by Sienna Mynx
“We discussed options.”
“They won’t work,” she mumbled.
“This is how it’s done.”
Dominic cleared his throat and spoke up. “She’s right, Rocco. Tacchini and Giovanni struck a deal outside of the alliance. The Benicia clan, right or wrong, were taken down without permission from the other Dons. This is not the first time Giovanni has done this. They are not going to look favorably on us. We show any weakness in this meeting and it’s over. Tacchini will side with the other bosses and we go to war. A bloody, messy war.”
“What about Sicily? Will the Mafiosi help?” she asked.
“They want something in return.”
“What?” Mirabella asked.
“Mancini. Territory, business interests, they want you to hand over your father’s empire.”
“I couldn’t do that if I wanted to.”
“You can if Armando is out of the way. Things are tense in Sicily now. He’s at war with the other Dons. And he’s already lost territory. You could meet with them. Work a deal in our favor.”
“I won’t make a decision like that without Giovanni’s consent. It’s irreversible. If anybody takes the Mancini empire, it’s him.” Mirabella said.
“Then what will you do?” Rocco asked.
She sighed. “You will have to wait and see.”
***
American tales of the Mafia would have one believe that the Sicilians invented organized crime. Mirabella believed this too considering how much Giovanni and Lorenzo warred over his Sicilian legitimacy. What she didn’t understand was why Tomosino ultimately chose the Camorra for his rise to power. And where the true origins of the legacy of blood and secrecy began.
That was until tonight.
There are three major powers in Italy. The N’drangheta that controlled the Calabria, and were the true kings of drug trafficking. The Sicilian Mafia that had extended its roots into American culture, and owned it. And la Camorra or la Camorristi, who existed a century before the other two did. She was about to enter her husband’s world for the very first time, and the irony of it all was she would make this journey alone.
Secondigliano was a suburb in northern Naples between San Pietro a Patierno and Scampia. The Battaglias were summoned to the public housing cluster of twenty-story buildings that once promised prosperity, and now lay home to truancy, drugs, and crime beyond Mirabella’s understanding.
Vespas and motorcycles, all roared up out of the public housing square to greet visitors and enemies. Young men with handkerchiefs over the lower halves of their faces, and some with masks that covered their entire faces, rode two on a bike. The back rider holding a gun of some sort, aiming it at the windows of passing cars. Secondigliano was the very first time she saw crime for what it was, and what it wasn’t. Living in the beautiful serene mountains along the Amalfi coastline had made her romanticize her life in the Mafia with her husband. These men with serpent eyes, and guns big enough to blow holes the size of basketballs through you were Giovanni’s kind. This was where he went on all those business trips to Napoli. These were the people who considered him a leader.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe. It’s a show of force, to welcome you,” Rocco said.
“I don’t feel welcomed,” Mirabella replied.
Dominic glanced back. “Giovanni has visited this territory many times. It belongs to him and the bosses, they split it equally. As of now there have been no breaks in our alliances. Rocco is right. You are safe.”
Mirabella nodded that she was reassured.
The cars were granted permission to travel in. And she truly felt trapped. It was midnight, and there were young men and boys everywhere. They gathered at the center square. The others rode their bikes up into the corridors of the lower level of the housing project. She leaned over and peered up out of her window to see hundreds, if not thousands of people leaning on their balconies and out of their windows to peer down at her.
“Donna Nera!”
“Donna Nera!”
“Donna Nera!”
“Donna Nera!”
“Are they chanting for me?” she asked. It appeared everyone in the public housing apartments had come to see the Black Donna who now ran the Battaglia clan. They had named her.
“This is for you.”
Mirabella looked down at the dress she chose, and wished she hadn’t. Rocco and Dominic had insisted she wear something from her fashion line that was chic and sultry. Tonight, she represented her husband, how he saw her. And these people needed to see her that way.
“Tutto bene?” Rocco asked.
“I’m fine. I’m ready,” she said.
Renaldo was the first to leave the car. Dominic got out next. Rocco’s door was opened for him. Her door was opened for her. Dominic’s hand reached in. He stared down at her with a supportive smile when she accepted his help and emerged.
“Donna Nera!”
“Donna! Donna! Donna!”
“Donna Nera!”
When she could be seen by everyone a collective silence fell over the crowds. Several from the top of the buildings shone flashlights down at her to see her clearly. She pretended not to notice the spotlight she was now bathed in. It was hard to pretend.
Three men approached.
“Dominic!” A tall man in a leather jacket despite the night heat called out. He was handsome, with a shaven head that had tattoos carved around his skull and covering his neck. He wore three hoop earrings that went from medium, small, to tiny in each lobe. He hugged Dominic, but his eyes, dark and mysterious, were on her. They scaled down from her face to her breasts, hips, thighs and legs before climbing her body once more.
The man smiled. Mirabella did not. She held the man’s stare bravely.
“Decko, meet Donna Mirabella.”
“It is my honor,” he said and took her hand to press a kiss to it. He leaned in to kiss her on both cheeks and she let him. The brush of his lips over her skin both times felt suggestive and lethal. She ignored the nerves in the pit of her stomach.
“Everyone waits, please come.”
She nodded and followed. Those gathered parted. But they all stared. Every single man she passed had his eyes glued to her.
***
Tacchini was a bit irritated that Giovanni’s wife had not called him, or even reached out to him since their visit.
“I don’t see the reason for this meeting. Gio is as good as dead. He’s no longer capu di tutti capi. Not here. Not anywhere.” Don Licciardi said.
“Giovanni is not dead. It would be a mistake for us to react so hastily,” Don Racchi said.
“Mistake!” Don Licciardi said. “Was it a mistake when Gio and Tacchini killed the Benicias without our consent? How often do we sit back on our dicks while Gio does as he pleases? Now the heroin is dried up, and the N’drangheta collects our money. The Nigerians are bringing in the cocoa. Into our territories!”
“Drugs were never our business,” Tacchini said.
“Contraband has always been our business! And drugs are no different. Lorenzo understands it. In fact, I hear that Lorenzo may be returning.” Licciardi said. “That is the only reason I’m willing to listen to this donna nera.”
Tacchini glared at Licciardi. If Lorenzo returned, the bargain Giovanni had with Tacchini would be tossed out. The Camorra would rival the N’drangheta and drop all other business interests to be the kings of the drug trade. All of his and Giovanni’s work would be for nothing. Mirabella was his only hope. And a thin hope at that.
The steel door to the apartment home that Licciardi hosted the meeting from opened. In walked his men, leading in the Battaglia clansmen. Tacchini stood. The other two Dons looked at him and his show of respect with disgust. He hoped they didn’t embarrass him by remaining seated. They did not. Both men stood.
She appeared, breathtakingly unique. She wore a black silk dress. It had spaghetti thin straps, and the material wrapped around her cleavage to reveal how perfectly shaped her breasts and s
lender waist were. The split of fabric raised above the knees to the front the dress, parted like petals with each step she took. She had dark hair that was flat and smooth, with bangs in an Egyptian style. Her makeup natural earth tones except darkly tinted around her long-lashed eyes. She was indeed the Black Donna, and she wore that title with pride.
“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Donna Mirabella,” Dominic Battaglia said.
“Ciao, I know most of you,” she said in a soft voice.
“Ciao, Donna Mirabella,” Licciardi approached her. He took her hand without her offering it. Tacchini felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. None of them would have been as bold to touch her had Giovanni been standing at her side. Licciardi lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
“We are honored to have you join us.”
She removed her hand from his and nodded.
“Please, have a seat.”
Tacchini sat down. She glanced his way, and her gaze lingered for a moment before she accepted a seat at the table. She refocused her attention on Licciardi since he was doing the speaking.
“How is Giovanni?”
“Bueno,” Mirabella said.
“We’ve all been concerned,” Racchi added.
“Have you? Is that why I’m only hearing from you now?” she asked. “No flowers, no visits?”
Licciardi gave her an amused chuckle. “We wanted to respect the family’s privacy. And we’ve been working together to make sure that our mutual interests have not suffered because of Giovanni’s transgressions.”
Tacchini saw no sign of distress on the beauty’s face. Even when having a seat with monsters, she behaved in a serene almost accepting way. As if this was her choice. Maybe it was.
“I’d like to stop all pretense. I know you are angry, disillusioned, and distrustful of mi famiglia. I’m not here to apologize for my husband. He will gladly meet with you when he is ready to discuss his motives and his intentions.”
“Then what are your intentions?” Tacchini asked.
“The alliance of the clans is strong and it has to remain strong. The Carabinieri, politicians, media, they are circling their wagons, looking for a chip in the armor you men have built. Now is the not time for war.”
Licciardi spoke. “The alliance you speak of was broken when Giovanni executed a clan boss and a personal friend of mine. He wiped them out. The entire family. And he he did it outside of the approval of the Camorristi. This is not to be done, never to be done without the agreement of us all.”
“Benicia was no friend to any of you. He worked with our enemy to conspire against the coalition. The heroin he received from the Triad under Giovanni’s nose was the purest strain. Your customers are dying. Men, women, children are being poisoned. I was poisoned by this strain of heroin. Isn’t that right, Tacchini?”
Stunned by her insight, he could not lift the mask of amusement to respond. It was only partly true, and she was improvising. Yes, she was poisoned, and yes there have been many overdoses. Except the Donna’s poisoning didn’t necessarily tie back to the Benicia’s product. The other Dons didn’t know that. And he had no intention of letting her down. “That’s correct, Donna Mirabella.”
She nodded a thank you to him and continued. “The Benicias got what they deserved. But you gentlemen have not. And I accept the responsibility to pay back that debt. My proposal is that the Benicia territory, once gifted to them by my husband, all of it, be given to you three to divide.”
“Mirabella,” Dominic spoke out of turn.
She put up her hand and silenced him. Tacchini’s left brow arched. He shifted his gaze to Dominic. The consigliere looked as if he would explode from the restraint she imposed upon him. She had made a mistake. Giovanni and the Battaglias never, ever, released territory. They offered compromise, but only if there was compensation in it for them. And Benicia was only tricked to believe his territory belonged to him.
The other Dons knew it.
Rocco seemed unfazed by her conciliatory offer.
“You want to give us Benicia’s territory?” Don Racchi asked.
“I do have a condition.”
The men exchanged looks. They were eager to seize on her weakness, and naiveté, but not so hungry to compromise. Why should they? What power did she really have in making such an elementary mistake? Tacchini had a different urge. An urge to protect her. He nearly spoke a warning of her continuing down the path she was on, but her silky voice silenced him and his fears.
“My condition is no drugs in particular heroine is to be sold by the Camorristi, leave it to the N’drangheta. Not even a single needle between junkies in the Campania from our families.”
Licciardi laughed. “That is ridiculous. It’s like banning water from the ocean. Drugs are a fact. A way of life.”
“Drugs are the bait. The one piece of bait on the hook that can snare your men during these days of raids and seizures. We need different prey. Let the Nigerians and N’drangheta have their own war. Let them occupy the Carabinieri’s time.”
The men all sat in watchful silence. She continued without raising her voice an octave. “I am not my husband. I’m not here to claim his throne. I’m here as his representative, a business woman, and there is so much more business out there than that poison. Open your eyes to the world that is dumped at your feet. Each day the Bay of Naples receives more merchandise than the Parliament can catalog. More merchandise than any of you can seize. That is your bay now. Think on it, gentlemen. Do you want to scrap for drugs, or own the world?”
Licciardi looked to Racchi and Tacchini. He then turned his gaze to her. “This is a change in our alliance, Donna Mirabella. Your offer cannot be rescinded, not even by Giovanni himself.” He leaned forward. “Because if he tries, the alliance is over and we will have war. Far worse than what the Calderones have done.”
Mirabella cast her gaze to Tacchini. It was a risky move on her part. Giovanni had given the Bay to Benicia, for drug trade only. He’d never turn it over for profit. This could indeed turn the shift of power to the clan bosses. It would rob Giovanni of his throne. Was that her plan? A way out for her family. She’d played her hand. Now it was time for them to play their own.
“Tacchini, do you accept?” Licciardi asked.
He nodded.
“Racchi, do you accept?” Licciardi asked.
He nodded.
“Then it’s done. It has been a pleasure, Donna Mirabella,” Licciardi said and stroked his chin. She gifted them all with a shy smile. Those lips, those eyes, not a man seated among him could deny or resist their beauty.
“Ciao,” she said. Dominic pulled back her chair and she accepted his hand to leave the chair. Tacchini watched her leave. She never looked back, and she never looked at him.
When she was gone Licciardi laughed. “Do you believe this? Do you believe her? The American cunt has just done us all a favor and slit her husband’s throat. Fuck Lorenzo returning. The Battaglias are done.”
“We should be cautious. Dominic Battaglia is no fool. He wasn’t accepting of her plan.”
“Fuck him! And the old goat Rocco too. They are done. They want time to deal with Giovanni’s recovery and Lorenzo’s treachery. I say we give it to them. And if Gio does return, it is his chance to eat the scraps left on the table.” Don Racchi laughed.
Tacchini stared at the door. He wasn’t as eager or greedy.
***
“Do you know what you have done?” Dominic asked from the front seat.
Mirabella stared out the window as they drove from Secondigliano. She had said nothing. “Why did you go off script? Why? You just offered them the power to destroy us! To destroy everything Giovanni has worked hard for. And why? To stop selling drugs through your company! What is this? Revenge on them or on Gio? You blame him for all of this? Don’t you?”
“Basta!” Rocco shouted and hit Dominic’s seat with his cane. “Shut your fucking mouth and show respect. She is your Donna.”
Mirabella c
ast her gaze to the old man. Dominic seethed with rage. Renaldo continued to drive them without comment. Rocco’s hand reached over to hers and took it. She smiled at him.
“I know we spoke of aligning with them. Of deepening our ties and binds with them. Of me becoming some sacrificial lamb to them. All while we wait for Gio to sit up in bed and take over.” She sighed. “That plan would not have worked, Dominic. It wouldn’t. What they saw when I walked in was Gio’s naïve black American wife. And that’s what I wanted them to see.”
“Why?” Dominic asked in a dry tone, but did not turn around for the answer.
“Because it’s time for us to decide if we want to be just another wolf pack running wild with all this killing and drug selling. Or if we want to be the leash. The Carabinieri are everywhere in Naples—they are circling. That Bay was Giovanni’s because he kept his maneuvers hidden. Even from me. What do you think those Dons will do with freedom? Without Giovanni’s control? I’ll tell you what. They will rob cargo containers, they will steal from shipments blindly. And for a time, it will be profitable for them. They will be kings. But that time will be short. The pack will turn on each other. Feed off each other’s greed. And when they are left gnawing on bones, Giovanni will wake from his coma and take it all back, clean, with them begging for his return.”
Rocco smiled. “I like the plan, Mirabella.”
“I don’t.” Dominic said. “You’re talking about the extermination of three powerful men. They aren’t stupid.”
“Not three. Tacchini is an ally. He knows what I’m doing.”
“How?” Rocco asked.
“I tested him. The comment about the Triad and the heroin. It was a lie and he didn’t blink. What we won tonight is the peace we need to heal Gio and this family. That’s my job. Giovanni will take us further. That’s his job. And you will find a way to make sure it all happens just as I said. That’s your job.”
The men didn’t speak for the rest of the journey home. Mirabella could have prepared them for her plan. But she feared they would talk her out of it. She had to do it her way, the same way she did when she negotiated contracts for her company through doors that were closed to her. A war was the last thing they needed. And if Rocco was right about the Mafiosi wanting to help, she could use that to their favor.
