La Famiglia (15 page)

He released a tensed breath. “What do we still own?” Lorenzo asked.

“All of the sanitation in the
Campania
. We have sixteen hundred businesses that pay us to run their operations all the way to Chiaiano. It’s mostly where I’m needed now. The export out of the bay is doing well. Everyone wants a piece of the action and Giovanni only allows a few. My boys and yours see to it. The factories are ours, legitimately so. Rocco’s grape and olive groves produce and we have a distribution deal in the works for our product. The guns from the Irish import in and out of Napoli to West Africa. Business is the same there.”

Lorenzo laughed. “So my cousin isn’t really letting go of all his bad deeds, is he?” he shook his head. “The
Camorra
is not
la Cosa Nostra
. The family respect we earned from the other clan bosses is only as strong as our grip on their fucking necks. We cannot survive if we continue down this path. Dominic should be advising Gio better. What is he thinking?”

“Gio is distracted. He spends a lot of time with the
Donna
. Lovesick. Like you and her.” Carlo chuckled. Lorenzo’s gaze switched to Marietta who was now dancing in the center of the dance floor with several people cheering her on. He grimaced.

Carlo continued, “The other day the bosses from the other clans met to voice their grievances and Gio received a message that the
Donna
had an episode. Do you know he left the meeting to Santo to close? He let the bastardo sit in his chair and play
Don
as he raced back to Sorrento to hold his wife’s hand. I hear she threw a bitch fit over some fabric she received out of Milano,” Carlo chuckled.

“Gio did this?” Lorenzo frowned not seeing any humor in the news. He knew Giovanni was devoted to Mirabella, but no woman ever came before their business. Not even their mothers.

Carlo gave a single nod of his head.

Stunned, Lorenzo couldn’t speak. To show fractured leadership was dangerous. Not only would they lose control within the
Camorra
, but become targets themselves. In their world weakness meant death. And death was the only way out of their destiny.

“We need you back. Giovanni needs you at his side not Santo, Lo. Think about it. You are the only one who can truly make him see what we stand to lose.”

“What the fuck can I do from here?” Lorenzo snarled. “You came to tighten my leash! And you never backed me with Gio when I needed it so don’t bitch to me now about the state of things.”

“You’ve been secretive for months. No! For fucking years!” Carlo shouted over the blare of the music. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? I know you keep secrets! That’s why Giovanni put a leash on your neck and I helped him tighten it because of your bullshit!”

Lorenzo glared but he held his tongue against the truth tossed in his face. Carlo had no idea how dark and dangerous the secrets Lorenzo kept were. Including his role in the assassination of Carmine.  Lorenzo sat back and pounded his fist on the surface of the table for restraint.

Carlo spoke loud and clear over the music. “I don’t understand why the boss gives a fuck about your woman.” He kicked the chair in front of him. “You want my loyalty,” He pointed his finger at Lorenzo. And then his lethal gaze sliced away toward Marietta. “Explain her.”

Marietta danced with a married couple. She had a fresh drink in her hand. She laughed and spun around, never missing a step.

“She’s important. Trust me,” Lorenzo grumbled.

“Explain her!” Carlo shouted. “How is she important? Since when does your dick matter to Giovanni? Why were you truly going after David Capriccio? Why is my brother dead over this bullshit?”

Lorenzo struggled with entrusting the truth to Carlo. Carlo had always been unpredictable with the ladies. But even more he was loyal to the code of their lives. Which version of the truth would secure Carlo’s loyalty to him?

“What is it?” his best friend demanded.

“Look at her Carlo. Look at her again!” Lorenzo said.

Carlo’s gaze returned to Marietta. He watched her with a curious frown. “I see nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Lorenzo leaned in. “She’s American, she’s beautiful, she’s black and the same age as Mirabella. Look at her. Who is she?” Lorenzo asked.

The furrow that creased Carlo’s brow lessened and he saw the realization take hold of his friend. “The
Donna
? She’s related to her? Cousins? What?”

“She’s her twin sister,” Lorenzo said.

Carlo’s eyes stretched open. His gaze volleyed between Marietta and Lorenzo before settling on Lorenzo. “What the fuck? Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. The Capriccios discovered the truth and tried to kill her. I stopped it. Saved her life. Carmine saved her life.”

“Why?” Carlo’s gaze returned to him. “Why did you fucking care? And why use my brother to protect her?”

“She’s the daughter of Marsuvio Mancini. They both are.”

“Not possible!” Carlo roared with laughter.

“It’s true dammit!” Lorenzo shouted over his best friend’s laughter. “Now do you see why Gio wants me to keep her away? Neither of the women know they have a Sicilian father. They were orphans, a junkie mother died and they were separated.”

His friend gaped at Marietta. If one was to look at her and Mira side by side the resemblance was unmistakable. Though they differed in skin color and Marietta had more curves, she had the
Donna’s
eyes, her smile, her manner in a way mirrored her sister. After digesting the truth his friend admitted he found it hard to unsee the similarities. Lorenzo settled on that answer. He’d rather end the revelation there, than to dig up his bloody connection to Tomosino, Giuseppe Calderone, and Carmine’s death.

“How long have you known? Does Armando know? How the fuck does
Don
Mancini have twin daughters like them? And the
Donna
? Our
Donna
? She belongs to him?”

Lorenzo chuckled. “No. She belongs to Giovanni you ass. That’s the point.”

“Right. Right,” Carlo nodded his head. “But Mancini’s daughter? Not fucking possible! It can’t be.”

Carlo kept on with the questions. Lorenzo waited until Carlo ran out of steam to enlighten him. “Marsuvio knows. It’s been a secret he kept for many years. Remember Fabiana?” Lorenzo asked. His chest went tight at the mention of Fabiana’s name. He released a slow breath. “She was lured to Napoli by Mancini to bring Mirabella to Italy. He put them up in our building. Remember that?”

“Yes, I remember,” Carlo said.

Lorenzo reached for his drink. He needed another. One big swallow and the burn in his heart lessened. “Gio met Mira and Mancini couldn’t stop their affair without exposing himself and the secret he’s kept for many years. Only Domi, Rocco, Giovanni and me know the truth. Giovanni wanted me to take Marietta away until Mira had the babies. He’s paranoid because—” Lorenzo looked up at Carlo. “This you can never say, never speak of.”

Carlo nodded.

He leaned forward so he wouldn’t have to shout the forbidden truth over the blare of the music. “Because Tomosino is the one that killed their mother. Patri found out about their mother and went to Mancini’s father for permission to put out the hit.
Don
Mancini agreed to have the black whore killed in America. It was done because of Tomosino’s desire to bring Marsuvio to power and strengthen the families after the First Mafia War.”

“Holy shit,” Carlo said.

“Giovanni fears if Mira learns the truth she’d blame him. Abandon him. And that’s the secret I carry,” Lorenzo finished.

“He fucking should be worried!” Carlo said. “A fucking Mancini? He married a Mancini?”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t say it again,” Lorenzo warned. “No one can know. Especially Armando. He’d put a bullet in the sisters before he ever called them
famiglia.
And no fucking body lays a hand on Marietta or the
Donna
.”

Carlo nodded his head in agreement. “I understand. You can’t take her back to Italy or Sicily. Shit you’re fucked.” Carlo wiped his hand down his face. “To hell with it, Lo. Cut ties with her. Send her ass back to America. She and the
Donna
should never know the truth. I hear Mancini has one foot in the grave. Let the dirty secret die with him.”

Marietta came over to the table. She put her drink down and dropped on Lorenzo’s lap. Even her sweat smelled like the sexy scent of Shalimar she often wore. Lorenzo inhaled her and bit her neck. Marietta giggled. The soft round cushion of her ass pressed in on his groin. He could feel the sexual tension coil tight in his dick. He kissed her cheek. Marietta turned her face to force her tongue on him. She tasted of champagne. Her small hands rubbed over his chest and he chuckled at how excitable she could get when they had an audience. “Come dance with me, baby,” she said between the kiss. He stopped her.

“I’m bored,” she pouted.

“You’ve had too much to drink. No more dancing.” Lorenzo admonished. “It’s beginning to piss me off.”

She cut her gaze over to Carlo. She frowned. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Carlo sneered. He didn’t answer.

“Go easy on him, Marietta. He’s here to do us a favor. To be our witness,” Lorenzo said.

“Witness to what? Forget him, take me to another club,” Marietta whined.

Lorenzo moved her hair from her brow. He lifted her chin with one finger. “
Sei la mia rosa.
I’ve decided on something today. I want you in my life.
Per sempre
.”

“What are you talking about?” she half-laughed. When he didn’t laugh in response her smile faded.  “What do you mean? Forever?”

“I’m talking about marriage,
cara
. I want you to marry me.”

Carlo choked on his lager. Marietta sat upright on Lorenzo’s lap. She shoved him back against the chair with both hands pressed to his shoulders. She searched his face with her eyes stretched and mouth gaping. “Me?”

“Of course you.” He smiled.

She touched her heart. “You? Me and you? Get married?”

“Is that yes?” he asked.

“Yes? Yes!” she screamed and crushed him with a tight hug to the neck. He glanced over at Carlo who stared on in disbelief.

“Welcome to
la famiglia,
Marietta,” Lorenzo said, holding her close to him. He would do everything to get what he wanted, and Marietta was the key. 

* B
*

“Giovanni—stop,” Mira gasped awake.

“Mmm, relax. Lie still… mmm, it’s okay, just let me…” he said.
“Ti voglio bene.”

Mira gripped the sheets. If he had warmed her up she would have been ready. Sometimes men could be beastly when it came to sex. Penetration, thick, slow, and measured felt at first invasive, and then glorious when he trapped her in his arms and pumped his hips. Her hips moved and her belly trembled.

“Yes, Bella, move for me…” he groaned in her ear.

Mira relaxed against his chest and let the sweet aches of their union take her under. He pushed deeper into her, breaching her body limits. Mira gripped the bed sheets. She could feel every generous inch of him. With a drag of his cock he thrust deep into her and his teeth sank into her shoulder. Mira winced.
Damn him and the biting!
  Giovanni eased his hand lower to cup her pussy with his finger slowly slipping between the folds of her sex to stroke her clit. Mira bit down on her quivering bottom lip. The hand massage of her pussy as he rapidly thrust into her, made all the difference. She smiled as her husband’s pelvis pumped against her ass and her body adjusted to the way he loved her. On her side with him holding her, he restricted her movements. His arm was across her waist. His leg looped over her thighs to keep them shut.

She gripped the mattress tighter and worked her magic below. She knew what her man liked. Her succulent pussy caressed his cock each time he buried deep after a long dick thrust. She clasped her inner walls tightly as his shaft pulsed in her. Giovanni kept going but his loud groans predicted his ending. Spirals of delicious heat travelled through her pussy. The babies shifted too far up and she struggled to breathe.

“It’ll kill me, Bella, but if you need me to, I can…” he said in a coarse, strained voice. It was a lie. He must have sensed her tighten up. The babies shifted again and the discomfort passed. All she did was sigh in relief and he continued to move in and out of her. His thrusts increased in speed and he fucked her a little harder.

“Gio—” Before she could say anything more, rapture tore through her clitoris and nearly split her in half.  

“
Tesora mia
,” he said. He kissed the back of her head and then dropped his forehead against it. Mira closed her eyes and rode the wave of pleasure seizing her pelvis. His withdrawal and reentry brought down her climatic ending. Giovanni’s hand left her pussy and gripped her hip. He held her still and worked in and out of her at an angle that caused the babies to relax from the knotted position they found. She reached back and gently covered her hand over his to encourage him to continue. Sheer pleasure tore through her, and her body shuddered as he released inside of her.