by Sienna Mynx
“You look beautiful,” Zia said.
Mirabella glanced at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She wore a midnight blue silk blouse that crossed over at the breasts and tied at the waist. She’d chosen black pants. Diamonds were in her ears, and a single strand diamond choker around her neck. She made every effort to look the part.
“I’m ready,” she announced.
“Mi-Ma!” Gianni reached for her. To hear him say the word shocked her to her core. “Mi-Ma!” her boy repeated. Stunned with emotion, and softened by the love of her little one’s voice, she took him into her arms. He rested his head on her shoulder and hugged her neck. “Mi-Ma,” he cooed.
“Oh baby, my sweet boy. Mi-Ma loves you.”
She noticed the way Zia observed them with tears in her eyes. If the old woman let one of them fall, then she too would start crying.
“Where are the other kids?”
“Breakfast with Nico. You know Eve loves to have breakfast with him when Giovanni is away. Cecilia says she's been quite a handful lately. Nico calms her.”
Mirabella smiled. “She's seen too much for a little girl. She has always seen too much. I will talk to her.” Mirabella lifted Gianni and held him up. Despite his chubby weight, she could do so easily. “And you are still Mama’s sweet baby boy, aren’t you? All mine. So yummy! Mommy loves you so much.”
Gianni gave her a broad grin. She hated to hand him over to Zia. Typically, in the mornings she’d give each child their individual nurturing time. It had been days since she was able to do so. She had no choice. He whimpered, but didn’t put up much of a fuss. Her son was growing used to her pushing him away. Mirabella returned to her room. She gathered her purse and a few tubes of makeup.
“Keep the kids on the terrace for me, Zia. When I’m done I will come say goodbye.”
“For how long will you be gone?”
“I will be staying at the hospital with Giovanni for the next couple of days, or however long it takes.”
“But the children need you here,” Zia insisted.
“Maybe when Giovanni is a bit stronger they can come to the hospital. I’ll try to get back here when I can to see them.”
“Mira? They are wee ones. They aren’t used to not having you or Giovanni here for long periods of time. Why not spend the day at the hospital and come home to them at night as you did last night?”
“Zia! Please, t
his is hard enough. I can’t leave Gio alone. That is not an option. Last night was a mistake. I’m told he stabilized last night, he could have wakened. Then what?”
“You have to figure out how to take care of them all,” Zia said.
Mirabella paused. She only remembered flashes of the dream. Enough to make her grateful that it was only in her diseased mind. The one thing she did remember clearly was her vow to Giovanni to protect their children.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. You're right. I'm a wife, and a mother, in that order. Give me today to come up with a plan. Make sure Eve has her ballet lessons. And the boys can take more swim lessons. Keep them busy. I'll be in touch this afternoon.”
“I’m glad you got some rest. You seem, different, stronger,” said Zia.
Mirabella looked over at her son and wondered if he saw the same. She kissed the top of his curly head.
“Rosetta’s death is my fault,” Mirabella said.
“No. That’s not true.”
“If Catalina killed her. If she...”
“She did not. We are at war. Someone shot Giovanni. None of us are safe. I don’t know what game the girls played with each other, but my Catalina would not kill her flesh and blood. Neither would Lorenzo. They would not do it.”
Mirabella nodded. “Va bene. Gianni, Mi-Ma has to go. To see to Papa.” In that moment Mirabella knew exactly what she needed to do. “Mama and Papa will be coming home together. I promise this, bambino. I promise.”
To her relief her little boy smiled. Her son appeared to have more faith than any of them. She kissed his brow and handed him over to Zia. She grabbed her purse and the three of them left her room. Rocco said they should meet him in villa Rosso. She hadn’t been there since Giovanni lost control. The shock and disappointment after their fight remained with her. But she ventured out of the house and walked the short path to his home away from home.
There were so many men gathered outside of villa Rosso she wasn’t sure they all worked for her husband. The men parted like the red sea when she approached. Most of them could not maintain eye contact. Giovanni wasn’t dead. But in the few eyes brave enough to meet hers, she knew these men believed he would be eventually.
That angered her.
The door was opened for her. She entered. Dominic, Rocco, Renaldo, Umberto and Nico all waited for her. The only person missing was Carlo. Mirabella glanced over to Dominic who was pouring himself another glass of whiskey. Rocco glared at Dominic, but he didn’t object.
“Mirabella? Stai bene?” Rocco asked.
“I’m as well as I can be,” she said. Several of the men came over to give her a kiss on both cheeks. She smiled for them, though she didn’t feel like it. She then glanced to her husband’s office. Typically, he would emerge with his hands in his pockets and a stern look for her. He’d want to know what she needed. He’d say he was in the middle of a meeting. But the door stood open, and no one stepped through.
“We have a lot to discuss,” Rocco said.
She ignored him, and walked toward the office. The men all watched her. Mirabella was stunned by what she found inside. A typhoon had landed. It destroyed almost everything. The only furniture Giovanni couldn’t destroy was the antique wood desk. Though it was chipped and battered. He’d taken his rage out on the mirrored bar and left sharp shards of glass everywhere. He’d broken the lamps and chairs. He’d split the coffee table in half. One of the windows was completely smashed and after days of rain, leaves and dirt had blown inside making the carpeted floor soggy.
“When did he do this?” she stepped carefully in her pointed heels over the wreckage.
Rocco was behind her. “I think shortly before he went to see Lorenzo. Did you talk to him before everything happened?”
Glass crushed under her foot. “No. Yes. We fought. He... then.... he attacked Catalina in here.”
“Attacked? Explain the word attacked?” Rocco frowned.
“Because of me,” Dominic said. He stood there with his whiskey glass, sipping the amber liquid from its rim. “Because I gave her to Armando.”
“You didn’t give her to anybody! Just be quiet.” Mirabella snapped. “They fought because of these.”
Mirabella knelt and picked up the photos. She handed them to Rocco. She didn’t bother to watch his reaction. She knew what it would be. She looked around the room with disgust. “Armando toyed with Catalina. He told her he had the secret of what Lorenzo did on tape, and she could stop it from being given to Giovanni. Whatever she did, she did out of loyalty for this family.”
Dominic let go a bitter chuckle. “Bullshit.”
Mirabella glanced to Dominic. “Whatever she did it’s not unforgivable.”
“Even killing her own cousin?” Dominic spat.
“You killed her husband and we forgave you.” Mirabella tossed back.
Dominic opened his mouth and then shut it.
“I want her found and brought home immediately! I need her here with me,” Mirabella’s voice broke with emotion. “I don’t care what she’s done! I don’t care who she’s done it to! She comes home.”
The final message was for him, and he got it loud and clear. Dominic turned and walked out.
“Giovanni saw these pictures?” Rocco asked.
“Yes. And they argued. He. My husband, your nephew, he physically attacked his own sister. He choked her. Right where you are standing. You should have heard the things he called her.”
“Then he was completely out of control.” Rocco tossed the pictures as if they were meaningless. “I agre
e. She needs to be found. The sooner the better.”
“Thank you,” Mirabella said without holding back her sarcasm. The last thing she wanted or needed was the approval of the men in this family. But Rocco wasn’t finished.
“The family needs to go back to Sicily.”
“No.” Mirabella frowned. “We can’t. There are gunmen out there hunting for all of us, and Giovanni...”
“Not us, them.” Rocco said. “Sicily is safe. We need to send a message to our enemies and our allies. We won’t hide. We won’t cower. We won’t fade away, or be taken down. Whether Giovanni is conscious or not he is still the most powerful among them. That power means we are fearless.”
“I don’t want to put anyone else's life at risk.”
“Rosetta needs to be buried at home,” Rocco’s voice boomed over hers. “Josefina needs to be at home. I’ve spoken to the Mafiosi. They have granted it.”
“Those Sicilian bosses belong to the brotherhood of my father. They won’t protect us,” she said. “Even I know that.”
“Protecting us is your job now, Mirabella.”
“And Armando? Bagheria is close to his territory.”
“The only territory Armando has left is Palermo, and that is slipping. Giovanni did a good job of seeing to it.”
“I still don’t agree...”
“Listen to me. There is a lot you need to learn, and not much time.”
“So you keep telling me...”
“Silenzio!” Rocco shouted. Mirabella was silenced. He glared at her when he continued to speak. “La Camorra consists of nothing but families—we call these families the Camorristi. And they are like ours, and they are not. And they are loyal only to themselves and they are not. Do you know when they are not?”
Mirabella shook her head no.
“They are not when there is something to fear, someone stronger. For a long time that was Giovanni. Right now, they are watching us. To see how we lead. They’re watching you. We have to show them our strength. Not our grief. You cry here.” Rocco tapped his cane on the floor. He then pointed the cane at the door. “Never out there. Never in front of strangers. Never in front of the men who serve you. And believe me, every man under the gun for Giovanni now serves and answers to you. Not Dominic. Not me. You are the Donna of this family now until your sons are old enough to lead.”
Mirabella nodded.
“Say it. Say you understand, Mirabella. It’s important. When you pass through the gates of Melanzana your voice never quivers, not for the nurses, not for the polizia, not for the press. For no one.”
“I understand.”
“You are going to face Armando. The sooner the better.” Rocco stepped around the room.
“I need to take care of Giovanni. That is the priority here.”
“This is taking care of Giovanni!” Rocco snapped.
In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen Rocco with such a steely resolve. His voice and commands boomed over hers and silenced any further objections. The feeble old harmless man she once knew wasn’t before her now. He stood tall with his spine straight. He stared directly at her.
“Being his nursemaid ensures his death. You don’t move into the hospital with him, Mirabella. You move the hospital here! La famiglia will protect him far better than those doctors will!”
She nodded in complete agreement. “I was going to tell you. I had a dream. No. Forget the dream. I need to be a mother and a wife, I understand that now.”
“Good.”
“We have the money, the influence.”
“Yes.”
“I can buy the resources to put a staff right here.”
“Brava,” he said.
“I agree. We send the family back to Sicily to restore order to this house. We bring Giovanni home and take care of him our way. I think if he hears the voices of his children every morning and every night he’ll wake up.”
Rocco smiled as if proud of her. “And then you face our world and make sure this family stays intact...”
“Until he can get out of bed and do it for himself,” she finished off Rocco’s statement. “And if he doesn’t. If he never wakes up?” she asked.
Rocco glanced around the room. “Then you will have to decide our future by taking a new husband.”
“No.”
“You heard me. It’s how it’s done.”
“I will rule this family myself before I ever consider taking another husband.”
“Mirabella, Dominic isn’t fit to lead this family. I’m too fucking old. Lorenzo will want to come home eventually and take all of this for himself. Should he be allowed to get that reward after what he's done to Gio? After what’s he’s cost us all? With Armando behind him he could do it. If we lose Giovanni we lose everything. Unless you make sure we don’t by making some powerful friends.”
“That’s too premature of a conversation. Giovanni won’t die. He won’t,” Mirabella sighed. She looked around at the destruction in the room. “I want to have this stuff cleaned out. Immediately. Is Francesca still here?”
Rocco nodded. “No. She and her husband are gone to Tanzania.”
“They left?”
“This morning,” Rocco said.
Mirabella chewed on her bottom lip. “Kyra.”
“What about her?” Rocco asked.
“I need a friend, someone other than you. Kyra. I’ll call her. In the mean time have the staff deal with this mess. Replace the furniture. Don’t worry about it being too extravagant. Just a sofa that doesn’t have knife cuts, and chairs without broken legs. I want this office restored before the end of the week. Villa Rossa will be the hospital he needs, and my new office. We will keep this place as secure as the rest of the estate.”
“Anything else?” Rocco asked.
“Clean up Domi! If you want me to face the world as your Donna, then he damn well better be at my side.”
Rocco smiled. “Bueno. I’ll take care of Domi.”
“I have to go to the hospital. You and Domi can meet me there.” She turned to leave but stopped. She glanced back to the office that she took so much time and care in redesigning for him. It was his sanctuary. He destroyed it.
“Rocco?”
“Yes?”
“He’s going to come out of this. He’s too strong to die this way. Not this way,” Mirabella said. “I won’t let the Camorra take him from me. I will do everything to protect my children, and then I will do everything in my power to save him from all of you.”
“I agree. That is why you are his Bella Donna.” Rocco winked.
Mirabella managed a smile. She left with her heart thundering in her chest, but more determined than ever to be stronger.
When Rocco stepped back into the living area of the cottage the men were all waiting. Dominic, however, seemed more invested in pouring himself another drink. Rocco glanced to Nico and gave the order with a nod of his head. Nico was the first to rise. Renaldo and Umberto stood. The consigliere was too busy taking down his next drink to care or notice the men approaching.
It was Renaldo who struck first. He slapped the drink out of Dominic’s hand. Umberto kicked the coffee table aside. Dominic was no coward. He knew violence well and was instantly up charging at Renaldo. But Nico got a hold of him. With his Herculean strength, he yanked Dominic by the back of his neck and then wrapped his muscle stacked arm around his throat. Dominic flailed. His arms jerked, and feet kicked in a clumsy attempt to break free. Nico pulled back, and the choke-hold was fiercely secured. Dominic’s face turned purple. His feet left the ground. Umberto was first to deliver several strong punches to Dominic’s gut, as Nico kept with his grip that kept him still. And then Renaldo drew a short breath and delivered his own series of bone crunching blows to Dominic’s stomach. The repeated brutality nearly wiped out Dominic’s consciousness.
Before complete darkness descended, Nico dropped Dominic to the ground and all three men proceeded to kick and stomp on him until Rocco tapped his cane for the beating to
end. Dominic lay still with a face covered in blood. No one spoke or moved. When he wheezed and began to drag in staggered breaths, a collective sigh could be heard amongst the men. They all loved him. Even now.
Dominic held his side, while gasping through his pain as he coughed up blood. He bled from his mouth, nose, and ears. The men stepped backward and let Rocco come closer. Dominic flopped over to his back when his weakness overcame him. Tears were on his face.
Rocco aimed his cane, the pointed tip, and he pushed it down into the center of Dominic's throat. If he added any further pressure it would impale the young consigliere. Dominic’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and he wished for death.
“Fucking weakling. Sei solo un cazzo di vigliacco.” Rocco said he was just a fucking coward. “You let Armando have mia bambina and turn her into his whore! Mia Catalina! I trusted you to protect her! Giovanni trusted you to protect her. Lorenzo trusted you to protect her. We all did. And you failed!”
Dominic wept.
“Someone shot Giovanni. It happened on your watch, and where were you? Nursing your hurt feelings? Holding your prick while snakes slither in and out of the ass of the family.”
Dominic stopped crying. He swallowed blood and ignored his own suffering. Tears would not work. In fact, the tears were like gasoline on the fire. The more he broke, the angrier the men became.
“I told you to clean up. To stop the drinking. And you come down here and drink in my face? Do you not know me at all, Dominic? What I will and will not tolerate. Do you not remember who I am? I was the one to pull you out of chicken shit and squalor. I was the one who told Tomosino to save you when you were nothing but a shit covered bag of bones!”
The truth was Dominic did remember. He remembered the day Rocco and Tomosino executed his father. Of course he remembered. His father was in the shadows that haunted him every night afterward. He remembered the first time Rocco let him hold a gun. The first time Rocco turned a gun on another man in front of him and killed him. He knew very well who his uncle was. The problem remained that he never truly knew who he was.
“Giovanni wanted to kill you when you had sex with la piccoletta, and we spared your life. It wasn’t a reward, it was a responsibility, a fucking debt to be repaid, a privilege. Because we believed you could protect her. Keep her from men like us. And what did you do? You handed her over to a Mancini.”
