by Sienna Mynx
"So, it was a success?" he asked and poured her glass.
She reached for the wine and drank the glass clean. She licked her berry tinted lips and smiled. "Yes. It wasn't as original as Jean Paul's, or as trailblazing as Prada’s. But it had the flare to bring everyone in the event to their feet. We got a standing ovation."
"I saw you. Mirabella has put you in charge now?" Armando asked.
Catalina nodded. "I had creative input in everything. It might as well have been my line."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I--" Catalina paused. She looked up at him.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You don't care about my company," she said.
"Your company? Have my sisters retired?"
"You know what I mean." She picked up her fork and moved her pasta on her plate.
"Why do I make you uncomfortable? Angry?" he asked. He reached for the bottle and poured her more wine. She ignored the glass this time.
"I know you hate my brother. That you want him dead."
"The feeling is mutual, Catalina. Giovanni always challenged me. Always. Since we were kids."
"He defended himself against you and your bullies. I may have been young, but I wasn't blind."
"My point is, Catalina, what's between him and me is between us. You and I are different."
"You're some piece of work. Ever heard of loyalty? Huh? What is it? That oath you take in the Mafia? Omertà. Doesn't that mean loyalty?"
"You win," he said with a smile. "I've taken an oath. But Giovanni isn't part of the Mafia. He pretends at Mafia with his clan bosses. They are the dogs of the underworld. We are the rulers."
"Che palle!" Catalina rolled her eyes. She glanced around at the candles and dimmed lighting. Her eyes eventually moved to the bedroom.
"Okay." She threw her fork on her plate. "I've had enough. How do you plan to do it?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"Seduce me? How? Dinner conversation sucks. This pasta is cold. And the wine is bland. So far you're batting zero for zero. And time is running out."
"So, you want to know how?" he asked.
"Yes, because your conversation bores me." She picked up her refilled wine glass. She took another sip. "Tell me how Don Mancini seduces a woman. I need a good laugh."
"Cute," he said.
She winked.
"Depends on the woman. There are rules."
"Rules, huh?"
"Yes. It has to be her decision."
"Boring. You said that already." Catalina fake yawned.
"I said it because it's true. It happens here," he pointed to his head. "You have to think it. Think the words: I want him. I want to let him do it. I want it, for him to do it over and over again."
The sexy smirk on her lips slipped away. He had her attention. And he intended to keep it. "You see, la piccoletta, you can't just pile on the compliments with a woman like you. If I give you too much too soon, it doesn't feel genuine. If I were to tell you how sexy, your lips are to me. How every time you cross your thighs I want to part them, you wouldn't believe me. If I can't see past your beauty and into that determined little heart of yours, you won't open it to me. Will you?"
"I don't think physical attraction is about any of that," she stammered.
"Physical isn't. Attraction is the key. You can lie with your mouth, Catalina. It's your eyes." He said. "That's why I removed your sunglasses. It's the way you look up when I say your name. Or the way you look away when I talk about your accomplishments. It's how long it took your mind to respond to your body heat when I kissed you. The physical comes last, the attraction between us has always been there."
"So what if it is? I can be attracted to another man and still love my Domi."
"True. But can you be seduced by another man and still love him?"
"No, that's crossing the line," she said.
"What line? Is there a line here? One between you and me? You crossed it when you met with me in secret in Mondello. When you spoke to me on the phone and didn't tell him. That line was crossed a long time ago."
"Domi would forgive those mistakes. This, he wouldn't."
"And if he never knew?"
"I would know. I couldn't live with it."
"Then there is no point? Is there?"
"What?" she frowned.
"No point in me taking you to bed. No point in this dinner. You don't want it. And I can't convince you to let go of his approval to save your cousin."
"If you give those tapes to Gio or his enemies, he will kill Lorenzo. Marietta loves him. He's her heart. You kill him; you kill her. Your father's long lost daughter. She dies because of those tapes."
Armando got up from the table. He walked over to the cabinet and opened it. Inside he worked the combination on the safe. He opened it and removed the tapes. Catalina watched him in disbelief. He put them down on the table next to her fork.
"What is this? A trick?”
"What you came for."
"That's not all of them," she said.
"It's all of them," he assured her.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because you proved to be stronger than I thought. And I'm an asshole. I'm just not that big of an asshole. The way I see it, I got to have dinner with la piccoletta. Not many men can claim that."
She opened the case of cassettes and counted them. There were seven copies. A slot was missing for another. She looked up at him with disbelief.
"You destroyed the eighth copy," he said.
"Grazie, Armando. Grazie." She stood and initiated the embrace. She hugged him. She felt so relieved; she had to hug him. And when the elation lifted and common sense returned, she looked up into his eyes. Her arms were fastened around his neck. He turned a bit to face the window. Her face barely an inch from his. Armando leaned in to kiss her, and despite her common sense, she parted her lips and kissed him back. His hold slowly tightened around her waist. His lips touched, but his tongue tantalized. It swept in and out slowly, drawing every ounce of breath from her lungs. And the kiss wasn't rushed, it wasn't prolonged, it ended on the sweetest note. Armando released her mouth and ignited a fire deep within her. Shocked, she didn't know whether to kiss him again or run from the room.
"And this is how you seduce a woman, Catalina. You give her what her heart desires. You wait to see if she comes back for more."
He let her go. He walked over to where her coat and returned to put it carefully over her shoulders. Catalina took the tapes from the cassette holder and dropped them into her purse. She smiled at Armando, but she didn't know what else to say.
"Isabella only sent me those tapes to taunt me. You can believe there are more out there. One way or another that bitch is going to have her revenge. You better find a way to prepare your family."
She nodded her agreement.
"Good night," he said to her.
"Good night," she managed to mumble before she walked away. Her legs kept going, but her head turned to look back for him. He wasn't in the hall. He didn't pursue her. Just like that, it was over. Catalina went to the elevator and pressed the button repeatedly until the elevator doors opened and she was safely inside. The minute the doors closed Catalina squealed with triumph. She jumped up and down and celebrated by shaking her head and her hips.
She had done it.
She had gotten the tapes.
The elevator arrived on her floor. It stopped. She forgot to call Rosetta and warn her that she was coming back. The moment the doors opened she saw the hall was empty. Neither Raffaele nor Paolo stood outside her door. Catalina couldn't believe her luck. She dug in her purse for her room key and hurried to her room. She would shower and call Domi. This had turned out to be the happiest night of her life. A hot flash of a memory of Armando's kiss surfaced. She didn't dare dwell on it. The kiss was a mistake. She allowed one stumble. After all, she had stood her ground with the most ruthless of Dons in Sicily and won. Catalina dropped the key in the slot and opened her room door. She went inside and fli
cked on the light.
Dominic’s glare greeted her. He was the only one sitting. Rosetta stood by his chair. She looked flustered as if she'd been crying. Raffaele and Paolo both stood in the room with their heads hung down. Everyone was there, and they waited for her. Shocked, Catalina couldn't speak. Dominic took a long look at her. Her mind tried to conjure up the excuse. She could use Jamie. Or Marco. Yes. She could use Marco to explain her disappearance.
"Ciao, caro! What are you doing here?" she said under the strain of a tight smile.
"I'm sorry, Catalina. I'm so sorry," Rosetta wept.
Catalina frowned. "Sorry for what?"
"I had to tell Domi the truth. I had no choice. I had to tell him about you and Armando."
"You what?"
"Everybody leave. Adesso!" Dominic said.
Catalina shook her head to deny the accusations because she knew if the words dripped from Rosetta's lying lips they were the worst of the worst. In all the years of their childhood squabbles she'd never suffered a more painful betrayal from her cousin. She had let her guard down. Trusted her. Believed in their bond.
Raffaele walked to the door. Rosetta was escorted by Paolo. The moment she was close Catalina went on the attack. She tried to snatch her bald. Rosetta fought her the best she could. But Catalina had a hold on her throat and her hair. She slammed her head down on the ground and prayed it was a death blow. One of the men lifted her off Rosetta. She screamed with fury. The other man dragged a wounded Rosetta to the door.
"She's been seeing him, Domi! Ask her! Ask her how many times! Even in Sicily. In Mondello. Here! She's been lying to you because she's fucking Don Mancini! Puttana!"
Catalina wept. She was so hurt and confused she couldn't summon her defenses. Dominic drew his gun.
"What room?" he demanded.
"Domi, I swear on Madre's grave it's not what you think."
"WHAT ROOM?"
"1634. Domi, please." She scrambled to her feet. She grabbed his face, but he kept walking. He could not be stopped. "Rosetta is lying I can explain. It's not what you think."
He knocked her off him. She fell to the floor and grabbed his leg. He dragged her and then kicked her loose. He left before she could get back to her feet.
"Domi!" she screamed.
"Keep her inside," Dominic said as he went down the hall with his gun.
"Boss? It's Don Mancini; you shouldn't go alone..."
"Do as I say. Keep her inside," he shouted. Dominic's chest hurt. It wasn’t just his heart. This pain was familiar. The kind of gut kick he took the day he saw her say her vows to Franco. The kind of gut kick the day Giovanni called his love for his sister incest. Giovanni warned him. So did Lorenzo. They all predicted the moment he’d lose her.
He went to the elevator half dazed, and the other half of his brain fried. It was like an internal circuit blew in his brain. He couldn't think straight. He could barely see. He pushed the button to the elevator, and his finger trembled. Dominic looked down at his hand. Rage, hate, bloodlust, those emotions in men brought death and destruction. The world around him spun into a blur as he stood still.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
His brain fired off the order in rapid succession. He had no choice. To stop and rethink his actions would unlock a hurt so deep it rivaled the scars of his childhood. Catalina was his heart. She was all he ever wanted in life. She was special, precious; she was his, and he'd lost her. Armando Mancini would pay with his life. He would kill him. He intended to kill him. The elevator opened, and he nearly fell inside.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill the motherfucker!
When did it all begin? Rosetta called him. Yes. Rosetta. She said Catalina needed him. That he should come to Paris and surprise her. But when he arrived no one answered her door. He found Raffaele in bed with Rosetta. It didn't enrage him as it would Giovanni. He would discipline him later. What he wanted was his lady. The idiot guard he put in charge of her, to protect her, handed over Catalina's room key. The room was empty. Dominic figured she'd slipped out to meet one of her friends. He was angry, but he understood. Tonight was her night. Her big night. It wasn't until Rosetta filled in the missing pieces that he learned the disgusting truth. She'd been sneaking behind his back and meeting with Armando Mancini.
Why?
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill the motherfucker dead!
The elevator stopped. He walked down the hall with the gun at his side. A woman and her husband saw him pass and looked surprised. Dominic arrived at the door. He kicked and kicked until it crashed in. He went inside with his gun drawn prepared to shoot every man between him and Don Mancini. No matter the cost. But the suite was empty. Room to room the search came up empty. The bastard was gone. Dominic didn't understand. Where the fuck was he? Where?
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Or kill yourself instead.
***
The driver loaded the luggage. Ignacio joined him in the back of the limo. "Dominic has just arrived at the hotel. The men said they saw him enter almost an hour ago."
"Then he must be waiting for her." Armando said.
"So this is it? You gave her the tapes? All of them?"
"I don't the need the tapes. Dominic is Giovanni's strength. He is the one who keeps it all flowing. We just removed him off the game board."
"You think he's going to lose it?" Ignacio said.
"He did once before with Franco. And if Rosetta planted the seed, well let's give it a little time to grow."
Ignacio nodded in agreement.
“The pictures? Did you get them?” Armando asked.
“I believe so. Our man knows what to do. He should have them in Sorrento by tomorrow if he has to fly in and deliver them personally.”
“Then it’s done,” Armando said.
"What happened with you and Catalina?" Ignacio asked.
Armando touched his lips. "More than I thought would happen. Much more."
***
The Battaglias hadn’t used the factory in years. At one time Catalina's dead husband Franco was in charge of operations. After his untimely death, the Battaglias decided it best to move the bottling operations for olive oil and limoncello further east. The factory was the Butcher's playground now.
Carlo returned to his table of knives. Before he began, he ordered Umberto and his men to turn on the machinery. The engines purred, and the conveyor belts rolled. It was enough background noise to cover the dying man's screams. And he was one tough son-of-a-bitch. Carlo picked up the hand saw and turned it on. The razor disc spun with a loud hum.
"Get the buckets. I don't want to be here all night cleaning up!" he ordered.
He turned in a blood-slickened butcher’s apron. He wore the gloves to match. They were cumbersome to use during carving. But he found they served him well.
Alek Baldamenti hung from a hook two feet off the floor. He lifted his battered face and fixed Carlo with a look of raw hate. He was slick with sweat. They hadn't gotten to the cutting yet. Torture could break as much skin and spill as much blood. The beatings kept him conscious and coherent enough to provide information. But Alek would not budge. He showed no fear. Carlo respected him for that.
"Anything to say?" Carlo asked.
"I don't know where she is," Alek said with his gaze was fixed on the hand saw.
"But you had her?"
"I told you. She's been with us a few days. She said she had a deal... in the works, a General in the Carabinieri, someone she was going to meet.."
"For?"
"To give proof."
"What proof?"
Alek groaned.
"What proof?" Carlo demanded.
"Proof that Giovanni killed the Calderones! Proof that the bastardo should have slit the throat of his cugino, not the innocent women and children he slaughtered. He's a baby killer! Because of him, my little brother is dead! Proof that his throat will be cut by his own! Justice!"
Carlo frowned. Was he delirious? Baby killer? Carlo cut hi
s gaze over to Leonardo. His young lieutenant threw a bucket full of scalding water on their captive. Alek screamed in agony. Carlo held the saw next to the cock of the crying and whimpering man. "We start here. Eh? Eh! Do you know how long it takes for your cock to bleed out? Eh? Two hours. Two hours you hang and drip piss and blood into this bucket. You will beg for death. You will tell me what I want to know, or I will saw off your balls and feed them to my dogs."
Two of his men arrived with ravenous beasts. The dogs growled and snapped their jaws at Alek. The chains could barely hold them back.
“We feed them the leftovers.” Carlo chuckled.
"It was Benicia! They ambushed us. They came for her. They came..."
Carlo stepped back. "Benicia has Isabella?"
"Yes. And they took my son too! They said Giovanni sent them. Said he wants to kill my boy!" Alek went crazy with rage and tried to free himself despite his injuries. "They said if I told you they would kill my boy. I swear it. He is all we have left. Kill me. But do not let them kill my boy." Alek dropped his head and wept.
“Giovanni doesn’t have your kid,” Carlo spat.
“How do you know? He has been working with Benicia.”
“I work for Giovanni!” Carlo said.
"You work for Lorenzo! And everyone knows Lorenzo is loyal to no one. Call Giovanni. He'll tell you that he has her!"
“Boss?” Leonardo said. “Someone is outside...”
The men looked back. Before Alek could finish the confessions bullets rang out. The entire warehouse exploded in gunfire. Carlo dropped. The men who weren’t shot returned fire, but the assassins were shooting out several windows. The dogs were slaughtered. Alek Baldamenti’s body was shredded. Then the sounds of cars speeding off were heard in the distance. Carlo ran for the door. He fired at the vehicles, blowing out the back windows. The drivers were gone.
