Amore (13 page)

“Yes!” she cried out in joy. It was easy to turn her over so that she was on her stomach as he slipped out of her. She crawled on the bed on all floors. He staggered, a bit dazed by the pleasure. But he came behind his wife, gripped her by both hips, and plunged into her again. He gave her sharp thrusts that churned within her silky walls. Giovanni’s balls tightened. He gritted his teeth. Every sensation felt amazing. And the sounds they made when fucking fanned the flame of his wild obsession to posses her. Wet slaps sounded at his belly and thighs as he slammed into her pussy over and over. He started to tease and play with her clitoris while fucking her with targeted strikes. Mirabella’s entire body shivered and short breath pleas for mercy filled the room.

Her back dipped.

Her pussy convulsed around his dick, squeezing him with strong rhythmic pulses that made a chump out of him. He broke. “Shit!” he cried out and dropped on her. His weight drove them flat to the bed. He kept rising and falling in and out of her pussy until every ounce of his seed was spent.

“Bella, Bella, Bella,” is all he kept repeating.

He lifted off her for fear of causing her discomfort. She rolled to her side and held herself. He spooned with her and held her to him. They both lay on their side, trying to capture their breaths.

“Gio, you’ll be late for your meeting,” came her soft, sweet, caring voice.

He closed his eyes and smiled. “Fuck the meeting. Run away with me. I’ll get the jet and we can be in France tonight. Just me and you. Somewhere alone, forever,” he breathed.

She laughed. “And our children?”

“Oh? Yeah, bring them too,” he panted.

She turned over and hugged him. He held her close to his heart. “Sounds like you are in love with your wife,” she said.

“I am. I love you, Bella.
Ti amo
,” he kissed her brow.

“Clean up and go to your meeting. I need to finish lunch.”

“Wait! Let Zia do it,” he tried to pin her down. She eased from under him. She smiled and he groaned over the loss of her. He watched as she put on her lace panties. He thought to ask to keep them, but it might distract him if he sat in his meeting sniffing them all evening.

She pulled up her leggings. She blew him a kiss and was gone. Giovanni touched his deflated dick. He lifted his head to look at it. If he could get it to rise again he’d kidnap her to another room and do it all over again. Nothing happened. He slapped it and it fell limply over to his thigh. “Fuck!” he groaned.

**

“Is he here?” Giovanni asked. He rolled his cigar between his thumb and pointer finger. The ash lengthened but didn’t flake away. His mind once again conjured images of his wife masturbating for him. He smiled.

“He just arrived. Carlo and Nico will bring him in.” Lorenzo frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Funny?” Giovanni asked.

“You’re smiling,” Lorenzo said.

“Nothing. Nothing,” he took a drag from his cigar.

Lorenzo took a seat across from Giovanni in the other chair. The sitting room in Villa Rosso was Bella’s idea. She did a little decorating and remodeling. Despite his initial protests, he liked the improvements over the musty office where he usually conducted his business affairs. Here in this extension to his villa, were large leather sofa chairs and an air filtering system for his cigars. The tall windows on either side let natural light in and gave him an obstructed view of Melanzana where his wife and
bambini
slept. If he stood and went to the other side of the room he could see the land and horses he kept. It soothed him and put his visitors at ease.

“Gio? About this fighter in Bergamo.”

“I want to see him. It might be a good investment, Lorenzo.” He looked up and he could read his cousin’s disapproval. Giovanni sighed. “What is your objection?”

“I think you and I agree that we need legitimate affairs, it’s wise that we don’t let our attentions divide too quickly. Too much exposure may not be wise now. We already have the press at our door.”

Giovanni chuckled and exhaled tobacco smoke. “I have no intention of forgetting what we have planned for the triangle. Boxer or no boxer, I won’t be divided on the direction of this family again. I have you to thank for that.”

Lorenzo smiled. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

“We always have. The bullshit is behind us. I lost my way. Forgot what was important. You kept me from losing the
Camorra
and the respect my father found here in the
Campania
.”

“I’m your brother.”

“No,” Giovanni shook his head. “You’re more than a brother. You’re my best friend. I punished you for your rebellion in the past. But I see now I was to blame for some of it. You deserve respect.”

Lorenzo smiled broadly. Giovanni shook his head and took another long drag from his cigar. He spoke through his exhale.

“You will be heard, on everything. I trust you enough, Lo, to give you back your voice.”

“Grazie,”
Lorenzo replied.

“As for Mancini.”

“I’m working on it, Gio. I think there is more to consider than just a truce. Think of it. The women are blood to Mancini. If you were to take him down, after all these years, it would be within your right.”

Giovanni sighed. “I don’t trust him. But the war between us as kids is over. I’m not interested in moving in on the Sicilians.”

“Aren’t you?” Lorenzo pressed. “Have you not been trying to prove yourself to the Sicilians since you were a kid? It’s me you’re talking to, Gio. Mirabella is Don Mancini’s daughter. She and Marietta are the key—”

“That’s enough!” Giovanni said. “My wife is no key to your fucking ambition. Watch your fucking mouth!”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

Giovanni leveled a warning finger on him. “I’ll give you some rope on this, Lo, but bring it to an end. Bring me something other than this bullshit talk of taking down the
Mafiosi
. Do it soon or I’ll end it for us both.”

“I can handle it,” Lorenzo said.

Giovanni ran his hand over his face and let go of his anger. He had no time to be riled over this. He needed a clear head to deal with Santo and his business matters.

“How is Mirabella? Is she excited over the fashion show? Marietta can’t stop talking about it.” Lorenzo asked.

“I suppose. It will happen. Enough said.” He flicked his ash into the crystal ashtray. “I will say she was happy to see me when I came home,” he boasted. Another surge of love shuddered through his heart. Lorenzo chuckled in agreement. Apparently he had his own homecoming. There was a knock at the door. Lorenzo got up and walked over to open it. In walked Carlo and behind him Santo, Nico entered last and covered the door. Giovanni set his cigar in the ashtray and stood.

Santo had changed. He’d gotten thin. He had dark circles under his eyes and pasty skin from a poor diet. He looked older than them all. The Neapolitan prisons were hard on a man. And Santo had now served two terms in the name of the Battaglia family. Giovanni hadn’t seen him in over two years. It wasn’t wise for a man of Giovanni’s reputation to visit the prisons for a man who the authorities believed betrayed the
Camorra
.

“Ciao amico mio, bentornato!”
Giovanni said. Santo walked over and the two embraced and exchanged cheek kisses. He grabbed Santo by the face. “Let me get a good look at you. Ah? You see this?” he asked the room. “This is the look of a survivor.” Giovanni kissed Santo on the left and then the right cheek ceremoniously once more. “Come, and sit!”

“
Grazie, Gio
. I apologize I didn’t return sooner. As I said my brother is ill.”

Giovanni put up his hand to dismiss the insult. “You’ve been gone for two years. I understand your family matters needed to be attended to.”

The two sat down. The only other person to sit across from them in a chair was Lorenzo. Carlo and Nico stepped back but kept an eye on Santo. Until Giovanni cleared Santo, his absence made him a threat. He’d have to prove to Giovanni that his return came with the loyalty he professed before he left.

“
Sí,
I was supposed to be inside for two weeks, but two weeks became two years.” Santo’s gaze slipped over to Lorenzo when he spoke. Giovanni picked up his cigar and reclined in his chair. He would make no apologies for the past. It was done.

“My life is ruined,” Santo continued. “I’ve lost my clan. My family is in shambles. My sons don’t respect me. I have the money you set aside for me… but…”

“Go on,” Giovanni said.

“I’ve lost so much for the Battaglias. For you. I did so in respect of
omertá
. The vows we took as men. But who am I now, Gio? I don’t think there is a man in this room that has made the sacrifices I have for the brotherhood!” Santo made a point to look at all the men gathered. He settled back in his chair and addressed Giovanni. “I need more than my life back. I want my honor. Only you can give it to me.”

Giovanni cast his gaze to Lorenzo. His cousin cleared his throat and Santo stiffened. Lorenzo spoke with a smile. “We understand honor. Don’t we boys? Santo is our hero. Bravo!” Lorenzo gave a slow clap. “Unfortunately, brother, to the other clan bosses you are a fucking
pentito
.
Mascalzone!
You testified against Mottola’s men.”

“I did, because Giovanni wished it! And Mottola the true
pentito
had killed himself in his jail cell. I had to testify. I had no fucking choice.” Santo shouted. “And don’t call me a betrayer. Remember I know you too, brother. You are as loyal as the leash Gio keeps on your neck!”

“There you go insulting me,” Lorenzo chuckled. “It makes my dick hard to hear you beg.”

Santo shot to his feet. Nico and Carlo stepped forward. Giovanni smoked his cigar and observed. The taunts weren’t what interested Giovanni. It was Santo’s refusal to look him in the eye for longer than ten seconds. He didn’t like it. Lorenzo continued. He was unfazed by Santo’s anger. “Own your misery. You testified. Giovanni can’t change that. You know how this works.”

“I have paid in blood!” Santo slammed his fist in his hand. “I have never failed this family. Never! I’ve proven myself.” He glanced to Giovanni. He then looked back to Nico and Carlo. “Where is Domi? I want Domi here.”

Lorenzo laughed. “I’m to Giovanni’s left. You address me!”

Santo put his hands in his hair. He pulled it at the root. Giovanni understood the struggle. Santo had the discipline from living in a cage for years to know restraint. Everyone paused to see what Santo’s next move would be. Giovanni secretly hoped he passed the test. “
Non ne posso più!
Gio, I can lower myself no more. I need
famiglia.
I need my soul back! If begging is what I have to do—”

“I’ve heard enough,” Giovanni said. Santo looked up at him and this time he managed to hold his gaze. “Lorenzo is right. You testified. I can’t change the fact. The clan bosses need to approve your return to the
Camorra
.”

“But you are the
capo di tutti capi
. You can decide this, Gio,” Santo said. “No disrespect, but don’t bullshit me! It’s your blessing they need to hear. None of them would dare challenge it.”

“I say you’ve done enough, Gio,” Lorenzo answered. “Mottola came to rise under Santo’s watch. You spared Santo’s life. You took care of his family while he was in prison. We owe him nothing.”

“You fucking bastard!” Santo seethed. “Since we were kids you played this game. Constantly whispering in Giovanni’s ear against all of us!” Santo looked back to Nico and Carlo. No one gave him the agreement he sought. He turned his attention back to Giovanni. “I’ll ask it again, Gio. Who in this room has laid his life and soul out for you and you father other than me? Who has rotted in a cell for years and kept the secrets of this family? Who has been tried, convicted, tested other than me?”

Giovanni sat forward. “I believe you are the brother I’ve known since we were kids in Sicilia. And I believe you deserve a chance to reclaim what is lost to you. But just as you were loyal to me, you failed me. And that failure came at a price. You get no fucking mercy from me. You owed me those two years, just as Mottola owed me his life and the life of his sons.” Giovanni stared into Santo’s eyes to make sure every word he spoke was heard. Santo’s gaze wavered and lowered. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you!”

His gaze lifted.

“I will meet with the clan bosses and tell them of my wish to pardon your sins. Mottola was the rat,
la pentito
. Mottola is dead. I still have use for you, Santo.”

“Gio?” Lorenzo started to object. Giovanni leveled his gaze on his cousin and Lorenzo immediately fell silent.

“Where are you staying?” Giovanni asked Santo.

“My brother is in Firenze now, at a medical center barely hanging on to life.”

“What ails him?” Giovanni asked.

Santo’s gaze lifted. “He’s eaten up with cancer. I’ve been with him and then tried to visit my kids in Roma. Their mother refuses to let me see them. I have no place in Sorrento.”