La Dolce Vita: Romantic Suspense (Battaglia Mafia Series Book 7)

by Sienna Mynx

  "Of course, I had to know who you were before I arranged this."

  That's a bit bizarre don't you think?"

  "It's my job," he countered.

  "Your job is it investigate doctors?" she scoffed.

  "My job is to protect Giovanni Battaglia and the family. From any and every one. Now answer the question. Why did you dye your hair?"

  The doctor's perplexed frown deepened. Her finger combed her hair from her face. "Ah, well, it's a woman's prerogative. I've gone between brown and red hair for years. I decided to switch back. Is my hair color a problem?"

  "It might be. This is a mistake," Dominic stood and turned to leave. "We won't be needing your services."

  "Signor! Slow down. Please." She got up from her chair and went to her desk. She approached him. "I lied. I know of the trauma. I just needed you to tell me in your words. Her last doctor said she was kidnapped. If she is suffering episodes of rage or depression, maybe mood swings, unexplainable night terrors, you were right to come to me. Let me meet with her. Talk to her. If it doesn't work out then..."

  "You're young, inexperienced, and a foreigner," Dominic spat. "Now add liar to the list. She is married to one of the most prominent men south of Napoli. If he agrees to you meeting with her, you will only have one shot at proving yourself useful to us. Do you understand?"

  "Not fully," she smiled.

  "Maybe you should do a little more research on our family," he advised.

  She nodded. "Maybe."

  He looked her over again. She was beautiful, just as beautiful as Fabiana.

  "I dyed my hair from brown to red because I have a medical school reunion in France in two weeks. I wanted to look like I did back then," she said. "I lied to you about not knowing of her trauma because Dr. Sanford took me into his confidence and warned me of broaching the subject with you prematurely."

  He wasn't sure what to make of her. What were the odds he'd find a doctor that looked so much like Fabiana? Was this a good sign or a bad omen?

  "You're wrong about my inexperience. I can help her. Give me a chance," she said.

  "The first meeting will be with her husband. Giovanni Battaglia. He will decide if there will be a second. Expect a call with directions."

  "Directions to where?" she asked.

  "To where he wants to meet. Ciao."

  "Ciao," she murmured behind him as he left. He passed through the door headed to the other when he glanced back. The doctor stared at him.

  ***

  "You think you know him? You think he loves you as much as you love him? Do you?" Kei asked.

  Mirabella sat on the edge of the bed staring at Kei as he paced the floor in a long black silk robe. She couldn't stop looking at the ghastly iron glove on his hand. It gleamed in the dimly lit room. She was exhausted. She was terrified. But she didn't dare close her eyes. She stayed still and watched him.

  "He'll find me. He'll never give up. And yes, he loves me more than you ever could!"

  "YOU DON'T KNOW HIM!" Kei turned on her. His good eye was wild with madness; an eye patch covered the other. "I haven't been just watching you. I know more about him than you ever will. He's from my world, Mirabella. He has as much darkness in him as I do. Do you think you're the only woman?"

  "Shut up!" Mirabella shouted.

  Kei laughed. "If I hadn't come to rescue you and Little Rabbit you would have seen who he is."

  "I know my husband!" Mirabella said.

  Kei shook his head slowly. "You know an illusion. The same kind of illusion I showed you in New York." He stepped toward her and she scooted back on the bed. "They call me the Dragon. That's my beast. What is his?"

  "Don't come near me..." she panted and continued to scoot away.

  "What is his, Mirabella? He's no different than me. He's no different than Cutter. We are all the same men. No different. He would have shown you. Eventually."

  "You okay?" Marietta asked.

  "Huh? Oh? Yea, I'm all right," Mirabella said. Memories were flashes that surfaced at any time. But the memories of Kei's ranting and ravings were the most emotionally draining. She felt cold inside.

  "You sure? You look a little freaked." Marietta said.

  "I'm good. Just thinking, nothing wrong, ah, with me," Mirabella said.

  They were headed to the villa built on the same land as the vineyard, but separate from the home Rocco and Zia shared. She'd only visited it once. She had no idea what condition it was in, but if Giovanni chose it for the visit she had to believe the place would be fine.

  The kids traveled in the car behind them. Umberto drove, and Giovanni was in the passenger seat.

  "You haven't said much since we landed," Marietta closed her magazine. "You worried about this doctor visit?"

  Mirabella glanced over to her sister. The truth was she hadn't spoken since Giovanni returned home at four in the morning. He eased into bed as if he never left. She was certain he knew that she went after him. The men had probably told him of how she argued that he shouldn't be out at night alone. But he behaved as if nothing had happened in the evening. And acted as loving as always.

  "Hello? Anyone home?" Marietta snapped her fingers in front of Mirabella.

  "I'm fine, just got a lot on my mind," Mirabella whispered.

  "Of course, you do. You aren't crazy. Don't worry about this doctor."

  Marietta reached over and squeezed her sister's hand. Mirabella’s gaze returned to the beauty of Tuscany. The hills and olive groves glistened under the sun. The further they drove into the countryside the more it felt like time and space peeled away.

  "Physically how do you feel? Any stomach cramps?" Marietta asked.

  "Surprisingly I haven't had any today. I think I’m getting better."

  Giovanni glanced back at her. He heard her. He winked. She smiled for him. His stare lingered a moment and then he turned around. And in her mind, she asked: Where did you go last night?

  "Me too. I think you are getting much better," Marietta said and gave her a nudge.

  Mirabella smiled. "Thanks.”

  ***

  Palermo, Sicily –

  Lorenzo was walked inside the palatial Mancini estate by Ignacio Benetini, under the trained sight of a gun. Ignacio tossed him a piercing glare from over his shoulder. He was a runt with too much ego to be useful in his position. Lorenzo glanced to the men at the top of the stairs who glared at him. And the other men in the galley he passed. The one with the gun to his back forced him to walk faster when his gaze lingered.

  It was odd, but he never saw Armando Mancini with women in his home. Not even the aunts and cousins he had. The place was like a den for the scum of la cosa nostra. When he took over this region, Lorenzo planned to bulldoze the place to the ground and build a palace for his queen to rear his children. He smirked.

  Of course, Ignacio, Armando’s consigliere was a buffoon. He spent more money on gambling and fucking whores than focusing on his role as consigliere to Armando Mancini. If the old Don were alive, Ignacio would never have made it past his earner title. Ignacio opened a door for him. He passed through. Armando hung up the phone and stood.

  "Buongiorno!"

  Lorenzo nodded. Armando approached. Lorenzo shook his hand and kissed Armando on the left and right cheek with a tight grimace. Armando chuckled as if he suspected how uncomfortable Lorenzo was in showing humility.

  "How are my sisters?" Armando asked.

  "They send their love."

  "And Giovanni? I hear there's been some inquiries from the Polizia di Stato. Trouble in the Campania?"

  Lorenzo took a seat in the chair before Armando. "Nothing Giovanni isn't prepared to deal with."

  "Have a drink with me," Armando offered.

  "No thanks, haven't had breakfast," Lorenzo said.

  "I insist," Armando countered. Ignacio made the drinks for them. Lorenzo was respectful. He accepted the glass. He toasted Armando before tossing it back. Armando sipped his whiskey and stared at Lorenzo over the rim. He set the gla
ss down and smiled.

  "So, I'm not sure why you're here." Armando reclined. "Giovanni knows the number to my accountant if he has any questions."

  The tables had turned after the rescue. Before he was paying Giovanni not only his sisters’ half of the earnings in his father’s investments, but also interest for the many years they were denied their legacy. It was a bitter punishment that he suffered to avoid the secret being exposed to the other Dons of Sicily. Now Giovanni was his bitch and the payments stopped.

  "I bring news."

  Armando glanced up. "News?"

  "More like an offer, yes."

  "And he makes this offer through you?" Armando chuckled. He glanced to Ignacio who in turn smirked at his boss.

  "That's correct," Lorenzo said.

  "Interesting," Armando set his whiskey glass down on the desk. He stared at Lorenzo in that consistent way that was so much like the eldest Marsuvio Mancini. But Lorenzo remained unfazed.

  "Let me hear Giovanni's offer."

  "You asked to settle your affairs with the Battaglias. For Giovanni to name his price. You've asked this of us since your father's death."

  Armando nodded. "Ah, so here we are? Time to make deals?"

  "Not deals. An offer. To sever our affairs."

  "Affair? You mean relationship. Siamo una famiglia. We are family. I am your brother, and that baby Marietta carries has my blood in his veins." Armando smiled. "My legacy is the child's future, no? Or we could use the legacy of your poor dead papa instead?"

  Lorenzo stiffened.

  "It's okay to say it aloud here. Ignacio knows of our blood ties. Siamo una famiglia." Armando said with his arms open and hands turned upward. "We are family."

  "You will never be my family."

  Armando chuckled. "Too bad for you that I am not."

  "Are you done?" Lorenzo asked.

  "How much?" Armando shrugged.

  "Eighty million lire," Lorenzo said.

  Armando laughed. He laughed heartily. He glanced to Ignacio who smiled. "All my assets combined barely equal eighty million," he said. "Make a serious offer."

  "It's the only offer on the table."

  "Bullshit. Ignacio, get Giovanni on the phone. He should know better than to send his errand boy to insult me."

  "This is no bullshit. He wants the deal transacted in under a month. All taxes to be paid by you."

  "And if I refuse? Which he knows I will." Armando arched a brow.

  "Then he collects." Lorenzo cocked his head to the left, and a sly smile curled his lips. "By any means necessary."

  "Giovanni is out of his fucking mind to threaten me! This is your doing. Isn't it, errand boy?"

  Lorenzo shrugged off the insult, but Armando could see the tick in his jaw that was the trigger to his temper.

  "My cousin has had what some would call an epiphany. He doesn't understand why the world should not know that his wife is half Sicilian. That her father is Marsuvio Mancini, and that she is the heir to the Mancini fortune. He is done with games--especially games with his enemies."

  "So, I'm an enemy?" Armando asked. "I wasn't an enemy when I found his fucking wife being raped and tortured by the China man!"

  "You've never been a friend," Lorenzo said. "Eighty million buys you time. He'll never be silent for you."

  "You come in here, into my home, and talk like we are equals. You aren't fit to lick piss off my boots. I'm Don Mancini. I'm everything you and your half-breed cousin will never be. This war between us, since we were boys, is all about jealousy. All you've ever wanted was to be me. To sit in this chair. To own Palermo. I will tell you now it will never happen!"

  "This is business," Lorenzo said. "Maybe the other four Dons of Sicily will disagree?"

  Armando slammed his fist on the desk. Lorenzo didn't move. Even if Ignacio, who hovered in the line of Lorenzo's vision, were stupid enough to draw his weapon, Lorenzo would gladly go out in a blaze of bullets to put one in Armando's ass. And Armando knew it.

  "What about Isabella?" Armando asked.

  "That matter is being handled," Lorenzo forced himself to say.

  Armando's smile was slight, but Lorenzo caught it. He stared at Lorenzo, and in the silence, Lorenzo felt the cold chill of displaced triumph.

  "You still play games, Lorenzo. Even with the cards, you were dealt in life," he said. "Second to your cousin, last to me, just like your father. A nothing. It is why your dick is hard for your wife? Not out of love or respect for her. But because of her tie to me, to all of this. What you will never have."

  "Insult my wife again and your dog over there in the corner won't be able to stop me from cutting your fucking throat."

  Ignacio stepped forward and pointed his gun at the back of Lorenzo's head. Mancini waved his consigliere down. He seemed unbothered. And that on top of his words pissed Lorenzo off.

  "Tell Giovanni fuck him, and fuck his games. I'm not one of the dogs of Camorra. He challenges me; he challenges all of Sicily."

  "Your funeral." Lorenzo stood and slid his hands into his pants pockets. Ignacio lowered the gun, but he kept it at his side.

  "No, my friend. It will be yours," Armando said. "After I put the gun in Giovanni's hand. It'll be yours."

  Lorenzo froze and frowned at the statement. Then being the one-sided idiot that he was, he missed the message and shrugged with his usual arrogance. "We are coming for what is ours. What your father said belonged to his daughters. You won't stop us."

  "The other day I had a young man arrive looking for work." Armando removed a cigar from his cedar box and licked the stick. He cut his gaze up. "A boy no older than fifteen, hungry, said he's been doing odd jobs for just about five years to survive. Had a sister he wanted to protect as well. Said he was looking for help from my family. "

  Lorenzo almost turned to leave, but something in the pitch of Armando's voice made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

  "So, this kid found his way to my father's garden where I was eating my dinner. He thinks he and I have a common enemy. Care to guess who?" Armando asked. Lorenzo didn't reply. "The poor soul. He and this sister of his are the last surviving Calderones."

  "The Calderones are dead. Every one of them." Lorenzo said.

  "This kid says differently. This kid says his family was slaughtered unjustly. That Giuseppe was framed. Unjustly. And that his mother was the only one wise enough to hide him and his sister. It's an interesting story. Being a generous man I took him in. Good thing I did. An enemy of yours is a friend of mine."

  Lorenzo tipped his head at Armando and turned and walked out as his hands clenched tightly into fists.

  Armando watched him leave until he disappeared from his sight. He smoked his cigar until Ignacio returned after seeing Lorenzo to the door. Armando rubbed his chin and tried to keep himself from giving the order to take Lorenzo down before he left the property.

  "What's the next move, Boss?" Ignacio asked.

  "That fucking half-breed bastard doesn't know gratitude. If it weren't for me his wife would be dead, or a slave to that China man! Bastardo!" he seethed. Ignacio stood silent, and Armando cut his eyes to him. "Catalina. Is she here?"

  "Boss, let me send the message. If it's war, we should strike first. I'll put a bullet in Lorenzo and send his fucking balls in a box to Giovanni."

  "No, no, that's too easy. I want him broken. I want them both on their knees." He extinguished his cigar "Have the car brought around. We'll send Giovanni a message, but first I want to see Catalina."

  Ignacio smiled and walked out. Armando reached over and pulled out the drawer. He found the tape cassette. Holding it in his hand gave him so much spirit. He couldn't wait to play it for her.

  ***

  Mirabella eased out of the car and into the sunlight. The air in Chianti had a sweet taste and smell. She looked past the villa and out across the open land. The vineyard was just down the hill. She could see Zia and Rocco's cottage. There was plenty of land for the kids to run and play. They should have
come sooner. Giovanni walked over holding Gino and Gianni in his arms. He smiled down at her.

  She smiled for him and took hold of Eve's hand.

  "I have to pee-pee, Mama!" Eve squealed and held herself.

  "Come now," Mirabella said, and they started up the walkway.

  "It's hot out here!" Marietta complained as she walked behind them. She fanned herself with her hand. "I bet it's hot inside, too."

  "Probably," Mirabella said. "We'll open the windows."

  Marietta huffed. "No central air?"

  Zia was ahead of them. She opened up the place first, and the family came inside after. Eve ran after Zia to be taken to the bathroom. The boys went with Gio. It was Mirabella who paused. She looked around the villa and felt like she was transported in time. Everything from the furnishings to the color of the walls looked to be fifty years old.

  "Why the hell aren't we staying in Firenze? In a hotel?" Marietta whispered in her ear.

  "It think it's nice that we came to Chianti. The place is okay. Besides, the country air will do us all some good."

  "You mean the funky air!" Marietta walked off to open the windows. Mirabella chewed on her bottom lip. She had to agree with Marietta. The villa wasn't ideal. In fact, she would have been more comfortable at Zia and Rocco's cottage than this mausoleum.

  "Hi," Giovanni said, his arm slid around her waist.

  "Hi," she said.

  "What do you think?" he asked.

  "Is this ours?" she asked.

  "It belongs to Rocco. He built it after he married Zia and found out she was pregnant. But they moved out after their son died. No one ever stays here," he said.

  "That's what I feel. The sadness. You feel it?" she asked.

  He ran his hand over her backside and kissed her cheek. "Let's go for a walk. Talk."

  She glanced over to Marietta who was squealing over a spider that Umberto was trying to kill. Giovanni shook his head and took hold of her hand to walk her outside.

  "Where are the boys?" she asked.

  "Gino and Gianni are with Cecilia," he said.

  To her relief, the sun didn't blaze as hot on the left side of the house. She stepped into the grass and caught the soothing brush of a fresh breeze rustling through the tall blades. There was land, lots of it, but the trees were mostly downhill toward the vineyard. Together they walked hand in hand away from the villa.