill bottle.
“No, Carlo, please don’t. I brought you the right dosage... see?”
He took four pills from the bottle and tossed them back before she could stop him. “Shower. I need a shower. Have to shower... and go.”
Adara didn’t answer. She looked alarmed and fearful. How far out of his mind was he the past few days? Had Dominic tried to reach him? He snatched up his pager. It was turned off. “Did you do this?”
“You needed to sleep. You tried to leave two days ago and nearly ran into the tree outside. You opened a few stitches. I fixed you up the best I could, but I’m no doctor. Your head is bleeding. So yes! I turned it off so you could rest.”
“I tried to leave?” He had no memory of it. “Don’t touch anything of mine!”
She glared at him.
He glared at her.
“I’m helping you!”
“I don’t need any help! I’m not an invalid. Enough rest. Enough of you. Go. Leave. I have to... I have to... handle... it.”
When he stood he felt another bought of dizziness take over him. He stretched his eyes wider to fight against the strong pull to close them, and was forced to sit back down on the bed. Adara again came in close. He pushed her back and lifted his head. He could get a good look at her when she wasn’t smothering the life out of him.
She wore a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt of his. It was tied into a knot at the front under her breasts. The beauty had one helluva body on her. And that upset him. She was a distraction. He should have never bought her home with him. The last thing he needed was another woman pretending to care. But for all his resistance, he was still week. He was a fucking man. How could he not be weak for nurturing? His head hurt. His heart hurt. And deep down he was scared and sad. If Giovanni died, he'd never forgive himself. If he lost another brother he'd die. He couldn't stand it.
“Let me help you, please?” she pleaded.
Maybe he should. She was good at it. Especially when he lay with those curves pressed up against him. Her beauty had tempted him several times before. But he still hadn’t crossed the line. And he wouldn’t. Pussy had been one of his biggest downfalls, next to booze.
“Here, drink this,” she said and reached for the cup on the nightstand. Her breast brushed his arm. He shook his head to the offer. He wished she would go away.
“Hydrate. Drink!” she ordered him. With great reluctance he complied. She put the glass of water in his hands. He drank. It was cool and soothing as he swallowed. The doctors ordered him to rest. He had a concussion and the son-of-a-bitch hurt like hell. He suffered debilitating migraines. If it weren’t for her caring for him the past few days, he wasn’t sure where he would be. And she was right. He did crash his car and hit a tree. He had black spots in his memory, but fresh bruises that made her story believable.
“Good, caro,” she said and kissed his brow. She took the glass from him.
“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbled.
She glanced back over her shoulder. “Do what? Be a decent person and take care of you?”
“Pretend like you give a shit about me when you don’t.”
“I do, Carlo. I swear I do. I give a shit.”
One thing he hated was a woman toying with him. He’d suffered enough of that in his lifetime. First Marietta with her games, and then Shae. “I brought you here against your will.”
“And I stayed because I wanted to.”
“Doesn’t matter, I’m too fucking weak for this game.”
“What game? Who’s playing games?”
“Adara, go home. Wherever the fuck that is. I’ll call one of my men to come take you.” He laid back on the bed. “Bring me the phone.”
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?”
“I’m not being...”
“What’s wrong with me caring for you? Why does that bother you so much?”
He reached over to his left and picked up his pager. He turned it back on. He tossed it to the bed and dropped his arm over his eyes. He would rest a bit longer, then ring Dominic to check in. He just needed silence.
“What’s wrong with me being here, Carlo?”
That question drew out his curiosity. He lowered his arm and looked at her. She stood there with her hands to her curvy hips. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her. And that was the problem. The last thing he wanted now was a woman that reminded him of what he could never have with Shae.
“Who is she?”
“Who is who?” he asked.
“The woman with the pink hair, the one who wears Shalimar? Who is she to you?” Adara asked. “Her name is Shae. Isn't it? Do you want her here taking care of you instead? Is that it? I’m not doing enough, being enough?”
“There is no Shae.”
“Sei una bugiardo! You say her name every time you're in pain. I see the way you look at me. Especially when you think I’m sleeping or looking away. The way you touched the pink in my hair. You don’t see me. You see her. And that was fine for a while. Now it’s different. Now you’re pushing me away...”
“Pushing you? I don’t know you,” he said.
She dismissed the comment and kept speaking as if he didn’t. “Is she the reason someone tried to split open your skull?”
“She was the closest I ever came to a wife, to a woman of my own. And she’s gone.”
“Is she dead?”
Carlo sighed. He pushed up from the bed and staggered to his feet. He’d shower and leave. If he wasn't going to get any sleep he might as well join the hunt for Lorenzo. He sure as hell wasn’t going to sit there and be nagged into another splitting headache.
“Wait. Wait. Okay? I’m sorry. I’m going too far with the questions. I’m sorry.” She put both her hands to his chest and attempted to push him back to the bed. This time he stared down at her unmoved. She pushed harder and he couldn’t help but smile at her attempts. When she gave up against pushing him, she stood there panting. “Can’t you talk to me? About anything? I want to help you. I... I like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yea,” she blinked her eyes up at him. “I like you.”
“You don’t know me. What I am. What I do. You don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t like me very much,” he assured her.
“I’ve known men like you all my life,” she said and her voice broke with emotion. “I’ve lost them all, brothers, uncles, father and my grandfather. All of them taken from me.” Something in her eyes compelled him to believe her. “I know enough about you to want to be here.” She ran her hand down his chest. Not as a sexual gesture. It was done to soothe the beast in him raging to return to his life of blood and bullets. “Stop pushing me away, please.” She stepped closer and her hands slid around his sides to his back. She pressed her cheek and soft curves against his chest. He looked down at the top of her curly head. The final words she spoke were so soft and gentle but, he barely heard her. “Let me take care of you. I’m good at this. Plus, I have nowhere else to go.”
Carlo stood there for a long pause. What was he to do? Turn away a young girl he trapped in his bullshit? Spend the rest of his life turning away women because the one he wanted ran from him?
“If you are going to stay here, you can’t question me,” he said.
“Mmhm.” She kissed
his chest. Her lashes lifted and her eyes locked on his. Beautiful round brown eyes that calmed him.
“Va bene, I won’t question you anymore if you kiss me.”
Carlo smiled.
“You like teasing me?”
She nodded.
He ran his hand down her spine and squeezed her backside. He could tell by the way her body pressed harder against his that she enjoyed his touch. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips for a kiss. He found himself chuckling. Carlo’s will broke. He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. And of course, he found them to be petal soft. He would have swooped in for a better taste, but she stopped him with her hand to the side of his face.
“You need to shower. I can wash your back,” she said.
A shower with her was a bad idea. If he weren’t so physically wrecked, he would have replenished his energy by taking her to the shower and fucking her against the wall. He was glad he hadn’t crossed the line with her. There was something uncomplicated about them without sex.
“No.” Carlo moved her aside by holding her at arms length. “We’re not going to do this.”
“Va bene,” she said again. “No hurry. Why don’t you rest again, and let’s see if you can hold down lunch? I will cook you something.”
She slipped her arm around his waist. He leaned against her for balance. She walked him back over to the bed. And he sat. She was careful to make sure he did so gently. He appreciated her care. When he stretched out again, she turned off the lamp near the bed. The curtains were drawn shut in the room and the shutters closed. There was not much light.
“Carlo?”
“Mmm?” he answered.
He opened his eyes and found her close again. Before he could speak she brushed her lips over his. It was a soft sweet kiss that ended far too soon. Like a school girl after her first taste, her mouth gaped for more.
“I like you,” she blushed in a hurried explanation. “I’ve wanted to kiss you from the very start.”
“Then why didn’t you?” he asked.
“You weren’t ready.”
His left brow winged up. “Is that so?”
“I know men, remember? It’s my profession.”
He lifted her chin and stared into her eyes. “I’m still not convinced it’s your profession.”
She smiled graciously for him. There was a freshness about her that didn’t come with whores. Whores were broken, guarded, deceptive to ensure their survival, but lost in the dark tide that dragged them away from self-awareness and hope. He knew whores. That’s why he knew Shae wasn’t one. No matter what she’d done in her past, Shae was simply a survivor. And Adara, was one, too. From what, he wasn’t sure.
“It’s a messed-up world out there, Carlo. Not so much when I'm here with you.”
“I agree.”
She removed the band around her wrist. She twisted her long curly hair and then used the band to capture her locks to pin them up. “I’m going to take good care of you. I promise.”
The only time Melanzana was quiet was in the wee hours in the morning. Dominic left Giovanni’s side to return home to shower at just around three in the morning. But instead of continuing his mission, Dominic had retreated to the unfurnished rooms on the wine cellar floor. He found a windowless, empty one next to the wine closets and Giovanni’s boxing gym. What Catalina often called ‘the boys’ room’.
He’d thrown a mat on the floor and brought in two bottles of aged scotch. The plan was to wait out the rise of the sun for the next three hours, and then go upstairs and face the day. He passed out early from his drinking and was only able to survive his hung-over state by more drinking. Now he climbed the stairs to get to the shower. He’d have to meet with Mirabella, and he didn’t want to look like a complete jackass when he did.
The same old pain surfaced when he entered the empty bedroom he shared with Catalina. Even after changing the sheets, he could smell her scent engrained in the wood of the bedpost and headboard. Her things and jewelry were every where. Clothes hung in the closets. Sleeping in the cellar was his only option. But the escape was temporary.
To his relief she wasn’t there when he showered and dressed. Though he was surprised. The men told him she showed up at the hospital, but left in a cab. He assumed she’d come home, or at least checked in with Mirabella. Dominic sat on the bed and stared at the floor. All he had to do was put on shoes. But the lack of real sleep, and all the alcohol he’d consumed, left him in an immovable stupor.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” he mumbled.
The door opened. He didn’t bother to look up. However, the soft shuffle of feet and tap of a cane clued him in to who his visitor was.
“Have you heard from Catalina?”
“No. She... well, ah, came to the hospital but I wasn’t there.”
“Where were you?” Rocco asked.
“The Carabinieri requested my presence. I returned and she had already left. I stayed with Giovanni to make sure he was okay. I only came back because... we have to talk to Mirabella. Prepare her.”
Rocco walked around the bed and stopped in front of him. “Have you explained to her what is necessary?”
Dominic nodded. “I tried. She didn’t want to listen. We will have to talk to her again. La Carabinieri wants to meet with her. And the clan bosses are antsy. Tacchini isn’t able to hold the fort alone much longer. We have to make a move, but carefully.”
“Why don’t you look me in the eye when you speak?” Rocco asked.
Dominic sighed. Slowly he lifted his head and his red rimmed eyes locked on Rocco’s.
“Are you drinking?” Rocco asked.
“I’m surviving. Haven’t had a chance to sleep. It’s been go and go and go...” He tried to rise, but Rocco pinned him down with his cane. Dominic sat back down. The old man glared at him.
“You are all we have right now. To understand Giovanni’s plans before the shooting. To help Mirabella deal with what’s coming. Make this your last drink.”
Dominic nodded his obedience.
“I have better news.” Rocco said. “I’ve called Sicily, spoke to our allies in La Cosa Nostra.”
“We are at war. We have no allies.”
“No. Giovanni isn’t that stupid. We are at war with Mancini. And many of them don’t appreciate Armando’s greed, or his lack of respect since his father’s death. Especially Gambetta, which means they want to offer support.” Rocco leaned on his cane. “We need to send the family home. They will have protection, and we will be able to show our strength. Regardless of what Catalina has done, we need to find her and bring her home. She stays away because she fears our disappointment in her.”
"Disappointment?" Dominic wiped his hand down his face. “She killed her cousin, Rocco.”
“And she will be punished. But you find her! You bring my piccoletta home to me! She is our bambina, and she is out there! Unprotected. Alone!”
Dominic nodded.
“Good. Josefina left this morning with several others to visit Vito in Roma. They will tell him the news. Get showered and cleaned up. I will meet with you and Mirabella in villa Rosso. I know she is planning to head to the hospital so let’s do this fast.”
Dominic watched Rocco leave. He shook his head and let go of his despair. When he finally stood, the few hours of sleep on the cellar floor came down on him with striking pangs and cramps to his neck and back. He glanced to the window. Not sure why. His vision naturally went there. He thought he saw a shadow for a second. A man's shadow. But as soon as he looked in the direction, the feeling of being watched was gone. He rejected his anxiety and went into the bathroom. It would be a long day.
Chapter Eight
A Time of War
Sorrento, Italy
Mirabella picked up the makeup brush, but her fingers trembled and it slipped from her hand to drop into the sink. She wished her body would maintain control. The pain in her heart seemed to make the simplest of tasks impossible. She lifted
her gaze to the woman in the mirror. Makeup did wonders for her fatigued eyes and dull skin. If she were to project strength, then she had to look the part. No matter how awful she felt inside. It took her a moment, but she managed to give herself a descent hairstyle. The bangs helped. Today would be a better day. Dominic called before he left the hospital at three in the morning and woke her. Giovanni had stabilized. They would remove the breathing tube today.
Her husband had turned a corner and she wasn’t there. She needed to hurry. If he woke and was alone it would kill her. If the doctors needed to make a quick medical decision and she wasn’t there, it could be a matter of life and death. However, grooming herself was necessary. When Giovanni saw her, he needed to see her strong, and capable of enduring all they would face in his recovery. And if the family saw her they needed to see the same.
“Mirabella?” Zia’s voice echoed to her from the bedroom.
“In here.” Mirabella grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. She then used her puff to even out her foundation. Zia appeared. The old matriarch wore all black. It was something the women would do until Rosetta was laid to rest. Zia would wear black until Giovanni was out of bed and Catalina returned home. She made that clear.
“Dominic is here.”
“Is he?”
“Yes. He and Rocco are waiting for you in villa Rosso,” Zia said. She had Gianni on her hip. Mirabella smiled at her and then winked at her son. He blinked his round blue eyes up at her curiously. He seemed quite fascinated by her appearance. Mirabella had been at her worst for the family and children over the past few days, especially last night.
“Are you okay? Leo told me you had another nightmare? Like before?” Zia asked.
“No. Not like before. It was different. And I think this one helped me.”
“How?”
“It’s hard to explain. The good news is I’m done crying or hiding behind grief and fear. I’m fine. Any news on Catalina?”
“No,” Zia said softly. “I’m really worried.”
“Me too.” Mirabella opened her mouth to ask about Rosetta, but her own personal guilt wedged the words in her throat.
