by Emma Nichols
Alessandro’s eye piercing caught Maria’s attention, and she cleared her throat. “Could I get some water, please?”
“Simone. A jug of water, please,” Patrina said.
“Alessandro, I have come to see how we can we repay you for the debt we have incurred.”
Alessandro leaned forward, squeezing his stomach to the table as he reached for the wine and poured. “Vittorio did a bad thing, Donna Maria.”
Maria remained motionless. Acquiescence was always the best policy with men like Alessandro. They had to feel as if they were in control.
Simone delivered a carafe of water to the table and returned to the bar. Maria poured herself a glass and sipped, then resumed the visual duel with Alessandro.
He was relishing the power. One way or another Maria would strip it from him. It was just a matter of time. She wished she wasn’t on the back foot from the start though. Vittorio had made a mess of Alessandro’s head and while she could see what had driven him to violence, this was now one hell of a developing problem. You fucking idiot, Vittorio.
“A very bad thing, Donna Maria.” Alessandro broke eye contact with her and grabbed at the bread.
He broke off a large piece, dipped it in his wine, and rammed it into his mouth. He shook his head and dark red crumbs skittered across the table. For a brief moment, Maria imagined drawing a knife across his stomach and watching his guts spew from him, as they surely would at some point in the future. She watched him dip eat, speak, and spray.
Fucking pig. “Vittorio was misguided, Alessandro.”
Alessandro swung an arm in Maria’s direction, pointed at her, and then at the food. “Eat. The bread is freshly cooked, and the grapes are the finest in Sicily.”
Maria glanced at Patrina, who plucked a small piece of bread from the loaf and dipped it into her wine. Maria watched as she put the bread into her mouth, then she too broke a piece of bread, dipped it, and ate. “These are good grapes, Alessandro. A good crop this year, yes?” The lie slipped effortlessly, and his smile demonstrated he was a man of little taste.
“It could be achieving more.”
Now they were talking. “How? What do you need?”
He smacked his lips as he ate, spoke around the food turning in his mouth. “The Riverside.”
Maria slowly dipped her bread. He wanted to take over the management of the Riverside, one of their key accounts, as retribution for the injuries he sustained at the hands of Vittorio. It was an outrageous act of dominance, one that, if she acquiesced, would send a message across the patch and call her credibility into question. She leaned back in the seat and placed the bread in her mouth. Though she was finding it hard to swallow, refusing their hospitality would be disrespectful.
“The Riverside would allow us greater access to the market.”
Alessandro chuckled and wiped his chubby fingers across his too-wide mouth. “With grapes as good as these, more people should benefit, don’t you agree, Donna Maria?”
She was well aware that this transaction wasn’t about the Amatos running their wine distribution through a wider network. The Riverside would enable them to expand their drug distribution and cut through the centre of Lombardo territory. It would be like handing them a license to print money. And to do so would be signing her own death warrant. “The Riverside isn’t that profitable, Alessandro. I can find you a better business to supply wine to.” It was a lame card to throw, but she was playing for time with a shit hand.
He rubbed his palm over his chin. “A bad thing happened, Donna Maria. A very bad thing.” He shook his head, and his eyes darkened.
Patrina stared, her eyes as dark as her nephew’s, and her features revealing nothing that would indicate that leniency might be negotiable.
Maria glanced away from the table to Simone. Simone didn’t look away when Maria caught her staring at her intently. Maria broke eye contact and turned back to face Alessandro. “Alessandro, can I have a moment with Patrina? Alone.”
Patrina reached out and cupped his face. He looked at her like a puppy waiting for an opportunity to please. She leaned across and kissed his puffy cheek. He stood, clicked his fingers, and the men who had been sat at the window left the room. He clicked his fingers at Simone.
Maria watched Simone closely, concerned as to what might happen behind closed doors as she was ordered into the kitchen. She swallowed back the acid burning her throat and fought the overwhelming urge to rescue Simone from Alessandro.
Silence surrounded them oppressively. Maria needed a shred of their intimacy to equal some leniency here, but even she couldn’t feel it. “What
will it take, Patrina?”
“You make your bed uncomfortable, bedda Maria, and now you want me to sleep in it for you?” She dipped a chunk of bread in the wine and ate it.
Maria turned her head slowly. “You know I can’t give you the Riverside.”
Patrina lifted her chin, her focus distant. “Alessandro is his uncle’s nephew, Maria. What can I do?”
Maria wasn’t going to be drawn into Patrina’s mind games. Patrina was Stefano’s voice on the outside. No matter who the delivery agent was, the instructions always led back to her. She desperately needed their history to mean something, to cause Patrina to reconsider. “What can I do to help with this, Patrina? How can I make the pain go away?” For a split second, Maria was certain she could see a shred of compassion. She felt it in the familiar ache in her heart that always came with her hope that Patrina truly cared. In an instant it was gone as if it had never existed, and the ache turned to steel.
Patrina looked away. “Let me think about it.”
Maria released a slow breath. “Thank you, Patrina.” She was under no illusion that Patrina would make her pay a hefty price for the reprieve she had begged of her.
“I will be in touch.”
Maria stood, and Patrina remained seated. She walked from the restaurant and got into her car. She removed her weapon from the glove compartment and holstered it. As she turned the engine, she saw Simone staring at her from a room at the far side of the restaurant. A bolt of electric energy shot through her. Who are you? Maria smiled, hoping to convey her sympathy and hide her blush. Simone turned away. Maria shifted the Maserati into gear and slowly drove onto the main road. Then she hit the accelerator hard, cursing her brother-in-law as the car roared down the road.
8.
Maria stood with her back to the window and brushed at a fleck of dust on her tailored, black tuxedo jacket. Patrina hadn’t taken long in getting back to her to suggest a meeting at the opera. She had a proposition to discuss. Other than the penthouse suite, it was a place they had enjoyed together and where they often concluded business.
Competing emotions warred within her. Irritation at Patrina’s passivity, contempt for Alessandro’s revolting behaviour, and fear that if Patrina lost control of him, this would be a dangerous situation for them all.
She expected Patrina to handle him, and she had done nothing of the sort.
She had placated him, and Maria had left the café wondering. Did he have power over Patrina now?
Seeing Roberto’s sister had thrown her though. Simone had quickly become a distraction to the matter of the business at hand. She had emitted vulnerability and strength, and Maria had the impression that Simone felt oppressed. The desire to protect Simone had struck Maria with the force of an unexpected uppercut. The pain of Simone’s apparent suffering and the shock of the strong emotional impact of her own response were equally debilitating. The residual effect of the punch had remained with her long after leaving the café, and thoughts of Simone hadn’t strayed too far from the front of her mind since. Simone wasn’t safe.
The office door opened, and Giovanni came in. Maria adjusted her red silk bow tie.
“Good evening, Donna Maria.”
He looked as he always did, calm and focused. She relaxed a little, though Giovanni wouldn’t know the difference. No one would ever know what was going on beneath her skin
unless she wanted them to know.
Despite her preference for non-violent methods and to work in harmony with Amato, Maria was not a woman to be underestimated. Neither would she underestimate Patrina.
“We need to take on extra staff at the Riverside, Giovanni. It’s going to be a busy summer.”
He cleared his throat. “Roberto?”
She shook her head. Roberto wasn’t quite ready for this kind of responsibility, and more importantly she had a job she needed him to do.
She turned back to Giovanni. “You said he can fix cars. Does he do a good job?”
“He’s a talented kid, Donna Maria. He learns quickly and has a keen eye for important details. He fixes cars well.”
“Good. I have a job for him.”
“He is ready for whatever you throw at him.”
She knew she could trust Roberto. He had proven himself when he came to her house and washed her Maserati. She had placed three thousand euros in an unsealed envelope down the back of the front passenger seat. He had brought it to her immediately. She had locked eyes with him and asked,
“Do you know how much money is in here?” He had nodded hesitantly, clearly unsure as if having checked the money would count against him.
She’d offered him one thousand euros from the envelope, but he had refused to take it. Yes, she could definitely trust Roberto. “I like him.”
Giovanni looked out the window. “How was diving today?”
“The reef is stunning this time of year. I spotted red starfish and damselfish.”
“Incredible.”
“Who would have thought such biodiverse beauty could exist inside the depths of an underwater volcano? And Octavia was there.” She smiled, recalling the octopus she had named since discovering it as a baby.
“It is a magnificent place,” Giovanni said. “Discrete. A great escape, yes?”
“Perfect. Which reminds me, can you make sure our donation to the Marine Centre is increased by thirty percent please? They do an excellent job of keeping the reef safe from unwanted visitors.”
He tilted his head in a slight bow. “Of course, Donna Maria.”
“We must remain vigilant at the port, Giovanni. I have concerns that the staff there are overstretched with the recent increase in Amato shipments.” They owned the port and imported their construction supplies; cement, sand, and steel, but unfortunately, it didn’t mean they had full control of everything that went through there. They had shipping agreements with the authorities, as did the Amatos, that had always been respected. “I’m concerned that Alessandro might make a move on the harbour to take more than belongs to him.”
“I will see to it.”
“Thank you, Giovanni.”
He gestured towards her outfit. “You look good.”
Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door and it opened to reveal Roberto, dressed in a pressed white shirt, dark grey trousers, and highly polished black shoes.
“Bona sira, Donna Maria.” He lowered his head. “Giovanni.”
Maria turned to Giovanni. “Can you collect me from the theatre at eleven thirty and take me home?”
Giovanni smiled. “I will be there. Carmen is spectacular, I understand.”
She smiled. “So Matri says.” Maria straightened the front of her jacket even though it sat perfectly against her breasts and tucked in at her waist and headed to her car.
Roberto moved ahead of her and opened the door.
“Thank you.” She slipped into the driver’s seat, and Roberto closed the door before coming around to sit beside her. She drove in silence through town.
Roberto started fidgeting and seemed uncharacteristically tense. She looked across at him, and he avoided making eye contact with her. She smiled internally. This was the moment that always came with ambitious kids like him. They wanted to do more, often before they were ready. It was her job to keep Roberto safe until that time.
She smiled. “How are you enjoying your job here, Roberto?”
He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “It’s good. I am learning quickly, Donna Maria.”
“And the pizza delivery?”
“It’s...”
He looked across at her as if judging whether the moment was right to say more. She smiled as she guided the car slowly to the front of the opera house. “Yes, Roberto?”
“It’s just…I just want you to know I am ready for more responsibility, Donna Maria.”
“In good time, Roberto. Your time will come.” She eased the car up to the curb, put on the handbrake, and turned to face him. His hazel brown eyes, rimmed dark, somehow managed to convey his honesty. Trust.
Honour. “Roberto, I have an important job for you. Would you like to do it?”
He nodded quickly.
“Good. I need you to be my eyes at the Amato hotel, Hotel Fresco, close to the port. You know the one?”
“Yes, Donna Maria.”
“Roberto, can you do that for me and do it well? I need to know who Patrina is meeting. Any new faces, I need their names. Patrina will need to join forces to protect her interests. I need to know who she talks to.
You talk to no one else about this. You come to me.”
“Yes, Donna Maria. Talk to you only.”
“Good. Take the car to my home and go to your work. Capisci? You can tell them you quit. You work full-time for me now.”
Roberto beamed a grin and his face shone. “I understand, Donna Maria.”
“And, Roberto.”
“Yes, Donna Maria.”
“Simone must not know you are working for me. You understand?
She works for Patrina, and you working for me makes the relationship…
tricky. You know what I’m saying, Roberto?”
He looked towards the opera house with a frown before ducking his head a fraction. “Capisci, Donna Maria. I understand. You should know that Simone is at the opera this evening.”
A rush of blood assaulted Maria’s ears, and she cleared her throat.
Her intense response to hearing Simone’s name lingered. She blinked, dimming the vivid images of Simone and the exhilaration that simmered inside her, and looked at Roberto. “Right. You had better go.” She stepped onto the street, straightened her jacket, and walked towards the grand entrance of the opera house without looking back, her heart running a faster beat. She heard the roar of the Maserati as Roberto drove away. She glimpsed Angelo in the corner of her eye, chatting with a small group of people mingling outside the opera house. Ignoring him, she entered the building. She had always refused to have a minder at her heels, on account of her belief that Patrina wouldn’t actually take a hit out on her. But Alessandro couldn’t be trusted, and now either Angelo or Giovanni had eyes on her whenever she was out and about. She hated it.
“Bona sira, Donna Maria,” the man attending the door said, and smiled.
She slipped a fifty euro note into his hand as she shook it and patted him on the arm. He escorted her into the building. “Thank you, Enzio. I will make my own way.” She dismissed him and entered the bathroom.
She stood at the mirror assessing herself, then straightened her bow tie once again even though it didn’t need any adjustment. As the door opened she turned on the tap and ran her hands under the cold water and watched in the mirror’s reflection as a woman entered a toilet cubicle behind her. Her heart beat heavier. She’d never been like this before. She hadn’t felt the need to look over her shoulder every five minutes. She hadn’t given people a second glance. Now, she looked at everyone more than once, and this kind of interest wasn’t driven by lust and desire. Fat chance. This feeling was driven by the most primal of needs: survival. Although Simone added further complexity to the Amato situation. Was Simone here? Was she about to walk into the bathroom? The fluttering in Maria’s chest intensified. She patted cool hands to her face, tucked her hair around her ear, and exited the bathroom. Acutely aware of the increasing number of people in the foyer, she made her way to her private bo
x to the right of the stage and closed the door behind her.
A bottle of Dom Perignon rested on a bed of ice in a silver bucket to the side of the two satin-clothed chairs that looked out over the auditorium.
The hum and low rumble of competing voices ricocheted around the tiered structure as people located their seats. Low lighting veiled the curtained stage. Spots of light illuminated the pit, and the flicker of movement and the tuning of violins attracted her attention. At least her heart had slowed to its normal rhythm. The theatre was filling quickly, and the heat began to rise, making the air in the box heavily perfumed. She stood back from the front edge observing and appraising. It was a learned habit. Familiar figures adopted their regular seats in the stalls at the front of the stage: Mayor Marino, his wife, and his two high ranking councillors; the chief commissioner and his wife; and the chief prosecutor. Capitano Rocca sat at the end of the front row with her new sidekick, Detective Tomasso Vitale, by her side. Rocca glanced up at her, locked eyes, and bowed her head.
The box door opened, and Maria turned towards it as Patrina entered. Struck by the long, straight black dress that accentuated Patrina’s
shapely figure and removed years from her age, Maria smiled. “You look good, Patrina.”
Patrina’s lips twitched into a smile. “You always look good, bedda.”
Her tone seemed to carry on a sigh. The look in her eyes pierced through the professional barrier Maria needed to maintain between them.
“Let me get you a drink.” Maria lifted the champagne from the ice, ripped the foil from the cork, and unhooked the wire cap. She twisted the cork, and it emerged with a crisp pop. Maria picked up a glass and tilted the bottle to its lip. Slowly, she half-filled the tall glass and handed it over.
Patrina took the glass and lifted it in a toast. “ saluti, Maria.”
“ saluti.” Maria lifted her glass and watched Patrina.
