by Sienna Mynx
The door opened and shut again.
Kyra paused. She removed her goggles and looked back. The lamplight brightened her workstation, but did very little for the rest of the open space. It was darkest near the door.
“Hello?” she cried out.
No one answered. Kyra pulled down her mouth mask. “Ciao? Anybody there?” she asked.
The door opened and slammed shut. Kyra jumped. Nothing but silence greeted her. She was certain the door opened and closed twice before. Someone had returned. Kyra stood. She looked around for a weapon, anything. It was instinctual. The dark. The isolation. Her mind replayed trauma from years ago. She should run. She’d be damned if she did so without a weapon. The tips of her fingers connected with something. A very sharp blade lay flat across a cutting board. It was to be inserted into a machine that sliced through leather like butter. It reminded her of a machete.
“Eduardo? Gustavo? Are you here?” she asked. She picked up a towel and wrapped it around the end of the blade. She managed to hold it firm in both her hands.
“Eduardo? Gustavo? Dove sei?”
Silence greeted her. It was possible that her reaction was because of Italy. Kyra and Renaldo talked on many long nights about her move from France. She knew whatever danger he perceived in their lives was greater the closer they were to the man he served, Giovanni Battaglia.
For bravery she sucked down a deep breath and exhaled. Slow and cautious, she stepped around the benches with shoehorns and leather slates piled upon them. There was a noise. It was very faint but she heard it. It came from her left. She swung in that direction. The blade cut swiftly through open air. She found herself alone.
“Shit! Shit! Kyra, calm down. You’re scaring yourself.” She panted. She squinted in the dark. “Who’s here? I know someone is here. Show yourself. Now!”
There was a corner she turned, it led to a door that connected to Fabiana’s fashion house. Maybe it was the door the person had entered. Kyra’s hands were shaking. Her arms ached from their frozen position.
“Gustavo? Eduardo?” she called their names again. “Dove sei?”
A cool hand touched her back. Kyra screamed. She swung the blade and the person ducked. The sharp edge hit the wall and was embedded into the paint and plaster.
“Renaldo?” she gasped.
He stood upright and chuckled.
“I could have killed you!” she shouted at him. It was a dirty joke to play on her. However, it turned out to be the best moment of her day. She flung herself at him. She kissed the side of his face and neck. “You scared me so bad.”
“Sono perdonta. I was closing the place so we could leave. I came in and you were working. I went upstairs to make sure we were alone. When I came back I see my little warrior with her blade, and I have to have her.” He squeezed her ass and groaned in his throat. She felt the massive might of his erection rising between them.
“Oh,” she panted. “I could have hurt you though!”
He took her face in his hands and smiled. “Ciao, bella.”
“I’ve missed you so much!” She touched his erection and squeezed it.
He kissed her brow, and his lips soon found her mouth. It became a slow mint flavored kiss that made her heart sparkle. The man’s breath always smelled divine. She always prided herself on being a very well groomed person, but Renaldo took good hygiene to another level.
“Are you done?” he said when their lips drew apart. “Can I take you home?”
“Home? It’s finally happening. Italy is my home.”
“I’ve waited too long not to have you with me,” Renaldo said.
“Me too. Luca is waiting for us. Your mother called me and said they arrived safely. They are staying with her sister. We can go by there and see him tonight.”
“I know,” he said before he kissed her again.
“I have so much to tell you. So much!” she said between kisses and turned her face away. He was growing more amorous and it excited her. “Let me go,” she pushed free. When she tried to step around him to locate her purse he revealed he had it in his hand. She laughed. He eased his arm around her waist. Together they went for the door.
Later –
Shae couldn’t sleep. Never in her life had she felt more exhausted. The plane ride was long, but the day with the Battaglias went on forever. She closed her eyes and tried to settle her restlessness. Nothing, worked.
“Damn it!” she pounded her fist on the mattress.
Sounds of laughter answered through the window in her room. Shae sat up and listened intently. It came again. Laughter. Men laughing. Muffled whispers. Unlike Melanzana, the villa they stayed in was much smaller and intimate. The rooms weren’t that far apart. In fact Marietta’s room was so close she heard her when she came home with her husband. They laughed and stomped all the way into the room before things got more amorous.
Was that them she heard now?
Shae pushed the sheet aside and got up from bed. She walked over to the window covered by drapes. When she parted them she nearly jumped back in surprise. The men stood so close she could be seen. To be discreet she peeked out from the left side of the window as opposed to looking through the center part in the drapes. And there he was. He smoked something. He laughed with another man. One spoke in a low Italian voice until the others began to laugh. Carlo turned from friendly to angry. He shoved the man and cursed him. Or at least that’s what it looked like to Shae. Why were they roaming about outside at three in the morning?
Carlo and his companion started to walk off toward the shadows.
“Shit! Shit!” she hurried over to her suitcase. All she could find was a pair of jeans and a thin t-shirt. Shae hopped around pulling on her jeans and shirt, forgetting the bra. She slipped her feet into thong sandals and snatched off her headscarf. She tried to comb out her limp curls that lay listless and flat on her head. She gave up. Maybe she should heed Marietta’s warning and not seduce one of these men. She toiled over it for a moment, and then she remembered how Carlo rejected her earlier.
“I’ll just introduce myself. No harm done.” She went to her purse and found her translation book. Good enough. She crept from her room. The halls were empty. Somewhere upstairs a baby cried. Nothing else stirred. Shae went to the back door, deciding it was best to start there since her window faced the back of the villa. Once outside she regretted the thin shirt sans jacket. It was far chillier than she believed. Her nipples peaked and her arms were covered with goose bumps.
With only the moon and stars to light the way, Shae ventured out across the damp grass. She wasn’t three feet away from the door before a man walked up to her with a gun in his hand. Startled she froze.
“C’é un problema?” he asked. His gaze lowered to her nipples and then lifted to her face. “Che cosa!”
“Ah, wait a second,” Shae fumbled through the translation book to passages she marked. She found it. “Dove sí trova…?”
“Chi é?” A voice spoke from the darkness. Shae looked up. Carlo approached with the man she saw him laughing with. He stopped when he saw her. He frowned and walked toward her. Shae lost all train of thought when he drew closer. Damn it, she tried to find the page to talk to him but couldn’t in time.
Carlo questioned the man who found her. He spoke to him and then looked to her. Both of them stared at her. Shae decided to start with something simple.
“Mi chiamo Shae from America,” she smiled.
Carlo’s eyes narrowed on her. She tried again.
“Lei mi piace,” she said. Carlo chuckled. She thought she told him that she liked him but she couldn’t be sure. The other men were snickering too.
“Parla inglese?” she tried again. Carlo said something to the men. Without another word spoken both men turned and walked away. Shae smiled. He understood her. Carlo’s gaze swung back to her. He snatched the book from her hand.
“Hey? That’s mine!” she said. He turned the book up toward the moon and read the passages she had highlighted. He
looked down at her.
“I can’t talk to you if you don’t give it back. I don’t speak Italian,” Shae said.
He handed the book back to her. Shae nodded her thanks and thumbed through the pages. She had wanted to ask him if he wanted to make a friend. She highlighted the damn line in the book somewhere.
“Why are you out here?” he asked.
Floored, she glanced up. He spoke English, and perfectly. “This is a surprise. I thought you didn’t know English?”
“Why are you out here?” he asked again.
“I came to see you. Make a new friend.”
Carlo’s brows lowered. He glanced to the door behind her. Shae’s head turned. She half expected to see someone watching them. No one was there.
“I’m Shae, Marietta’s friend. From America.”
“I know who you are,” Carlo said.
“Good. I know who you are. Marietta has told me all about you.”
His brows drew together. He didn’t seem angry. But the question in his eyes demanded an explanation. “Good things! Marietta said good things,” Shae chuckled.
“Go to bed.” He turned away and she grabbed his arm. He looked down at her touch and then back at her. What the hell was his problem? Was he gay?
“Don’t walk away from me. I saw the way you stared when I arrived. I’m just trying to be friendly. You don’t have to be rude.”
To this Carlo looked at her again with renewed interest. “You want to be my friend?”
“Is that a problem? You married? Engaged? Gay? What?”
He again looked to the door as if he expected someone to discover them. Maybe that was the issue. He didn’t want to get caught by that mean Don. Marietta said the men aren’t supposed to flirt with the women.
“I’m new in town. I don’t know anyone but Marietta. I don’t speak Italian. And I’m locked up here with strange men carrying guns.” She nodded to the one to the front of his pants. “I’m bored. Conversation? Anything? Okay?”
“Come for a walk with me. We can have conversation,” Carlo said to her breasts. Shae hesitated. Exactly where did he expect her to walk to? And what was with the way he smiled at her tits. Did she expect them to rise up out of her shirt and greet him? It was kind of off-putting. He arched a brow and waited for her to decline. She stuck the small translation book in her back pocket. Carlo shrugged off his blazer and handed it to her. She eased it on. His dark eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Maybe walking off to the woods with him wasn’t a good idea. But Shae never backed down from a man who gave her a look like that. She liked this one.
Zia lifted Gianni on her hip. She had his bottle for him when she glanced to the window in the kitchen. In the moonlight she could see Carlo standing and talking to a woman. She leaned on the sink to be sure she saw the woman. The pink hair to the front of the woman’s face revealed her identity. Zia frowned.
“Is that Gianni?” Mirabella asked, from behind her. “Oh Zia, don’t give him a bottle. Gino has stopped taking one and we talked about this with Gianni.”
Zia kissed Gianni’s cheek and he dropped his head on her shoulder. Mirabella entered the kitchen. “Of course it’s my Gianni. You need Mommy? Come here, baby,” she said. Zia handed Gianni over to Mirabella. The toddler sucked his bottle and looked at her with those round beautiful eyes like his father’s.
“I’ll take him upstairs. You go back to sleep,” Mirabella said.
“Wait!” Zia grabbed her arm. “That woman doesn’t belong here.”
“What woman?” Mirabella asked with concern. Zia glanced to the window. She was sure the woman was in the woods now with Carlo. Doing whatever harlots do.
“The woman Marietta brought here. I saw her. She is out there, with Carlo. Now!”
Mirabella glanced to the window with concern. She walked over to the window and looked out. As Zia suspected, they were gone.
“She and Carlo went to the woods. Gio should be told, immediately. Carlo knows better. Che schifo!”
“No. Do not tell Gio,” Mirabella said. “Figurati. I’ll take care of it, Zia.”
“She’s trouble! I see it when she come here. She has pink hair!”
Mirabella smiled. She kissed Zia on the cheek. “Go back to bed. Gino is in the bed now alone? Right? Go on. I’ll talk to her.”
Zia nodded and shuffled out.
Mirabella looked out the window again. She didn’t see them but she had no doubt that what Zia told her was true. If Giovanni got wind of it he’d pop a blood vessel. Gianni eased his hand in Mira’s robe and reached for her breast.
“No you don’t, sweetie. You can have the bottle, but Mommy’s breast is off limits.” She removed his hand. It had been weeks since she unlatched him from her breast. Gianni often tried. He dropped his head on her shoulder and sucked his bottle. She’d have to accept the compromise Zia offered, at least for now.
She decided it best to deal with their houseguest’s wanderlust in the morning. She returned upstairs to bed. The moment she put Gianni between them and pulled up the covers her husband woke. He rubbed his eyes. He glanced down and saw Gianni next to him.
“Put on your pajama bottoms, sweetie,” she whispered.
Giovanni grunted. He sat up and reached for them. She watched as he slipped them on before he lay down again. “I was hoping to have you to myself tonight,” he mumbled before he turned over on his side. He rubbed his hand over Gianni’s curly head.
“Eventually you’ll need to cut their hair,” she said.
“No. I like it like this,” Giovanni said.
“It’ll grow. Their hair is lot like mine.”
He glanced up not understanding her meaning at first. And then he smiled. He nodded and agreed. His sons’ hair would be as thick as their mother’s soon if she didn’t trim it down. Eve’s hair was always combed down into two braids because it was so long and crinkly.
“I have something I want to ask of you,” she said softly.
“Okay?” he replied.
“It’s my brother.”
Giovanni’s gaze flashed up to her face. The alarm in his eyes was quick and precise. He stared at her. “Brother?”
“Armando Mancini. My father’s son,” she smiled. “I spoke to Catalina and Marietta. We agree, he should be welcome to come to my birthday party.”
“Are you out of your mind?” he asked.
“Hear me out, Giovanni.”
“Nothing to hear. The answer is no,” he said. Gianni’s head lifted. Mirabella stroked her son’s back. Giovanni dropped over to his back. He threw his arm over his eyes. She knew the conversation would start this way. It was best to push forward.
“I know you don’t trust him. And I have not forgotten what he’s done. I haven’t forgotten any of it. I asked you to get rid of him and sell him back my inheritance. Instead you gave it to Lorenzo to manage. He’s in our lives and that’s your choice.”
Giovanni lowered his arm and looked at his wife. Mirabella sat up. “Sweetheart, I am in a very delicate situation right now. The world is looking at our family closely. They’re watching us. What you do is invisible to them. I’m not questioning that. However, I do have a secret. Who my father is, and how my mother died is something I want to keep buried. For two years you and Armando have done this. Inviting him under your watchful eye keeps it under control. Right? Right?”
“You think I haven’t thought of this?” he asked.
“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I know you have. But I also know you don’t like him around me, or our family. And that might cloud your judgment. However you decide to handle it is fine. I just wanted to tell you that he was extended an invitation. You should let him come.”
“Is that right? It’s up to me now?”
“Isn’t it always?” she smiled. She eased down under the covers and kissed Gianni. She reached over and put her hand on her husband’s chest. He picked up her hand and kissed it. He then pressed it to his heart. He kept it there until he fell asleep.
**
<
br /> “So do you sleep?” Shae asked.
They walked around the back of the property and stopped between two trees. Carlo glanced down at her. He removed what looked like a cigarette and lit it. As soon as he puffed out the smoke she inhaled a whiff. It wasn’t an ordinary cigarette. He took a long drag and then handed it to her.
“Why yes, I’ll have some.” Shae took a toke of the joint. “Hmm...good.”
Carlo dropped on the tree. “Why do you have pink hair?” he asked.
“It’s not pink. It’s strawberry. And strawberry is my natural color,” she passed him the joint.
He flicked the ash and took another drag from it. “Strawberry is not a natural color for a black woman,” he said as he held the smoke in and exhaled slow.
“Sure it is. And it used to be my name… stage name… a long time ago.”
“Stage? You a singer?” he asked.
“Dancer.”
Carlo stared at her. He smoked the weed down without sharing. He kept staring. Shae wasn’t sure if it was desire in his eyes or something else. Suddenly she didn’t feel that adventurous. In fact he was acting a little creepy with the way he kept lowering his gaze to her crotch.
“Were you a dancer like her, like Marietta?” Carlo asked.
The question threw Shae. “You know about Mae dancing in Chicago?”
“Mae? You call her Mae?” he smiled.
“Yes. We all call her that back home.”
Carlo extended the weed again as if it were a peace offering. She accepted it. Shae continued, “She worked for me. I taught her everything she knows.” Shae smoked and exhaled. “I’m surprised she would tell any of you about her dancing. Mae… well she wasn’t into it like the rest of my girls.”
“Why? Why wasn’t she like the other girls? What made her different?” Carlo asked.
“What do you care?” Shae asked.
“I’m curious,” he shrugged.
“Nope. Wrong answer, playboy,” Shae said. “You’re more than curious. In my business I deal with all kinds of men. So don’t hustle me. You want some dirt on Mae. Why?” He didn’t answer. Shae shook her head. “This is bullshit. Thanks for the smoke.” She flicked the smoked out joint at him and it tumbled to his feet. At least she thought it did. She didn’t wait to see. She started back down the path he walked her through. In minutes she felt his hand tighten on her arm. She turned, ready to reject his offer, when he gripped her chin. The way he held her face still silenced her.
