Having had enough of his vengeance, I ran right out of the chaos. I had no idea where I ran to, laughing like I was, but my feet seemed to have an agenda. Capo handed his grandfather the hose, and it thrilled me to the core when he took off after me. As we ran, my laugher echoed behind me, and right before we reached an area of the property with a dilapidated villa, I realized he’d been herding me this way on purpose.
The villa had fallen apart, probably years ago. It had no roof, but the foundation stood strong, and so did some of the brick walls, even if vines clung to them. The light was still fading, but the air felt heavy with leftover sunlight, and it snuck in through all of the crevices, causing the area to glow.
Slowing, breathing heavy, I turned and walked backwards, my hands held up in surrender. “Don’t do it,” I whispered. “Think this through. Remember. You’re more man than animal. You have more than basic needs.”
That Machiavellian smile came to his face. “You should know better, Mariposa. You should always think before you act. When it comes to fucking you, I’m all animal.”
Thoughts of the night before barreled into me—him pounding into me, and then him letting me climb on top of him. I rode him hard, the friction between us a fire between our bodies, and we cracked the headboard from our insane momentum. Being with him was like talking about good food while you ate good food.
“Hungry wolf,” I whispered.
“What about the hungry wolf?”
“That’s how you’re looking at me.”
“You’re wrong.”
“If I am, it’s not by much.”
He howled softly and then grinned. “I’ll never get the taste of you off of my tongue, and I’m fucking starving, not hungry. I crave you, being inside of you, like I’ve never craved anything in my life.”
My back slammed against the brick. He pushed me even further into the rough wall when he crashed into me, his erection hard against my stomach. My leg came up, wrapping around his hip, and his hand slid against my slick inner thigh, going toward my ass. My fingers tugged at the ends of his hair, feeling the droplets of water that continued to saturate his shirt.
Our eyes connected. It lasted for only a few seconds in time, but to me, the moment seemed to span a lifetime. Something moved between us, and I wasn’t sure what it was, only that it felt stronger than it ever had before. It consumed me like the most beautiful ocean, and then wrote his initials on my soul.
The fear from the grape arbor hit me with what felt like a blow to end it all. The serrated walls around me might as well have stabbed me in the heart. My palms tingled, my stomach filled with poison-winged butterflies, and my heart pushed into my throat, making it hard to breathe. The roar of my blood filled my ears. A hard-earned breath escaped my mouth in a deep whoosh.
Waves the color of his eyes had me too far from shore. I couldn’t catch my breath. I was going to drown in my feelings for him.
The fear sucker punched me at the most unexpected times. I’d buried it down so far below the surface that it was usually hidden from the light, but when Capo created havoc on my heart, the way he looked at me, with hooded eyes and an expression that was somehow confused but determined, it freed the panic from its cage.
I couldn’t swim fast enough to hide it again. So I did what I could. I punched fear right in the fucking face. I wanted this, him, more than I was afraid. My words, or what I didn’t say, had already cost me everything.
Being with Capo, I realized, felt a lot like living—and living meant taking chances.
The fear shattered and blew out when his mouth slammed against mine, his hands cupping my ass, pulling me forward. I reached down and undid his jeans, pushing them down as far as they would go, and then his boxer briefs. They were soaked and sticking to his skin. I was too lost in his mouth sucking the beads of water from my skin to even notice that he’d ripped the lacy underwear from my hips.
He stuck them in his back pocket before he lifted me up some, my leg still wrapped around his hip, and then he entered me so hard and so deep that my head knocked against the wall. He pumped into me so fast that my world spun from the sudden overflow of sensations.
For every ounce I gave, he took two. For every ounce I took, he gave four.
I didn’t need him to touch me with his fingers to make me shatter into a million pieces. He knew where to reach me, and he kept touching the spot, sometimes battering it, over and over. So it was hard to keep up, to not give in, but I held on, drawing out the moment, stretching the connection.
“That’s it,” he rasped against my neck. “Give yourself to me, Mariposa. Always.”
Not conquer. Not own. Give. Maybe he’d realized that no matter how much money a man had to buy things, there was nothing like a woman giving herself to him.
The noises we made were animalistic, and they echoed around us. The smell of water, the earthly smell of a vacant building, and our sex filled the warm air. He seemed to know that I was holding on, not letting go until he did. Even though I was wet, I could taste salt on my lips from how hard he worked my body.
He slowed, his strokes easier, but no less filling. I bit my lip, making it bleed, and he came forward, licking the spot. “Come to me, Mariposa,” he said in Italian. “Come now.”
He thrust so hard, once, that I felt shockwaves throughout my entire body. I hissed out a breath because I was pretty sure he had rammed my uterus. He slowed, only to hit me again, until his pace picked up and I couldn’t deny the tension any longer.
It consumed me. It consumed him. I cried out at the same time he spilled into me, and his mouth slammed against mine again, swallowing it down.
We stood that way for a while, both of us breathing heavy, my head pressed against his chest. When he pulled out of me, I winced, always craving the feeling of being one with him.
“Vertiginoso.” His voice was raw. Dizzy.
I looked up and met his eyes. This time, I wasn’t sure who he was talking about. I held up four fingers. “How many?”
“Eight,” he said, and put my fingers to his mouth, biting them. He used my underwear to clean me up some. After he was done, he stuck them back in his pocket.
A little boy chasing another ran past our secret spot. They were laughing, still trying to fling water on each other. By unspoken agreement, we left the abandoned villa hand in hand. When we got back to the garden, the kids were still at it, the adults still laughing. Nonno was still after them with the hose.
Capo stood with me for a minute, watching, and then letting my hand go, he took a seat next to his grandfather. He pointed out kids to spray, egging the fun on. Nonno started laughing even harder when a little boy slipped and went down in the mud. Capo grinned as he directed his grandfather’s hand to spray the poor kid while he was down.
Our absence hadn’t lessened the joy, but since we were back, it felt even more complete. My heart raced when Capo took his grandfather by the head, pulled him in, and kissed him there. Then he said something in his ear. Nonno’s smile was immediate. Then they both looked at me, before Capo pulled him in once more, shaking him a bit. Maybe the joy of living had lessened the hurt of saying goodbye, in the only way Capo could.
* * *
A butterfly garden.
Where the plants to create one came from, I had no idea, but when I stepped out of the villa, a cup of espresso in my hand, they were at my feet. Capo was unloading them from a cart with four wheels. It had a handle like a wagon. He wore a tight white tank top, khaki pants, and work boots. His top was already smeared with mud.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
He was usually somewhere in the villa when I woke up, but that morning, he was gone. Since our second wedding, he hadn’t left me alone. The first thing I thought was that something had happened to Nonno, and I started to panic. But I knew Capo would’ve woken me up, so I calmed down and fixed some coffee before I found him in front of the villa. Unloading.
The muscles in his arms and back flexed when he took a humongou
s rock, which looked older than the mountains surrounding us, from the bed of the four-wheeled cart. Then he thought better of it and set it back.
“Where do you want this?” He looked between the rock and me.
“Did Nonno send all of this over?”
“No.” He wiped a line of sweat from his brow. It was early, but the sun was already baking the earth. “Where do you want it?”
We had stayed up the night before, all night, so Capo had only gotten, maybe, two hours of sleep. I felt tired to my bones. So I had no idea where I wanted anything.
“Capo.” I took a sip of coffee. “I’m confused. Where did all of this come from? And why would I want to put it anywhere? I don’t live here.”
“You do,” he said. “When we come to visit. This is my villa. We can have it redone. The look of it never mattered to me. It was just a place to sleep.”
“The plants?”
“A garden. For you. You need to plant all of this.”
Ah. He had done it, but he didn’t want to come out and admit it. Hardheaded capo.
Judging by the amount of plants already unloaded, he had already made a trip or two. I didn’t recognize all of the flowers, but I figured they had to be what Nonno called nectar plants. They’d attract butterflies. Capo had enough of them to create a border around the villa. Maybe even more.
Walking further out in my slippers, I surveyed the land. He walked with me, both of us quiet. When we returned to the front of the villa, I nodded.
“I want to go around the villa with all of the different flowers. I want an arbor in the backyard for grapes. We’ll do a bigger butterfly garden back there, too. We’ll place the rocks in different spots so the butterflies can bask in the sun. We’ll need a birdbath, or something similar, to put the sand in. We’re not supposed to fill it, only soak the sand in water. Nonno said butterflies like the moisture.”
I tapped at the coffee cup, thinking. “I’ll ask Nonno where he thinks we should put the plants. I mean, which spots would be better for each one. How about you go and get him for breakfast? You can bring him back on the four-wheeled contraption—” I nodded toward it “—and we’ll get to work after we eat.”
Capo didn’t move. He looked at me like I was a new person.
“What?” I had the strongest urge to fidget. I felt like I had grown an extra head and had no idea she was sticking her tongue out at him.
He shook his head. “You’re bossy.”
“Who knew?” I grinned.
“Me.” He hesitated. “I knew it was coming.” Even though his lips pinched, something about his tone seemed satisfied.
After he unloaded the rest of the cart, he pulled it back toward his grandfather’s villa. Before he left, he gave the men that stuck around orders to keep an eye on me. He never left me unattended. He had more men around ever since the uninvited guests had showed up.
I hurried inside and quickly dressed for the day. I had no time to worry about how I looked, not when I wanted to freshen up the villa and make a delicious breakfast. It took me five minutes to clean and twenty to make the meal. I made more coffee (café latte), croissants (cornettos), and a simple omelet. I set out numerous different spreads on the lazy Susan on top of the table. I even went outside and picked fresh wildflowers to put around the house. There were no vases, so I used old jam jars.
The sisters had taught me so much.
I heard Nonno chuckling over the crackling wheels of the cart as it rolled over the rough terrain. I untied my apron and ran outside. He sat in the back, surrounded by more plants, still laughing. The sight of him made my smile grow wider.
“It was a bumpy ride, Farfalla, but I have made it!” He wiped his face with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket.
Zia Stella strode up right behind the men, a smile on her face. “You should have seen him!” She came toward me as Capo practically picked his grandfather up and set him on his feet. Capo held on to him while they made their way toward us. “He demanded that Amadeo take him all over the property. And if there was a hill, he wanted to go faster! He carried on like he was on one of those scary rides and he was seven again. He lifted his arms in the air and went, weeeeee!”
Close enough to grab me, she kissed my cheeks and then entered the villa. I kissed Nonno on each of his cheeks and gave him an arm to help him inside.
“A woman’s touch,” he said softly, looking around, “makes all the difference in a home.”
We had an enjoyable breakfast. Zia Stella and Nonno made over how much they loved everything. Capo said nothing, but when he got up to wash his dish, he kissed me on the cheek and said, “This time, I tasted all of the ingredients.” He’d even gone back for seconds.
We spent the rest of the day planting. Nonno helped me decide where to place all of the different flowers so they’d prosper in their new homes. When Capo wasn’t looking, he nudged me with his elbow and said one word, “Radici.” Roots.
Capo worked on the arbor mostly all day. Every so often, when the sun was too hot for Nonno, he’d go sit close to Capo under the tree in the back and tell him what to do.
I couldn’t believe how good Nonno looked. He almost glowed. It seemed like he’d gotten a second wind and was riding the wave. We even enjoyed a light lunch outside, and by the time evening met us, we were done.
The villa and the yard suddenly had promises to hold onto. And in some odd way, I felt as rooted as the new plants getting used to their new homes. I made a wish—I wished that any butterflies that found their way to our home would find shelter.
Zia Eloisa brought us dinner. We gathered around the table and dined family style. Platters moved from hand to hand, lots of wine was poured, and the laughter that was shared was more filling than the food and the wine put together. The stars were out by the time we were finished.
The sisters and a few cousins left first. Capo had planned on bringing Nonno back to his villa in the cart, but he wanted to sit in the yard and enjoy all of the new additions before he left.
Capo and I both helped him outside, and he took a seat on the bench, while we took a seat on each side of him. He turned his eyes up the sky and became very quiet.
None of us said anything for a while. We all seemed to be lost in our own thoughts. After thirty minutes or so had gone by, Capo asked his grandfather something about the arbor. He didn’t answer.
At first, it seemed like he had gone to sleep. Capo sat up faster than I thought possible and shook him. “Papà!”
I sat up too, wondering why he wasn’t answering.
After a second, he answered, but his words made no sense. They were slurred, and his eyes looked drunk.
“Mariposa.” Capo jumped up from his spot, going toward the front of the villa. “Keeping talking to him!”
I took one knee in front of Nonno, holding his hand to my heart. “Nonno,” I said, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible. If he was dying, I didn’t want him to feel chaos, to feel my fear, because I shook, my heart breaking. “Nonno, please don’t go. You have so much life left to live. You need to stay with us. Please. Don’t leave.” I kissed his hand, over and over.
He lifted his free hand and rested it on my head. His words were slurred, but I could make them out. “I have lived a long life. I have lived a full life.” He took a breath, and I could tell it was shallow. “I did not receive all that I asked for, but I received all that I ever needed. My last days have been filled with joy. I have retouched firsts. The first time I tasted air. The first time I felt the sun and the moon upon my face. The first time I fell in love. I have received all that I needed. My work here is done. My sacrifice was not in vain.”
I hadn’t realized that Capo had pulled me from his grandfather until I saw him from a distance, Uncle Tito sitting beside him, checking his pulse. Under the stars, Nonno looked peaceful, content, like all of his wishes had come true. All of his needs had been met.
Nonno’s found peace was the opposite of the cries that met my ears when his daught
ers and the family crowded around, grieving for the man who had meant so much to so many.
* * *
I had experienced death in my life.
My parents.
Losing Capo the first time.
Jocelyn and Pops.
In some ways, I never truly grieved for my parents, or for Jocelyn and Pops. I didn’t have time to. After I was relocated from one home at five, and then the only home I could remember at ten, my entire life from that point forward was consumed by survival. I’d often think of them, but not for long. It hurt too much. And in order to keep breathing, I had to keep my head on straight.
So death was not unfamiliar to me, but still, I hadn’t experienced loss on this level—this close and old enough to know what the loss meant in the moment.
Everyone wore black to the funeral, and I’d never heard someone cry as loud as one of Nonno’s daughters when they closed his coffin. It made my knees go weak. Capo had to hold me up to keep me from falling over. It was the type of cry that everyone fears—the sob of a soul grieving for the one person who took half of her with him.
After the funeral, we returned to his grandfather’s villa. I tried to keep quiet, keep out of the way, and help as much as possible. My heart felt like it was bleeding, so I couldn’t even comprehend what the people closest to him felt. He was one of those souls that the world would never forget. His words had been burnt into paper. He’d be forever immortalized between the pages and in the hearts of all who loved him the most.
Unlike me, who, at one point, thought that I might be found in a New York dumpster. The only people to remember me would be Keely and her brothers. I hadn’t even made a mark on this world. Not even a paper cut. Another Sierra.
I sighed, my eyes scanning the crowd, looking for Capo. He had been slipping in and out of my vision all day. He’d check on me and then disappear.
Machiavellian: Gangsters of New York, Book 1 Page 26
