Bella Mafia Page 2
Chapter One
The Fallen
Salerno, Italy 1994
Donna Mirabella Battaglia knew her husband. Yes, he was the Don of a ruthless crime family that ruled by the law of gun and bullets. However, he was a man, a father, a brother, a complicated human being. As his wife, it was her vow to understand him, support him, protect him. And she did. When the Don was angry, it changed her compass, made her turn inside out in every direction to calm him. When the Don was happy, her entire world felt bright, vivid, lively, and she reveled in their love. His happiness was contagious. It was one of the purest of shared feelings she's ever had with a man. But when he was sick, every fiber in her being suffered with him. He was the Rock of Gibraltar. Without his strong shoulders to stand upon she felt helpless.
“Wake up,” a voice whispered in her ear.
Mirabella opened her eyes to look up into a dark-lashed pair of violet-blue eyes staring down at her.
This was a dream...
Don Giovanni brushed his lips over hers. Mirabella turned her face away, smiling, because soft kisses tickled. He pressed another to her cheek. He did something playful with the tip of his tongue and the inner shell of her ear and her giggles dissolved into soft sighs. She didn't care if it was a dream she was having. It was closest to the reality she needed.
“Saluti, Bella,” he said in a voice tinged with authority.
“Greetings,” she translated the Italian with a whisper. Mirabella’s lips parted with slight ease in her sleep as she spoke the words. It was a coy way to say hello. She always knew when he said the word it was because he was in a playful mood after returning home. She put her hand over her tummy. In this dream, she was pregnant. The dream the night before was her wedding night, and the dream before that was the first time she let him slip beneath the covers of her bed.
Now swollen with the life of her sons, who would be born in his image, her mind made a connection even her dreamy state of consciousness couldn't prevent. This wasn't a dream at all.
It was a memory.
When the doctors told the Don and Donna they would have twins she didn’t believe the news. However, three months into her pregnancy it was evident her body was a vessel for an even greater blessing, the sons her husband always wanted. Two made from love in his image. A sign of favor from God. She and Giovanni would have the life promised to them.
Giovanni kissed Mirabella's cheek again. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.
“Mmm, yes, I like surprises!” She stretched and yawned. In doing so his hand slipped further. He cupped her sex. With her eyes tightly shut she adjusted to their new position.
“Look at me," he said in a voice that went as low as a man's inflection could reach. She did as he asked. She parted her thighs to welcome the sweet calm that came with such a tender caress. Mirabella relaxed. He smiled. He gave her the kiss he wanted to take. She put up a small fight to resist shoving him back, but not really. After a few swipes of his tongue she was pulling him by the neck hoping he'd roll on top of her and slip inside of her.
“Breakfast is served,” he groaned after he rejected her offer. He moved away and she sat up. Giovanni brought a breakfast tray from the foot of the bed closer. Italian pastries carried the sweetest fragrance on the planet in the morning. Ana, upon request, made everything from scratch. Mirabella’s favorites were the croissants brushed in honey, and butter. They were so flaky and light they melted in her mouth. She lifted her head from her pillow and looked down the line of her body. The tray for breakfast was placed over her lap.
“For me?” she asked.
“For the babies, and you,” he teased. “Eve is asleep. I changed her.”
“No, you did not!” she laughed.
“Eh, Zia changed her. But I said good morning. Zia put her back to sleep. Now it’s Mommy’s turn.”
“You’re going to put me back to sleep?” she chuckled. He groaned again. Giovanni adjusted her pillows. He then brought the tray as close as comfortable. All of her favorite things were on a plate, including eggs medium done, and slices of fruit. But of course, the best surprise were croissants and cheese in a pretzel knot tied pastry.
“What time is it?”
“Does it matter?”
“Can’t I ask a question?” she joked.
“We’re staying in bed all day,” he said and forked some of her eggs to feed her. She opened her mouth and chewed. He grinned and went in to give her another serving. She put up her hand to stop him so she could at least have time to swallow. He waited with expectant eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“What? What? What? Woman you question me constantly.”
“And you’re up to something.”
He sighed.
“So? What are you up to Giovanni?”
“You said you felt dizzy yesterday.”
“I did not,” she frowned.
“You told Catalina. She called me.”
“Oh, that explains it,” she rolled her eyes. “You have spies everywhere. Leo follows me around like my shadow. Spies, spies, spies.”
“I’m going to take care of you.” Giovanni said and forked more eggs.
“I don’t need...” Food was pushed into her mouth. She choked. He smiled and nodded as if he did the best thing. And it was adorably cute. He must have driven through the night from Naples and brought breakfast up to her instead of bringing up his luggage.
“Stop, Gio, I can’t chew that fast.”
“Oh?” he said and put down the fork. She leaned over and kissed him while swallowing.
“I’m fine. Dizzy spells happen when you are pregnant.”
“I missed all of it with Eve,” he pouted. “You have no idea how it feels to a man to miss the birth of his child. I would never wish it on anyone.”
“You now have the best days with Eve, though. She loves you so much. She says Papa all day when you are gone.”
“Yes, she is my firefly, my lucciola.”
“Hey,” she took his chin and turned his face to hers. “Don’t rush to make up anything between you and her. Savor the life we have now. Let go of the past Gio. I have.”
“I want to make sure you’re okay.” He took her hand that held his face and kissed it.
“And I want to be taken care of. I like it.”
Giovanni kissed her shoulder. “I love you, Bella. I love it when you need me. I even love it when you don’t. You’re so different from... everyone.”
“You like it when I’m vulnerable? Fat and pregnant? Huh? We shall see.”
“I like when you need me,” he reaffirmed.
She was not surprised by the honest open way he spoke his emotions. It was surprising that he'd sacrifice an entire day in bed with her when he had so many obligations. Being confined to a bed that he wasn't making love in was not his thing. And at her very best she could probably only have sex with him once. However, the need in his voice was not about sex. It was about family. To be needed by family justified much of his reasoning.
“Bella?" he spoke.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to be a good father.”
“Oh yea?”
“When I was a boy I only wanted to please my father. I’d jump off a cliff to do so,” he said.
“A cliff? Now you’re exaggerating,” she laughed.
“I’m not.”
She paused. She frowned. “How old were you?”
He leaned his head back as if to remember the date, and then he shrugged. “I think six.”
“Six years old and you jumped from a cliff? What?”
“Forget the cliff...”
“But...”
“My point is nothing pleased my father. No sacrifice was ever enough.” His voice trailed off on the memory.
“I hear differently sweetheart. Zia says your father was always proud of you. He missed you the most when you were gone.”
“I didn’t say he didn’t love me Bella. I said he was not pleased. And I say it to say that
my children will never shoulder that kind of burden. Because it is a burden, pleasing and failing our parents. Lorenzo stumbled through life because he could never please his mother, and his father died before he could really gain his approval.”
“Gio...”
“I will protect you Bella. Even from... me, if I have to. Our kids, too.”
“From you? We don’t need protection from you.”
“I will always be here for you and our bambini. Always.”
“And forever. Always and forever, Giovanni.”
“Sei la mia vita — You are my life,” he said. “Always and forever.”
She believed him.
***
Mirabella sucked in a deep breath as if a plug was released from her throat. Air siphoned in and filled her lungs. She could breathe again. She sat upright. Since the shooting she’s had a total of twelve hours of sleep. Giovanni was shot three days ago. Mirabella’s hand went to her breast.
The room he was kept in was often dark, no matter the time of day. The sun hadn’t risen completely, but she sensed that dawn approached. Another day, and there was no change in his condition. Mirabella gripped the arm of the chair to sit upright. A cramp of discomfort had settled in her neck. She rubbed the ache away. The pain wasn’t that bad and she didn’t mind. It was nothing compared to what her husband suffered.
The news from the doctors had been delivered six hours ago. Giovanni had made it through his second surgery, and would not need another. But he wasn’t in the clear. He had low blood pressure and unstable vitals. It was to be expected after the internal bleeding and loss of needed oxygen to his organs. The men that worked for him came to the hospital and donated blood. Transfusions were complicated now that the AIDS epidemic had spread to Italy. She was concerned over everything, and so were his doctors. Risk came in many forms, from the infections he suffered to the failure of his kidneys. The amount of time his brain was deprived of oxygen when his heart stopped beating, was still unknown. No one could give her any guarantees on who the man she loved would be after this ordeal.
Twice she had been told to prepare for the worst. He’d been given only hours to live. And through it all he remained the force of strength and defiance in their life. He would not let this beat him. She felt his triumph in her heart.
Mirabella walked over to him. The bed was raised so that he sat upright due to his back surgeries. She fixed his sheets. The swelling in his face, neck, and torso had eased a bit, but not by much. He looked a little more like her husband now. Except for the tube attached to his mouth and nose. She picked up his hand and kissed his swollen knuckles.
“Sei la mia vita — You are my life,” she said. Something she often said to him without much thought. That wasn't the case now. At this moment, she spoke directly from her heart. The machine next to the bed that beeped as it tracked the rhythm of his heartbeat was the only response she received. After three days of horror and sorrow she learned to pretend that was enough.
“How we doing today, sweetheart? Better than yesterday, huh?” she asked. “Your daughter has been asking about you. I told her we were going to have a big party when we bring daddy home. She drew you pictures.” Mirabella glanced over to the two pictures she taped to the wall next to his bed. One of them was a red heart with flowers. The other picture was of Daddy drawn with muscles, holding Eve's hand. “I think you need to get over your dislike of clowns, Gio. Let the kids have one this time. Balloons, clowns, music, lots of games and exciting things. It’s a special occasion when you come home, right?” Mirabella’s smile faded. “Your bambini need you. I need you.”
She leaned in and kissed his brow. The moment her lips lifted from his face there was movement under his closed lids. Every now and then she’d notice the flutter of response if she touched him or spoke of her love for him in his ear. The doctors said it meant nothing. It was involuntary. Mirabella believed differently. Gio was fighting to get control of his body and return to her.
It was early. Mirabella picked up the remote and turned on the television. She returned to her chair and surfed channels until she found the local news. The Carabinieri appeared with a little boy. The press was swarming around them. She cranked up the volume.
...Eight year old Elijah Baldamenti will soon be reunited with his family in Bologna. The Polizia di Stato report that the child was abandoned at the station two days ago by an anonymous woman who left without leaving her name. It is feared that the body of a man found pulled out of the waters at Port of Marina Grande is that of his missing father Alek Baldamenti. The dead man had been shot and tortured before being dumped in the sea.
The screen flashed to a man covered by a sheet being wheeled into an ambulance at night while tourists and locals looked on.
The Carabinieri is now involved, said the reporter. This looks to be the work of organized crime. It has also been confirmed that the explosion in Molo Beverllo alongside the Stazione Maritima was done by Mateo Benicia, a member of the Camorristi. Millions of dollars worth of heroine was found at the scene, most burning in the explosion. Mateo Benicia, is the brother of clan boss Antonio Benicia. He is suspected of going on a killing spree, murdering his brother and many of his men whose bodies were recovered in the explosion. The motive has yet to be determined.
And the horror continued.
A woman’s body has been recovered in Napoli. Her head, hands, and feet were removed. The polizia are unable to make an identification. A witness claims several men who arrived in dark vans were seen in the area before the body was discovered.
Mirabella switched off the television. She looked over to her husband and then back to the television again. He continued to breathe through his oxygen tube, non-responsive. Giovanni couldn't be responsible for any of it. Could he?
The door to the room opened and Dominic walked in. He wore a dark grey suit and white collared shirt. His curly black hair glistened as if still wet from his morning shower. But then she noticed his shoulders were soaked, and she glanced behind her to the window. Was it raining? Rain drops pattered persistently against the window pane. A storm brewed outside and she’d barely noticed from the pre-dawn darkness cloaking outside of the window.
“How is he?” Dominic asked as he approached Giovanni’s bed.
“I dunno. They said that he’s stable. But they aren’t sure he can recover from this. They talk about brain damage possibly being the worst of it. I think it’s a miracle his spine wasn’t hit. And inside of him, well inside he’s a mess. Tell the men I said thank you for the blood donations. It helped.”
“I gave blood, too. We are the same type. I’ve informed the hospital to use mine. I’d rather they use mine. The boss doesn't need anyone to think he owes them a debt.”
Mirabella nodded. “He’s strong, but weak. Strange to see him this way.” She touched his hand. “The doctor told me last night about his liver or kidney. I can’t remember which. My mind can’t hold on to all the details, Domi. It’s like I’m in this wind tunnel and I keep spinning and spinning.”
“It’s called exhaustion. You need rest. Sleep. A shower.”
“Oh gee thanks,” she gave a weak smile. “I smell bad now?”
“You know what I mean,” he stepped to her side. She cut Dominic a sideways glance. Mirabella’s nose wrinkled. She didn’t doubt her need for a shower, but it was Dominic who smelled bad. The pungent stench of booze perfumed off of his skin and breath.
“I can’t go home. Have Cecilia and Rosetta pack another bag for me. I think the hospital will give me a room now. I won’t sleep in that chair any longer. My back and neck are killing me.”
“Rosetta is still missing,” Dominic blurted.
“Missing? What does that mean?” Mirabella asked. “How does a grown woman in this family go missing?"
“No one has seen her since Giovanni was shot. We continue to search...”
“Oh, good Lord...”
“Zia Josefina is worried.”
“Well she should be!”
“And Vito? Tell me he’s getting better?”
“He called me from his hospital bed in Rome when they told him Gio was shot. He isn’t taking that news well. So no, he’s not getting better. This might push him over the edge. This can’t...”
“Slow down...”
“This can't happen now we aren’t strong enough without Giovanni. The family has taken too many hits.” Dominic rubbed his brow. “And Catalina... we haven’t found her yet.”
“I said slow down. What the hell is going on with you? We aren’t strong enough? Since when? All you men do in this family is try to prove how invincible you are.”
Dominic pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. What he really meant to say was he wasn’t strong enough. She wouldn’t let him get away with self-pity or quitting. She needed him too much. Mirabella sighed. “Did you call and check Catalina’s credit card? See if she bought a plane ticket? Left the country? Maybe she went back to Paris and Rosetta went with her?”
Dominic frowned at the suggestion. Of course, the girls were at war now. They wouldn’t sit in the same room let alone travel to Paris together. However, they were family, and family always stood by each other. It was possible that Catalina and Rosetta finally realized this. It was possible that her idea to force the relationship between them had healed them in some way. Anything was possible, she hoped.
“I’ve been on the phone for hours. I’ve called everyone. No, she hasn’t bought a plane ticket. I think she’s close, trying to clear her head, I guess we both are.”
“What happened between you and Catalina? I don’t understand how any of this got so far out of control.”
“Neither do I. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad. What is the first rule of this family? The rule drilled into my head before Giovanni and I could even marry? Even before I converted to Catholicism. Do you even remember?”