Falling for Italy (24 page)

Lifting his head, he saw Sonia standing in the doorway, dressed for going out in black jeans, black sweater and black leather boots. He noticed absently the silver ruby amulet hanging around her neck.

She looked at him inquisitively, then asked, “What was that all about?”

He tried to think quickly of something to tell her. He had to confront Tony and there was no way he would take her with him.

“Uh, I have to go to Rome, to solve some business there,” he told her, hating himself for lying—even if it was for her own good.

She advanced into the room, staring at him unflinchingly, her gaze hard on his. He should have known she wouldn’t buy it.

“Giovanni, you’ve never lied to me. Why are you doing it now?” she asked, and he could see the hurt in her eyes.

That undid him. He bent his head, letting out his breath in a deep sigh. He felt suddenly tired and ashamed. He dropped down into the chair and when she came toward him, he pulled her into his arms, resting his forehead against her chest.

“Please forgive me,
amore
. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just wanted to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” she asked puzzled and worried, stroking his hair with her long, graceful fingers.

He recounted to her the telephone conversation he had with Marco. When he finished, he lifted his head to look into her face.

“So Tony is the one responsible for all the delays, for all the obstacles, for making Gerard’s life a living hell. I ought to kill him, but I won’t,” he rushed to add when he heard her intake of breath preceding a no-doubt-vehement protest. “
But
I will go to Rome and confront the bastard,” he went on in a determined tone, lifting his hands to forestall any arguments.

She took his right hand, examined the palm and exclaimed, “What the hell have you done to yourself?”

“Oh, that.” He dismissed it with a wave. “Just a scratch, that’s all.”

“A scratch, my ass! It needs to be cleansed and bandaged. And what’s this nonsense about you driving to Rome? Did you forget the blasted bullet hole in your shoulder? And now the
scratches
on your palm,” she continued, forming quotation marks with her fingers. Her voice dripped sarcasm and frustration, rising tone by tone. “Bloody man! In more ways than one!” she snapped as she went into the bedroom. She returned after a moment with antiseptic and bandages.

“Sonia,” he began in his most authoritarian tone, but she interrupted him, furious.

“You shut up, just shut up! You’re driving bloody nowhere, do you understand me? I’m not gonna stay hidden behind the desk this time, do you hear me?” she yelled while she worked on his hand, her cheeks reddened in fury and outrage. “You want to go to Rome? Fine. I’ll drive. Let’s go. We’ll face the son of a bitch together and let me warn you, I’m taking your gun. And if you dare tell me again to stay home,” she hissed between her teeth close to his face, “I’m going to kick your balls up to your throat! I’ve had enough of this stupid ‘male-protecting-the-little-helpless-female’ bullshit to last me a lifetime!”

That speech left him wordless and somewhat dizzy. His left ear still rang a bit from her yelling, but his spirits had lifted considerably. He looked at her as she moved around the room, throwing the used cotton balls into the waste basket.

“You know, I’ve forgotten how formidable you can be, princess,” he told her, a smile tugging at his lips despite the bone-deep fury Marco’s revelation had unleashed in him. He knew it was pointless to argue with her now, but he tried one last tactic.

“Sonia, I don’t plan to go kill Tony. I confess beating the shit out of him is a serious option, even with my shoulder busted, but I don’t know what I’ll do when I’ll get there. The situation might get nasty.”

“That’s why I’m going,” she retorted. “You’re not going to leave me behind, no matter what you say. So if you want to drive to Rome, we’d better go now. Don’t waste your breath arguing with me.”

Her tone was so final he couldn’t think of a reply. Not one that would work anyway. Sighing, he asked her to bring his jacket and wallet.

When she left, he took out his gun from the drawer. The smile on his face was completely gone as he made sure it was loaded and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back, concealed under his sweater. He wasn’t an idiot, nor did he plan to rot in jail for a maggot like Tony Barella. But he wouldn’t go anywhere unarmed, especially since he had Sonia to protect.

Barella had proved he could be much more sly and dangerous than he’d initially thought. He would not underestimate his enemy again.

Chapter Nineteen

The trip to Rome was long and miserable. It was drizzling and the roads were covered in sleet. It was one of those drowsy afternoons that invited people to stay indoors, lazing the day away in bed, watching TV or making love.

But they were not ordinary people anymore. Their life had undergone irreparable changes and today was the apogee of one hellish week.

Sonia drove carefully, her hands clasping the steering wheel tightly. She glanced across at Giovanni, who sat silent in the passenger seat, looking straight ahead. She studied his profile, his tense features, and the apprehension in her heart grew even more.

Despite his apparent control, she knew Giovanni had a wicked temper. The news about Tony Barella’s scheme had been a blow, but once the shock had worn off, calculated fury had taken its place. She was truly afraid of what Giovanni might do, but she couldn’t blame him for anything. She was also afraid for his safety. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have worried about him. He was a strong man, capable of dealing with almost any kind of situation. But now he was weaker than usual, wounded—though the doctor said it wasn’t anything serious. A fistfight might not be the ideal treatment for his healing process and she feared this was at least one of the potential outcomes of the visit they were about to make to Barella’s house.

She debated the wisdom of voicing the thought that kept spinning in her mind. Eventually, she concluded Giovanni had probably contemplated the possibility already.

“Do you think Barella is responsible for hiring that man to shoot at us? And for the break-in in Rome?” she finally asked him.

Jarred out of his own ponderings, he glanced at her, not looking surprised.

“The thought has occurred to me,” he admitted with admirable composure. “Now that I know the kind of power and means Tony has, I realize I’ve underestimated him. In fact, he wasn’t even on my radar—which was stupid and maybe arrogant. But now I think the possibility is very plausible, especially since I can’t think of anyone else who would be crazy enough to do such a thing. Or hate me that much. I’m sure it wasn’t about you,” he added as an afterthought. “He wanted to get back at me and Linda. You were just what they call ‘a collateral victim’. But I swear to you, Sonia, if he’s responsible, he’ll pay for every second of fear and dread he provoked in you.”

The statement, said in that deliberate tone, made her stomach experience a sinking sensation, as deep-bone cold liquefied in her veins.

“Yes, he will pay,” she said, trying to put conviction and reason in her voice. “The police will take care of it—we will make sure of that.”

He didn’t reply, which made her feel even more uneasy.

“Giovanni, what are we going to do when we get there?”

“You’ll stay in the car and I will go inside and talk with Tony,” he answered, his fake calm not deceiving her for a moment. She gritted her teeth and hit the wheel with the heel of her hand, vexed by his condescendence.

“Don’t start with that bloody crap again! We’ve been over this a thousand times!” she screamed at him in frustration.

“Yes we have, and you’ll do as I say!”

“The hell I will!”

“Sonia,” he began, his voice raised.

“Tell me where the fuck I’m going,” she interrupted annoyed. “Do you know where that asshole lives?”

The road to Rome hadn’t been complicated, but now they’d got there, she was lost in the network of streets.

“Of course I know. Linda lived there for several months, remember? Take the first one on the right.” He indicated the next turn. “He lives in a more or less peripheral area, a neighborhood built by and for slimy, shady bastards loaded with dirty money,” he said with disdain.

He guided her on the narrow, mostly one-way streets, until they reached the neighborhood where Tony Barella resided. The houses were large, widely spaced, having tall brick fences and steel gates with bars as thick as her wrist.

“This looks like a perimeter for mob members,” she remarked, throwing wary glances around.

“I’ve always thought he has ties in that department. But he charmed Linda for a while, so I tried to get along with the bastard. Thank God she came to her senses soon enough and filed for divorce just seven months after becoming Mrs. Barella. There, that is his house. Park at the curve.”

She did as he told her, then killed the engine and got out of the car before he could protest.

“We’re not here to argue with each other, Giovanni,” she reasoned when she saw him open his mouth, no doubt to tell her to stay put. “Let’s go confront the motherfucker.”

He gave her a long, measured look, then turned to the house. She fell into step with him. Her restlessness grew as they got close to the steel gate, making her heart beat fast. She was agitated and more than a little afraid of whatever was to follow, but she would back up her lover no matter what. If Tony Barella had been their nightmare—as well as Linda and Gerard’s—for the past months, he would pay.

Nervously fidgeting with the amulet hanging between her breasts, she glanced at Giovanni from the corner of her eye and saw his lips were pressed together, his fists tense at his sides. They faced the gate, looking up at the deadly sharp tips of steel spearing toward the sky. He pressed a button on the panel next to the gate and waited.

A small side-gate clicked open. Giovanni moved aside, and then pushed it for Sonia to go in.

A short lane led to the two-story house. Sonia noted it was a modern building, very different from their own house, whose personality reflected its two hundred years of history.

This building seemed new, polished, painted white with black windowsills, a black door and a dark brown roof. It resembled a chessboard, overly neat, as were the flowerbeds arranged in military fashion on each side of the front door.

She was about to remark on the obsessive order, when Giovanni’s fist pounded three times against the metal door and he shouted, “Open the door, Barella!”

Her heart gave a jolt, startled at the sudden and powerful noise. She looked at Giovanni and, maybe for the first time in her life, knew what real fear tasted like. He was transformed, his eyes flashing with anger, hate and a deliberate coldness she had never seen in them.

She realized in that moment she had no idea what her lover was truly capable of when it came to protecting his family. The realization thrilled and terrified her at the same time. She knew for certain if she’d been Tony Barella at the receiving end of that menacing glare and surge of fury, she would have run for her life.

No answer came from inside. Giovanni tried the door and, to their amazement, it opened. She followed him into the house, saying a quick prayer. She didn’t actually know to whom or for what she was praying. She just wished for everything to end well—preferably with no bloodshed involved. Though if this confrontation proved her lover’s blood had been spilled through Barella’s orders, she’d definitely opt to apply the rule ‘an eye for an eye’.

The inside of the house resembled a fresh tomb—still and silent. Everything was black and white, classy but sterile, decorated in the same obsessive fashion as the exterior. Their footsteps sounded loud on the black and white marble tiles.

“Tony!” Giovanni called out again, stopping to listen. No sound.

Sonia watched him head to what she supposed was a living room or dining room, then she followed. When he stopped dead in the doorway, she didn’t have time to react quickly enough and her chest collided with his back. She saw the man over Giovanni’s shoulder.

Tony Barella, dressed in an impeccable dark suit, his white teeth flashing brilliantly, stood in the middle of the room. He was artistically silhouetted against a huge window and he was holding a deadly-looking pistol pointed at Giovanni’s chest.

“Sonia, run!” Giovanni shouted at her, shielding her body with his.

But she wasn’t going anywhere, even if Tony hadn’t said loudly, “Stop right there if you don’t want me to blow off his head right now as you watch!”

She froze, barely breathing, gripping Giovanni’s arm hard. He flinched involuntarily and she realized it was his wounded shoulder she’d clasped.

Tony saw the movement and laughed, motioning them into the room with the pistol—a definitely deadly Smith & Wesson, fascinating in its lethal beauty.

“I see your wound hasn’t healed yet,” he remarked when Giovanni advanced slowly into the wide room, followed by Sonia. She wondered vaguely how her knees managed to support her, and how come her heart didn’t simply burst from beating so fast.

“So it
was
you who ordered me killed, you motherfucker,” Giovanni said, facing Tony, hatred making his voice vibrate between the white walls. “Sonia, get behind me,” he ordered, but Barella interrupted him, gesturing with the gun.

“No, I think not. I’m the one who’s giving orders here, Coriola. Miss Galsworthy,” he continued with maddening politeness. “Please stand over there, where I can see you both. I hope you appreciate the courtesy I’m offering you by speaking English. After all, this is all about you.”

Sonia’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Speechless, she stared at Tony Barella, wondering if he was mad.

He motioned them to the far side of the living room, in a darker corner next to a bookshelf, while he was now standing in front of a big square window. The milky light coming from outside lighted half of his handsome face. The other half was in shadow, as was his left arm, with which he held the gun. Nevertheless, they all knew he had it.

“What are you talking about?” she said on a gasp, shocked by his words, her hand searching Giovanni’s. When she found it, he clasped hers hard, inching close to her.

“I’ve always thought you’re crazy, Barella,” Giovanni said, “but I never thought you were smart enough to be evil. What business could you have with Sonia?”

“We’ll get to that. First tell me, how did it feel to be hunted and shot at like a rabbit?”

“So, it was you. I thought as much. You never did have the balls to do anything like that. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me you had to hire a gun to do your dirty work for you. Like you have to blackmail people to get your way.”

Sonia squeezed his fingers hard. It was not the time to piss off this man, who was already giving serious signs of mental instability.

Tony’s face contorted with fury and his finger wavered on the trigger, but he seemed to get a grip on his control. Instead, he smiled.

“Well, well, aren’t you the clever boy? I see our friend, Mister Marco, has let his conscience get the best of him. I hoped he would.”

They must have looked surprised, because Tony laughed and continued. “How else would I know you’d be here? My man—Adriano Alba is his name, by the way—is in prison, thanks to you and his own foolish carelessness. He will die there before he opens his mouth. So I didn’t have anyone else to follow you around. But I have Marco’s phones bugged, so I knew the moment he called you. Knowing your temper, my dear brother-in-law, I could count on you making an appearance. And you did.”

“Why did you do it, you son of a bitch? Why did you sabotage Gerard’s attempts to put his treatments on the market? Just to get back at Linda for dumping your worthless ass? It never occurred to you to think of the children who died because of your egomaniacal vengeance? Or was it because Gerard broke your fucking nose that time when you appeared at Linda’s art exhibit?”

Tony’s smile vanished, and Sonia noticed he tightened his hold on the pistol. His hand was steady as a rock. Mad he might be, but he didn’t need to be a class A marksman to aim from this distance. He definitely had them trapped, and he knew it.

“Nobody pisses me off and lives, Coriola. You will soon learn that on your own skin. Sabotaging Linda’s worthless husband and his silly efforts was just for entertainment. Like watching a fly struggle in a spider’s web. It was so rewarding to hear about his valiant struggle with the medical system to patent that lousy treatment of his,” he said in derision, then barked a short laugh. “He’s just an idealistic idiot, and Linda deserves what she got. I did that just because I could, and because it was fun. But you’re wrong. Your sister and the idiot she married aren’t the reason why you will die.
This is
,” he emphasized the two words and pointed toward Sonia’s chest.

* * * *

Reflexively, Giovanni lunged in front of Sonia, shielding her body with his, thinking Tony was about to pull the trigger. But Barella only laughed, appearing to enjoy himself tremendously.

“Don’t worry, Coriola. I wasn’t about to shoot her. Not yet, anyway. It’s not her I was referring to, but the amulet she’s wearing.”

Giovanni had his arms back, holding Sonia behind him, glued to his body. Hearing this, both him and Sonia startled.

“The amulet?”

Their voices entwined incredulously in that single stunned question. Was this what all was about all along? An old, obscure pendant given to them by an old, obscure antique dealer?

“What the hell are you talking about?” Giovanni asked, keeping Sonia pressed to his back, though his injured shoulder was aching from the effort.

He could feel her heart pounding as fast as his, feel her accelerated breathing on the back of his neck while she was holding on tight to his waist.