by Emma Nichols
“I saw the office light on. It’s late to be working.”
“How was the opera, Matri?”
She stroked Maria’s cheek. “Is everything in order, Maria? Vittorio looks as though he got badly stung.”
Maria tilted her head at her mother’s lack of interest in small talk.
“Did you know there is a bee orchid, Matri?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s sneaky. Its flower mimics a female bee, so the male tries to mate with it and in doing so they pollenate it. I don’t understand.”
“Vittorio is the foolish insect, always attracted to the wrong plant.
The orchid is smarter than he.”
She sighed and placed her hand on Maria’s arm. “Darling, he’s your sister’s husband.”
“He drinks more than he can handle, and he spends too much time on the wrong side of the casino tables. He is causing us a problem, Matri.
And we can’t afford his kind of problem.”
Her mother let Maria go and turned to face the window. “Do you think he needs to feel respected, that you consider him family?”
“He wouldn’t know respect if it were the bee that stung him on the arse.”
Her mother chuckled. “Can you not give him responsibilities? So he can prove himself to you? The men look up to you, but they are still men and need to feel...useful. They’re not comfortable with a female boss. It is alien to them, a threat to their masculinity. They are more familiar with fighting for their honour than sending gifts of apology,” she said.
Maria clenched her jaw. Though her mother was not running the family business, it was clear she still knew exactly what was going on at any given moment. Had Giovanni told her about the champagne?
“Who knows? It might help us all. If Patrina is making a move, maybe we do need to reinforce our presence.”
“Patrina will not take this incident well, Matri.”
Her mother turned back to face the window. She stood in silence for a moment. “Are relations still good with her?”
“There are new challenges.”
“Can we resolve the tension, Maria?”
“Not easily.” Maria recalled their last tryst and shuddered. “Patrina wants what she can no longer have.”
Though her mother’s features remained still and passive, Maria knew that the meaning of her words were clear. Her mother knew about her relationship with Patrina though they had never spoken of it. Had her father known about the affair? No. He would have challenged her directly.
“I know this is the right thing for you, tesoro, and I confess I am relieved. But it does change matters. Can you handle the situation?”
“I will deal with it.”
Her mother sighed. “And is Vittorio safe?”
“I am watching him.” Maria turned to face her mother. “I want to trust him, Matri, but he is wild. He has no sense. I’m worried he will give Patrina a reason to escalate.”
Her mother reached out, and took Maria’s hand. “You will do what you need to do, Maria. Your father would have done the same.”
Maria nodded. The rules were simple. She would do what was needed to protect those she loved, and Vittorio currently sat outside that circle. Minded of the conversation she had had with her father at her sister’s wedding, she winced. “It’s going to be difficult for you, not that I’m planning to go anywhere,” he had said and laughed. Then he had become serious. “Vittorio is the type of man who will think that the reins should automatically be handed to him, but I would never condone that, and it must not be allowed to happen. It’s the old way. He doesn’t think clearly and is quick to anger. He is not a Lombardo, and he has too much to learn. This is the Lombardo family business, and we do things our way. It’s the new way, Maria. The bloodshed must stop. I believe in you. Vittorio, he is your sister’s choice. He is not mine. He is not ours.” But that was the point, wasn’t it? Vittorio was Catena’s choice, and she needed to respect that fact and help Vittorio to become family. If she failed to do that, she was no better than Vittorio.
Maria rubbed at her tense jaw.
Her mother turned from the window and smiled. “Anyway, I have some good news. Catena is pregnant. You are going to be an auntie.”
Shit. Maria took a deep breath. Vittorio, who had stood before her looking pitiful and broken an hour ago, was going to be a father? God help them all. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Be nice. Your sister is very excited.”
She needed to speak to Patrina. Whether Vittorio deserved it or not, she couldn’t let Patrina take revenge for Alessandro. If she did, Vittorio might not live to see his first child.
“What are you going to do about Vittorio?”
“I need to visit Patrina and make sure this doesn’t escalate.”
Her mother stroked Maria’s cheek with tenderness. “Remember what I said about giving him responsibility. He sees how you treat Giovanni. Can you not give him something to be proud of?”
“I need to think about it.” Maria couldn’t think of anything more dangerous than giving Vittorio responsibility in the family business right
now. “He has aspirations, I can see that.”
“Yes, he’s ambitious. Our men are. We live in a changing world, Maria, a world that I don’t necessarily agree with, but it is what it is.
Women bosses still aren’t commonplace, and most men would feel castrated by working for a woman. Years of tradition has been turned on its head in such a short space of time. You—even Patrina now that Stefano is in prison.
The rules are changing, and women like Patrina are finding positions of power before they are ready. But remember, family is family. Omertà is still our law. If we lose that, we have nothing. We will be annihilated.”
Maria frowned. She curled her fingers into a fist at her mother’s words, “Before they are ready.” Did her mother think Maria wasn’t ready?
Maybe she wasn’t. The acts of violence she needed to instruct and the bloodshed that would result caused her gut to tighten. And the law of silence wasn’t her law. She had never seen the sense in loyalty for loyalty’s sake and neither had her father. Loyalty that had been bought was fickle.
Loyalty earned lasted. Her mother’s insistence that the code to remain silent be preserved at all costs caused the tiny hairs on her neck to rise.
“You were trained by your father, Maria, and trained well. The same is not the case for others, and violence and retribution are increasing across the city. Stability requires order and respect. Lose respect, and you lose everything. You must not lose the respect of the men, Maria.”
I never asked for this. I never wanted this. Maria shook her head.
She was well versed with the ways of the Cosa Nostra; the expectations, the image, and how quickly it could all turn. People would disappear. Accidents would happen. She had been fortunate to follow in the footsteps of her father, and Giovanni and Angelo were trustworthy and loyal to her. But it could quickly turn. One wrong foot, one decision that called her leadership into question, and she too could disappear. It was clear that Vittorio would be the first to jump at the chance of taking control of the business, and he was amassing followers. “I’ll let you know if I need any help.”
Her mother smiled, turned away from Maria, and headed to the door.
“Bona notti, Matri.”
She glanced back over her shoulder. “Bona notti, tesoro. Sleep well.”
Maria doubted sleep would come easily. The clock on the wall reading 1:28 a.m. told her it would be a short night. She plucked her phone
from her pocket and read the text message from Giovanni: Patrina prefers the taste of the coffee at Café Tassimo at lunchtime.
Maria smiled. She hadn’t expected Patrina to agree to meet at a restaurant on Lombardo turf under the circumstances, and Café Tassimo was the latest Amato acquisition. It would be interesting to see what she had done with the rundown ex-nightclub on the outskirts of town. Her smile faded with the thought of meeting with Patrina on Amato
turf after months of no contact with her. Maria was the prey and Patrina the serpent that had struck a casual blow and was now preparing a full-on attack. Her heart pounded. She swallowed, and her thundering pulse quickened. She challenged her fears with images of the tenderness they had once shared.
Patrina may want to lash out but deep down, Maria refused to believe Patrina would seriously hurt her even though her body seemed to think differently. She would prime herself for whatever Patrina might throw at her. Having the problem go away was of paramount importance. Damn you, Vittorio.
7.
Simone stopped drying the glass and looked up from behind the bar.
The throaty roar of the Maserati as it pulled slowly into a space at the front of the café before the engine fell silent attracted the attention of the Amato men outside.
The two Romano thugs in their car outside the restaurant looked out through the plumes of smoke they generated and stared in the direction of the vehicle. Alessandro’s runner leaned over the petrol tank of his motorbike and smiled as if admiring a woman he would like to bed. It didn’t take much to work out their thoughts. Simone laughed to herself.
There wasn’t one of them who wouldn’t want the Maserati, let alone the woman who was now walking towards the café’s entrance. In your dreams.
Donna Maria Lombardo bore no resemblance to their standard guest. For one thing, the café’s clientele was almost exclusively male. And for another, they didn’t dress like that. There was no doubting the quality of the dark blue suit. Ten thousand, she reckoned. The perfect cut exemplified the image of Maria Lombardo she had seen portrayed in the newspapers, elegant and sophisticated. She was more handsome in person than any picture had managed to convey. Awe radiated through Simone, and she looked away, acutely aware of the heat flushing her face. Only after Donna Maria had walked past the bar did she swallow hard and look up.
She watched through the corner of her eye as she slowly dried the glasses. Donna Maria looked out of place in this cheap, pretentious setting, with its plastic seating in shades of coffee and brown reminiscent of 1970s décor. Alessandro was equally fake, with the grossly oversized gold chains that had to fight their way past the layers of fat that concealed his chin and neck, the large gold signet ring bearing a coin that adorned the chunky little finger of his right hand, and a gold band encrusted with diamonds circled the thumb of his left hand. He thought he was the king. The gold bar that pierced his right eyebrow and the cosmetic white-toothed smile that concealed the ruby piercing in his tongue she had seen when he laughed, just made him look like a punk. No better than the majority of men in their late twenties in Palermo. The bruising that marked the smooth skin of his right cheek and temple bore a remarkable resemblance to the indentations
on the sole of a boot. It was less than Alessandro deserved but Simone applauded the person who had given it to him.
Maria stopped just short of the table at which Patrina, Alessandro, and Beto were sitting drinking wine. Alessandro stood as swiftly as his clinically obese body would allow and lumbered towards Maria with a conceited smile on his face.
The glass fractured with the tension in Simone’s grip. She looked up. No one had noticed. She restrained the urge to run out and defend Maria’s honour. The odious man galled her. Her heart raced and her breathing felt tight, even though Maria appeared to be calm and unphased by Alessandro’s attempt to intimidate her.
Alessandro looked up to meet Maria’s eyes. “Donna Maria.”
“It’s been a while, Alessandro. You’ve grown into quite the young man.”
Simone smiled at the subtle insult. He would be too stupid to notice.
He stood taller and flashed a grin. “Yeah, I have.”
He pointed towards Patrina, indicating for Maria to take a seat at the table. As he turned, the injury that had been inflicted to the back of his head made Simone smile.
Maria stood at the edge of the table.
“Are you carrying?” Patrina asked.
Maria shook her head. Patrina got up, moved around the table, and stepped in front of her.
“You won’t mind if I check, will you?”
Patrina half-smiled. It looked as though she was goading Maria to challenge her authority, testing to see how far she could push her. Surely Maria wouldn’t react? She was smarter than that.
Maria held out her arms. “Be my guest.”
An intensity built quickly within Simone and she clenched her jaw, then the metallic taste of blood alerted her. She had bitten her lip watching Patrina run her fingers around Maria’s shirt collar, down between her breasts, around her waist, and down to her hips. As Patrina moved lower, she leaned into Maria’s body. Simone couldn’t take her eyes off Maria.
There was something about the casual way in which Maria and Patrina communicated. Simone frowned and looked fleetingly to the two men at the table. They seemed oblivious to the obvious intimacy between the two women. Were the men blind, or was it her imagination?
Patrina backed away quickly, looking flustered and flushed. Maria must have whispered something personal to her. Simone had never seen Patrina looking embarrassed before. Simone could barely breathe. She turned away, her hands trembling, and poured wine into a carafe and prepared a basket of bread.
Patrina cleared her throat and returned to her seat. She gestured to an empty spot at the table. “Sit.”
Maria acceded. She looked across the table at Beto picking at a scab on his knuckle.
“Beto.” Patrina tilted her head indicating for him to leave the table.
He promptly stood and made his way to the back of the restaurant and through a door that led into the kitchen.
Simone took the bread and wine to the table on an imitation silver tray. The closer she got, the faster her heart raced. She stood in front of them, her heart pounding, and smiled weakly. Maria’s soft smile eased Simone’s anxiety. Then Simone became aware of Alessandro staring at her, and a bolt of fire shot through her.
His eyes were on her breasts. He licked his lips and grinned, his possessive intent clear and vile. She wanted to smack that grin from his face. She forced a smile, hoping her detest of the man didn’t show. Smug, revolting arsehole. Something flashed in Maria’s eyes that told her she had a similar opinion of Alessandro.
As Simone lifted the basket of bread from the tray and placed it in the centre of the table, Alessandro reached around her with his fat hands, grabbed at her arse, and pushed her short skirt upwards. She jumped, and the carafe slid across the silver tray, rocked, and spilled its contents. She tried to steady it whilst shifting away from the unwanted physical contact.
Alessandro wrapped his hand between her legs and tugged her closer, trying to force her to sit on his lap as she placed the wine on the table.
Maria glared at Patrina, but she casually finished her drink and poured herself another one. Simone looked pleadingly from one woman to the other. Please, one of you intervene. Maria looked incensed by Alessandro’s behaviour, but she wasn’t in a position to tell either Amato how to treat their staff. Maria must have picked up on her silent plea, because she looked intently at Alessandro and drew his attention away from her.
“Alessandro. I owe you a sincere apology.”
Alessandro laughed, and he gripped Simone tightly. “You like pussy, Donna Maria? Simone here is a lovely example.”
Simone froze. Had he noticed the connection between Patrina and Maria? Maria gave her a quick empathic look that eased her concerns, though her chest remained constricted.
Alessandro tilted his head to the side and stared at Maria as if he held some power over her. Maria sighed. She seemed unmoved by his provocation. In fact, if anything she looked subtly bored. She’s in control.
Simone felt a flicker of something warm settle inside her.
Maria cleared her throat. “Alessandro, perhaps we could arrange to dine together one evening, and you can tell me what it takes to be a real man. I would be interested to know what makes you so popular with t
he women. You clearly have something special.”
Simone concealed the smile that Alessandro would punish her for if he saw it. Alessandro’s ego had been sufficiently massaged, and he was a sucker for a compliment even if laced in sarcasm. It was how Patrina operated with him, and the only thing that caused him to back down. He was weak and stupid when praised.
He puffed out his chest and grinned, then with a flick of his hand he cast Simone free as carelessly as he would kick the dirt from the soles of his shoes. She took a couple of small steps to regain her balance, straightened her skirt, and glanced briefly at Maria before walking to the bar, aware that Alessandro was still leering at her.
Maria watched and waited for Alessandro to shift his attention from Simone, breathing deeply to stem the unexpected warmth the barwoman’s presence had elicited in her.
So, you are Roberto’s sister.
Maria had sensed Simone scrutinising her from the moment she walked into Tassimo. There was an openness in Simone’s eyes that summoned something deeply inside Maria. The overwhelming desire to protect Simone didn’t make sense. The despicable way Alessandro treated Simone tempted Maria to exact retribution on Simone’s behalf without a second thought for the consequences. But that wasn’t the reason. He was just a pig, and she would defend any woman abused by him, even if she couldn’t do it in the moment. She could and would deal with him. This feeling though, and her intense reaction to Simone, defied logic.
