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

by Sienna Mynx

  "Let me guess. That's Dominic?" Armando asked.

  "If I answer it and tell him you are here, you're a dead man," Catalina said.

  "You want to spare my life?" he asked.

  She didn't find the humor in the visit. And then it struck her hard. There was nothing Dominic could do at the moment to protect her. She was in Armando's territory. Locked behind a door with him. She reached for the phone, but it stopped ringing. She then thought of the gun she kept strapped to her thigh.

  "Why are you here?" she asked.

  "I should be asking you that question. After all, this is my land, my city, my street, my building," he said. He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the front pocket of his suit jacket.

  "This place belongs to Francesca. My brother."

  Armando arched a single slender brow. "You of all people know better."

  "Did you have Paolo and Raffaele arrested?" she asked.

  "Arrested? No," he said. "Detained, yes."

  "How did you know I was here?"

  "Does your brother not know my comings and going out of the Campania before my feet hit Italian soil?"

  The phone rang again. Catalina reached for it.

  "I wouldn't answer that. Not yet. Not until you and I finish this talk."

  She hesitated. She struggled with what to do next.

  Armando didn't want her afraid. What would be the point? Catalina was the victory, not the victim if he truly played the situation right. What he desired would take a lot more finesse than he was used to with women.

  She hesitated.

  Those round doe-like eyes of hers switched back from the phone to him. The men of the Battaglia family chose the exotic to fall in love with. Her father had selected a young red-haired, blue-eyed, freckled faced Irish girl to take the place over his wife. And Gio and Lorenzo had even gone as far as to choose Black American women. Armando's taste was far simpler. He loved the beauty and grace in Sicilian women. And though she was only half-Sicilian she possessed it all.

  Both of their gazes returned to the phone. Her wrists were delicate. Her fingers were strong and slim with long scarlet nails the color of her dress.

  Her hand moved away from the ringing phone.

  Armando smiled.

  Benissima.

  Despite the fear he saw in her eyes, he took a step toward her. There were many things to desire about Catalina Battaglia. It wasn't the dress she wore that was the color of blood or the magenta red lipstick that glossed over her lips. It wasn't her curves that were perfect at every angle. Though he did appreciate the way, her thick dark hair hung in long graceful locks that bounced and drifted around her face with the slightest turn of her head. It wasn't even her eyes that were clear as rainwater, and that made him want to keep her gaze focused on him. Eyes so strikingly blue, under long dark lashes that they did little to protect her from the desires of men like him. It was her. La piccoletta. The jewel and heart of all the Battaglia men.

  She was a fighter, a rebel, stubborn, and fiercely loyal to a lifestyle that scared most women away. She would make a perfect lover, mother of his children. She was perfect to him in every way.

  "What do you want?" she asked, but the spell wasn't broken. Even her voice was lovely. She spoke her English to him. She worked hard to pronounce her words without an accent. To show she had grown up, matured, become a woman of the world. There were other ways she could prove it to him if she wished.

  "I came to give you something. The truth," he said.

  "What truth?" she scoffed.

  "The truth about who really killed you father."

  The shock on her face yielded quickly to fury. "Che schifo! You don't know a damn thing about my dad!"

  Armando closed the distance between them. She didn't flinch. He stared into those soft blue eyes of hers when he spoke. "I know who killed him. And I have proof."

  "Me ne sbatto! The Russians killed Patri. And Giovanni made them pay!" Catalina spat.

  "No, piccoletta. In the beginning, yes, we all believed that to be true. We all did. Now I have proof that it wasn't the Russians."

  "Non mi interessa!" She tried to walk around him, but he caught her by the elbow and stopped her. "You will care when you find out who is responsible. Hear me out."

  "What proof?" she demanded and recoiled from his touch.

  "A confession. One that you have to hear to believe," he said.

  "Why? Why are you telling me? Why aren't you telling my brother? Dominic?" she asked. And suddenly her bravery weakened. Her eyes glistened with tears, and her sweet face flushed red. "Patri died years ago. Why tell me this?"

  "Your brother has declared war against the Mafiosi. Lorenzo was here today to threaten me. He's lucky I let him leave the island alive."

  "No. No. No." she put her hands to her ears as if to block out his words.

  "It's true. Giovanni intends to go public with who Mirabella is to my family and me. And he wants more money than I can raise to keep him silent."

  "Mirabella wouldn't let him do that!" Catalina said.

  "Mirabella?" Armando chuckled. "Giovanni doesn't answer to her. You and I know that."

  "But he wouldn't do that. We've had a truce for years. Many years."

  "The truce is over. That's why your men were so easily detained. And before I could give Giovanni the information on what happened to your father I was insulted. Now I have to rethink what I should do with the information. Should I give it to his enemies? Should I let them know that the snake that killed your father slithers around in your own garden? You know your brother. A betrayal by someone he trusts will wound him."

  The phone rang again. Catalina looked as if she were prepared to jump out of her skin. This time, she ran for the phone and answered.

  "Domi?"

  "What the hell are you doing in Sicily? You were supposed to be headed to Paris!" Dominic shouted in the phone. "I've called Francesca's and she said you're at the store? Why didn't you answer the phone?" he demanded.

  "There's trouble. Ah, Raffaele and Paolo were arrested. The driver, too. I'm stuck here. Domi, I need you to come, come quickly." Catalina's gaze returned to Armando's eyes. His gaze never wavered. She tried to keep the emotion from her voice but failed miserably. She was scared and confused. She just wanted Dominic to come, to make Armando shut up, and to tell her what to do.

  "It's okay. Stay calm. Are you alone?"

  "No," Catalina replied.

  "Who's with you?" Dominic asked.

  Catalina continued to stare at Armando. He stared at her.

  "Who's with you?" Dominic shouted.

  "Rosetta. She and I are here at the store," she said.

  "Stay in the boutique. I'm sending someone. You need to get out of Palermo. Head to Mondello and wait with our men there. I'm on my way. And then you're coming home. Understand?"

  "I understand. Va bene, ciao," she said and hung up.

  "I don't want this war with your brother," Armando said.

  "Shut up! We're done talking. You'll have this conversation with Domi, not me!" she pointed a finger at him.

  "Is that how you want to play this?" Armando asked. "Lay the burden on Dominic to see the men he loves like brothers destroy themselves."

  "Brothers? What is this you are saying? Who betrayed who?" she frowned in confusion. She wasn't sure what Armando's riddles were about, but they made her sick to her stomach with dread. Could it be Domi? No. Could it be Lorenzo? No. Could it be Carlo? No.

  "Giovanni is trying to exert his power by challenging me. He wants the clan bosses to believe that he is the one in control. When he's losing his power and respect daily. He lost a lot of things when he bargained away his interests to save my sister."

  "Giovanni is not desperate!" she seethed. "You are for coming here and trying to twist me!"

  "You know your brother. This information I have, true or not he will investigate. What he finds will destroy your family."

  "Lies. The Russians, they killed my father. End of story.
"

  Armando shrugged. "Consider this your only opportunity to help your family. Your brother wants war. I'll give him the war. And the information I have, I'll sell it to his enemies. You remember this moment when I considered to do things differently. You remember how you could have prevented it."

  "Wait!" she said when he looked like he would leave.

  There was a knock at the door. The doorknob turned. "Catalina? Are you in there? Catalina!" Rosetta said.

  Armando smiled. He mouthed the words. "Trust me."

  "Rosetta, I'm fine. On the phone with Domi. Give me a second. Okay!"

  "Okay," Rosetta said.

  "What is this proof you have?" Catalina asked.

  "Meet me tonight. I'll give you the proof," he said.

  "I can't do that! Dominic is on his way. My family will not let me out of their sight. I can't."

  "You're a smart woman. I'm sure you can find a way. If not then..."

  "This is a trick. You get me to sneak out and meet you, then what? Do you attack me? Kill me? What?" she asked.

  "If I wanted you dead you would be dead. This a gift. Take it or leave it."

  "But my question to you, Don Mancini, why give me a gift? What is it you want in return?"

  Armando nodded as if impressed. "I will tell you my price when the time is right. It'll be up to you if you decide that you wish to pay it."

  Catalina didn't know what to make of him or the offer. She knew she couldn't trust him. He was toying with her. She would have to be careful.

  "Villa Mare Blu, in Mondello. Domi is sending me there. To the west of the villa before you reach the beach is a rose path. Blue roses. They bloom all year round. The path goes deeper into the forest, but if you stay on it, you'll reach my mother's grave."

  "Your mother is buried there?" Armando asked.

  "She wasn't allowed to be buried next to Papa. And don't pretend you don't know this."

  Armando stared at her but didn't respond.

  "We should meet there. It'll keep us from being seen. The beach is too risky."

  "For you or me?" Armando chuckled.

  "Do you want to meet or not?" she asked.

  "I'll find the rose bush and your Madre's grave. You just make sure you're there," Armando smiled.

  "I'll be there. Tonight. I don't know what time. But I'll be there. And if this is a trick. If you do anything to trick me, I swear to you I'll kill you myself."

  "No trick, cara. This is me being one of the good guys," he smiled. She crossed her arms and refused to give him a smile in return.

  He turned to leave, and she grabbed his arm. "Don't go out there. I can't have Rosetta seeing you. Wait until she and I leave. And I'll meet you."

  Armando nodded. He stepped aside. She glanced at him once more to gauge his sincerity. The devil had none.

  "If you don't show up, Catalina, I won't ask again."

  "Fine," she said and left. Rosetta paced out front. She glanced up with a concerned frown, and then glanced back to their cousins who were just arriving with their guns tucked into the front of their pants.

  "Let's go," Catalina took her by the arm and led her out. She glanced back to the dark boutique as she and Rosetta were placed into cars. Armando never emerged. But he was there. Watching.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Good Intentions

  Chianti, Italy

  The road to hell is paved with good excuses. It's what his mother would say to him each and every time he tried to explain away his actions or her disappointment. She saw through him. No woman could look into his eyes and read his soul like his dear sweet mother. Catalina had come close many times. His sister stepped in and gave him the nurturing he needed when they buried their mother. She cooked his meals, nursed his temper, and protected his heart from women that were in constant pursuit of claiming it. She was his barrier against the emotional dependency that had weakened his father. That was until he met and married Mirabella. A wife and kids weren't supposed to be in the cards for him. The road to hell was a journey he'd have taken alone. But Mirabella made him believe he could have it all. And he became masterful in concealing his true nature that he kept chained inside.

  "Pa-pa!" Gino said.

  He tugged on Giovanni's pants leg, reminding his father that he was not alone. Giovanni stared out of the second story window down at the small gathering of men near the barn. Lorenzo had arrived. Carlo was there too. The men stood around talking, most of them seemed jovial. None of them suspected what was waiting for them. And of course, Giovanni had his good excuses.

  "Pa-pa!" Gino's little chubby hand tapped his leg. Giovanni’s gaze lowered to the boy. His pride and joy began to speak in a baby language that only his Bella and Zia could understand. Giovanni frowned. He couldn't process any of what was being said. Gino's eyes began to tear with frustration as he repeated his baby talk to his father. His son then pointed to his brother Gianni who sat on the floor playing with a toy train. Gianni ran it back and forth across the floor and made a rumbling sound as if there were a supercharged engine inside.

  "Il mio! Il mio, Pa-pa," Gino whined.

  Giovanni returned his attention to his men outside the window, and Gino began to cry in frustration. He could hear his son’s little feet stomping as he threw a tantrum in protest. The phone rang. It was time. Giovanni ignored the toddlers. He walked over to the small desk in the room with Gino following him crying.

  "This is Giovanni," he answered on the second ring.

  "Giovanni! Per favore è un'emergenza! It's Federico Banfi. I've been calling around trying to find you all morning."

  "How did you know I was near Firenze?" Giovanni asked.

  "Dominic. He told my office you would be visiting for several days. And you're here! Grazie a Dio!"

  "You sound troubled?" Giovanni asked.

  "I'm in trouble. I need... oh sweet merciful God. I think she might be dying, or dead... is she dead?" he asked another. "Check for her pulse!" There was some arguing between the senator and another person. The other voice sounded like a woman. And then Banfi returned to the call. "Gio! She might be dead soon if you don't get here quick."

  Federico Banfi was a valued ally. He held a very influential seat on the Italian Senate and was the third cousin to the Prime Minister. A man respected all the way to the Papacy. But his love for gambling and whores made him a friend to men like Giovanni. Federico was the first person he called upon when his Bella's life hung in the balance. Without Federico's help, he would have never been able to sway the authorities to release his men from jail after the bloodbath in Napoli. He would have never been able to make the case against Carlo go up in smoke. Or cover up the assassination of Santo by Dominic's gun. Giovanni over-extended his reach and power to be left blameless in the death of Father Nicosia. And all of it came at a price. Federico had the balls to try to exploit Giovanni's weakness. He demanded two villas, a restaurant, and a substantial payment set up in a bank in France for his support. Giovanni could taste the bitter insult to the back of his throat long after he was forced to swallow the deal.

  Not anymore.

  "Federico, you must calm down and tell me what the problem is," he said. "If you have a sick or dying woman call the authorities, get her medical attention."

  "...I think it's too late. Is she dead? Porco Dio! Is she dead?" Federico asked a screaming woman in the background. "I dunno? I dunno what to do," Federico blathered. "We were partying. And she took too much, Gio. She's overdosing!"

  "Who is she?" Giovanni asked.

  "A whore, I don't know her fucking name. Shit! I didn't know who to call. I can't have this linked to me, Gio. It will ruin me."

  The boys screamed. Giovanni glanced up. Gino had gone on the attack with his brother Gianni. The two now struggled to hold on to the toy train. A tug-of-war between them. They both were crying and yelling in their baby voices. The distress and tears seemed almost comical considering that the toy was one of many they had to play with. Giovanni observed his sons but did noth
ing to settle the dispute. The sight of them being so unhappy did have an unexpected effect on him. His heart beat faster, and his jaw clenched, anger swelled in to match the fury of his sons. All the while he had to hear the whines and moans of a panicked senator on the other end of the phone line.

  "I can't be caught with her. It'll ruin me, Gio! And if I'm ruined so are you. Who else do you have as a better ally than me?"

  Was this idiot threatening him? Giovanni didn't bother to respond. His focus remained on the fight between his sons. Gianni yanked hard on the toy, but Gino's grip was tighter than his brother could manage. Gianni's little hands slipped from the train, and he went sailing backward. He hit the ground hard and wailed in defeat. Giovanni's fist clenched. He didn't rise from his seat. He didn't yell at the boys and order them to make peace. And as he suspected, Gino reacted. He dropped the toy and went to his brother who was laying on his back crying. Gino rubbed Gianni's tummy and said something in their shared language. He helped Gianni sit up, he picked up the train and placed it on his brother’s lap. In an instant, the tears stopped for Gianni. The boy grinned at the train as if he'd just been handed the prize trophy. Gino turned and picked up a toy truck and sat next to his brother to play with him instead of wage war. The tension in Giovanni uncoiled, and he smiled at his sons with pride. They were brothers.

  No more tears.

  "Gio? Are you there? Did you hear me? Aye! I think he hung up," Federico said.