La Famiglia (64 page)

He pressed his palm to her door and turned the handle with the other. Slowly he eased it open. Darkness greeted him. He stuck his head inside. Mira lay on her side. She slept. Giovanni was careful to not disturb her as he entered. When he approached the bed he saw that she looked peaceful. He couldn’t help but smile at her. He adjusted the blanket and made sure she was comfortable. He brushed his lips very lightly across her cheek. He then found his usual spot in the room and settled back into a chair to watch over her while she slept. He vowed to do so for only a few minutes until the anxiety in his chest lessened. That was his vow.

Mira turned in her sleep. She opened her eyes. Giovanni had posted up in the chair not far from her bed. The man refused to listen or respect her wishes. He was as stubborn as he was adorable when he slept. Mira flopped on her back with heavy sigh. She glanced over to him once more. It was cold in the hospital room. Possibly all hospitals kept the temperature low to ward off germs or freeze the patients into staying alive. She had to smile. Zia told her Giovanni slept in the chair all through her coma. What he needed was to be in bed with her, so she could comfort him. Put him against her breast as she did often when he returned from a hard day. But even if she could bring herself to let go of her disappointment in him to do so, her bed wasn’t big enough.

She tossed her sheet back. She put her feet to the ground. She felt strength in her legs. When she stood she felt even more. She lifted the extra blanket folded at the foot of the bed and walked over to her husband with a sluggish yet straight posture. She shook out the blanket and covered him. Giovanni didn’t stir. He was a light sleeper usually but she imagined that he was quite tired.

Standing over him she noticed everything about him. How undeniably handsome and overgrown he was for the tantrums he was throwing. She derived no pleasure out of his suffering. She wished she could do as Marietta had done with Lorenzo and just let this one go. But the trust between them was all she had in their stormy life. Without it she felt lost, deceived, and disillusioned. If they continued this way it could destroy their marriage. How else could she make him understand the consequences of his lies?

Mira reached to touch his face and stopped her hand with her fingers just centimeters from his cheek. She lowered her hand. Maybe tomorrow things would feel different? Maybe the anger will have gone? She prayed so.

She shuffled back to bed. Climbing under the covers she drew up the blankets and lay on her side. She watched over him from her bed until sleep stole her away.

* B
*

With quiet reverence Lorenzo ran his fingers over his wife’s body. He loved her body. Every inch of her was burned into his memory. There were times when he could just watch her, not touch her. And he’d often felt such raw intense passion for her he’d have to fix himself in his pants. It was lust, yes. But there was something else about his Marietta. Such a fiery undeniable love tie that he was certain of his fidelity and commitment to her unlike his past relationships with women.

Lorenzo’s fingertips brushed her navel piercing and the belly chain glistened on top of her brown skin. He kissed the toffee colored peak of one nipple and then the other.

Marietta stroked the top of his head. “It was Gemma,” she said. “She was the one who told me the truth.”

His gaze lifted from her belly to her face. “Gemma? Where did you see Gemma?”

“I bumped into her at the restaurant called Belina’s in Palermo. I told her about us being married and she told me about the secrets you and the Battaglias kept. Why I should fear you and not marry you.”

Lorenzo eased up on the bed to lie on his side. He put a hand to the belly he hoped one day would carry his child. “I understand why you held back from telling me,” he said.

She placed her hand over his and stared down at their fingers as they intertwined. “She was like a mother to me, Lo. She was the only person in my shit life to give me hope. I owe her so much.” She glanced up at him. “I’m telling you because trust goes both ways. I broke your trust with Carlo. I can’t take it back, just like you can’t take back lying to me about my mother and father. But I want us to move forward. Can I trust you not to hurt Gemma?” she asked.

He kissed her brow. “How does Gemma know so much about your mother and Mira? Did you ever stop to think it over?”

“She said she met my mother. That she knew her before she died.”

“And she has lied to you before. You choose to believe her now?” he asked.

He saw Marietta consider his words. He didn’t like a loose cannon like Gemma running around and bad mouthing his family. Especially with knowledge no one outside of the family knew. Marietta turned over and wrapped her arm around his waist. He held her. They lay in silence for a long moment. “I won’t hurt Gemma. But you have to promise me to stay away from her. If she contacts you again you tell me immediately where she says she is. I want to have a talk with her.”

“I promise,” Marietta yawned. “Let’s go to sleep.”

He closed his eyes and settled under the warmth of their blankets and her embrace. Soon his lids grew heavy and his thoughts narrowed to one: Gemma.

* B
*

“Boss? Boss!”

A hand shook Armando awake. He sat up. “What the fuck is it?” he groaned. Carmella pulled the sheet up over her nudity and kept her back to them.

“A visitor at the gates. It’s a woman.”

Carmella’s eyes opened. She listened. But she remained silent and still.

“What woman? Who the fuck is it?” Armando barked as he left the bed and looked for his robe.

“Gemma. She says she has an urgent message for your father,” the man said.

“Well bring her in.” Armando ordered. He turned and stormed out. Carmella looked back as soon as the door closed. She was quick to get out of bed. She found her nightgown to pull on and a robe. If Carmella considered the danger in what she set out to do she’d lose her courage. The last conversation with Dominic didn’t go well. She had nothing to share other than the old
Don
celebrating a reunion with his daughter that Armando vowed would never happen.

Dominic made it plain. Either she gave him something he could use or he’d have no more use for her. And Carmella dreaded the meaning of his threat. She opened the door and peeked out into the hall. Careful to not be seen she crept from her room.

Armando stood in the foyer. After a moment Gemma Scafidi was brought into his home. He looked over the woman. He’d met her a few times. She knew his father from years ago. Gemma was quite attractive for her age. Her figure, sultry eyes and pouty lips reminded him of Marilyn Monroe or Sophia Lauren. Old glamour. She wore a raincoat over a blue dress that flattered her curvy figure. Her auburn hair was pinned up at the back of her head but limp loose curls fell about her oval shaped face.

“Thanks for seeing me,” Gemma said.

“What do you want? My father doesn’t receive visitors at this late hour,” Armando replied.

“I came to see you. Can we speak alone?” Gemma asked.

Armando looked her over once more. He then glanced to his man to his left and decided with a nod. The man walked over and took Gemma’s coat, purse, and umbrella from her. She shivered but looked relieved.

“Come with me.” Armando walked off. He decided to take the meeting in the upstairs parlor for privacy.  He climbed the stairs with Gemma closely behind him. When they entered she walked over to the leather chaise and sat on it. He observed her curiously. “Something to drink?”

“No thank you,” she replied.

He took a seat in the chair across from her. “So? What is it you have to warn me about?”

“Not what, but who. Isabella. I came here because of Isabella,” she said.

Interest piqued he sat upright and uncrossed his legs. “What about her?”

“First, you have to know who I am. I’m the daughter of Montague Scafidi. I own a sweet desert shop in Milano.” She cleared her throat. “Years ago I worked in America. I was only nineteen at the time. I… worked for a man named Manny Cigars.” Gemma held Armando’s gaze. “Your father.”

Armando shrugged.

She sighed, but continued. “I knew a young black girl in America. We called her Lisa, her real name was Melissa Ellison. I was her friend.”

“So you know the story of my bastard twins?” Armando asked.

“I know more of the story than you, Armando. I also know your father is headed directly down the path that Isabella wants for him. She’s dangerous, full of hate and revenge. Her goal is to plunge you and the Battaglias into war. She wants to destroy both of your families. And she’s almost succeeded.”

“Is that so?” Armando smiled.

“You have to believe me. I’m risking my life by coming here. I know I can’t approach the Battaglias. You are my only hope.” Gemma reasoned.

“And where is Isabella?”

Gemma pressed her lips together. “You can’t get to her that way. She has friends in the
Mafioso
, in the
Camorra
, hell she’s got friends everywhere. She’s been planning this for a long time.” Gemma sat forward. “I know where she will be in another week. She’s coming to Palermo. I can give you the date and time. It’ll be the only opportunity you will have to stop her. If you don’t she intends to stop you.”

“I have a question for you, Gemma. What’s in this for you? Why help my family rid ourselves of Isabella?” Armando asked.

“Because Marietta Leone means a lot to me. I owe her and her sister Mirabella this. I owe their mother.”

Armando smiled. He could give a shit about Isabella’s goals for chaos. He didn’t believe for one minute any of his father’s allies in and out of the
Mafioso
would align themselves with Isabella. He could smell the set up. But if it got him closer to his goal of ridding himself of Isabella and Giovanni, so be it. “Tell me about her plans,” he said.

Carmella drew back from the door. To stay another minute would surely put her in jeopardy. She stole away from the hall and raced to her room. It was the second time she heard the name Isabella evoked. She needed to find out who this woman was and warn the Battaglias. Inside the room she closed the door gently. She crept over to her bed and reached for the phone.

She had only one number to Dominic in Villa Mar Blu and she prayed he slept in the room in the villa instead of out on the beach with Catalina. The phone rang three times before it was answered.

“Yes?”
Dominic groaned.

“It’s me.” Carmella whispered.

The line went silent.

“I don’t have long. Gemma Scafidi. Do you know her? She’s here. She’s meeting with Armando. She says that she knew the
Donna’s
mother and that she came to warn him that the woman Isabella is out for revenge against both your families. That she wants you to go to war.”

“Is that all?” Dominic asked.

“Yes.”

“How does she know the
Donna’s
mother?” Dominic asked.

“America. She says she worked for
Don
Mancini when he was called Manny Cigars. She said that she met a woman named Lisa in America and she owes her. I have to go. I will call again later.” Carmella hung up just as Armando walked into the room.

He paused. “What are you doing up?”

She looked back at him. “I had to use the bathroom,” she smiled.

He stared at her. Carmella pushed up from the bed and turned around. She opened her robe and drew her nightgown over her head. She flashed Armando a sexy smile. “You coming back to bed?” she teased.

He smiled and shrugged off his robe. Carmella held back her temperament and put forth a seductive one as she had on many nights. And when he rolled on top of her she closed her eyes and pretended she was fifteen again and in love with a cute boy named Gio who would fish for her, and fight other boys in the street to defend her honor. It could be her who gave him children, who ruled the family at his side. It should have been her. Her heart seized.

It would never be.

19.

Ten days later –

Tremors quaked through the center of his hand and spread through each finger. Giovanni clenched it, opened it, and clenched it again before he reached for his bottle. It didn’t work. He brought his hand back and stared at it curiously. Typically his body responded with inexplicable spasms after binge drinking and a lack of sleep crashed in on him. However these quakes didn’t feel typical. He glanced at the clock and realized it was six in the morning.

When was the last time he slept?

Giovanni pushed back and the wheels on his office chair squeaked as they rolled over the marble tiled floor. He used the edge of his desk to aid him in his attempt to stand. A feeling of buoyancy swept him and he swayed a bit. He grunted. He shook his head and got his bearings and then walked out of his office. Maybe a shower would help?

On autopilot he returned to his room. The moment he crossed the threshold his gaze was drawn like a magnet to the empty bed. Another reason he preferred his office most days and nights. In his office he didn’t have to think of that fucking empty bed. Instead he worked with his men and Yeremian to establish control of his territories. The carnage in their wake inspired a cruelty in him that had lain dormant for close to three years. Mottola was on the run. The clans were split evenly. Every man that stood against him would be dust in his wake.

Dominic asked him for the end game. There was no end to his wrath in sight. Giovanni exhaled. His gaze shifted away from the bed and landed on the doors to the closet.

The doors to Mirabella’s closet were partially opened. It meant someone had come into his room to collect clothing for her. It was possibly Catalina. Giovanni walked over to the closet and flung open the door. Immediately Mira’s soft floral fragrance swept over him. He inhaled. He reached in and touched one silk summer dress and then another, and another. The fabric felt as soft as cream in his fingers. He yanked the dress down and brought it up to his nose and inhaled his wife. The memories her scent evoked soothed him.

When they first started dating she would wear sexy wrap around dresses for him. They tied at the waist and draped around her heart shaped hips so sexy. Each garment was a tribute to her curves and femininity. When she became pregnant she wore silk scarf summer dresses that swept around her ankles in layers and held her large bosom with easy to pull down thin straps. Giovanni smiled. He dropped the dress, and shuffled through to the next and the next to conjure the sweetest memories.

“Giovanni?” a voice spoke behind him. Caught he whirled with a dress in his hand and several at his feet.

Catalina observed him curiously. “What are you doing?” she asked.

He tossed the dress into the closet and shut the door. He kicked the dresses away from his feet and stepped on those in the way. “What do you want?”

“Have you been drinking all night again?” Catalina walked toward him. “Today isn’t the day for this, Gio.”

“What is it, Catalina?” he waved her off and went to his dresser.

“I came in here to see if you were ready. We’re bringing them home. Or have you forgotten?” she asked.

Had he forgotten? He’d been on edge since the doctors told him it was a possibility. He counted the minutes on the clock until his eyes went cross and his mind numb. “How could I forget?” he said bitterly.

“Today is a good day, Gio. Please shave, clean up. I don’t want Mira to see you like this.” She walked closer and he cut her off with an angry glare. Catalina wouldn’t be turned away. She ran her hand down his back to soothe him. “Get ready for Mira and your sons.”

Giovanni let go a bitter laugh. “Why? My wife doesn’t see me at all. How does a man get dressed for a wife who won’t even look at him? Won’t stop to talk to him? Can’t stand to be in the room with him.”

“Stop it!” Catalina begged. “She’s upset. She’s focused on the babies. She hasn’t had time to digest everything that’s happened to you and her.”

“Bullshit. Bella knows her focus, and what she wants. She wants the family, she doesn’t want me!” He tried to step away but staggered. Catalina caught him. Apparently he did drink too much. Surprisingly he remained thirsty for more.

He finished off the first bottle when he learned that the street fight in Napoli left three of his men dead and six in jail. The
polizia
were all over his clan. Lorenzo and Nico had left just yesterday.

“Gio? Please, listen to me. I know this is hard. I know you love her, that you’re worried about her. But she has to see you want to make amends. She can’t see you like this. None of them can. Your men need you.”

“I’m fine, Catalina. Go. Bring her home. I’ll stay away to make sure it’s a happy occasion.” Giovanni pushed her away. He walked upright without need of assistance to the bathroom. He’d piss and shower. He’d be fine after a few cups of cappuccino. He glanced back once at Catalina who watched him in silence. He winked. “I’ll be fine,
piccoletta
. I can handle it,” he said and closed the door.

* B
*

“Did you see Gino? I can’t pump enough breast milk for him. He’s taking a bottle every two hours.” Mira grinned. She turned to the silence. Zia stared at her. “Well? Did you see him?”

“It was good of them to let you stay in the
ospedale
with the boys. I saw him before I came to your room. He was awake. Eyes open,” Zia nodded.

“Yes. They are both ready to go home.” Mira couldn’t contain her excitement. “How is Eve, did you tell her I was coming home?”

“She misses her mama. Giovanni has been seeing after her. I think it is good that you kept her out of the
ospedale
. Good for Gio to have Evie with him,” Zia said.

“Yes, but it was hard,” Mira sighed. “I did talk to her on the phone every night.” Mira zipped her bag. She looked around the room filled with flowers. Everything was packed and ready to go. “What time does Giovanni get here?” she asked.

“Do you want him to come?” Zia asked.

Mira glanced back at her. “Of course, for the boys. They’re his progeny,” she half-joked. When Zia didn’t smile she corrected her tone. “Of course he needs to come. We’ve both been so anxious for this day.”

“Mira, when was the last time you saw Gio? Three or four days?” Zia asked.

“Six days,” she replied, and went to the closet. She checked inside. “But I know he comes and visits the babies. Marietta tells me.” She closed the closet. “Did they bring the car seats? We have to make sure they both have them before we leave.”

Zia stepped to Mira. “Things have been hard for Gio.”

“I won’t discuss it, Zia,” Mira turned away.

Zia pulled her hand. “You need to release Gio. Give him your forgiveness. He’s not doing well. None of us are.”

“I won’t discuss it.” Mira sighed.

“Stop!” Zia clapped her hands. Mira looked at her with surprise. Zia never raised her voice. “It stops now, Mira. I’m sorry but you are wrong in this. He is your husband you are behaving…” Zia sighed. “What you do now could damage your marriage permanently. Do you know what men in his lifestyle do with a disobedient wife?”

“Disobedient?” Mira frowned.

“That’s right! Do you know?”

Mira shook her head.

“Why do you think Tomosino chose Eve? Why do you think Marsuvio left his wife and chose your mother? Rocco told me the story of what happened to your mother. These men are only as strong as we make them. And your marriage is only as solid as your role in this life. To know your place. To be as loyal to your husband as you expect him to be to you. You have compromised your marriage by shutting Gio out. What he does, he does with blind disregard for the values you want to teach him. And I fear you are too damn stubborn to see there is another way.”

Mira regretted raising her voice. She also regretted the implications that her marriage was in jeopardy. But Zia’s words hit home, and her insecurity deepened. “I know Giovanni and I have things to work through. It’s been barely two weeks. He’s a strong man. And this is my marriage. None of you have a say in how I treat my husband. Giovanni would not go take up a mistress just because we don’t agree. He’s not that kind of man.”

“Maybe not. But he will self-destruct. He is that kind of man—”

“I’ll deal with my husband. It’s private, Zia. But thank you. For telling me your point of view. I won’t let this get out of hand. Trust me. Okay?”

Zia nodded her head in respect. The door swung open and Marietta walked in with a widespread grin to her face. She wore a pair of jean shorts and a white tank top with bright pink sandals. She had wrapped a green and blue scarf around the front of her hairline causing her natural locks to puff out behind her head.

“Are we ready?” she asked while munching on gum.

“We’re ready. Is Giovanni with you?” Mira asked. “He has to be excited to carry the boys out.”

“He’s not coming.” Catalina walked in. “He’s given up. He thinks it’ll be a better occasion with him not here.”

Mira shook her head. “Once again he makes everything about him. His sons need him and he wants to play this game with me?”

Everyone stared at her.

Mira tossed her chin higher with defiance. “Whatever. Let’s collect my children. I’m ready to go.”

* B
*

“You wanted to see me?” Dominic closed the door.

Giovanni sat forward on the sofa. He had run out of liquor in his office. He found several bottles of scotch in the bar upstairs. “Sit. I just got off the phone with Lorenzo.” He poured himself a tall glass. “It’s time to kill Mottola.”

“I’ve spoken to him. They believe they know where he is hiding in the countryside. The Armenians have been a big help in the triangle. The
`Ndrangheta
are looking to barter a truce. It is possible to slit their throats if they believe we have one. They too fear the Armenians’ presence.”

“Good.”

“But.” Dominic cleared his throat. “We may not need to kill Mottola.”

“He’s dead,” Giovanni said dryly. “And I want to be there when it happens. I want to be the one to put the knife in him,” Giovanni said.

Dominic blinked. “You? Go to Chiaiano? With me?”

“Yes.” Giovanni smiled. “Together. Make arrangements.”

“Why not let Lorenzo and the men handle it. You need to stay away. The
polizia di stato
and the
carabinieri
both are looking to bring you in for questioning. Besides Mancini has been quiet since the bombing in Palermo.”

Giovanni sipped his whiskey. A week ago Armando and several of his men were nearly killed in a public bombing. Carmella informed them that they were hunting a woman named Isabella. She’d escaped into a building and they followed. The bomb blew afterwards. And the interesting news was this Isabella was supposedly an enemy of Giovanni’s as well. He had so many enemies he’d lost interest and count. His empire was crumbling while he sat on his ass and gave orders over the phone. No more.

“I’m going,” he said.

“With Mira coming home it might not be good timing. She and the twins need you. I fear Mancini will strike now. I have information that—”

“Fuck Mancini. He won’t dare. He has his own mess to clean up since the bombing. It’s time I make a stand. Show the other bosses I’m still here. Mira can see to the babies, I see to this. We’re going.”

He picked up his breakfast of whiskey in a glass. He walked over to the bar with Dominic watching him. “Giovanni. I’ve kept some information from you. Because you have been distracted… with Mira and the twins. I can’t any longer.”

Giovanni stared at Dominic from over his glass as he sipped.

“Carmella continues to feed me information on the Mancinis.”

“And? I already know this. You told me about Gemma, about Isabella, about the bullshit.”

“I didn’t tell you Carmella’s reasons.”

Giovanni paused.

Dominic exhaled slowly. “Carmella does the spying for us because Lorenzo caught her in a lie. Apparently she was sent into Villa Mare Blu to spy on you for Armando.”

Giovanni lowered his glass, his eyes narrowed. “Spy on me?”

“She tried to poison Mira,” Dominic said.

“Che cosa ha detto?”
Giovanni asked again for clarification. When Dominic couldn’t find the words to explain Giovanni hurled the glass to the wall and it exploded. “Say it again! She was in
my
home to poison
my
wife and
you
kept it from me?”

Dominic looked on grimly. “She was threatened by Armando. I sent her back to Mancini. And it was the right thing to do. Gemma was the one who told Marietta about Mira. And now we know that there is a feud with the Mancinis and this Isabella woman. This is the missing piece of information we needed,” Dominic said.

Giovanni waved it off. “Fuck this Isabella bitch! Fuck some old whore of Mancini’s named Gemma! Why am I just hearing this?” Giovanni demanded.

“You have not been yourself, Gio. Not in days. Weeks. Not since Mira went into the hospital. Don’t you see that?”

Giovanni wiped his hand down his face. He tried to focus, but he felt sick. He swallowed and it tasted like shards of glass. Weak he staggered over to the sofa and sat down on it. Dominic was right. He drank so much lately he was barely conscious. Dominic kept his vice from the men, from everyone, and hid it well. But they all knew. He was weak. Unworthy of his title and his family.