La Sposa (35 page)

Giovanni wouldn’t tolerate a wild gun in his
organization, but he’d been working hard to lead Santo back into
order. The men thought it was favoritism. It was gratitude and
something else. Santo was smart, crafty, and dangerous. It was
better to have him on his chain than the chain of an
enemy.

No one, including Santo, could be one hundred
percent trusted. Giovanni accepted this too. Many men, including
his own cousin, wanted to walk in his shoes.

“
I have my present for your
wedding,” Santo said. “One I didn’t want to give to you in front of
your bride.”

From the inside of his suit jacket pocket,
Santo removed a small box wrapped in black shiny paper with a black
bow. “From America. My cousin, Stefano Zimmatore, saw to its quick
delivery personally. I hear he has already met with
Dominic.”

Giovanni stuck the half-smoked cigar between
his teeth and side of his jaw before he accepted the box. He
removed the bow and ribbon. His gaze lifted to Santo and then
lowered to the gift before opening the lid. The stench made him
drop back. He stared at the present for a moment. A raw surge of
satisfaction sliced through him like a sharp blade.

“
Kei Hyogo?” Giovanni
asked.

“
He will never look upon your wife
again, Gio. Well, let’s just say he will never truly look upon
anyone again.” Santo bowed his head curtly. “I heard of how badly
he disrespected you, and escaped justice in America. I was shocked
that Dominic and Lorenzo let the
briccone
live. So I decided
to see to the matter personally. Say the word, and I will have his
throat slit.”

Giovanni smiled. He put the lid back on the
ghastly offering. Where Dominic used brains and Lorenzo used brawn,
Santo could always be counted on to use both. No one had ever
brought him such a gratifying gift without provocation. Giovanni
stood. He removed his cigar, dropping it in his shirt pocket.
Stepping to Santo, he gripped him by the face.
“Solo tu mi
capisci!”

He kissed both sides of his face and hugged
the man he considered a brother. “Now sit. Let me tell you of my
plans for the
Ndrangheta
and our family going forward.”
Giovanni said.

“
I’d love to hear it, Gio.” Santo
said. “But I think there is something, or better yet, someone we
need to discuss.”

“
Who?” Giovanni asked.

“
Lorenzo. He is not being truthful
about the Capriccio warehouses. There are rumors.”

Giovanni’s gaze narrowed. “What kind of
rumors?”

“
The kind you don’t
like.”

*****

Mira found Rosetta with Eve in the television
room. She had stopped and retrieved her camera before going in
search of her little angel. It was a large Canon equipped with a
shutter lens. She needed to develop the roll of pictures from
Christmas. They’d taken so many photos. On this trip, she intended
to take even more. With the strap around her neck, she zoomed in on
her baby girl. Her daughter had changed into a blue baby doll dress
with puffy sleeves and a schoolgirl collar. It twirled around her
diaper as she danced in front of the television. Her hair was in
constant need of combing. Blondish, brown locks that were too fine
and curly for braiding; but too long to be left ungroomed. Still,
one look at Eve through the camera lens and she was reminded of all
the beautiful days she spent caring for her as an infant, becoming
her mommy. No dress, no runway show, no reward had ever been as
great as motherhood for Mira.

What a blessing to learn that lesson so early
in life.

From both a horizontal and vertical angle,
Mira captured her daughter’s happiness. Eve put her hands to her
hips and began to shake them as the puppets sang to her in Italian.
Rosetta looked up from her magazine, as if bored. Mira took a few
photo shots of her as well. Mira came closer, snapping more candids
of them both. The girls heard the rapid click of the lens and
noticed her actions.

Eve sped toward her. She lifted her baby girl
up into her arms and Eve was immediately fascinated by the camera.
“Morning, sweetheart. You having fun? Mama and Papa put you to bed
too early last night and you missed your honeymoon. Didn’t you?
It’s okay, we will have it today.”

Eve nodded as if she understood. Mira kissed
her. “We’ll he’s busy, why don’t we do some picture taking and
sight…” An overwhelming bout of nausea hit her so strong, she
stumbled a bit. The dizzy spell that followed, made her nearly drop
Eve. Rosetta was up and running to her side. Mira relied on her for
strength. Rosetta helped her to a chair and Mira had to lower Eve
awkwardly before sitting. Her little girl began to climb on her to
return to her lap. Mira put a hand to her eyes and tried to settle
herself first.

“
Are you okay,
Donna
? What
is it?”

“
I’m a bit light headed. It
happens,” Mira answered. “I haven’t eaten today.”

“
Should I get Gio?” Rosetta made to
run off but Mira grabbed her wrist.

“
No. I become dizzy sometimes if I
don’t eat. It’s part of it. I’m fine now.”

“
But Giovanni would want to
know.”

“
No.” Mira sighed. “I’m fine. It’ll
just upset him.” She helped Eve to her lap and let her daughter
play freely with the camera. Closing her eyes, she could feel her
equilibrium return. “How about we cook Ma-ma something to eat, then
take that walk?”

Eve looked up at her curiously. Mira glanced
over to Rosetta who had started to pace. “Why is Giovanni upset
with you? Something happen this morning?”

A deep blush stained Rosetta’s cheeks pink.
She crossed her arms. “I thought you two would not need me this
morning so I was going to go to the beach. Hang out. Maybe even go
for a swim. It’s kind of my vacation too, because I’ve never been
to Capri. He found out and he wasn’t pleased.”

“
It’s not your vacation, Rosetta.
We really do need you to help with Eve. It’s what you wanted when
Cecilia was hurt. Right?”

“
Sí
. Of course. But I also
wanted…”

“
What?” Mira frowned.

“
I wanted to be close to you. Work
with you. Get to know your business like Catalina.”

Mira sighed. “I’ll see to Eve today, she needs
to spend time with her parents. Go have some fun,
Rosetta.”

“
Really? You aren’t
angry?”

“
Yes. Everybody in the family needs
to stop worrying about tomorrow and enjoy today. Right, Eve?” Mira
kissed her baby’s forehead. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“
Grazie, Donna!”

America –

“
Domi? Is that you?” Catalina
asked. She hurried out of the bathroom mid-brush, swallowing
toothpaste. It was close to nine. She had to eat alone. Catalina
had started to worry about him over an hour ago. Dominic looked
tired but he managed a weak smile. He carried an envelope in his
hand.

“
Come sta, Catalina,”
he
said softly.

“
How am I? Is that all you can say
to me? Where were you? Did you eat? I waited. Your food got cold,
Domi.”

She walked over and took the envelope from him
and helped him from his suit jacket. He gave her a quick peck on
the lips and kept undressing as he walked towards the bedroom to
the shower. She hurried behind him, picking up clothing he tossed
aside. “Domi, talk to me. Please.”

“
I need a shower and a little rest.
Then we’ll talk.”

Disappointed, she stopped in her tracks. If
this was how their stay in America would turn out to be, she wasn’t
going to like it one bit.

Dominic shed the last of his clothes. He
stepped directly under the warm spray of the shower. He pressed his
hands flat to the tiles and dipped his head to let the water rain
down the back of his head and neck to his face, dripping from his
nose and chin. He wasn’t built for this shit long term. He needed
familiarity, family, Giovanni’s approval and friendship. Now he’d
spend weeks, maybe months, as a fucking errand boy.

His only hope was the mystery to Mira’s past.
Everyone knew how fragile Giovanni’s love for Mira was. Giovanni
had almost suffered the same madness as his father when he thought
he’d lost her. Solving this mystery could garner him favor. And he
needed favor.

He lifted his head, dropped it back, and
sighed. Tomorrow, he would start the process to get the company
back. He’d find the information Giovanni wanted and take Catalina
home. He was born to be Giovanni’s
consigliere
and he wasn’t
going to give up without a fight.

Chianti –

The ride to the Battaglia vineyard as the sun
rose over the mountains, offered a view of Italy she had not yet
seen since she arrived. Maybe this was his intent. Because he
veered off the main highway and they travelled through valleys.
Across land that stretched and sloped into fields of olive groves.
She’d heard that Tuscany and the vineyards that layered the
countryside were beautiful, but nothing compared to Chianti. For
hours, Marietta fell in love with Italy from the passenger seat.
She and Lorenzo talked little. He found a nice Italian station and
she drifted on the smooth baritone of a male singer who spoke of
life in ways she always dreamed of.

The Battaglia vineyard covered miles of
acreage. They parked off the land at the gates. The trees were
tallest here, and the sports car fit nicely in a shaded area.
Still, the day seeped in from above. Marietta looked up through the
sunroof to see sunlight had percolated through the dense tangle of
leafy branches and limbs. In the summer months, she imagined this
place to be where you’d like to visit for a picnic. And in winter,
the cool climate gave it a homey feel. For a minute, they sat in
the car under the cover of the trees, lost in their own
thoughts.

Lorenzo spoke first. “This is my family’s
vineyard. My uncle Rocco runs the business. I’m sure he’s here
instead of Sorrento. If anyone knows the dirty secrets of the
Capriccios, it’s Rocco.”

Marietta was too anxious to speak. He said
they would make a stop, but she hadn’t held much hope it would be
for her. He left the car and walked around to open her door.
Lorenzo helped her step out but blocked her in. With his hand to
the roof of the car he crowded her, forcing her to look up into his
eyes. “Now listen to me. My uncle is friendly, a little excitable
around pretty women, and welcoming.”

“
Sounds like a charmer,” she
smiled.

“
I’m not finished. He’s also very
old fashioned. The business I want from him won’t be discussed in
front of you if he thinks you can understand Italian. Don’t get
mouthy with me or him. Don’t speak Italian. Just be your pretty
self, you understand?”

“
I have a few
questions.”

“
Then ask them now.”

“
Huh?”

“
Ask them.”

Marietta chewed on the inside of her jaw,
trying to decide which question was the most pressing to ask. “I
want to know her name. Full name. Gemma said she thought she went
by the name Lisa. But she wasn’t sure. So use that. And I need to
know if he knew what happened to her after she gave birth to me.
Because my research says my American birth certificate is fake. I
want to know if she came to Italy to live, or Europe, or if she’s
somewhere in America. Oh, and find out if she had any friends
because if she didn’t, any other lead I can have to track her down
will do.”

He stared at her for a minute. She held her
breath waiting. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark lenses of
his sunglasses. He then smiled. “I promise you,
Cara,
I will
get those answers for you.”

The joy she felt over that single promise had
to be evident in the smile stretching her cheeks. She couldn’t
correct herself. She truly was excited. “You’re my hero, Lorenzo
Battaglia.”

His dark brow winged up in surprise at the
proclamation. Last night she’d called him an asshole, a pig, and a
jerk. It had been a constant push and pull of compliments and
insults between them. It was part of why she felt she could say or
share anything with him.

She resisted touching him. She needn’t. He
leaned in and kissed her. Marietta felt every inch of the lovely
promise he made within that kiss. When his face drew away, she
reached for him and kissed him again. Deeply. Afterwards, they
walked up the dirt path to the little farmhouse nestled between
fields of grapes and olives. She held his hand, careful of where
she stepped in her high-heeled shoes. He was protective of her,
stopping to be sure she managed the trail. “Why didn’t we drive up
to the door?” she frowned.

“
My uncle doesn’t like it. We have
to walk in. He’s particular about fumes polluting the air of his
vineyard. The old bastard is probably inside hung over.”

“
Oh, he was at the wedding
too?”

“
Yes. Remember, be careful. He
considers himself a ladies man.”

Marietta frowned. She continued to walk at his
side. The farmhouse looked quite cozy. She loved the fresh smell of
grapes ripening on the vine. When they arrived at the door, Lorenzo
opened it without knocking, and held it for her to enter. She did.
Inside, the place was both quiet and dark. So many family portraits
lined the walls and were stacked on shelves. The furnishings were
modest. Her gaze swept over a sofa, two chairs, a coffee table and
a few plant tables. The only thing she found out of the ordinary
were a few stacked bottles of wine on the piano bench and a crate
of wine bottles pushed under the piano. The sound of someone
shuffling out of the back drew closer. An older man walked in and
looked up as if caught by surprise.