by Mynx, Sienna
“Well you both are wrong. And I will deal with Flavio when I return.”
“He’s going to sacrifice Lorenzo. I think he’s going to counsel you to cut him loose. With him in Genoa now dumping Giuseppe’s body, I’m worried it might be a trap.”
Giovanni cut his eyes back to the window. He’d deal with Flavio, Lorenzo, all of it later. One fuck up at a time. Six cars arrived in the night. The bastards who dared interfere with his product from the Irish were filing in one after another. Several got out of their cars. A cold dark wave of satisfaction moved over Giovanni. He leaned forward and squinted, counting the men present. The one named Enu emerged last. Dominic made sure to point him out to Giovanni. Even under the silver glow of the moon, he could see they were armed.
The doors to the inn opened and three men from Giovanni’s family walked out. They spoke to the Nigerians who didn’t understand the greeting. And then it happened. Men from every direction of the forest stepped out firing, as did the men on the front steps of the inn. Bullet spray and cannon blasts from all the guns firing at once reminded him of a fireworks display. It only took three minutes for the Nigerians to lie dead in the streets. He relaxed in his seat and Dominic told the driver to take them down out of the valley to the inn.
“I want to see Flavio, now.”
****
Mira struggled to process her grief, anger, and heartbreak over a single thought. She had her purse and passport but not much else. Each time she tried to put clothes in a bag she broke down in tears. Finally giving up she went out of the room with a guard on her heels heading to Fabiana’s room. Opening the door she immediately smelled her perfume. Mira covered her mouth as the image of Fabiana standing in front of her wearing that damn yellow dress she hated, twirling around tauntingly, came into view then faded.
Laughter surfaced as she recalled Fabiana teasing her about the dress. For years she put her best friend in her best designs, and the day of her death she wore that monstrosity. The humor drained from Mira’s lips. She glanced around the room at Fabiana’s things. Seeing her cosmetic bag open on top of the vanity, she smiled weakly. Going over she stuck her hand inside, moving around the multiple lipsticks and glosses. She was reminded of how Fabiana fussed over her makeup and hair whenever they had a show. “You always kept us together,” she mumbled.
Flavio stepped into the room behind her. She could feel his presence. “The car is ready for you.”
Mira looked over at him, “I want her things sent to me, and her body, if there is a body,” she said weakly.
“Of course, I’ll contact you shortly after you land to arrange it. The press has made calls. They are trying to reach you for a comment.” He stood under the door glaring at her. “We will discuss how you will share with the world this unfortunate accident.”
Mira picked up Fabiana’s purse, stepping away from the vanity. Dressed now in jeans and a t-shirt with a bruised face and heart, she nodded in agreement with Flavio’s demands. She cared nothing about her appearance and only wanted to get away from this place and the heartache she felt over Giovanni using his attack dog on her. For abandoning her.
Fish had backed his Vespa up a hill under the dense cover of trees outside of the Battaglia villa. Even the patrols were not able to see him from this distance. He scanned the front of the estate with night binoculars. The American woman that they learned was staying at the compound was escorted into a car. Smiling he lowered the binoculars. Angelo anticipated that Giovanni would send the other bitch to America after the botched attempt to kill Lorenzo blew up the redhead. It was Fish’s mission to follow and take her out. This he did willingly. They made a big mistake taking Maria. Neither he nor Angelo could agree on much, but Maria’s life and safety was one of the few.
He’d blow up the fucking universe to have her back.
Fish started his Vespa. He bristled at the low rumble the bike made. Hopefully no one was close enough to hear. He put up his binoculars and removed his gun just in case. He wanted to kill the Battaglia bitch Catalina and her new husband. Angelo was against it. Taking out Lorenzo Battaglia was a gem Fish had to agree was far better. Now the women presented an even greater opportunity. Apparently they were well known in America. The deaths of them both would bring plenty unwanted media attention to the Battaglia’s and cripple the family’s prestige in the Republic. Breaking them from within would then make the families in the Cammora loyal to Calderone. Yes. This was a better plan.
****
Giovanni stepped out of the car. The air was tinged with sulfur and the bitter smell of blood. The men had shredded the Nigerians and most of them were unrecognizable bloody heaps. However Enu, the leader, lie on his back very much alive. He wheezed with a chest full of holes. How the fucker remained alive was a mystery. Giovanni glanced up at Dominic and his underboss nodded. He removed his piece and fired directly into the man’s skull ending the man once and for all.
****
Mira fastened her seatbelt and reclined back in her airplane seat. Flavio had been specific. Fabiana died in a terrible fireworks accident behind the walls of Melanzana. The explosion came after the celebratory party for seeing Catalina off to her honeymoon. A ridiculous story she was sure she could never adhere to, but nonetheless she agreed. In fact the Italian media had already reported Flavio’s version of events and the press in the United States were running with it.
This was all she was left with. The sweet promises she and Giovanni had made to each other had evaporated. Three weeks and her life was in shambles. The plane began to taxi down the runway, and she closed her eyes. Maybe when this was all over he’d come back to her. Maybe he’d leave this madness behind and come for her. Bursting into tears she shook her head sadly. The truth was there were no maybes. This was the end.
Chapter Seventeen
Giovanni hurried up the steps of Melanzana. He’d check on Mira first then summon Flavio to Villa Rosso.
“Gio.” Flavio called out to him as he raced up the stairs to his bedroom, to her. He paused and looked down. Flavio stood at the base of the stairwell, staring up. “She’s not there.”
“Who?”
“The woman, Mira, she’s gone.”
“Gone? What does this mean, gone? How can she be gone?” He stalked back down the steps.
“After you left, she made a call to her American friends. She threatened the family, you, with exposing the truth about Lorenzo and Fabiana. She insisted we take her to the airport, put her on a plane. I had little time to react. She left me no choice.”
“I told you she was not to leave here!” He collared Flavio. “You gave her my jet?” He shook Flavio hard. His men grabbed at his arms but his rage would not be restrained. “Are you lying to me old man? She’s barely five-foot five and a hundred and twenty pounds. How could she be a threat? Who gave her a fucking phone?”
“I’m not lying son. Call the plane if she will speak to you. I swear it.”
Giovanni’s nostrils flared. He battled with indecision. He shoved Flavio and looked to Dominic who stood off silently watching. Something didn’t feel right. She could barely stand without weeping. Now she was a gladiator, fighting to get home. It made no sense. “Call the pilot, have him turn the fucking plane around! Now!”
“Wait!” Flavio said holding his throat. “This might not be a bad thing. Think of it. She goes home, and she is safe. We have sent our men after Catalina and Franco to make sure they are safe. You still have Angelo and the Calderone’s to deal with. They’ve bombed Melanzana once. They could return, do worse. At least this way you keep her safe.”
“I hear that I don’t know how to do anything anymore without your counsel?”
Flavio frowned.
“You making deals behind my back. Bartering peace? Sacrificing my blood to save this family without my consent?” Giovanni shouted.
“Angelo Calderone is actually more of a threat than we conceived. He has friends in the Cammora. We need to stay strong with our alliances. Show that we are the one
s wronged; make sure if blood is to be shed it’s out of necessity not blind vengeance. That’s the sign of a strong leader.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Flavio glanced back to Dominic then to him. “I only made sure that the night went off without an issue. Are the Nigerians dead?”
Giovanni wiped his hand down his face. “Fuck all of this. Get the plane back now.” He turned and stormed out to the back of the villa. He’d go outside and deal with the rest of this mess from Villa Rosso, after he got a call to his Bella to convince her to return to him.
Mira requested to use the in-flight phone on the jet. She knew Giovanni had one. When she dialed the numbers her fingers trembled so bad she had to keep breathing deep breaths to still her nerves. The phone rang and Kei answered immediately.
“Hello?”
“Kei?” she said, her voice weak, small.
“Mira? Mira what the fuck is going on? It’s on the news. They say Fabiana is dead, and no one knows details. Are you alright? Where the hell are you now?”
“She’s dead Kei,” Mira wept. “She was… it was an accident.”
“What kind of accident? Where are you?”
“On my way home. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“Calm down babe. I’ll be there when you land. You can tell me about it. We’ll figure it out.”
Mira wept. “She’s dead. Fabiana’s gone.”
“Can you tell me what happened? How did this happen?”
Fabiana thought of Flavio’s warning. “An accident.”
“Damn. Damn it. I’m sorry babe. So very sorry. We’ll figure it out. Just hold on.”
“I’m trying.”
****
Giovanni frowned. The phone on the plane was busy. Mira had to be on it. Who could she be talking to? He put his face in his hands consumed with bitter resentment that she would leave him and go home. It was indeed his fault, but still he had hoped that she had some faith in him.
“Can I come in?” Flavio asked.
He reclined in his chair. “Did you reach the pilot?”
“No. I couldn’t get through.”
“Me either. I tried to call the plane three fucking times, and the line is busy.”
“I wanted to speak to you about Calderone. We need to be sure of our next move.”
There was little he cared to discuss on it. The day had completely drained him physically and emotionally. “What we need is sleep. I can’t keep going like this.” He rose exhausted. “Maybe she’s right, and she needs to be free of this madness. Have you made sure Catalina is safe?”
Flavio nodded. Giovanni thought he saw relief in the old man’s face. He understood. The more irrational he became, the harder it would be to stay focused and keep from making big mistakes. “Get her home number. She should be landing in…” he drew back his sleeve. “Six hours. I will take a shower and get some sleep. Make sure Lorenzo and the men are all here by morning.”
“We will handle it.”
****
It was after nine at night when she landed. Exhausted, Mira went through customs and the airport in a daze. If Kei hadn’t seen her, she would have walked right past him. It felt so good to be with someone familiar, someone she could trust. Kei held her until she felt semi-normal and coherent. Thankfully he didn’t question her. She had little strength to filter all that she’d been through. Lying about Fabiana’s death to him was hard; maintaining the lie when she desperately needed someone to talk to would be impossible.
And Giovanni? Her thoughts were never far from him. Yes, he had manipulated her, but he had also changed her. Kei’s driver waited outside of the terminal, and once in the car she rested in his embrace. “I’m tired.” She mumbled.
“We will go to my place in Brooklyn.”
“No. I still have my condo in Manhattan. Take me there. Please.”
“Sweetheart the press is all over this. You don’t want to go there.”
Mira closed her eyes and sighed. “Okay.”
****
Giovanni woke and immediately reached for the phone. Dominic had located an American number he believed to be for an answering service of Mira’s. Flavio had left for the evening, promising to return in the morning. Though he was furious with the old man for having a meeting behind his back and allowing Mira to escape, he respected Flavio and his advice. He refused to believe either was done maliciously.
He listened to the rings and an automated voice instructing him to leave a message. “Bella… it’s me,” Giovanni sighed weakly. “I know you’re angry cara, and I… I know it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone. You needed me and I wasn’t here. I understand. I can’t be without you, Bella. I need… I don’t want to be cut off from you. Things are… difficult. I will fix it. I will come for you. Forgive me. Ti amo. Call me…” He left his number and ended the call.
Dropping back on his pillow, he stared up at the ceiling and thought of her. The last time she smiled for him. He remembered the smell of her skin, her passion, the feel of her body, the soft laugh she’d give him no matter how serious he became. Flashes of memories with her spanned more happiness than he’d ever experienced with a woman. And their time was short. It was decided. As soon as it could be arranged he was going after her. He’d win her back. He would propose. It could be a long engagement, but he would do it and prove to her that he wanted a future with her. It couldn’t change what she lost, but hopefully it would heal them. Maybe.
After a rapping on his door, it opened. Dominic stuck his head inside. Giovanni squinted at him. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and dropped his face in his hands. He needed to get up and out of bed. It was time. “Lorenzo and Carlo back?” Giovanni asked.
“Si. They are in Villa Rosso waiting for you.”
“Time? What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
Giovanni couldn’t believe the time. He had slept well past what he intended.
“Can I have a word? There’s something you should know.”
Giovanni sighed. His head pounded from the back to the front of his skull. All he wanted was a shot of espresso and a good cigar to get his body under control. Not morning news of more bullshit. “Can it wait? I need a minute.”
“It’s about your woman.”
Giovanni’s face lifted from his palms. He leveled his eyes on Dominic. “Mira? What about her?”
“After Flavio left last night I met with our men.” Dominic walked to the center of the room. “The version of events he shared with you isn’t the truth according to them.”
He rose. “Go on.”
“There was an argument. Her screams could be heard on the lower level. Carmine hurried to her room to see about her and discovered Flavio there. She didn’t demand to go. She was forced to leave. Flavio told him to stay out of it.”
Giovanni listened silently.
“He then dragged her from the villa in tears. She was barely allowed to take her things. Carmine tells me she asked to speak to you repeatedly.”
Giovanni walked over to his closet. He threw the doors open. Her dresses hung on the hangers and her suitcases were pushed to the back of the closet. He went to the drawers and saw her undergarments in place. There had been no packing. If he hadn’t been so full of guilt and loneliness for her he would have noticed these things last night. Sucking down deep breaths he now understood what the old man had done. “FLAVIO!!!” he yelled.
****
“I’m sorry you couldn’t return to your condo,” Kei said setting a fragrant cup of black tea in front of her. She glanced up at him. Kei was still strikingly handsome, even in his Princeton t-shirt and long shorts he looked like a dream. Tall, athletic, he had long blue-black hair that he wore combed back from his face and bound in a leather band at his nape. His deep olive skin and magnetic dark eyes made his features appear to be more Native American than Chinese. And when he wore a suit, his quiet, yet serious nature commanded such an air of authority most women, gay or stra
ight, stopped to look his way.
Suddenly she saw the similarities between Kei and Giovanni. Both men were powerful, respected, complicated, and controlling. Both men overwhelmed her with their desires and needed to possess her. And with both men she felt lost yet protected in ways that frightened her. Why did she constantly gravitate to these kinds of men?
His touch was different than Giovanni’s. He cupped the side of her face with a bit of hesitance. Mira understood. Their parting words had been strong. He accused her of not knowing true love. She accused him of only wanting to control the woman he loved. Now she was back with him, and again she was falling into the routine of being his.
“Does it hurt? Your face.” He asked.
“No. Not anymore. I must look a sight.” She lowered her gaze. Kei lifted her chin with his finger hooked beneath. Her gaze was forced to lift and meet his.
“You’ve never looked more beautiful to me, Mira. I’ve missed you.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then lowered his face and tried to kiss her lips. She turned away from the kiss, and instead he pressed his lips to her cheek tenderly.
“The reporters are everywhere. Even at my office. You’re safe here.” Kei drew back the chair and sat down. “I need your permission to handle your answering service. To get my assistant involved to screen your calls and take care of them. They are leaving messages at all of your offices. Your staff is overwhelmed.”
“Fabiana handled the press. She would know what to do.” Mira said hollowly, staring down at her tea.
Kei stroked her hand. “Let me put my people on it. We’ll deal with it. Make sure the story sticks.”
Blinking out of her stupor, she looked up at Kei curiously. “Sticks?”
“I know Fabiana didn’t die in a fireworks accident. At least not the one you told me. It was a bomb. Wasn’t it? At the Battaglia’s?”
“How did you…”
“You and Fabiana have been seen in Bellagio with the Battaglia’s.” He put the STAR magazine on the table. She glanced down to a picture of her at the villa Melzi, an image of them walking hand in hand with her skirt hem ruined by the water she’d fallen into. She blinked in disbelief.
