La Sposa Read online

  After fifteen minutes, the one who called herself Marietta reappeared. She didn’t seem happy. He squinted behind the lenses of his sunglasses. Was she crying?

  Through the haze of smoke escaping his nostrils he watched her. Earlier, when he left Silvio’s office, he sensed her little spy mission in the hall. She peeked at him from around the corner. Cute. And when he left the building, she decided to follow him. Interesting. Not very discreet this one. He picked up on her tailing him five minutes into his walk.

  Once they drew closer to the shopping district, he was able to turn the tables on her. She lost sight of him in the street market and gave up. He then followed her here. While he waited for her to reappear, he went inside the rosticceria and called David Capriccio, and told him they would meet now.

  Marietta hailed a cab and disappeared inside. Though he found her curious, he had something more pressing on his mind, such as the office of Giuseppe Calderone. For ten more minutes, he smoked his cigar until it burned down to a nub.

  “Lorenzo?” David Capriccio approached from the left. He must have parked on the street behind the rosticceria.

  Rising from his seat, the men had a customary greeting. If David had arrived minutes earlier, he would have seen his half-sister. David was the most calculating and fearless of the Capriccio boys. It would be interesting to see his reaction to her.

  “Let’s talk inside.” Lorenzo said.

  David agreed.

  The rosticceria owners were friends to the Battaglias. They were often accommodating when Lorenzo visited. After tailing Marietta here, he’d had the youngest of the Sparros, a boy named Paco, clear out the restaurant for this meeting. They entered through the open glass door with chiming bells above to the sharp smell of roasted meat. The light at the counter was on but no other. Lorenzo stopped and sat at the first table. David seemed a bit hesitant but did the same.

  “I spoke with Silvio. He now says I have seventy-two hours.” David began, and his voice broke off into a string of apologies. None of it was of any interest to Lorenzo.

  “More like sixty-eight.” Lorenzo corrected.

  “You have to understand that these matters are delicate. I have no desire to keep Giovanni from what is rightfully his.”

  Lorenzo nodded. He rolled his cigar between his trigger finger and his thumb. “I hear you and Giuseppe were quite close.”

  David didn’t answer.

  Lorenzo waited. David sat forward. “I don’t want any trouble Lo…”

  Lorenzo extinguished the cigar on the table. “You do know better than to fuck with me? Don’t you David?” The question was cold and exact. David kept wiping his mouth. Lorenzo sensed his struggle with humility. Here in Milano, David Capriccio was respected and feared. Not from his illegal connections, but because of his stature and boxing days. However, in the presence of Lorenzo, he knew his might was met fist for fist…. and gun for gun.

  “Giuseppe was a friend. What happened between the families has nothing to do with me and mine.”

  “Where is this office he keeps?” Lorenzo drummed his fingers on the surface of the table.

  “I don’t kno—”

  In a violent flash of rage, Lorenzo lunged. He grabbed David by the back of his neck and slammed his face hard on the surface of the table. Paco, who stood at the front of the restaurant, immediately turned his back to the scene. David gasped. More like a whiney wheeze escaped him as Lorenzo applied pressure so intense, his own arm shook. He pressed David’s face into the wood of the table intent, on shoving it through. “Say it again. Deny it again porca puttana!”

  “I haven’t done anything.” David’s strained response answered back.

  Lorenzo kicked the chair out from behind him and stood. He kept David’s head pressed down into the table, as he removed his gun from the back of his pants. He pointed it directly into the top of David’s skull. “You have ten motherfucking seconds!” he seethed. “One… two… three…”

  “Wait!” David put his hands up. “I’ll tell you anything! Don’t kill me, Lo! We’ve been friends for years. I respect you. I just wanted to stay out of it. Please!”

  “Tell me now! Where is his fucking office?”

  “At Danco Delani. I can give you the key. Nothing is there. Nothing.”

  “Tapes. What of the tapes?”

  “I don’t know about any tapes!”

  Lorenzo released the safety. If he killed him before Giovanni got the deeds to the factories, it would be problematic. But he had no patience for this bullshit. Someone was fucking with him. “I think you’re lying.”

  “I’m not. Giuseppe kept his personal things there. Nothing business wise. His trophies from football and his gold coins. I took some things but not all of it. Angelo wanted things kept here. And then she…”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know who. She came and paid me to have access to the office. I’ve never seen her before. It was almost a year ago. No one else has been in the office.”

  “A name! What the fuck was her name?”

  “Isabella!” David grunted back.

  Lorenzo frowned. He knew at least eighteen women named Isabella. Hell, his beloved mother was named Isabella, and he named his restaurant after her. After a moment of contemplation, Lorenzo let up. He didn’t lower his gun. He wanted to kill David. He wanted to kill someone. He was so fucking sick of this bullshit! He turned and unloaded into the deli display case. Glass shattered and the fresh meat was shredded. Paco and David looked on in silent horror.

  Lorenzo returned his glare to him. “I want the fucking key to the office. Your time has been reduced to forty-eight hours. Giovanni will have no issue with me taking what’s ours out of your ass!”

  David nodded, with the side of his face ripening into a red swollen bruise. Finished, Lorenzo stormed toward the door and out of it.

  *****

  “It’s Napoletonia, Carlo, you know the place. Their pizza is known for the sauce. Ask Ringo. In fact, just the other day he told me a story.”

  “Not another one of your fucking stories!”

  “Let me finish! Va bene. It’s the third time he goes to see Essa…”

  “Who the fuck is Essa?”

  “She works at the pizzeria. Pay attention. Ringo goes there to see her, but each time he does, she says she’s on her fucking menstrual. He can’t see her in the evening because of her brothers, the fucking cock blockers! Only when he goes in to get a slice can he be alone with her. It’s driving Ringo nuts. It’s really fucking with his head. The puttana has more excuses than Cheno when he comes up short on his payments!”

  Carlo laughs and Carmine smiles, swirling the toothpick to the corner of his mouth before continuing with his story. “So he comes up with this plan. Ringo offers to take her for a ride, you know, get her alone. Her brothers only agree if they make the deliveries and come right back. So they deliver the pizzas and again he reminds her that his patience can only go so far. She has more excuses, always with the fucking menstrual! Ringo’s dick is hard just sitting next to her. She has these tits the size of melons and nipples as thick as grapes. He says her ass is soft too, soft for the pushing.” Carmine gestures with his hands and pumps his hips back and forth in the seat of the car to demonstrate. Carlo snickers.

  “He wants sex, menstrual or no menstrual, he wants it. And again she says it’s a sin, unsanitary, excuses and more excuses. Ringo doesn’t give a fuck. Tells her he can make her want it as bad as him, and he’ll prove it to her. He can get her ready for him. So he pulls over.”

  “I thought they were delivering pizzas?” Carlo frowned.

  “Pay attention! No. They delivered the fucking pizzas and they pull over. They get in the back of the cab and after she’s readied herself for him he’s, eating her pussy. Doesn’t give a fuck! He’s eating it because he’ll probably never get another chance. She has one foot up to the roof of the cab and the other over his shoulder. She’s howling like a wolf. No shit! Ringo says she’s a screamer. And get this!
The fucking carabiniere drives by and sees the car rocking. He hears her howling. The carabiniere, being the son-of-a-bitch he is, parks his car and gets out. He goes over. Taps on the window three times with his baton- tap, tap, tap. Ringo comes up for air. ‘The pussy is so good he doesn’t want to,’ is what he says to me. But he does. Wipes his face on his shirt, really fucking messy. Essa tries to cover herself as well… but the carabinieri has to get a peek at the bloody pussy.”

  Carlo is howling with laughter. Carmine goes on, choking down his own laughter.

  “No lie. The fucking carabinieri sees the shirt, sees Essa, and sees the boxes of pizza…”

  “I thought he delivered the pizza?” Carlo frowned.

  “Again with the fucking pizza! Forget the fucking pizza, Carlo! Maledizione!”

  Carlo snickers.

  “The dumb fuck doesn’t understand what he is seeing with all the pizza boxes, Ringo’s bloody shirt, and Essa. It all looks suspicious. He asks him what the fuck does he think he’s doing? Ringo wipes his jaw and licks his finger. Essa has her head down. But the carabinieri recognizes her. It’s then Ringo tells him they stopped for lunch. Carabinieri says he knows Essa, she’s from Napoletonia. He grins at Ringo and says he understands why they stopped. Now Ringo is confused. Why the fuck is the carabinieri grinning. Then get this. The carabinieri points his baton at Essa’s pussy. He says the pizza is good because Essa gives up the best sauce in Napoli! Get it? The sauce!”

  The roar of laughter filled the vehicle. It was a wonder Carlo kept the car straight on the road. Even Giovanni had to chuckle to himself from the back of the car. But the humor was fleeting for him. Giovanni slipped deeper into his own muddled thoughts. And he glared out of the passenger window. Money would be transacted in Napoli to finalize deals between the Battaglias and the Ndrangheta. He had to be present. Taking Carlo and Carmine felt a bit out of order. Dominic was young, but a good advisor when it came to these affairs. Now he would have to manage it all alone.

  “Boss?” Carmine turned in his seat to address him.

  Giovanni acknowledged him with a look.

  “I was wondering if I could have a moment to discuss something with you. When business is done of course. I…” The young man glanced at Carlo, who nodded for him to continue. He cleared his throat. “More responsibility. I’d like to ask for more.”

  “Now is not the time.”

  “Understood.” Carmine nodded and turned around in his seat.

  Giovanni wiped his hand down his face. He frowned at the media trucks that had now camped several miles down the road from the Battaglia gates. Would the bloodsuckers ever abandon their thirst for news on his Mirabella? Lorenzo promised this would not be an issue for the wedding. Still, the relentlessness of the press left Giovanni with doubts.

  “I want them gone. Deal with it!” he grumbled. Carlo understood the order. They’d scared them off the property, now they’d have to make an example of a newsman to make the message clear. No one, not even the international press, will ruin his bride’s day. He’d handle the meeting and return before the fireworks exploded at Melanzana. He almost smiled at the thought of having his Bella to himself for the entire evening.

  The car continued north. Giovanni relaxed and set aside doubts that lingered. He didn’t need counsel. He didn’t need any of them to be the man his father expected him to become. He’d prove it to Flavio, God rest his rotten soul. He was a different man, and capable of leading this family into greatness and prosperity. The New Year would prove it.

  Giovanni smiled. With Mira at his side, anything was possible.

  Later –

  Mira felt beautiful, relaxed. She brushed ruby-red gloss over her full lips and puckered them before the mirror. She batted her dark lashes and extended them once more with a mascara brush until they we were perfectly straight. Once she was done, she studied her reflection. Gone was the fatigue and puffiness in her eyes. The listless hair and dullness to her skin had been replaced with a rested glow after her beauty treatment. It wasn’t just being eye pleasing for Giovanni. His men were coming today, and she had to look the part of his donna. Not a hair could be out of place.

  Today, Mira practically glowed. She turned sideways and studied her figure. For the festivities, she’d chosen an apple green silk wrap dress that smoothed out her curves. Green was his favorite color. Adding copper heels and accessories gave it that final touch of elegance. She tossed her loose curls that framed her face and ran her hand down her smooth tummy. Inside of her, new life grew. This time, it would be a baby for them to have together, possibly a son. Although she hadn’t met her angel, she was deeply in love with motherhood.

  Giovanni constantly touched her belly and asked her about any changes. It had only been a week. Mira loved how cute he could be.

  The family was waiting for her. Maybe Giovanni had returned. Mira turned on her heels to head for the door when a monstrous bolt of pain stabbed her pelvis so sharply, she stumbled and nearly lost balance. Her hand was quick to steady her by pressing to the wall, and her vision began to swim. She squeezed her eyes shut with a silent cry of fear. The pain was fleeting. It came with a violent intensity that made her knees weak and then went away. But the fear had left her paralyzed. Mira struggled to capture a breath. “No, God. Please, God. Please,” she said, and tears welled behind her closed lids. “I’m getting married tomorrow, don’t do this.”

  Slow and steady her heartbeat eased into a normal pace. Mira sniffed and wiped her tears. Yes she’d been tired, and there was a bit of cramping, but that was normal. This however, didn’t feel normal. With a dizzy, spinning nausea in the pit of her stomach, she stood upright. She would marry tomorrow, and then they’d start their life together. They’d had so many disappointments she couldn’t take another one. Mira dropped against the door, and ran her hand up and down her stomach. “It’s okay bambino. Mama’s fine. You’re fine. It was just a cramp, it happens. Nothing’s wrong.”

  Mira sucked down a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The moment had passed. She returned to the basin and fixed her makeup a bit under the eyes to cover any trace of tears. After the wedding, she’d see a doctor. She’d have all the tests necessary. Already she had started her pre-natal vitamins. Convinced that there was nothing to worry about, Mira left her room and headed for the festive celebration on the lower level.

  Glass and something delicate shattered. Then a chorus of noise, of things smashing and breaking followed. It was as if somewhere in Melanzana, a giant was on the loose, destroying everything delicate in his path. Mira froze on the second to the last stair. Fear gripped her heart like the squeeze of a cold hand.

  Before she could cave into her panic of invaders (or men with guns storming the compound and taking out revenge on them all) she heard her baby. Her Eve!

  “Mommy!!!” Eve wailed.

  Mira hurried down the final steps. She saw Eve running full speed toward her in a yellow dress with yellow ribbons in her curly hair. Her red pacifier pinned to the front of her dress swung wildly. Her arms outstretched, and panic was on her face. Mira ran faster towards her. The explosion of crashing glass and porcelain behind her daughter sounded off again, as if something was in pursuit. In her panic, Mira didn’t notice the young woman chasing Eve. Once she had her daughter in her arms safely, she looked up into a stranger’s eyes. Mira had never seen her before.

  “What the hell is going on?” Mira took a cautious step back. Eve buried her face in Mira’s neck, trembling. And then came more obscene noise shattering the tranquility of Melanzana.

  “Answer me!” she shouted in Italian.

  “Mi scusa, Signora, I try to calm her for you. Give back to me.” The woman reached for Eve.

  “Don’t you put your hands on her. I have her.” Mira said in a firm voice that made the young girl blush and lower her hands and head in respect. The men entered from the front of the villa. Mira whirled and relief flooded through her. Giovanni looked neither alarmed nor worried. In fact, he wore a wide grin
as he approached her. She and Eve flinched as more pottery shattered. He approached with Carlo and Carmine following.

  “What is it? Do you hear that?” she said, her voice strained, and Eve now crying and clinging to her.

  His gaze swept her appearance and she could tell he was pleased.

  “Calm down, lucciola,” he said in his usual soothing voice. He pried their child from her and took her into his arms. Eve fought him, reaching for Mira instead. Giovanni refused to let her go, and Eve sat up in his arms, wailing loudly in protest. Mira looked around at everyone smiling and thought for a minute they’d all gone insane.

  Giovanni kissed Eve, reached for Mira’s hand and gave her a soft kiss to the lips. More cheer and exploding glass sounded off in the opposite direction of the hall.

  “Can someone please tell me what that noise is?” Mira asked them all.

  “Capodonna!” Giovanni shouted and the men laughed. “Have you met Cecilia?”

  The young woman nodded with a gracious smile. “Piacere.”

  “She will be seeing to Eve. I told you about her.”

  Eve stopped crying and gave Cecilia a suspicious look; she then turned her head in disapproval. Mira, now calm, smiled in return.

  “Hi. Ciao,” Mira said. Laughter approached from the other end of the hall with Catalina and Dominic leading family members.

  “Gio! You’re here! Now the party can begin!” Catalina decreed. She raised her wine glass in toast. Mira was so confused by everything she didn’t speak. Just observed.

  Giovanni led her toward the crowd. Everyone began to applaud. She walked at his side matching his stride. They passed under the arch to the terrace and Mira blinked in surprise. Crates of dishes, cups, other household items made of glass or porcelain were lined up. Several of the men out on the lawns were taking these items and smashing them against the garden wall.