by Sienna Mynx
“How long before the Armenians miss the shipment?”
“A week. Let Gambetta scramble to find out what has happened. He will stall the Armenians I’m sure. Let him sweat. Then cut his throat.” Lorenzo stroked his jaw. “What is the word from Sorrento?”
“Too early to tell.”
“What I want to know is, what is the status of my wife?”
“I got a call this morning. Paramedics were called to Melanzana.”
Lorenzo sat forward. “Are she and the baby...”
“They didn’t take her out of there, so she must be okay.” Armando slid the phone forward across his desk. “Call home and confirm.”
“I can’t. You know that.”
“Why not? I’m sure Dominic and Rocco would be interested in a conversation with you.”
“They aren’t ready. I decide when they are ready,” Lorenzo said.
“How does this plan work for you? The Dons withdraw their support of the Battaglias. The Camorristi strike to take over what’s left of Giovanni’s empire, and then you ride up on a white horse to save the day? All of this needs to happen in time for you to get home before your baby is born? Giovanni isn’t dead. And even if he lives with only half a brain, he would slit the throat of his children before he gave you his kingdom.”
Lorenzo chuckled. “You never understood Giovanni. What motivates him. But I do. I’m the closest he’s ever had to a brother.”
“But you are not his brother.”
“Doesn’t matter. Marietta is resourceful. Before I return, everything she and I planned will be in place.”
“And the baby?” Armando asked.
“She won’t deliver that baby early. If she hasn’t called me yet, it’s because she’s doing what she has to, to win Mirabella’s trust.”
Armando chuckled. “Better the devil you know than the devil you hate. And I do hate Giovanni enough to help you Lorenzo. We have a deal.”
Lorenzo wheeled his chair backward. The young boy appeared. He grabbed the handles of his chair. Armando noticed how the boy seemed to be helpful. He smiled.
“You found a new friend. Odd choice.”
“He’s a kid.” Lorenzo tossed back and left. Armando waited a moment before he spoke again.
“What do we know about Carlo?” he asked.
Ignacio stepped forward. “I’m sure Carlo thinks Lorenzo tried to kill him. But he hasn’t taken to the streets. My contacts say he’s in the Battaglia compound. Hasn’t left.”
Armando stroked his chin. “Then why is it that Lorenzo still feels so confident? He doesn’t seem too rattled.”
“He’s play acting, Boss. He knows that we struck Carlo and he’s lost his best friend. There’s just nothing he can do about it from that wheelchair.”
“No. Lorenzo is too calm. Keep an eye on him. He’s up to something.”
“Don Armando?” Bionca said. He glanced over to see her with a tray of breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee to replace the one she delivered two hours ago.
“Bring it in,” he said.
She nodded and delivered it with haste. Armando reached for the phone to make a call.
“Scusi, Don Armando,” Bionca spoke.
“Yes?”
“You asked me to tell you if, ah, Signorina Catalina felt better.”
He paused.
Bionca smiled. “She inquired about you today.”
Armando set the phone down. How Bionca knew that this was the news he wanted to hear he didn’t know. But he was glad for it. The young woman gave a curt nod and left. Armando rocked back in his chair.
“I think princess and I need a break.”
“Boss?”
“I know. I know. This is a delicate time.”
Ignacio frowned. “These are dangerous times. We’re at war. You are safest here.”
“Catalina and I will go to Castlemola. Leave under the cover of darkness. No one in those mountains will turn against me.”
“For how long?”
“A few days. If I’m going to build a kingdom I need a queen. I can also arrange a meeting with the Dons to give them the information on Gambetta. I don’t trust Lorenzo. We do this my way.”
Armando walked out leaving Ignacio and his objections behind.
***
Catalina felt the soft touch of fingers graze over her right cheek. She turned toward the comfort rather than away. When she opened her eyes, she looked into his. At some point, he’d come to bed with her. He lay so close his body warmth offered more heat than the blanket.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Armando never answered a question directly. It was of no surprise to her when he kissed her instead of replying. Her mouth went lax under the soft touch of his lips. And then the kiss teased in deeper. He touched her face. “Do you feel better?”
She nodded her answer. She did. Feeling nothing was far better than the shock and pain she suffered the past few days.
“Can you do something for me, piccoletta?” he asked.
“Che cosa?” she asked.
“Must it be a question instead of an answer?” he chuckled.
She blinked at him confused by his light mood. What did he have to be happy about? From what she could hear over the staff gossip his power and control in Palermo shrunk each day.
“Turn around and face me,” he said and ran his hand down her arm. He paused. He lifted her arm from under the blanket. “What’s this?” She turned over on her side and looked at him.
“I had an accident.”
“When?” he asked.
“A few days ago. I’m fine.”
He paused for a moment while he inspected the bandage. Satisfied with her answer he smiled. “Can you pack a bag for a few days stay away from here?”
“Where are we goin...” she paused. “Okay. I can.”
Armando stared at her for a moment. He lifted her wrist and stared at the bandage. What he searched for in her eyes she didn’t know. He kissed her again and she allowed it. The easy glide of his tongue into her mouth swept deep and then slipped away.
“Let’s go, now.”
The car travelled for over forty-five minutes on a narrow lane bracketed by mounds of earth and drop off cliffs along the coastal sea highway. The narrow lanes caused passenger vans, Vespas, and vehicles to squeeze in tightly and maintain a moderate speed. She was used to traveling this way. However, on a day like today she remembered how frightened she’d been the first time she travelled the same way with Fabiana breaking all speeding laws. That time seemed like a hundred years ago.
Eventually Donna Mirabella Battaglia arrived in Positano, the second agreed upon meeting place. Don Tacchini awaited by a small two seater convertible car. He waited alone.
Umberto was the driver for her and Leo rode in the passenger seat. It was Leo who glanced back at her first. He looked concerned. When she chose them as escorts, she could see the angered disappointment on Carlo and Nico’s faces. They wanted to object. Having Carlo and Nico at her side would be too problematic. Her husband’s men were a reflection of him. Neither of them would approve of this meeting. And she couldn’t be bothered with their concerns today.
“Donna Mirabella. At last,” Tacchini said with a smile when she was helped from her car. He greeted her with a kiss to both cheeks.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long?” she asked.
“Of course not. I just arrived myself. My villa is up the road. Afraid that car of yours won’t make it with the tricky terrain. Only motorbikes or small cars can.”
“Donna? We will not leave you.” Leo spoke first.
“Not going to happen,” Umberto moved his wind breaker jacket to reveal his gun tucked into his belt. His gold tooth gleamed beneath his smile.
“It’s okay, boys.” Mirabella glanced over to the road, and the villa she could see just beyond the trees. “You wait for me here. I’m safe with Piero.”
The Don’s brows arrowed up. She supposed he expected more resistance from h
er. And her men of course defied her wishes. They vowed to find a way up the mountain to join her. Umberto threatened a young man with a gun to get off his Vespa. The spooked traveler sped off anyway. And Umberto looked as if he’d fire at him for daring to do so.
“Umberto!” she shouted. He lowered his gun. “Put it away,” Mirabella said. “I said I’ll be fine. This meeting won’t take long.” Tacchini didn’t seem fazed or impressed by the show of aggression.
He gestured to his small two-seater convertible. “Shall we?”
Mirabella nodded. She’d chosen jeans and a loose fitted blouse. She got into the car and the Don went to his side. Soon he was behind the wheel and they were zipping up the coastal road leaving her trusted guardians behind.
“I’m sure they will find a way up the mountain,” Tacchini said.
“Yes, I’m sure they will,” Mirabella said without a second backward glance. Her hair was blown wild about her head. The sunglasses she wore kept the wind from her eyes. She relaxed, though the sports car surged with bumping speed as they drove along a rocky tilted road.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked.
“I bought this place from Giovanni almost a decade ago,” Tacchini said.
“Really?”
“You’re surprised?”
“Ah, uhm, no, my husband owns a lot of property.”
“Yes, he does,” The Don agreed.
They travelled in silence for a moment. She could sense his sideways glances, but chose to ignore them. Instead she focused on the landscape. The further they drove up the mountain the more beautiful it became. So many flowers and tall tress. “Are you still angry with me about the pictures I sent?”
“Should I be?” she answered.
“It was a rude way to get your attention.”
“And my attention is what you want?” When he didn’t answer she glanced over and saw him staring at her. She looked away. “I need your help. That’s why I’m here.”
“Something else?”
“There was an attempt made on Carlo’s life. I’m sure you’ve heard by now.”
“I had not,” Tacchini said.
Mirabella laughed. He smiled.
“Okay, maybe I did hear.”
“And?” she asked.
“What does Carlo say about it?”
“I’m asking what you think, Piero. Was it Lorenzo?”
“Your men could tell you that,” he replied.
“Maybe. But they are too close to this. I need an outsider’s perspective. You and I are about to take down Licciardi and Racchi. Two very powerful clan bosses. With the arrests and everything, it could have been retaliation.”
“If either boss chose to retaliate, they’d not bother with going after the Butcher. They’d make it personal.”
“Personal how?”
“Who’s vulnerable and close to your heart now? Catalina?”
“But she’s protected by Armando,” Mirabella quickly said.
“Until she’s not,” Tacchini said. “She and Lorenzo are being used. And if Armando gets a better offer they could be collateral damage in the crossfire.”
Mirabella’s gut clenched. She blinked back tears from behind the protective cover of her sunglasses. She hadn’t thought twice about Catalina being vulnerable once she discovered she’d turned to Armando.
“You don’t like my answer?”
She turned her head away. “I think I made a mistake.”
“I’m listening,” he said.
“Catalina, she wanted to come home and I refused. I think I made a mistake leaving her behind,” Mirabella sighed. Piero reached for her hand and squeezed it. She didn’t pull her hand away. She appreciated his comfort. This wasn’t a game. Real lives were at stake, the lives of the people she adored. And one wrong move and she could be the cause of death.
“My guess is Lorenzo is protecting her. He’s plotting his return. I hear Marietta is now back at Melanzana. True?”
“You heard that?” she asked.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Your idea?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Lorenzo and Giovanni are more alike than they care to admit. What you should do is reverse your thinking?”
“How?” she asked.
“Ask yourself under what circumstance would Giovanni, even if wounded, would let you go. As his pregnant wife, would he send you out into the enemies’ camp? I think Lorenzo had a plan and that plan is centered on you.”
“He and my brother want Marietta to convince me to open the gates.”
“Not just open the gates. That’s too easy and it doesn’t last. My guess is they would have you sign everything over to Lorenzo. The investments in your father’s company would give him control of Palermo and make him even stronger with the Camorristi. If.... ah, when Giovanni wakes there will be nothing left for him to claim,” Piero said.
“How do you know this?”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Because if I were in his shoes it is what I would do.”
Mirabella pulled her hand away from his respectfully. Piero pretended to not notice. His tone was still as gentle as a friend, lover. Too gentle. Too much like Giovanni’s.
“There must be something that Carlo knows that Lorenzo wants to keep silenced. Something bigger than all the years of friendship between them.”
They arrived where Tacchini’s villa met with the top of the terrain, and stretched dangerously close to the mountain cliffs. The wind was strongest here. She could not believe how beautiful the melon colored castle looked. Or that Giovanni once owned and parted with such a treasure.
“Welcome to my home,” Tacchini said. He opened her car door for her. She accepted his hand as he brought her out. He stared down into her eyes, and Mirabella couldn’t help but look into his. After a minute of her seeing his intent he stepped back.
Together they went to an iron gate he parked in front of. It was covered by the tangles of vines. He opened it and she passed him by and went inside. He followed.
“Giovanni once told me that this place belonged to his uncle Rocco and was taken from him by Tomosino.”
“Really?” she frowned. “Did he say why?”
“My guess is it’s one of the places Rocco kept his women.”
“Wait? What? What woman?”
“Not woman, women, have you not heard the stories?” Tacchini asked. Mirabella didn’t want to seem too naïve about her family. But Rocco was a sweet old soul, until he wasn’t. Catalina had shared a story of how Zia’s romance with Rocco was similar to Eve’s with Tomosino. They were horrible men. Both women had suffered because of their selfish sadistic ways. She and Giovanni were different. That’s what she told herself.
“So his mistress stayed here?”
“It’ll make more sense once you go inside.”
Now curious, she entered through the abbey doors and scanned her surrounding. The windows were all open allowing the breeze and sunlight to warmly illuminate the floors and warm yellow walls. Mirabella removed her sunglasses. Tacchini went east and passed through an open archway to an intimate setting in an adjoining covered terrace. What she found there stopped her heart from beating.
“What the hell is this?” she said and took a step back instead of forward. “Why did you bring me here?”
The Don observed her shocked reaction but didn’t reply.
Mirabella found herself lost in an oasis of blue roses. They were in vases on antique pedestals. They were the centerpiece at the table where food would be served. They were hung up on the lanterns in the room. There was a portrait of the rose on a wall.
Did Giovanni share everything about them with this man?
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“The roses damn it!”
The Don pointed to a tall picture window at the far side of the room. Mirabella walked over to it. What she saw next didn’t startle her heart. Th
e vision before her melted it. Outside the window she had a view of a magnificent well manicured garden and a weather-worn gazebo with a fountain at it’s center. Blue roses bloomed everywhere freely. They were regal, they were wild, they gleamed and shimmered under the Italian sun. She’d never seen anything more beautiful. The smile in her heart spread to her face. Seeing the flower in it’s natural habitat brought back so many wonderful memories, she covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her girlish laughter.
“I take it you like what you see?”
“It’s beautiful. It’s so beautiful,” she said.
“When I bought the place my wife was just a bride and she had the same reaction. Giovanni didn’t care for the roses when he sold this place to me. He said they reminded him of his mother. But after he married you, he did inquire about buying the place back from me. He wanted to give it to you as an anniversary gift. By then this villa had so many sweet memories of my wife I couldn’t part from it. Giovanni understood.”
“Can I go out there? To the garden?”
“Yes,” he said.
The Don watched as Mirabella opened the French doors in the room and stepped out to the gardens. She strolled through the roses as if in a trance. She went to the gazebo and sat on the brick bench. He could not see her face. But he sensed her joy and suffering. He remembered a time after his beloved died, how he drank himself into a stupor on that very bench. Even now he couldn’t stand the roses for long. But for her he would. And he did.
Mirabella came out of the gazebo and strolled the garden. She touched the roses and she must have pricked her finger on one of their many thorns. They were beautiful yes, but dangerous. He’d never seen roses with such sharp thorns. Just like Mirabella. He was no fool. By luring her here, and separating her from her men, he put his own life and family in jeopardy.
Every man in the Campania knew of Giovanni’s obsessive maniacal ways when it came to his wife. Few men have been this close to her and lived to tell the tale. He feared nothing. In fact, he felt nothing until the stolen moments with her reminded him of all he lost since his wife died. He’d take the risk.
