Cosa Nostra by Emma Nichols) 16656409 (z-lib.org) (1)-compressed

by Неизвестный

thumped the call button repeatedly, cursing beneath her breath. She looked

  back to the penthouse door that she would never open again. The ping

  announced the arrival of the lift, and before the doors had fully opened, she

  stepped inside and pressed her thumb firmly on the ground floor button.

  The lift doors closed all too slowly, eventually hiding the vibrant colours of

  the penthouse foyer behind the sheet of silver-grey. She stared at her

  reflection in the highly polished metal. Nausea gave way to relief, and the

  stiffness in her shoulders eased slightly. I am free. The thought settled in a

  moment of lightness that quickly transformed into a low-level hum of

  something akin to anxiety. Patrina would not accept the relationship was

  over. But Maria would deal with the fallout of that later. She’d at least

  shattered the toxic chains that had linked them and severed the rope that had

  become a noose around her neck. She swayed on the balls of her feet as the

  lift started to descend then watched the numbers light up, floor by floor. She

  looked down at her shaking hands then back to the numbers, and as the lift

  dropped level by level, emptiness claimed her. What have I done? With Don

  Stefano serving multiple life-sentences, Patrina held the Amato’s power,

  and there was no doubting she could be dangerous. Will she put a hit on

  me? No, she would back Patrina to fight. She closed her eyes, slowed her

  breathing, and rolled her shoulders. The descent slowed, and she opened her

  eyes, lifted her chin, and inspected her smile in the mirrored walls. Did she

  look older or was that an illusion? Tired and wasted. Her smile lacked

  something. Joy? Her passion for life had died the night her father passed,

  the same day she had decided to end the relationship with Patrina. She

  wetted her lips, took a deep breath, and smiled again. Better. The outside

  world must never discover what had existed within the walls of the

  penthouse suite. The lift arrived at the ground floor. She exited the partially

  opened doors and strode towards the glass-fronted hotel entrance. She

  needed time alone to think, to process. Patrina Amato knew how to win,

  and losing wasn’t an option for either of them. Like it or not, Maria would

  need to fight.

  3.

  Simone ambled across the cobbled square, the sun warm on her

  face, and her smile growing wider as she drew closer to her brother

  standing outside the cathedral. The dimples on his cheeks became more

  pronounced as his grin widened. He had always been a good-looking boy.

  Now, he was a handsome young man. She took the tie from around her neck

  as she stepped up to him, lifted his shirt collar, and placed it around his

  neck.

  “Mama will turn in her grave if you go to church without a tie on.”

  He gave her a cheeky grin. “It looks funkier on you.”

  She straightened his jacket and frowned at him. “The satchel, really,

  Roberto?”

  “You sound like Mama.” He held out his hands in a placating

  gesture. “I bought pizza for after.”

  “I hope you paid for it.”

  “Stop sounding like Mama.” He grinned. “They give us pizza for

  free.”

  She stared at him and smiled. She never doubted his honesty these

  days though he had learned the hard way. Lying about the brawls he had got

  into at school, lying about his attendance, and then being expelled as a

  result of his disruptive behaviour. He had challenged her tolerance in the

  months following the death of their parents, but she had been hurting too

  and hadn’t been of much help to him. Had she failed him? Now, working

  delivering pizza, he seemed more settled. He had grown up fast. She kissed

  his cheek. “Right, shall we go in?”

  He turned towards the doors of the cathedral and held out his arm.

  “This sure is a strange birthday present.”

  She linked arms with him and tugged him to her. “I just want to say

  hi to them on my birthday, that’s all.”

  He shrugged. “I hate churches.”

  This particular visit to the cathedral to pay her respects was

  momentous. Today, she crossed a threshold from twenty-nine to thirty. It

  felt like a final goodbye, a cord cut. She couldn’t explain it, and Roberto

  would just shrug if she tried. He had never needed rituals to get over his

  grief, though Simone had questioned whether he might have rebelled less if

  he’d had a different outlet for his anger. Today was a stepping stone to a

  new future, though she had no idea what that looked future looked like. She

  worked for people she didn’t like and had no one to go home to at night,

  except Roberto, of course. But that was different and with his working

  hours, they could be like ships passing in the night. Anyway, he had his

  own life and more success with women than she had. Was she deluding

  herself? Patrina’s behaviour at work didn’t feel like she was on a new and

  exciting venture. In fact, Patrina had been more challenging than normal

  and for no explicable reason. She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to

  think about Patrina Amato or Café Tassimo. She wanted a nice birthday

  lunch with her brother. She patted him on the chest and straightened his

  jacket at the front.

  “Stop whining. We won’t be long.” She reached into her pocket and

  handed him a five euro note. “Put this in the box when you take a candle.”

  He took the money. “Sure.”

  The cathedral bells rang out across the square. They were chiming

  again when they walked out of the cathedral fifteen minutes later. “See,

  wasn’t so bad was it?”

  He shuddered. “Why is it always so cold in church?”

  She smiled at him. “So, how about pizza then?”

  They wandered to the fountain and perched on the concrete ledge.

  Coins glistened in the shallow water. She threw a euro into the font and

  closed her eyes.

  Roberto removed the satchel and pulled out a box. “What did you

  wish for?”

  “Can’t tell you.” She looked into the box. “Yum, you got my

  favourite.”

  “We use the best salami this side of the mainland. I got them to put

  all the anchovies on your side.” He picked out a slice of pizza and handed it

  to her with a grimace.

  Simone took a large bite and moaned in pleasure. “This is the best

  birthday present ever,” she said, wiping a trickle of oil at the corner of her

  mouth.

  Roberto handed her an envelope. “I bet that tops the pizza.”

  She saw kindness and anticipation dancing in his eyes. It was a

  loving mischievous look that made her heart sing. He was looking

  expectantly at the envelope in her hand as she ripped it open. “A ticket for

  the opera.” He beamed a satisfied grin, and a tear slipped onto her cheek.

  “I knew you would cry,” he said. “You always cry.”

  She wiped at her face and frowned at him. “How can you afford

  this? A hundred euros.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been getting good tips.” He shoved a piece of

  pizza into his mouth and continued to speak. “Really…”

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

  He swallowed. “You’r
e sounding like Mama again.”

  Simone sighed as she chewed. “Do you miss them?” she asked

  quietly.

  “Sometimes.”

  “When?”

  “I miss Mama’s meatballs.”

  “Seriously.” Simone chuckled. Their mother hadn’t been known for

  her cooking skills. Their father had been the keen chef of the family, and it

  had been through him that Simone had discovered her passion for food.

  “We used to throw them to the birds at the pond.”

  “Even they refused to eat them.” Roberto laughed. “You know, fish

  died as a result of chewing on those meatballs.”

  Simone laughed, enjoying the light airy feeling that came when she

  was around Roberto. He seemed to have a way of making her feel relaxed

  and frivolous.

  “How was work?” he asked.

  She didn’t want to talk about Patrina’s foul mood, or Alessandro’s

  growing addiction, or the fact that she felt trapped, despite her dreams of a

  new future. She saw a hint of frustration flash across his eyes.

  “You don’t have to stay there.”

  She smiled through sealed lips. She couldn’t leave the job at the café

  without there being some kind of price to pay. There was always a price to

  pay with the Amatos. If she had realised what she was getting into from the

  start with Patrina, she might have made a different decision. Maybe? Dream

  on. I never had a choice. At least she got paid well for the work she did and

  nothing else was expected of her. Their arrangement worked on that level,

  and she had been able to protect Roberto from being dragged into the mafia.

  That fact alone made the work situation bearable. Better the devil you

  know, her father had always said. And the Amatos were certainly the

  epitome of that trait.

  “I do.” She looked into Roberto’s eyes and smiled, hoping he didn’t

  notice the weariness she felt. He didn’t reciprocate. “Tell me about your

  day.”

  4.

  Faint scratching noises streamed into Maria’s awareness, and she

  smiled. With a light thump, Pesto landed on her, punching a groan from her

  before she opened her eyes. She chuckled, and her arms flailed to guard her

  face from him as he sought to lick her to death. “Hey, boy.” She yawned

  and ruffled his short coat. “All right, all right, I know.” She bundled him off

  her, sat up in the super-king bed, and yawned again.

  He inched his nose towards her, tail wagging energetically, then

  barked twice.

  She smiled at the familiar routine. He was her rock, her sanity inside

  the insane world she’d been born into. She had rescued him as a puppy, a

  scrawny greyhound-looking mongrel with a chocolate and coffee-coloured

  short coat. It was the white patch over his eye that captured her heart and

  the way he had tilted his head and yawned at her. They had instantly

  bonded, and he had learned quickly. “I need a pee. Be patient.” She patted

  his head as she climbed out of bed and stretched her arms as she walked to

  the en-suite bathroom, her nakedness revealed to no one in the privacy of

  her bedroom. She enjoyed the sense of ease that came with solitude,

  something she had never experienced with Patrina. Promises had been made

  but in reality, their relationship had been founded in the worst kind of

  secrecy; the hiding kind. And hiding meant someone had something over

  you. There was always a risk of the wrong person finding out. In this case,

  Stefano, and that would cost her life, and Patrina hers.

  Seclusion had been a reason she had chosen the beach house, along

  with its isolation and the beauty that surrounded it. The single story open-

  plan villa was modest in both size and design by her family’s standards, and

  she liked it that way. She was protected and free to live a normal life. With

  a gated entrance and the fencing monitored by CCTV on the inland

  boundary, and the seafront and vertical cliffs surrounding the deep set cove,

  she could run for miles along the webbed pathways and not see, or be seen

  by, anyone. It was safe.

  Pesto dropped one of her training shoes at her feet as she sat on the

  toilet.

  She chuckled. “So much for patience.”

  He ran out of the room, and she waited for him to return with her

  other shoe. It was the same routine every day. She stood, flushed the toilet,

  splashed water on her face, and picked up her running gear. “Come on,

  then. Let’s go.”

  He barked at her while leaping from his front to his rear paws, span

  around in circles, and jumped up at her with his tongue lolling from his

  mouth. Maria laughed. It took more effort to avoid his increasingly

  enthusiastic affections than it did to get dressed. Shoelaces tied in a double

  knot, she cupped his ears, and stared into his big dark eyes. “You ready to

  run, Pesto?” He tugged away from her and ran to the door. “Wait, I need

  water.” She jogged to the fridge, grabbed a bottle, and twisted the cap off.

  She took a long slug as she made her way to the door.

  Squinting into the early morning sun, she stepped onto the beach

  terrace overlooking the cove. She tipped water into his bowl and threw the

  bottle into the bin, but Pesto was already at the sea’s edge, nosediving the

  shallow water exploring as if it had never existed before this morning.

  She visually traced a line from the tall cliffs bounding one side of

  the bowl-shaped cove to her cruiser, the Bedda , moored at the edge of the

  cove on the opposite side. The fine sand beneath her feet to the stark blue

  line defined the meeting of sea and sky, and the light gold of the shallower

  waters became teal and then a deeper shade of blue. The sea was

  picturesque, giving the illusion of stillness, sufficiently silent for Maria to

  notice the pounding of her heart. She had always enjoyed these moments of

  silence. Being in nature energized her. She sighed. Her father had joked that

  she had a greater love of wildlife than she did for her fellow man. It was

  true. She felt a particular affinity with sea. Nature wouldn’t break her heart

  as people did, as her father had done when he died. He had smiled tenderly

  the day she lectured him on the merits of nature over man, the glint in his

  eye shining brighter with every statement she put to him. Nature just is as it

  is. It doesn’t judge, doesn’t criticize, doesn’t alienate. It doesn’t fear.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and stemmed the tears that

  welled in her eyes. I miss you.

  She looked down the beach to her right from the Bedda along the

  arc of the cove to see Giovanni standing barefoot in the shallower water at

  the beach, fishing rod in hand. He delved into a sack attached to his belt,

  attached bait to the line, and cast the rod in the direction of the rocks that

  fed the base of the cliff. He hadn’t spoken to her about Don Calvino’s death,

  and although he concealed his emotions well—as was necessary in this job

  —she had noticed the strain on his face. The taut flesh pulled across his

  cheeks, his strong jaw more defined in shape, the hollowness behind his

  eyes more pronounced. He had become distant and his thoughts impossible />
  to read in the way they hadn’t been before. She had always been able to

  read him instinctively, and he her, but not so much now. Muted

  conversation and unwarranted hesitancy divided them. He too had

  withdrawn.

  Maria sighed, the calmness of the sea unable to ease the niggling

  sensation in her gut that wouldn’t go away whenever Patrina came to mind.

  Patrina, Patrina. All those years with Patrina as her lover in an affair that

  never existed beyond the walls of the penthouse suite. False promises had

  turned to convenience. The relationship had suited them both. Patrina didn’t

  have the courage to leave Stefano. Had she been naïve to think things might

  change and that Patrina would pick her over her loyalty to the business?

  Patrina had stopped talking about a potential future together after Stefano

  was sentenced, when her power at the helm of the Amato enterprise

  increased. Maria’s heart still ached with the illusion of what might have

  been. Even though the reality hadn’t been perfect, Patrina had been her first

  and only lover, and that was something special. These feelings will pass

  with time.

  She shifted her attention to the sun rising in the sky. “It’s going to be

  a hot one,” she said for no one to hear. Pesto entertained himself in the

  water, already a hundred metres up the beach to the right. Watching him

  exploring made her smile. She held onto the balustrade with both hands and

  stretched out her shoulders. She continued to hold onto the support with one

  hand while lunging gently to stretch the tired muscles of her legs, hips, and

  lower back. Even following an extreme fitness regime, there was always

  residual tension that needed easing out. Stress came with the job. She

  stepped onto the beach and started to jog towards the sea. Finding damp,

  solid sand, she maintained a steady pace heading away from the villa in the

  opposite direction to Giovanni and towards the cliff.

  Pesto bounded back towards her, nose in the air. He ran straight past

  her, dipped his face into the shallow water, and then sprinted back past her

  again. He picked up a stick the sea had cast off, dropped to his haunches,

  and chewed on it then ran with it for a while, juggling it between his teeth.

  Unceremoniously, he dropped it in front of Maria as she jogged. She

  skipped over the obstacle before she stopped and threw it back into the sea.