La Sposa (4 page)

Mira chuckled. She pinched two fingers
together only parted by a fraction of an inch. “About this big. A
tadpole.”

He roared with laughter. “Our prince, future
king is no tadpole. We will have a son; with your charm and my
strength to protect and lead this family.”

“
Lead us where, Giovanni?” she
pressed. There would come a day when she’d talk to him about the
future of their kids, a future without the violent legacy of his
life.

“
To prosperity, Bella. That’s
where. Our children will have different lives than mine, and I will
be a good father.”

“
I know, sweetheart. You already
are.” She stroked his cheek. He turned his face and kissed her
palm. Oh how she missed him. She rose on her toes and gave him
another kiss. While his hands lowered and rubbed up and down the
curve of her hips to circle and cup both halves of her bottom. He
squeezed.

“
Come to bed with me,” he
groaned.

“
Can’t. I’ve got work to do,” she
smiled.

He didn’t.

He stared down at her for a moment before he
spoke. “There is no need for this, Bella.”

“
Hmm?”

“
To make a dress. I’ve arranged it.
Gucci will send over several to choose from in the
morning.”

She blinked out of her bliss into his stern
gaze. “You’ve arranged it?”

Giovanni gave her a single nod.

Mira gently pushed back from him.
“No.”

“
No?”

“
I’m making my dress. It’s almost
done.”

Giovanni released a displeased snort. “You
will not be on your knees sewing a dress! I won’t have
it.”

“
You won’t have it?” she stepped
back.

He glared and continued in a tone she didn’t
appreciate. “I’ve heard of how you’ve spent your days. There is no
need for you to do this. We have money.”

“
It’s my wedding, Giovanni! I’m a
fashion designer. Or have you forgotten?” She paced away. “And
while we are on the subject, I want to discuss my
company.”

“
We weren’t on that
subject.”

She dismissed his comment. “The media is still
outside of these gates. My company assets have been frozen while
the government builds its case against Kei. I made some calls to
Teddy.”

“
Teddy?”

“
My attorney. He’s a good friend of
mine and Fabiana’s. He managed my affairs before my fake death. He
gave me an update. Kei put investors on a board to oversee my
business and they have hired a head designer.” She stopped after
noticing the high- pitched whine in her voice. She collected
herself. “I want my company back.”

Her heart sank over the look of surprise on
his face. Bravely, she tossed her chin upward. “I want you to get
it for me. I want to... I want to design again.”

“
And how do you plan to run a
company and take care of our family?”

Mira struggled to swallow the lump that
congealed in her throat. She sucked in a deep breath and answered
him with a steady voice. “I can do it.”

“
Pregnant?”

“
I can do it!”

“
You won’t do it,” he said firmly.
“The answer is no.”

The callous rejection left her stunned, almost
speechless.

“
Don’t make me choose,” Mira
threatened him.

Giovanni chuckled. “I’m not making you choose,
Bella. It’s not going to happen.” He leveled his gaze on her. “The
answer is no.”

Mira felt her pride and rebellion swell up in
her chest. He matched her gaze with a fiercely determined stare
that nearly made her courage falter. A tantrum or fight was what he
expected, and the mean bastard he kept far from her reared its ugly
head ready for the battle. Mira knew better. Instead she disarmed
him with a sweet smile. She would have her company, her man, her
family, all of it.

“
Let’s not talk about it tonight,”
she said calmly. Interest and surprise softened his features and
his left brow arched. She ran her hand over his chest and rose on
her toes to kiss the notch dimpling his chin. “What is most
important to me now is our wedding. And a dress made by my hand to
show you how much I love you. I will finish my dress.
Agreed?”

Giovanni sighed.

“
Time for bed.”

“
Bella…”

“
No more discussion. Did you miss
me?”

He glanced at her sewing machine and then her.
Trying to decide. She waited him out. Finally he spoke. “The dress,
it’s almost done? And you’re feeling okay?” he asked for
reassurance.

“
I’m feeling fine. And the dress is
almost done.”

He seemed relieved. She narrowed her gaze on
him. “No more talk about the dress or my company. Just us. We’re
getting married, that makes me happy.”

He smiled. “Me too.”

“
Go downstairs and shower. I’ll
join you. Let me put up a few things.”

Giovanni kissed her forehead and turned and
left. He paused at the door, giving another look to her sewing
space and then her. She knew he wanted the argument, itched for it.
Mira waited. He winked, gave in, and walked out. Mira’s smile
faded. She hugged herself in the drafty space staring at the door.
She couldn’t step into her life as a designer from this room. It
would require more of her than even he could fathom. Without
Fabiana, she’d be at it alone. She’d need his support. Designing
clothes was all about ego, and confidence. She needed both to enter
the cutthroat business, and he gave her that with his unwavering
love. She glanced back at her work and her efforts. Why should she
abandon who she was for their love? What could she truly do to have
him and save her self?

*****

Implications of treachery left him in a cold
shaking fury. Lorenzo closed the door to his room. He paced the
floor several times and cracked his knuckles. Clenching and
unclenching his fists as he tried to calm vengeful yearnings that
could make him do something rash. Two hours before he was summoned
to pick up Giovanni from the airport an envelope was delivered. He
had little time to dispose of the contents. He stopped pacing and
looked to the bed. Rage moved through him like a heat wave. He
stormed over to the bed and ripped its sheets off, and then flung
the king size mattress from the box spring. There, where he left
it, was the dreaded envelope.

He couldn’t bring himself to look into it
again. But he had to. He picked it up and opened the seal. Several
pictures of him were uncovered. All of which were with him and
Giuseppe Calderone. The business they conducted, the meetings they
had in Como. Worst of all was the final picture, a single shot of
him in Giuseppe’s car discussing the mythical hit on Don Tomosino.
He turned it over and it read:
Where there is a picture, there
is audio.

“
Motherfucker!” he ground out
through clenched teeth.

“
Che cosè,
Lorenzo?”
Flavio asked. His cigar switched to the other side of his jaw. The
man never looked up from his large tablet calculator. His long
nimble fingers punched in figures rapidly, and then he scrolled
down the totals in a leather binder next to him to double check the
figures. Patri Tomosino only allowed one other man the privilege of
looking in the black leather binder; and that was Rocco, Lorenzo’s
uncle, and Tomosino’s younger brother.

“
Well? What is it?” Flavio
grumbled.

Lorenzo cleared his throat. Carlo
warned that Flavio was not to be trusted. He could have already
tipped Patri off to his friendly bargaining with Giuseppe
Calderone. However, what he proposed was a solid deal. The Russians
were already ahead of them and dealing with the Ndrangheta. He
needed to convince Don Tomosino, the man he considered a father, to
abandon their golden rule and enter the drug trade. To do so would
mean that he’d need to gain support for his proposal from Flavio.
“I wanted to continue our discussion. Have you considered
it?”

Flavio sat back. He wore a sly
sneer to his face and Lorenzo felt chilled when locked in on the
man’s malevolent stare. He loathed the arrogant smugness of the
consigliere, but he respected it.

“
I’ve discussed it with
Tomosino.”

“
And?”

“
He’ll give you his answer
himself.”

Lorenzo’s head turned. The older
Don stepped inside and his inhumane temper shone in his
eyes.

“
I ca-ca-can explain,” stammered
Lorenzo. Before another word escaped him, a crushing blow was
delivered across his cheek and blood filled his mouth from the spot
where his tooth was loosened. Dazed, he dropped to his knees. The
Don brought him up with one hand to his throat and he struggled to
stand to face him.

“
Drugs? Hai una faccia tosta! Who
the fuck do you think you are? After all I’ve taught you, you bring
this shit to my door!” Tomosino’s eyes blazed with fury and his
lips trembled with restraint.

On the edge of hysteria, Lorenzo
gasped for air and clawed at his uncle’s hand, closing tighter on
his throat. He didn’t dare beg for mercy, but he didn’t want to
die. All he could do was plead with his eyes as he stared into
those of a predator. Neither Tomosino nor Flavio would offer him
any mercy if what they suspected was proven to be true.

“
There will never be drugs in this
family! Never!” he released Lorenzo, who staggered backward,
sucking down deep breaths of air. He kept his head lowered to avoid
any more of his uncle’s wrath.

“
Flavio! This is it. Send word to
my son in America! He’s to return home. Now!”

“
Tomosino, the boy is in his last
year of law school. His studies are going well.”

“
Do as I say! He’s my son. Not this
pretender schoolboy his mother wants him to be.” He spat on
Lorenzo, who flinched with humiliation.

Lorenzo looked up with hurt in his
eyes. Tomosino leveled a glare on him. “You’ve had too much
freedom. Too much liberty. That ends today. Get your ass back to
Como before I send you to the bosom of my sweet departed
sister.”

The threat was real. Lorenzo never
doubted his uncle’s ability to be cold to anyone but his children.
Giovanni, who wasn’t even worthy of what he was born into, would
have it all, and he would have nothing. It was over. Lorenzo
scrambled to his feet and left without another word. Outside the
door, he spat a clot of blood from his mouth to the floor. He
glared at the men in the hall and walked off.

That night started the free-fall. His
bitterness, his stupidity, all of it drove him to Giuseppe’s club.
There would be no further discussion of his advancement. Giovanni
would return to be at his father’s side and they would deal with
the Russians. Such an insult would lower Lorenzo’s rank in the
family. He had no one to fight for him, since his mother was long
dead. There was no way to compete with his half-breed
cousin.

He glared at the picture, remembering the
drink he shared with Giuseppe, and the stupid shit he said in the
car. Was there a recording? If it was then who had it? And why
hadn’t they used it yet? He was fucked.

Chapter One

Riuniti
– Reunited

The cool spice of their family’s merlot
swirled into her mouth and glided down her throat, intoxicating her
with its bitter sweetness. Catalina tipped the glass and her lashes
fluttered then shut after the last of the vino was tasted. Dominic
would return any moment. She hoped he brought another bottle of
Chianti. He’d find her just as he left her, ready, sexually
aroused, and excited about the renewal of their love. Dominic
craved sex often and he was a demanding lover. She didn’t dare just
lie there and let him get off like she would with Franco. No, with
Dominic she’s had knee scrapes and backaches from the hot and fast
throw downs they’ve had since they walked in the door.

Always with him, there burned an insistent
need to make up for every missed day of passion between them, and
this pleased Catalina. She felt so restrained and guilty before.
Now they were free to explore their love and desires. No man on the
planet could hold a candle to her Dominic. The short reprieve he
gave her after their last twisted sex tango had allowed enough time
to pass so they could catch a breath and reflect on the future
she’d have as his wife. Giovanni would certainly make him
consigliere
again. The power Dominic would have in the
family could only be matched by her brother’s authority.

It was such a turn on!

Catalina reclined a bit into the stack of
pillows, reaching over to the right to set the merlot glass back on
the night table. The bed smelled of his woodsy aftershave and their
sex. She looked around at her surroundings. Strong, powerful,
masculinity exuded from the furnishings that occupied every room of
his villa by the bay of Napoli. From his canopy post bed fit for an
emperor, to the dark floors and walls. Dominic’s love for warriors,
gladiators, and any genuine artifact he could find in the black
market dated back to Roman history, and was put on display. He had
rare stolen treasures taken from enemies, or even the Republic,
tacked on the walls. Often used as accent pieces like tables or
plant stands. In all the years she’s loved him, this was the first
time she’d been to his home, and stayed in his bed. The villa
definitely needed a woman’s touch.