La Sposa Page 3

  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.

  The door opened.

  Dominic carried in a tray of cheese and fresh thinly sliced prosciutto. There were cubes of leftover baguettes and a small decanter of olive oil. Catalina sat up, with her hands at her sides. She didn’t bother to cover her nudity. Her large breasts with extended nipples rose and fell with each excited breath, and she shook them at her lover teasingly. Dominic noticed and chuckled. Her stomach muscles clenched at the sight of the food. They’d been making love and cuddling for over five hours straight and she was famished.

  “Yum!” she said when he placed the tray across her lap. Dominic plopped down causing the decanter to tip over.

  “Domi!” Catalina squealed with laughter.

  He grabbed a cube of bread, swiped it in the oil spill and tossed it into his mouth. He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but grin back. Happiness, and more times like this was what her heart needed. “What took you so long?” she asked as she poured the olive oil over the cheese and sprinkled a tad bit of salt on the mozzarella, the way he preferred it. She’d feed him from her fork.

  “Phone call.”

  “Oh? Yea, I heard the phone. Is it good news?”

  Dominic chewed, not bothering to answer. That was how these men were. You could never ask them a direct question and expect a direct answer. Catalina stuffed her mouth, deciding to abandon the subject altogether. They had taken down several bites before the conversation resumed. “It was Lo. Giovanni is back.”

  Catalina’s breath seized in her lungs. She blinked up at him and her hand froze half way to his mouth. He leaned in and ate from her fork and then he winked.

  “Do-ah-does he know I’m here?” Catalina stammered.

  “He knows.”

  “Does he know that Mira approved? She said you didn’t have to leave for America. That I could bring some things over and…”

  “Catalina, it’s okay. Giovanni knows. Nothing goes on without his consent. Tutto a posto.”

  Relieved, she released the breath she held. Catalina pressed her lips together, afraid to ask the next question. Dominic didn’t seem worried, but her appetite had soured. “Can you tell me what Lo wanted? Was it about us, I meant to say?”

  Dominic fell back on the mattress and put his hands behind his head. “Giovanni is ready to see us. Not punish us. He wants to talk about the future. I think he’s going to make me consigliere again. After we get the blessing to marry.”

  “Really! Marry?” Catalina exclaimed.

  Dominic nodded. “He had to conduct business without me the past few days with the Ndrangheta. I know I was missed. Lorenzo and Carlo are too bullheaded to be of use, and Santo is out of practice. Plus there is the wedding to Mira. He’ll want to go on holiday with her, and he insists on taking little Evie with them. I’ve arranged for Cecilia to be her caregiver. There are so many things he’ll need managed while he is with his new famiglia. Lo said he would return to Milan to handle our affairs in the north.” Dominic’s gaze cut over to her. “This is it, Cara. This is the new beginning. We’re going to have it all.”

  Catalina picked up the tray and sat it over to the side of the bed, and then went to him. He laid horizontal across the king size mattress, so she straddled him. Immediately his hands cupped her breasts with his thumbs, playfully flicking at her nipples.

  “You’re going to be a very powerful man, Domi. Consigliere is as importante as the Don himself. We’ll buy a villa bigger than this one. And we’ll make babies, lots and lots of bambinos. We’ll have it all. And there’s something else. Mira is always whispering to me about what if the family goes legitimate. What if Giovanni steps down and gives the family to you,” Catalina lied. But with her close influence with Mira, she could plant the seed, and possibly, her brother could retire. Then Dominic could be Don!

  Dominic roared with laughter. Catalina frowned and hit his chest playfully. “It could happen.”

  “Not in a million fucking years would it happen. I don’t want to be the boss. I want to work with Giovanni, be worthy of being his confidant. That’s who I will be. The next leader of this family will be the son Mira carries for him. That is the order of things and you know it.”

  Catalina nodded, having to accept the fact that her children will never have the honor Mira’s babies would.

  “Listen to me,” Dominic said, reaching to touch her cheek softly. “We only need each other, Catalina, not power. Giovanni loves us. He has forgiven us. Let’s focus on the new year.”

  “Of course, amore mio.”

  “You’re so sexy,” Dominic said. He pinched her nipple and Catalina shook her breasts at him once more. His eyes lowered to the brush of her now wet sex against his pelvis. Catalina tingled in her clit and she felt the ache of wanting every inch of him buried deep. She licked her lips, and with a slow and easy glide, pumped her hips back and forth.

  “Mmm,” a deep groan rumbled in his chest. With her hands braced, she could feel the race of his heartbeat.

  “Sono bagnata per te. I’m wet for you, Domi,” Catalina said with a voice hoarse with desire.

  “Succhiami, and let me suck you,” he smiled, his eyes opening upon the last part of his request and narrowing on her intent on fulfilling his promise. The deep authoritative command in his voice nearly made her climax. Catalina had to catch her breath. She shuddered so hard with anticipation before she obeyed the request. She leaned in and dipped her tongue into his mouth. Dominic received her kiss in his usual fashion, hungry, demanding, and she gave him what he sought. Catalina grabbed him by the throat and forced her way out of the kiss. She smiled down at him, and reached between them to wrap her hand around his shaft. Dominic arched a brow at the slow tug she gave to his cock. “You know what I want,” he said.

  “I do.”

  She rose and plucked her nipples. He patted her thigh for her to get on with it. Catalina turned with her hands and knees so s
he could put her sex in his face while his erection stood up in salute out of a nest of dark wavy pubic hair. Dominic’s hands were warm and strong as they both slid up her thighs and drew her further back so she could sit on his face. He played with her first. His tongue stroked her labia then teased her clit before dipping inside her hole.

  “Dio mio!” she exclaimed. Her mind nearly slipped into madness with the rush of pleasure thrusting up her channel. Catalina rolled her tongue over the top part of her lip and moved her ass in a circular fashion, absorbing all he gave her. It was her job to give as well as receive. She parted her lips to welcome his large cockhead into her mouth with his tongue. And her baby was long and thick. His veined shaft slid over her tongue, and she exhaled noisily out of her flared nostrils, trying to relax herself to take him all the way to the back of her throat. Catalina held him with her fist and her head bobbed as she sucked him off the way he preferred, hard and slow with no teeth. This was no easy feat. Her pussy convulsed with his thrusting tongue and her clitoris felt like a lightning rod of pleasure as it brushed over the prickly hairs of his unshaven chin. Dominic released the familiar grunts and she increased the suction and bobbing on his dick. She would suck and fuck him all night.

  This is what love felt like. Second chances.

  *****

  Mira heard the shower as soon as she entered the room. She placed the baby monitor on the nightstand and checked on Eve first. Their daughter slept peacefully. Mira pressed her hand to her daughter’s little chest and felt no congestion with her breathing. Maybe the worst of it had passed. God knows Zia had used every home remedy from an herbal mixture with Eve’s oatmeal, to cutting a large white onion and placing it in Eve’s crib to absorb the fever and cold. In such a short time, Eve and she had both become very dependent on Zia’s mothering. Mira had faith in the homecare, but if Eve didn’t improve she’d be taking her to the doctor.

  She left Eve’s room. When she opened the door to their bathroom, a cloud of moist steamy air blew over her. He had to be showering in boiling water for the bathroom air to be so dense. Mira closed the door behind her and leaned against it. For several long moments she stared at his form beyond the shower glass. The suds rinsing down his broad back and smoothing the fine hairs along his Adonis-like thighs made her heart beat a bit faster. She shed her robe and removed her nightgown. Before she stepped forward, the shower door opened, and his hand extended for her to join him. Mira accepted his invitation and entered.