by Emma Nichols
Simone shook her head, her core on fire, and whispered, “Not really.”
Maria nodded. “Would you like to take a walk first?”
Seriously? How can you not know what I want? Simone tilted Maria’s face to look into her eyes and smiled. “Not really.” She tugged Maria into her, and when she met Maria’s lips in a languid, intimate kiss, she groaned. “This is what I want.”
Simone led Maria to a sunspot in the meadow and lowered her to the grass. She lay next to her on her side and ran her fingers through Maria’s hair. “You are so very handsome and pretty.” She smiled as she lightly traced her fingertips across Maria’s eyebrow and down her temple, and then followed the shape of Maria’s cheekbones and jaw. Every touch resonated in the electric energy that passed between them. She stroked her thumb across Maria’s lips, and she gasped softly. Simone placed soft kisses on Maria’s cheeks, her eyes, and then lingered on her mouth and nipped and bit Maria’s soft lips. Maria raised her hands to clasp Simone’s head, and Simone stopped her. She took Maria’s hands and lowered them to the ground and moved on top of her. “No,” she whispered. She silenced any potential objection with a deep kiss and when she touched Maria’s breast, Maria jerked beneath her and groaned into her mouth.
Whether it was the sound or the sense of Maria’s hardened nipples at her fingertips, urgency overtook her and she pulled out of the kiss and stared into Maria’s eyes. “I need to feel you.”
“I want you inside me.”
Maria’s voice had a gravelly texture that streamed through Simone in a shower of sparkles. Simone undid Maria’s trousers, lowered her
clothing, and slipped her hand between Maria’s legs. She gasped and groaned as her fingers slid through Maria’s silky folds and across her swollen sex. “You are so fucking hot.”
Maria groaned and thrust her hips into Simone.
“And so very wet.”
Maria jerked her head back and groaned. “Oh, fuck…”
“And so deliciously silky. I’m going to…” Simone entered Maria, and her own guttural groan rendered her speechless.
Maria rocked rhythmically and then lifted her head and cupped Simone’s cheek to look at her. “You feel so good.”
The intensity in Maria’s eyes stole Simone’s breath. She silenced her streaming thoughts by kissing Maria firmly on the lips and thrusting her fingers deeper inside her. Maria’s eyes closed, and she started to shudder.
Simone held her fingers inside Maria, teased her with light touches, and kissed her tenderly, and as Maria reached orgasm, she held her in her arms until the tremors eased.
Simone tenderly stroked Maria’s damp cheeks and smiled. “I love you,” she whispered. Maria shook her head and tears slipped from her eyes.
Simone silenced her objections with a languid kiss, and buried the ache in her heart.
Please, tell me you love me.
24.
Maria stroked the smallest blood-red flower of the orchid and traced the darker red veins shaping its character and differentiating it from its neighbouring flowers. The cultivated orchids were very different to the wild ones in the Pyrenees, no matter how well tended they were. The wild ones seemed to exude energy and freedom. Maybe it was just her imagination, her hopes for her life projected through what she saw in nature.
Heat flooded her as she recalled the precious time she’d shared with Simone in a place free from all this. Her heart weighed heavily. She looked out the window across the city. It really was a stunning place, and yet it had come to represent everything she abhorred. The flicker of hope had become brighter in the past week, just as long as she didn’t think about the outcome of the meeting with Don Chico and the incident that had left Beto on crutches. She closed her heart to protect it from the impending sense of doom that was never too far from the front of her mind. She needed to stay sharp.
She wiped the light-green, rubber-like leaf and tenderly removed the finest layer of dust that had accumulated in the short time she had been away. She smiled to herself as she shook her head. Her matri never looked after the plants with the same attention to detail as she did. Pesto gnawed on the stick he’d found on the beach. He had insisted on carrying it with him to the office, refusing to get into the Maserati without his prize. A wave of sadness moved through her, and she pushed it away with her thoughts. You can’t always have it all. She took a deep breath and rubbed her hand across her brow.
Simone, Simone…why are you so stubborn?
Simone had insisted she had things she needed to do, a house to clean, and Roberto to catch up with. At least Roberto had been briefed by Giovanni. Damn that lie. She couldn’t hold Simone prisoner at the villa though she seriously wanted to.
An unsettled feeling moved through her. She picked up another cloth and put it down again, then touched the Smith and Wesson at her side.
She paced at the rate of her thoughts then picked up another cloth and
tended to a leaf. She couldn’t sit, couldn’t rest. In short, she wished Simone had stayed at the beach where she would be safe.
She turned to the door as it opened, threw the cotton cloth into the bin, and walked to the front of her desk. She smiled at Vittorio and Giovanni as they approached.
Giovanni smiled warmly. “Donna Maria, the break was good?”
His kindness distracted her, and she smiled. “Yes, a very good break and a good meeting with Rafael. But now, we must get back to business.”
Tension crept up her back, sharpening and directing her attention.
Vittorio bowed his head. “Good to see you back, Donna Maria.”
“How’s Catena?”
Vittorio smiled. “Good. A little sick, but happy.”
“That’s good.” That was good. It was normality of the kind Maria would like to enjoy.
Vittorio hesitated, and his smile disappeared. “Donna Maria.”
“Yes, Vittorio.”
“Alessandro is not going to pay Don Chico.”
Maria expected nothing less.
“Patrina is looking to the Spanish.”
Maria rolled her tongue around her mouth as she considered. “That means she will be trying to piggy-back on our supply routes.”
Giovanni nodded. “Alessandro is pushing too.”
Maria frowned.
“Since we increased security at the Riverside, he sent a small supply of wine and tobacco to Lo Scoglio and Pastasciutta yesterday. The wine is of a much lower quality, and the quantities aren’t as high. We refused it, but the managers were forced to pay at gunpoint…I have had the situation taken care of. Security has been increased at all our venues, and the stock has been sent to his customers as a gift. The Romano brothers are behind the deliveries, and Vittorio is going to send them a stronger message.
Alessandro is wild. He’s crazy, Donna Maria. Something needs to be done before we have the Italians and the Spanish on our backs. Chico is not our friend; he just hates Alessandro more than us.”
Maria nodded. “I know.”
Giovanni held his breath as if he had more to say and didn’t know how to say it. “We can’t expand the routes for Don Chico’s supplies, Donna Maria. It goes against everything we stand for.”
Maria took a pace towards Giovanni and placed a hand on his arm.
“I have no intention of giving Chico what he wants, Giovanni. We needed to cut that deal to give ourselves time.” She lowered her eyes. She wasn’t ready to share her thoughts on how they would handle the Chico problem, but it would involve Patrina. Firstly, they needed to silence Alessandro. “Is Beto okay?”
“He will live.”
Maria ran her fingers through her hair, pressing tightly to her scalp.
“If Chico had wanted Beto dead, you would have brought him back in a body bag. He is toying with Alessandro, but for how long we don’t know.”
Giovanni looked concerned. “Donna Maria?”
She let go of Giovanni’s arm and turned to face Vittorio. “Yes, Vittorio.”
�
��Alessandro is planning to take rent from our tenants. Stracato Street, the bakers, and tailors have been given notice. Next month, they pay him.”
Fucking hell. Could this get any worse? Maria stared at Vittorio.
“That fucking pig.”
Vittorio lowered his head, then looked up. “You know Gavino Romano is as crazy as Alessandro. He is Alessandro’s right-hand now.”
“What about Beto?”
Vittorio shook his head. “He is recovering. Alessandro has moved on.”
Maria worked her tongue slowly around her dry mouth, and her focus remained still and distant. “Vittorio, we need to take down their infrastructure.”
“Yes, Donna Maria.”
She looked at Giovanni. “Is Roberto doing a good job?”
Giovanni smiled with affection for the boy.
“He is smart. He’s collecting rent and has keen eyes on the street.
He remembers names and faces well.”
“Good. I want every truck in the Amato’s supplier’s fleet decommissioned. Roberto can help. Vittorio, tell him to be careful. And, speak to the bakers and tailors. Let them know we are looking after them, and that they are not to pay rent to Amato. Any Amato goes near them, or anyone else, we clean up the streets. Understand?”
Vittorio smiled, a glint in his eye. “Of course, Donna Maria. I understand.”
“I will speak to Roberto,” Giovanni said.
Maria looked from one man to the other. She hesitated, then looked to each of them again. “Simone will be staying at the villa until this mess is cleared up. She can’t work at the Riverside, it’s too risky. She wants to go into town today. Giovanni, can you get Angelo to take her? Keep eyes on her at all times.”
Giovanni nodded.
“I will try and meet with Patrina and see if we can calm this situation before it blows us all out of the water. I want to know the faces of every Calabrian crew we can trace. If they set foot on our shores, we need to know who they are.”
Both men answered in unison. “Capisci, Donna Maria.”
She turned her back to them and walked to the window, the sound of their metal heels clicking on the wooden floor fading as they went to the door.
“Vittorio.”
“Sì, Donna Maria.”
She faced the window as she spoke. “Nothing to Catena or Matri. I don’t want them worrying.”
“Sì, Donna Maria, capisci.”
She sighed as the door clicked shut. Staring vacantly, her heart running a heavy beat, her stomach corkscrewed. Slowly she held out her hands and looked at them, surprised to see them remaining still. Her thoughts drifted to Simone, and her heart started to race, though not with joy or the blissful sense of peace and love she’d experienced while they were away together. This was the quality of alertness she had known once before, the time she had referred to when talking openly with Simone at the farmhouse. She had just turned twenty-one, and she had killed a man. That was her first time, and although it hadn’t been her last, it was the one memory that lingered. His eyes never closed. They stared at her blankly.
There was nothing behind the dark brown irises. His skin paled, and his blood trickled from his nose. Life had drained from him instantly.
She looked at her trembling hands. Simone’s face replaced the man’s lying motionless on the cold concrete, and Maria’s heart thundered, heavy and hard.
25.
Splinters of light lit up the beach and shoreline as Maria drove towards the villa. Simone was home. Home. She took a deep breath, and a wave of warmth moved across her shoulders and down her neck. She brought the Maserati to a stop, and the music of Carmen she heard coming from inside the villa made her smile softly. One day she would watch the opera with Simone’s hand in hers and savour every second of it. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the delicate fluttering in her chest. The image of Simone in the flowing red dress she wore at the opera came to her. Maria slowly undid the buttons, slipped the dress from her shoulders, and unhurriedly felt the softness of her skin with her fingers and tongue. Maria’s pulse raced. She flashed her eyes open, stepped out of the car, and took a deep breath to stem the throbbing between her legs. She entered the villa.
And froze.
Steel tension gripped Maria as she focused on the woman stood staring out of the window towards the beach. Her chest thundered beneath the tightness that clamped her lungs, and she gasped urgently for breath.
Patrina turned slowly. She was smiling softly, disarmingly. Pesto sat in his bed, happily chewing a bone. Maria glared at her. “How the fuck did you get into my home?”
“Someone is getting careless, ma bedda.”
Maria’s throat constricted as she processed the words. The latch on the door to the beach had been broken. Careless got people killed, and that thought never settled well. Maria cleared her throat, and when she asked again her tone had an edge to it. “How did you get in here, Patrina?”
Patrina glanced out the window. Lights bobbed on the water, spotting the cruiser that was moored next to the Bedda at the boundary of the cove.
“You think you are invincible and that the cove protects you? I can recommend a good locksmith. You need one.”
An icy chill trickled down Maria’s spine, then a surge of electric heat shot back up and filled her head with fire. “We had an agreement, Patrina.”
Patrina continued to stare out the window. Maria thought she heard her snigger. She clenched her fists to stop herself reaching for the gun at her side. She couldn’t kill Patrina though she wished she could. She had drawn a line under that option a long time ago. It was one thing to be intensely irritated by Patrina, but taking her life just wasn’t an option Maria could live with.
“I think any agreements we had were annulled when you laid your hands on me…or should I say, your foot?” She turned to face Maria, her eyes darker and colder than a moment ago. “Don’t you think?”
Maria refused to acknowledge the comment. She walked to the kitchen to free her muscles from the rigidity that stifled her. She needed to think clearly. Patrina would not have come to the villa without good reason.
If Patrina had wanted to kill her, she would have done it already. And Maria didn’t believe Patrina wanted to kill her any more than she wanted Patrina dead. Too much had passed between them and despite what had happened, Maria still held a shred of respect for her. “What do you want from me, Patrina?”
Patrina sighed. “I thought you would never ask.”
Maria winced. The fucking game playing.
Patrina approached the breakfast bar and looked around the room.
“This is a nice place. I can’t think why you didn’t invite me here.”
Maria went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. She grabbed two glasses and placed them on the bar. “We need to talk, Patrina.”
“There you go, bedda. We are still like-minds.”
Patrina’s sarcastic tone was paralleled in the disdainful look she gave Maria as she poured the wine and sipped her drink. Maria glanced at the front door. The last thing she needed was Simone coming home while Patrina was here. She should be back by now. Where the fuck is she? She breathed deeply, and her ribs reluctantly expanded.
“Are you expecting someone?” Patrina teased the glass across her lips.
Maria gave her a stern look. She wouldn’t be baited. She still held the upper hand, otherwise Patrina would never have come to the villa. She sipped her drink. “You’re losing control, Patrina.” The smile slid from Patrina’s lips, and the lines appeared across her forehead as she narrowed her eyes. Patrina looked older, and Maria noted vulnerability in her
unsettled appearance. “Alessandro is bringing your business down, Patrina.”
Patrina sipped the drink then rested the glass on the bar. “We need to work together, not against each other, bedda,” she said softly.
The tender, almost conciliatory, tone in Patrina’s voice turned the chilled wine that had just hit Maria’s stomach, even though she kn
ew Patrina was right. She’d had the same thoughts. If they didn’t work together, the Italians and or the Spanish would tear them apart. But there were a couple of big issues. Firstly, she didn’t trust Patrina, and secondly, she really didn’t trust Patrina. She couldn’t concede easily, or it would send the wrong message. “Why should I work with you?”
Patrina took in a deep breath and released it slowly, and when she looked at Maria, it was as though she was trying to convey tenderness.
“We had something special, didn’t we?”
Maria took a sip of wine. “That was a long time ago, Patrina. A long time ago.”
Patrina smiled ruefully. “I know. But something that special leaves an ember that can never be extinguished. It’s an eternal flame. I know you feel it too.”
Maria shook her head almost imperceptibly. She didn’t feel an eternal flame, but it would serve her to have Patrina believe she did. Patrina had comforted Maria after she made her first kill. She had helped her see a different perspective and to recognise that what she had done had served the greater good. Patrina had been the one to clean up the situation and make sure that no route led back to either of them. But Maria had paid a hefty price for Patrina’s protection and affection. The pounding in her chest forced her to ask the bitter question that sat at the tip of her tongue. “Did you order the hit on my father?”
Patrina’s eyes widened, and she shook her head violently. “What are you saying? No, of course not. The police confirmed it was an accident.
The case was closed. No, bedda, I swear I would not do that to your father, you, or your family.”
Maria stared into Patrina’s eyes. The paling of Patrina’s cheeks, the adamant shaking of her head, and the genuine sense of shock she saw in her eyes meant something. She believed her. And not because she wanted to, but because her gut told her. “Don Stefano ordered this?”
Patrina shook her head. She looked dazed. “Um, no. I don’t think so.
He respected your father.”
Maria didn’t flinch. “Then Alessandro.”
Patrina swallowed hard, and she lowered her head.
