Bella Mafia

by Sienna Mynx

  Mirabella searched the attic for twenty minutes. There was just too much stuff to move aside. She almost gave up when she bumped boxes that fell over and the contents spilled out everywhere.

  “Shit!” she gasped.

  She had to kick aside most of it to get past, and as she did her flashlight beam fell upon a space between boxes that revealed a cedar chest pushed up against the wall. The chest was almost within reach. She’d have to put in work to move the boxes that were purposefully stacked around it to keep it from being seen. Mirabella sighed. She couldn’t ask for help. It was all on her. So she laid the flashlight down and aimed the beam at the task. She then carefully stepped over the mess she made and began to shove boxes. She was pregnant. She couldn’t lift them. Some were heavy. Others were too light. It took her another ten minutes to navigate the clutter. And the more she did, the more boobie-trapped it felt. A box almost fell on her.

  She reached the chest and realized again that a pregnant woman in her first trimester should not pull or lift it from its hidden space. She prayed that it wasn’t locked. To her relief the cedar chest had no lock.

  Mirabella had hoped the story Rocco shared was too horrific to be true. Maybe he made it up to stop Lorenzo and Giovanni from destroying each other. The mere idea that Lorenzo was the bastard child of Tomosino made no sense. How could the family protect such a secret between brothers? How could Tomosino and Rocco be such cruel, evil men to inflict so much suffering on the women they said they loved?

  And there under photo albums and mementos was a black and red wool blanket. Mirabella sat back on her knees. Though eager to find and understand the secret, she couldn’t bring herself to open it. The truth wasn’t for her to own. Was it? After a long contemplative pause she brought out the blanket and unwrapped it. She removed a leather-bound journal and was struck by the similarity of her own mothers’ journal. Two women miles away from each other who never met but shared similar heartache took to writing their pain in a journal? She hadn’t been brave enough to read her mothers fully. She sucked in a deep breath and rifled through the pages. A picture was in between the pages. A young woman, with scarlet red hair and blue eyes who was pregnant. And the girl was not Giovanni’s mother. The page she was too read was marked by the picture. And there began the truth.

  It was true. Everything Rocco said was true.

  When she first arrived, they put her in a holding cell. Adara kept trying to maintain eye contact with the men in charge of her while showing no signs of fear. It was hard. Her heart raced, her throat was dry and she felt her stomach quiver as she escorted from one interrogation room to another.

  The Generale looked up from the folder handed to him. It was her statement. She stood before him with tired limbs. Standing was part of the torture. She even had to write her statement while standing. The point of it was too keep her off balanced. It worked. The Generale read every word of her statement thoroughly and she fidgeted with nervousness. She’d met with three different commanders before he would grant this interview. And several calls were made in between before her written statement was accepted.

  “Hmm, looks like some of what you’re telling me has been confirmed.” The Generale glanced up at her.

  “Si comadante,” she said.

  The Generale’s gaze lingered a moment and then he accepted another folder. He placed it flat to the top of the table and turned it around to face her. Adara took an obedient step forward.

  The glossy images showed men loading trucks. She released a deep inner sigh.

  “It does trouble me that you cut off communication, broke protocol. But unlike my officers, I understand. You’ve broken the seal. You did so for purpose. You are the first agent to take up residence behind the gates of Melanzana.”

  “I couldn’t risk being discovered,” Adara said.

  “But you risk it now?” The Generale asked.

  “There was so much chaos. As I explained Marietta Battaglia has returned. Plus, like I told you, Carlo left me there. Many people don’t care about my comings or goings.”

  “We are aware that Marietta came back into the country.”

  “So you know it’s the truth.”

  “I know this is a version of the truth. I have to decide if it’s your version or the Battaglias.”

  “When you hear from Sicily it will be confirmed.”

  “Well, we’ll see.” The Generale smiled.

  “We?” she asked.

  “Yes. You aren’t going anywhere after that phone rings.”

  Adara glanced to the phone, then to him. The Generale smiled. “You don’t think you’re the only one I have working in the Camorra?”

  “Signor?” she asked.

  The Generale’s smile took a sinister curve to the corners of his mouth. Adara glanced to the commander behind him. The one behind her grabbed her arm. She struggled out of shock. Before she could break free handcuffs were clinked on her wrists.

  “I’ve done nothing. Don’t do this! If you detain me the Battaglias... my cover... could be blown.”

  “You think I’m stupid? You think that black bitch can send you in here like a carrier pigeon and I wouldn’t know?”

  “I... I’ve told you the truth.”

  “Until I am satisfied that you have you belong here. Take her away!”

  “No! No!” she pleaded. Not for fear of being exposed. She knew the risks she would take. She had another fear, one that started the morning she woke. For the first time in her life she missed her period. Dominic almost guaranteed her this plan would work. This was her debt to be paid for Carlo’s life, for Arielle’s life, for the life of her brother and cousins still being watched by the Battaglias. This was the debt to be paid for her child’s life. Because Adara knew it, without proof she knew it. She was pregnant. She was dragged out of the meeting room into the hall. She dropped her head and cried as they walked her to her fate.

  Catalina carried two wine glasses back from the kitchen to the indoor pool. The villa remained barely furnished and it didn’t matter. The necessities were there. The windows were all thrown open to allow moonlight to fill the empty space. However, when she arrived at the spare room she was greeted again with the familiar fragrance and beauty of freshly lit candles.

  She stood there warmed over by his loving gaze not the temperature of Sicilian night. She wore nothing. She liked the freedom of being naked. Armando winked then swam to the other end of the pool. His long arms flexed muscles as they cut across the still blue waters. He submerged before he reached the other end, and came up with a hand to the side of the pool. She smiled. He wiped his hand down his face and smiled at her. His dark hair slicked to his head, and his brown eyes were almost golden in the candlelight.

  “Grazie,” he said and accepted the glass of wine she handed him. She then slowly went down before him in a squat with her knees parted so her sex was at eye level. Armando sipped his wine while staring at the parted lips of her pussy. Catalina chuckled and took a sip as well.

  She was giddy with excitement. Not to be married. What did she care about marriage? It would be the second time she married a man she didn’t love. Her excitement was for the future. She would no longer be just the ‘little one’ to be ruled over and pushed around by the men in her family. With Armando, she was Catalina. And she was going to have her own destiny as powerful as her brothers. “You tease me,” he said. He set the glass down on the edge of the poolside. He then ran a hand up her ankle and leg.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Marry you,” he smiled.

  Catalina scooted forward so her legs and bent knees went to the edge of the pool and her feet and calves submerged under the water.

  “Do you think marrying me will tame me?”

  “God, I hope not he kissed her inner thigh. She scooted in closer so the tip of his nose brushed her sex. Armando glanced up at her. She ran her hand over and down the back of his head.

  “I made a few calls. How about tomorrow?” he asked
.

  “Tomorrow what?” she answered.

  “Tomorrow we get married.”

  Catalina’s heart stopped beating.

  “Tomorrow?” she repeated.

  “If I could marry you tonight, right now I would. Tomorrow is the best I could do.”

  “Acceto. Tomorrow.”

  Catalina eased into the pool and Armando pinned her to the wall of it with his chest and erection.

  “Ti voglio sposare—I want to marry you,” she said as her arms lifted to his neck and she kissed his lips gingerly. “I’m plan to take care of you, feed you, make love to you, give you sons. I will be more than your wife Armando. I will be the woman promised to you as you will be the man that was promised to me.”

  Armando crushed her with his kiss. Catalina panted with soft gusts of breath as his passion consumed her. His cock pierced and went deep in a single thrust. She lifted her legs to his waist and stood on his toes as he fucked her up against the wall. The kiss broke and his face dropped on her shoulder. He held her waist to steady the surging urgency in him to love her and she received him with sexy whispers into his ear.

  “You like that don’t you...” she said.

  “Take me Armando....” she pleaded.

  “I’m going to give you everything...” she whispered.

  “I’m going to take care of you... ugh... to the very end... yes... I’m going... ugh... you...”

  Each demanding thrust quaked up along her vaginal walls and creamed her center as he landed his mark and her body went into shock. She orgasmed without concentration or special positioning. She climaxed so hard she saw bands of colors explode under her closed eyes.

  “On my life, you will be mine. Forever. I love you Catalina. I love you,” he pledged.

  The walk from the forbidden room to Giovanni’s bedside was the longest walk of her life. Mirabella found her husband as she left him, locked in his perpetual sleep. Nothing had changed. And the doctors were worried that nothing ever would. Now she had a new worry. A bigger one. What would happen when her husband woke up?

  Mirabella placed the journal on the bed and picked up his hand. She kissed it.

  “Gio? Gio, if you can hear me you need to wake up caro. We need you.”

  There was no response.

  She kissed his hand again. Instead of undressing like she did when she slept with him. She eased on the bed in her nightgown and snuggled his warm body. She stroked his chest. Mirabella closed her eyes and remembered the powerful feeling of being protected from the world by him. It was the strongest and last memory of them all. She felt safe and comfortable with her mobster husband who had been stabbed, shot, nearly run over by his life because he made it so.

  The doctors may not believe he was in there. The doctors may all think he is gone. He was not. He was in there, waiting, and healing. Mirabella listened to his strong heartbeat. Her eyes closed and she drifted to sleep. The way she slept in the crook of his arm left his hand to her back. And in her half-dream and half-wake state she was almost certain she felt his touch. But exhaustion claimed her before she could be sure.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The Hidden Truth

  Sorrento, Italy

  I love you....

  “Lorenzo?” Marietta rolled to her side and her pain surfaced again as she wept from under her closed lids. “Lorenzo...” she groaned once more to the empty silence. Her lashes weighted by her tears slowly parted. He wasn’t there. Marietta closed her eyes and forced herself to stop crying. Her hand went across her belly. She relaxed her mind. She took in a deep breath and exhaled with a slow measured breath.

  “It’s alright, everything’s alright sweetie,” she said the words over and over in her mind. Tears continued to run the course down her cheeks. “Hello my love, mommy’s okay, we’re okay.” Her baby kicked. Marietta smiled. “Aah, that’s right, it’s alright.” She opened her eyes again. The sunlight in the room revealed the early hour. Night and day blended for her now. With her baby in distress she was weaker but more cautious. The strength she had in her was on reserve, to shower and brush her teeth was all she summoned day after day. She ate to sustain her baby not her. She did nothing extra.

  And she was growing.

  As if overnight, the baby decided to stand up in her belly. Her stomach had dropped and now protruded. She was closer to seven months. If only she could make it to eight. By then she was certain Lorenzo’s plan would work, and he’d storm her prison. Lorenzo would make them all bow to him—he’d punish them all.

  The baby shifted and wedged closer to her ribs. The discomfort made her wince and she too had to move. Marietta tried to get up, but a dull pain to her lower back made her think better of the effort. She laid back down. She sighed in defeat and massaged her belly to make the baby move. The baby did shift and she felt relief again. Nothing in her life ever went to plan. Not one single thing. When she wanted to run her own business, she fell into debt. When Shae bailed her out, she fell into deeper debt. And when she left that life to find a family she never had in Italy she fell into this world. All her actions up until that point had been about self preservation. Every decision she’s made other than marrying the man she loved, had been to secure a future where she didn’t need a soul. Because from the moment she came into the world, she knew if she were to survive she’d have to do it on her own.

  The door opened. Marietta closed her eyes. When Zia arrived to bring her breakfast she barely spoke. When Minnie arrived to have lunch and dinner with her, it was a big event. Minnie talked loud, walked hard, and always jingled with her bracelets. She didn’t bother to determine which woman had returned. It was the same pointless visit to keep her jailed and complacent. Why should she care. All she had was her misery in the morning to keep her company.

  However, the silent way the door closed, and the hollow sound of no movement in the room did draw her out of her resolve.

  Marietta lifted her head from her pillow. Her vision blurred at first by tears and fatigue. But it cleared. And to her utter disbelief her sister stood at the foot of the bed staring at her. Mirabella wore a black fitted v-cut shirt and black jeans. Her hair was smoothed into a slender ponytail, and she had bangs that covered her brows. Diamonds sparkled from her ear lobes. She looked rested. Not even remotely fazed by the horror she’d turned her life into.

  “You shot my husband,” she said.

  The four words cracked through the silent stand off of the sisters with whiplike force. Marietta cringed. She shook her head furiously, but when her mouth opened her mind went blank. She had no excuse, no response, nothing to counter the accusation. Lorenzo said to lie. But there was no barrier of fairytales that Marietta could spin to withstand the truth when she was so brokenhearted and weak. Was that Mirabella’s intention? To drive her to the point of madness and despair to gain a confession? If it was it worked.

  “You set the gun to kill. And you walked into that warehouse ready to do it. You shot him. In the back. Three times. You left him to die.”

  “I swear on the life of my children, on our mother’s love for us, It didn’t happen intentionally.”

  “You liar!” Mirabella took a step forward with her fists clenched. “You never liked him. You never cared about him. You hate him. Admit it. Don’t lie to me anymore or I swear to God—”

  “Mirabella, please, please, try to understand,” Marietta begged. “I love you. I can’t be stressed like this. I have to protect my baby.”

  “You only think of yourself. What you haven’t had in life, what you want, what you need, and now you use the baby for the same purpose. To get what you want and the rest of us be damned. From the moment I found out I had a sister I welcomed you,” Mirabella said while tears glistened in her eyes. “Did you ever stop once to wonder why? What having you with me, as part of me, what it meant?”

  “Of course...”

  Mirabella shook her head no. “I only had Fabiana. Only her. When she died, a part of me died with her. The car, the flames, she burn
ed to death in front of me...”

  “Mirabella please!”

  “Her body, I saw her look at me before her body boiled in heat...” Mirabella broke in tears. She could barely speak but she managed too. “That’s what Lorenzo’s lies took from me. The first person he took from me. And you knew. You knew all along didn’t you?”

  “No...not... the way you think... I didn’t.”

  “I had time to think. Really understand. And I can remember all the little things you did and said over the years. Calling my husband the King and making fun of him. Making fun of me. You knew.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “And Lorenzo? He pretended to love Giovanni.”

  “He loves him!”

  “All of this happened for nothing. And the two of them still don’t know it. All these years the bickering and jealousy was for nothing. If they would have just told them the truth maybe Fabiana wouldn’t have died. Maybe I wouldn’t have had Eve alone, maybe you and I could have really had a chance... but no, the lies, they keep coming, and you, you are a part of it, there is nothing I can do... nothing changes it... nothing.”

  Marietta frowned. Mirabella’s ramblings made no sense. “Lorenzo wanted acceptance, Mirabella. I wanted acceptance. We never had it.”

  “And you think I have? You think I didn’t struggle to be accepted? As a little girl with a dead grandmother, and a grandfather who grew bitter and distant every day. As a black woman in a fashion industry that would rather sit down with Fabiana and Ted to discuss business instead of me? As a wife and mother in Italy married to a man I should fear, but can’t. To a world that will never accept me?”