by Sienna Mynx
“I’m going to the funeral! I’m going!” Catalina announced.
“You two both go.” Lorenzo said.
“I’m not leaving you,” Marietta objected.
“You go to see your sister. It might be your only chance. Mirabella will take you home where you belong.” Lorenzo said.
“Yes, Marietta should go. But Catalina only goes to the funeral, and then she comes home to me.” Armando said. “Isn’t that right, Catalina?”
“She goes regardless!” Lorenzo tossed back.
“Stop it!” Catalina shouted above Lorenzo’s voice. “I made my choice. Even if we can get Mirabella to make peace, I can’t return home. Not...” she looked over to Armando who watched her intensely. “Not anymore. He’s right.”
“That’s it!” Lorenzo took a step with the aid of his wife. His leg was bleeding. “You won’t use her or Marietta to get at me. I don’t give a fuck if you empty your gun in me. I’ll never let it fucking happen. Do you hear me?”
“Lorenzo, please!” Marietta begged. A young man entered the room with a crutch. Catalina guessed his age to be no more than fifteen. She’d seen him in the shadows. But he never lingered. How he knew to bring a crutch she wasn’t sure. But it helped. Poor Marietta was straining to keep her husband standing. Lorenzo accepted the crutch, and then leaned on it for support.
“Still thinking this is all about you. Still thinking you are important. Don’t you see, Lorenzo? You never have been. Not to Gio, not to Tomosino, not even to your own mother...”
Catalina stepped into Lorenzo’s space before he responded. “Do you want your child to die? Do you?” she demanded. “Look at her! How much can she take? And if the baby dies because of your ego, what will that do to you both? Your ego is a joke now Lorenzo. We’ve lost it all. And you and Marietta are alive because of Armando. Why antagonize him? Why!”
Lorenzo continued to glare at Armando. He finally lowered his gaze to Catalina. The sneer that lifted the corner of his mouth turned her stomach. The cruelty in his blue eyes shone bright as lightening. He looked at her as Giovanni did before he put his hands on her throat. “You fuck him? Do you know what that makes you?”
“You shot Gio. What does that make you,” Catalina said.
“Lorenzo! Stop it!” Marietta pulled on his arm.
Catalina braced for the shame, the disgrace, the utter humiliation to have him spit the words into her face. But Marietta stopped him. She pulled on him pleading, weeping, begging him to retreat. He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to. He looked her up and down as if she was covered in grime. His nose pinched with disgust. He put his arm around Marietta to stop her from weeping, and she placed her arm around his waist. Together they left with him trailing blood from his leg.
Catalina strangled on her sobs. Armando tried to touch her, but she knocked his hand away. She went to the sofa in the parlor and sat on it. She curled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Armando stood before her as she wept. She buried her face against the top of her knees and refused to acknowledge him.
She soon felt his hand as it stroked the top of her head. It was a slow caress. Like that of a guardian. The odd irony to it all is that was exactly who he was now. What did she have but his affection and support? Nothing.
“Go away,” she pleaded.
“Not going to happen.”
She lifted her face and looked up at him. “What else do you want to take from me? You won.”
Armando knelt before her. “Lorenzo and Giovanni are alive because of you. I could have put a bullet in Giovanni and Carlo that night. Left them for dead. The man before you would have. The only reason why I even tolerate having Lorenzo in my home is because of you. Not my sisters. You. I don’t want to take anything from you, Catalina. Not anymore. Let me help. I’ll get you to the funeral. I’ll get you a meeting with Mirabella. Trust me?”
Catalina stared at him for a long moment. She lowered her legs. She came off the sofa to her knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He embraced her. She buried her face against the side of his neck and inhaled his cologne.
“Every dying person wants a lifeline,” she said.
“I’ll make it better. I promise, piccoletta. Trust me,” he whispered.
The arrival of Giovanni was a big event for everyone in the house. Thankfully, the kids were kept in the solarium away from the ceremonious welcome. But everyone on her staff and family that remained at Melanzana waited for Giovanni to be brought through the doors.
Mirabella was among them. Her heart beat so fast she kept touching her breast. When the medics wheeled him in she felt faint with relief.
“Where are we taking him?” the medic asked. Dominic stepped forward when Mirabella couldn’t speak. “We have our men here to help. We are taking him to the third floor.”
“Up the stairs?” the other medic asked in disbelief.
Mirabella glanced to the stairs. She knew it was a task, but she had gone over it several times with Rocco and Dominic. He would be vulnerable in villa Rosso, away from the family. And the floors were all occupied, except for the third floor. There would be privacy and seclusion from everyone. It was the best place to attend to his medical needs.
“He goes upstairs,” Mirabella confirmed.
The medics nodded. Three other men came. Legs under the stretcher folded down so he could be lifted. Giovanni was strapped in and secure. He was breathing on his own, and was only attached to IVs for nourishment. The attachments were released, and the men began to ascend the stairs. To Mirabella’s relief they were able to do so without much disturbance to Giovanni.
“Donna Mirabella, please meet Dr. Genaro, and Dr. Singh. Both will be here to attend to your husband.”
“Welcome, gentlemen. I know this is an unorthodox request. My hope is that we get Giovanni well soon enough to not extend your stay.”
Each man shook her hand and kissed her cheeks before they followed their patient up the stairs. She turned her gaze to Rocco. He was staring after Giovanni. A strange look was upon his face.
Mirabella gave a few more instructions to others gathered to get the house in order, and then followed Dominic. She saw him head to the parlor where she was certain he’d go for the bar. She caught up with him to find him instead sitting on the sofa. He was looking at his hands.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Can it wait? We can prepare for Naples later....”
“This isn’t about the meeting with the Camorristi. This is about you.”
“I’m not drinking if that’s your concern.”
“It is my concern. Among other things.”
Dominic frowned.
“Catalina’s gone. And the longer she stays gone the harder this gets, Domi.”
“I heard a rumor,” he said.
“What’s the rumor?” Mirabella asked. She sat next to him on the sofa.
“Rumor is from Sicily. People are talking. They say that Catalina is there. With Armando.”
“That’s not a rumor. It’s a lie. She would never betray us and go to him. He shot Giovanni!”
“We don’t know what she would do. Do we? We aren’t a family anymore, Mirabella. Not anymore.”
Out of reflex Mirabella glanced up to the portrait on the wall. It was the family portrait. Giovanni sat in a chair with Eve standing at his knee and Gino on lap. Mirabella stood to his left with Gianni. Catalina stood to his right with Dominic at her side. Also in the photo were Lorenzo and Marietta. La Famiglia.
She stared at the photo so long Dominic looked up at it and stared as well.
“I’ve asked the psychiatrist to come stay with us. For some time,” she told him.
“You think she can help?”
“Yes. But not me,” she said.
He glanced over to her. “Then who?”
“You.”
“Me? Hell no. I’m not seeing a doctor.”
“You will see her, Domi. The drinking will stop. The self-loathing won’t. Whatever happens to us, t
o the family, it depends on you and me. And I need you, Domi. The strong you. The man Giovanni raised you to be. Trust me. This entire family will need therapy before too long.”
“You and Rocco seem to be doing just fine without me.”
“Grow up, Domi. The clans have met twice without extending an invite to us. Tonight I have to step into my husband’s shoes. The lives of our men, of my babies, of all of us depend on how well I do. You will see the damn doctor. And whatever demons you carry will be cast out. Do you understand me?”
He glanced to the portrait. “I can forgive her, Mirabella. In my heart I can forgive her. I know I can,” he sighed. “But I’ll never forget how easily she chose him over me.”
“It was never a choice she wanted to make.”
He gave her a bitter chuckle. “It was her choice, Mirabella. She made it.”
She watched him leave. She sat back and sighed. She collected herself and her strength. Then she pushed up from the sofa. She went out to the back halls and the solarium. There she found Zia and Cecilia helping the kids at a cutting table arrange flowers. Kyra’s baby girl slept under the cool rays of the sun in an antique basinet Zia must have had brought down for her. But there was no sign of Kyra.
Gianni saw Mirabella first. He spit out his pacifier and said Mi-Ma with his hands extended. The others saw her.
“Who wants to greet Papa?” Mirabella asked.
“He’s settled in?” Zia asked.
“I think so. The kids have waited long enough.”
“It’ll do them all some good,” Cecilia said and went to the bassinet to check on baby Anissa. Renaldo’s son who was about nine years old sat in a big whicker chair reading a book. He too had moved in along with Kyra. He looked up at the news then returned his attention to the pages of his book. Eve’s eyes stretched so wide her face looked as if it would explode. The kids all cheered with happiness. She smiled and laughed with them. She picked up Gino who reached her first. And took Gianni’s hand. “Come, Eve.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Eve laughed and danced at her side. Together they left the solarium and made their way through the house and up three flights of stairs. The hall to the third floor was far from empty. There were people everywhere. Mostly men who worked for Giovanni who pretended at being useful, only wanted to get a good look at him. They parted when Mirabella and the children came down the hall. She tried to appear normal, but she could see it on their faces. The look of dread and concern.
“He’s home!” she announced to those gathered outside of his room. Several words of praise erupted from the men. “Now I must ask that you all go downstairs. The kids need time with their father.”
The men obeyed. The staff as well. The doctors and two nuns were present. “Is it okay that we see him now? Are you done?”
“Sì, Donna Mirabella. He’s prepared.” Dr. Singh smiled at the kids. “I think it will be good to have his children visit.”
“You heard him. Go in, Eve,” Mirabella smiled.
Eve pushed the door open. She hurried inside. “Papa!”
Mirabella put Gino down. The kids all ran over to his bed. Eve could see him, but Gino and Gianni needed help.
“Wake up, Papa!” Eve said and took his hand. Mirabella picked up her sons again and held them on both sides of her hips so they could be near the bed.
“Svegliati!” Gino said.
“He’s tired right now. But he’ll wake up for us, soon. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You’re going to wake up for us.”
Giovanni lay still and unresponsive.
“Why he sleep so long?” Eve asked.
Mirabella stared at her husband. “Because he needs to feel better. And... because he needs time. With our help he’ll get better. Remember? We talked about this.”
“I remember, Mama. I’m just so happy. Welcome home, Papa. We missed you.” Eve said and put her cheek down on his hand. She closed her eyes. “Ti amo.”
“Hi honey,” Kyra said. “Arlo told me you were in here. I see you found him in the room that Mirabella has given us. It’s so huge. There’s a sofa and television and we can even take our meals in here at that table. And look at the crib for the baby. Oh, and little Rico was given was bedroom next door. There’s even a Sega gaming system in there for him. I told him after he finishes his school book he can play. He’s excited. See. It’s okay. We should have come.”
Renaldo sat at the foot of the bed with his head in his hands. He hadn’t even taken off his blazer or shoes.
“Renaldo?” She stepped toward him cautiously.
He lifted his head. His wife was all he need. And the smell of her was even better way to soothe him. He drew her to him by her hips and then locked his arm around her waist. He buried his face against her pelvis. She stroked the top of his head as she always has when he struggled. He was never a man of words. He just didn’t have use for him. That was why Kyra was so perfect for him. She had all the words. She could talk until the sun crashed into the sea. Maybe she could have the words for him now?
“Oh sweetheart, he’s going to get better. He’s home now. I’m here with you. Please have some faith. I had plenty when you were shot and they told me there was no hope.”
He kissed her belly. She wasn’t pregnant any more but she had a small scar at her panty line from where they removed their daughter. He kissed her where he thought the scar was. He then lifted his head and looked up into her dark eyes.
“Madre mia, what have I ever done right to deserve you?” he asked.
“Don’t talk like that. You know it scares me. You don’t have to deserve me, you’re my destiny. I’m yours.”
“I’m sorry. I learned today something that will destroy the Battaglias forever. Something that I can’t keep hold of.”
Kyra knelt before him. She touched his face. “I’ve learned so much, your language, your culture. I’m your wife and I’m still learning you. You have to know now that you can tell me anything.”
“Not this.”
“If it hurts this bad you have too Renaldo. Tell me.”
He sighed.
“Tell me.”
“It wasn’t Lorenzo who shot Giovanni. It was Marietta.”
“That’s crazy.”
“It’s true.”
“It can’t be. She wouldn’t. Why would she? That makes no sense.”
“It’s true.”
“Are you sure?”
“I saw Carlo. He tried to deny it but he was sure. It was Marietta.”
“What does that mean?”
“In my world, in our world, it means a death sentence for Marietta and Lorenzo.”
“That would destroy Mirabella. And if Giovanni wakes it’ll destroy him too.”
“The boss isn’t who you think he is. He wakes, not even his wife could stop him from settling the score.”
“But Giovanni loves Lorenzo and Marietta is pregnant.”
Renaldo looked at her. She saw the deeper truth in his eyes. This was their way.
“Sweetheart, you can’t let that happen.”
“I have too. We live by honor. What Lorenzo did. There is no honor in him. I didn’t give my life to this family to betray them now. To think that I know what is best for them. I’m a soldier.”
“Stop. You’re a father, a son, a husband a friend. You’re not just a soldier to the Battaglias.”
“Lorenzo brought this on us, on his wife and child. And there are consequences. If there aren’t, then none of this is about honor.”
“The Camorra isn’t about honor, it’s about pride, greed, power.”
“And for men like me, protecting the trinity is my honor,” Renaldo said.
“Listen to me,” she said. “You can’t deny who you are and what you believe. It’s not your way. I understand. My honor is to you. I love Marietta, I love Mirabella, if it were my choice I’d carry the secret of who shot Giovanni to my grave. But it’s not my choice. I’ve learned a lot since we’ve been married. I’ve learned how to take care of you.” Kyra st
ood and Renaldo pulled her down on his lap. She brushed her lips over his and held his jaw. “You have to do what you believe. No matter what. And I will support you. No matter what.”
He nodded. She put his head to her breast and comforted him until the last of his doubt was erased. And then he shared with her what was decided. He would tell the Donna that her sister tried to kill her husband. It was his duty.
Chapter Nineteen
Secondigliano
Sorrento, Italy
“You’re quiet. Do you have any questions?” Rocco asked.
They would make the meeting in Secondigliano at midnight. Mirabella’s gaze cut away from the passenger window to the old man. Renaldo was their driver. Dominic sat in the front seat. Most of the trip out of the Amalfi to Napoli had been done in silence. Three cars followed, and two cars led the way. Still she felt naked, afraid, and unprotected.
“Heroin. We sell heroin. And now we don’t. My company, the business I built with my own hands, is just one of the many ways the Camorristi laundered drug money.” She tried to keep the bitterness from her tone, but it was hard. She’d learned so much from Rocco her head was spinning. Everything from drugs, to cigarette trafficking, and jewel thievery were part of the family business. And he hadn’t even covered the guns trafficked out of America and Ireland to Africa and the Middle East.
“Giovanni was forced into the drug business. He did everything in his power to protect your company.”
“Bullshit. Giovanni used my company to cover all of it.”
“For over fifty years the Battaglias have been at the front of the Camorristi. It was Giovanni who became the head of the families. But that coalition was not won by being nice and respectable. He is who he is. You have to know this was never anything he wanted to touch you or the children. He was very good at protecting you.”
“Don’t make excuses for him, Rocco. I don’t need it. Right now I’m supposed to convince three of the most powerful men in Italy not to kill me or our family. And what am I to do this with? A pretty smile and this dress?”
