by Sienna Mynx
Mira frowned. She blinked with a new understanding. “That was Fabiana’s idea. Was I that bad?”
“No.” He blushed. “I’m not saying you’re not beautiful enough to model, Bella. But as my wife I don’t… want men to see you on the runway in those skimpy dresses. It makes me uncomfortable.”
She smiled. “You have such a way with words.”
He grunted.
“I have one final request. And I will accept your terms, though I admit it’s hard.” Mira sat upright. “My company is a legitimate business. I don’t question you on what you do illegally, but I’m no fool. I don’t want you to run any illegal activities through my business.”
Giovanni chuckled.
“Agreed?”
He arched an eyebrow.
“I’ll take that as a yes!” Mira clapped her hands together and laughed. “So we’ll do it? We’ll get my company back?”
“Do I have a choice?”
She hurried around his desk and nearly jumped into his lap. Giovanni nearly toppled over. She gave him a long sexy kiss. She grabbed both sides of his face. “Tante Grazie! You’ve made me so happy.”
“Prego. Can we please just get married now?”
“Yes! I have so much work to do. I’ll be working on the dress today so dinner will be late.”
“Slow down,” he pulled her back to him. She waited for his comment. “I know you’re talented and capable. I’m a bit old-fashioned about this, Bella. Don’t make me regret my decision.”
“I promise sweetie, you won’t.”
Chapter Two
Famiglia – Family
Giovanni stared out at the torrential rains, captivated by the storms might as it crushed the tallest of cypress trees, forcing flapping branches to bend. It would be a great blessing if nature’s wrath continued to rage away from the coast.
A faint smile crossed his lips when he thought of his bride. If his mother had lived, she would be pleased with his choice. The way his Bella handled negotiations today impressed and worried him. She agreed to his terms but did she accept them? He saw the wheels turning in her pretty head. She never played her hand with him too early. She was clever to not let her emotions overrule or betray her goals. He knew they’d be revisiting negotiations again, soon.
Flavio warned him against his father’s curse. Unlike Tomosino’s treatment of his mother, he wouldn’t crush Mira’s spirit to control her. He had to find another way to help her understand the order of things, or as she would say—balance. Would he ever be able to deny her anything and stick to it? The answer didn’t matter. After seeing his dark side and hearing his expectations of her, she never wavered in her decision to become his wife. Mirabella was his woman, body and soul. And for her sacrifice, she would never know the shame and scorn his mother endured for the sake of her children.
Their dash to the altar so soon after reuniting was largely due to unplanned and unforeseen circumstances. Now she wielded more power and influence with him than any other living person. She had become the marrow in his bones, the air that he breathes, and the sole source of the sweet sparks of happiness in his heart on a dreary rainy day. He would honor Mirabella, the black American fashion designer, all his days for what she has brought into his life. Cherish her as his wife. No matter what happened, he would never forsake his vows.
“Gio?” Catalina’s soft almost child-like voice spoke behind him.
“Have a seat,” he said.
Catalina propped her umbrella near the door and lowered the hood to her slick raincoat, which dripped a small puddle on his carpeted floor. She was the last to arrive. Now they were all gathered. Dominic and Lorenzo waited patiently as she hung up her raincoat and took a seat between them. The only sound in the room was the clinking ice in Lorenzo’s glass.
Giovanni had decided to tend to this business and be done with the subject of their betrayal. The problem was he still couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Damn them all for failing him.
He cleared his throat.
“My Bella believes in this family enough to become my wife and your donna. In fact, she thinks we can change.” He shrugged. “She thinks our family should be a democracy. She’s learning differently.” Giovanni turned and looked upon the three that disappointed him greatly. “You know there will never be a democracy between us. My word is law in your lives, until I’m dead or unfit.” Giovanni waved off the rest of his morbid thoughts. He intended to live a very long time. “She’s pregnant again. The birth of my son changes everything for you.”
“It’s a boy? How do you know?” Catalina asked.
Giovanni put his sister in his sights. Her hair lay flat and wavy, framing her face. She stared up at him with a wide-eyed innocent look that kept her spoiled and sheltered most of her life. Being angry with her was a waste of energy.
“The baby will be a boy. I expect you all to do what is necessary to make her happy and comfortable while she is pregnant.”
“How?” Catalina blurted.
He strolled away from the window and sat on the edge of the desk. “You know how. You’ve already started taking liberties. She wants you forgiven. She wants you and Domi to play house with my blessing. You know this because you put it in her head that you two are some fucking Romeo and Juliet, and what you share isn’t unnatural.”
Lorenzo chuckled.
Catalina cut him down with a glare. Dominic shifted a bit in his chair. Giovanni tossed a sneer his way. He could sense the tense edge of anticipation between the two. The idea of them as a couple was revolting.
“So you want to punish us still?” Catalina asked sadly.
“I’m man enough to admit my mistakes. You should have been given the opportunity to live outside of this life. Made friends of your own and maybe gone to college. Being of Battaglia blood, you found other ways to rebel. You turned to the man closest to you.” He cut his gaze over to Dominic and continued. “I hate liars. But at least now I know where you and I stand on loyalty. It’s hard to admit, but I can understand why you chose to keep this affair a secret.”
Catalina and Dominic exchanged looks. Lorenzo slumped down in his chair as if bored with the entire conversation. Giovanni continued, hurried through his speech to be done with it. “I promised Papa I would protect you and you,” he said referencing Dominic as well. “I failed,” he admitted. “Bella says that I can be compassionate. I think compassion is bullshit, an emotion for dead men who should’ve had the balls to live their lives by their gut, not their hearts,” he scoffed. “But she’s a woman, and it’s in her nature to believe in forgiveness. Again, we all want to make her happy. Right? For that reason, and because your donna requests this as an early wedding gift, I’ve decided to offer you two my blessing to wed.”
Catalina squealed. She was out of her chair and charging him. She threw her hands around his neck, stomping her feet and jumping with happiness. Giovanni was forced to hold her or be knocked off the desk. “Grazie! Mille grazie! Tante grazie! Bless you and Donna. Bless you, Gio!” He stared at Dominic over his sister’s shoulder. It would take time and much soul searching for him to find the brotherhood he felt was lost between them.
Dominic stood. “Grazie, Giovanni.”
Catalina let him go, and rushed over to Dominic. She hugged him. He buried his face in her neck and held her to him. When Giovanni looked to Lorenzo, his cousin shook his head in disappointment. This indeed was a sign of weakness.
Giovanni cleared his throat. “You will have to pay respect to your dead husband, Catalina.”
She whirled on him, glowing with a bright smile and fresh tears on her cheeks. “Yes, Gio. Of course.”
He then spoke to Dominic. “You two will not be forced to hide your love, not even in front of me. Though you will not consummate your desires under my roof,” Giovanni said. “Not until you are married. If I see, hear or smell you two fucking, compassion will be the last thing in my heart.”
They both nodded that they understood.
“Now le
ave us, Catalina. We have other business to discuss.”
Catalina grinned. “Gio! Ti amo!” She blew him kisses and then kissed Dominic fully on the lips. Dominic drew her arms down and pulled away from her kiss. Catalina gathered her umbrella and rain coat, then left. Giovanni felt the need for fresh air.
“I want to say…” Dominic began.
“Sta zitto.” Giovanni ordered.
Dominic sat without another word.
*****
Thunder clapped and Eve was the first to notice. Her little curly head shot up and her eyes went wide with fright. She sucked hard on her pacifier and blinked at her mother for an explanation. Mira didn’t react. She waited. Her daughter decided against tears, and continued scribbling on the fabric she was given for entertainment. Mira glanced to the windows now battered by the rain, wondering again how long this storm would last. “It’s okay, baby, it’s just the rain and wind.”
The last rumble of thunder faded in the distance. Eve rose to her feet and passed Mira an unneeded sample of fabric. “Grazie, bambina. Mama’s helper.”
Eve plopped back down and began to run a bright pink color stick over the pearl satin material, drawing circles and loops. And Mira once again busied herself with the task before her. After her meeting with Giovanni, Mira hurried to the house in the rain. Quickly she changed, collected Eve from the breakfast table, sent word that Catalina was to join her as soon as she finished her meeting with Giovanni, and then escaped upstairs. She had a tough schedule, and Zia’s help with Eve was so appreciated. She wondered where Zia had gotten off to.
Mira glanced at the dress mannequin she had slipped the gown over. Before she could sew the hem and train to the slim- fitting garment, she would need to spend the day covering the silk fabric with the antique beaded lace that was delivered to her yesterday. She checked her watch and wished Catalina would hurry and return so she could do one more fitting. The bodice of the dress was heart shaped and strapless; each pearl had to be perfectly spaced to preserve the elegance of the garment.
The door to the sewing room opened. Carmine grunted as he lugged in an old brown cedar chest. Zia shuffled in behind him with her scarf crossed over her shoulders. She wore her typical long blue skirt and white button down shirt with short sleeves. A very attractive young woman around Catalina’s age followed her inside. Mira walked around the sewing table and Eve pushed up from the floor with her hands and followed her mother. “What’s this?”
Zia smiled. “Mira, you remember Rosetta, she’s the youngest daughter of Vito. He is Giovanni’s uncle from Sicily. She and family members arrived today.”
Rosetta gave her a respectful nod. Her oval- shaped face was framed by thick dark brown hair that fell wavy from a center part. She was almost an identical beauty to Catalina. Rosetta approached, smiling. She kissed Mira on both cheeks. “I’m so excited to meet you. I know English! We can speak it together!”
Mira glanced at Zia, and Rosetta grabbed her hands to force the conversation. “I met you at the wedding. Remember?” she said aloud. Rosetta formed her words slow as if Mira was hard of hearing and mentally challenged. “Catalina’s wedding to Franco? Do you remember? Poor Franco, we heard what happened to him. Such a shame.”
“Yes it was a shame. Very nice to meet you too,” Mira answered back in Italian.
Zia tossed her chin up just a little higher with pride over Mira speaking Italian so well. Rosetta tried to cover her surprise, but failed. She even seemed a little disappointed. Eve walked up to Rosetta and raised her arms to be lifted and greeted by the stranger. “Oh look at you, bambina! Your eyes! Look at her eyes!” Rosetta picked Eve up and smiled. She held Eve who studied her as well, and after a few minutes of being properly introduced, Eve squirmed to be let down. Once on her feet, she tottered away. “She is an angel. Absolutely!”
Mira chuckled. “Spend a little time with her, you’ll find out differently.”
“Can I be of help, donna? I know you’re creating your dress. Can I do something? You did Catalina’s dress and we were all jealous! I wish you had done the same for me when I was married.”
“You’re married?” Mira asked.
“Widowed. The men in our family die young.” Rosetta said, a dark gleam of amusement sparkling in her eyes. Mira wasn’t sure what to make of the comment so she didn’t respond.
“Hmm. I needed Catalina to try on the dress for me for another fitting.”
“I can do it!” Rosetta chirped.
“What dress size are you?” Mira asked, looking her over.
“Same as Catalina!” Rosetta announced. The bitter bite of envy was in her voice. This, Mira couldn’t ignore. She glanced over to Zia, who nodded that Rosetta should be encouraged instead of discouraged. Mira complied. She went to the mannequin and gingerly removed the dress from it before she passed the garment to Rosetta. “Please be careful, don’t force the dress if it doesn’t fit. Call me in to adjust if need be. You can change behind that door.”
“Grazie.”
Carmine tracked the young woman with lust- filled eyes. He was apparently taken with her beauty. “That’ll be all, Carmine,” Mira said.
“Ah, oh? Sí, Signora Mira, ah, donna, sí,” he said, and was out the door.
Zia stood next to the cedar chest with her arms folded.
“So what’s this?” Mira pointed at the chest. “It looks interesting.”
“It’s your trousseau. Traditionally, it’s for you and your mother to pack for your wedding night. But you and I will do it. I will stand in for her. If that is okay,” Zia said in Italian. She now spoke only Italian with Mira and Eve to encourage them to do the same.
“That’s wonderful. Grazie, Zia.” Mira put a hand to her heart, truly touched.
“It’s expected. I see you as a daughter.” Zia lowered her gaze. “You’re marrying my Gio. This is a big event for our family. We’ve waited quite some time for him to take a bride. You understand how important he is to all of us.”
“I do.”
Zia had been a bit reserved when they initially met, and she learned that Giovanni wanted to date her. And she knew the old woman had an issue with Mira disappearing with Eve. A few comments had passed between them over the weeks after her return that confirmed this belief. The past few days the lessons in tradition, which included their faith in Catholicism and cooking, were constantly hammered in Mira, whether solicited or not. It felt as if she were marrying into some aristocracy instead of a mafia family. Mira accepted all of the advice without complaint. But the gift evoked the first genuine emotional connection with Zia she had hoped they’d achieve. She walked over to Zia and embraced the old woman.
“Bellisima.”
Zia patted her cheek and hugged Mira again. “Ti amo.”
“We should have it brought to my room,” Mira said. She glanced back to the chest. Eve was now over near the treasured locker, touching the shiny latches with curiosity.
“No. We will bring up the things you want to pack in it and pray together. I’ve instructed Carmine to take it to where you will be staying on your wedding night. Are you nervous?” Zia asked.
Mira laughed. “Nervous about the wedding night? No. I think I know what is expected.”
“Not the wedding night. The wedding.” Zia blushed.
“Oh?” Mira struggled a moment to find the words in Italian to express how she felt. “I’m worried, not nervous. Giovanni won’t tell me anything. Do you know where the ceremony will be? Will it be here?” Mira frowned and glanced back to the rain storm outside the tall windows.
“It will be in a catholic church. It should be in Sicily, but Giovanni wants to marry right away.”
Mira nodded. Giovanni made it clear earlier all of the things he wanted. She was still struggling with the dose of bitter truth he gave her. Before and after Christmas, Mira had attended Mass with Zia. There were so many rules in this life, she felt awkward about how rigid the traditions for them were.
“Traditionally, the bride’s family would
make the arrangements. I believe Gio is taking the lead because of all the problems you two have faced. He wants your day to be perfect.” Zia took her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry. He will see to everything just as you like it.”
“How does he know how I like it without asking me?” Mira pressed.
Zia frowned.
“Can I ask you a question? A personal question?”
Zia nodded.
“The vineyard, the business, you and Rocco own it?”
“Rocco owns it with Giovanni.” Zia corrected.
“Do you run any parts of it? Maybe the accounting or management of the workers?”
“No.” Zia answered.
Mira cleared her throat. “Have you ever had a job outside of being Rocco’s wife? Please don’t misunderstand me, I think being a wife is fine but… well I think I’m going to… no. I plan to reclaim my company. Giovanni and I are working out the details. He’s a bit old fashioned about how we do this.”
Zia’s brows lifted. “You want to work?”
Mira chuckled. “I built my company from scratch. It’s not really work, it’s a part of who I am.”
“Yes. But you are a mother now.”
“I am.” She looked to Eve who was now wrapping herself up in fabric and playing. “I happen to think I can be both.”
Silence settled between them. Zia stared hard at Mira. To further explain herself, Mira decided on another approach. “There are a lot of things expected of a wife. Being an Italian wife or American wife, responsibility for the home falls on the woman’s shoulders. I saw it with my grandmother. I understand. But it’s the nineties. The man wants all of me any time I’m with him—I’m talking about physically and emotionally. This I can manage, because part of me wants the same thing.”
“And the other part of you?”
“My company is part of me. I can handle it. I just think he needs to understand that I’m a person, a business person too. Our marriage is a partnership not a dictatorship.”
“I agree. You can be strong for your husband and take care of your family and his needs. There is dignity in who you will become when you are his wife. Nothing in your company can give you the dignity of being Don Giovanni Battaglia’s wife.”
