“I hear you and Domi have set a date?” Marietta asked.
“
Sí,
we have. It was time,” she replied.
“I thought you wanted to wait another year, stay in Milano with Kyra and Jamie. Build up our offices in Paris—”
“It’s time.” Catalina cut her off. “No need to discuss it further.”
“Then let’s change the subject,” Marietta said. She put her face in her hands. “I’m worried, Catalina.”
“About what?”
“It’s hard to explain.” Marietta lifted her face from her hands. “I’m just concerned. When things are at their very best for me, somehow I manage to screw it up. I’ve already started to screw it up.” She wished she could say more to clarify but the words were lodged in her throat. Catalina sat forward. She stared at Marietta with concern.
“I know it’s hard to trust the good when you have had so much bad. I know it’s easy to be tempted to test everything for proof of love. Trust me. Sometimes love is just enough. There is no dark cloud looming. This is our family being happy now. Enjoy it,” Catalina said.
“I know. I know. You’re right. Lorenzo and I are trying for a baby,” Marietta smiled.
“I can’t wait to see you as a mother,” Catalina chuckled.
Marietta had to laugh at the thought. “You sure about marrying Domi? Now?”
“Am I sure?” Catalina tilted her head so her dark locks cascaded past her shoulder. She was so young and beautiful. Sometimes Marietta saw that beauty and was taken aback by it. Catalina let go a girlish giggle and closed her eyes as if she were wrapped up in Dominic’s arms. “Of course I am. I have wanted to marry him since I was eleven years old.” She opened her eyes and looked at Marietta. “It’s time. I just wished my mother were alive to be part of my wedding. My real wedding. The one that lasts forever.”
“Do you think your mother would approve?” Marietta asked.
“I don’t know. I miss her. I miss her everyday.” Catalina sat upright. Her eyes were bright with excitement. “I know she would approve of you! And she would love Mirabella for Gio. My mother had no prejudices. Not like the rest of us. She suffered so much scorn in her younger days, she could never be mean to anyone. And she always loved the good in people.”
“She sounds like a sweetheart.” Marietta smiled.
“Your turn. Do you think your mother would approve of Lorenzo?” Catalina asked.
“All I know about my mother is her pain and her murder. I would like to think that she’s happy for me. I don’t know what it would even be like to understand her.”
Catalina stood. She stretched. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”
“In a minute.” Marietta smiled. “Go on. I have a big brunch planned for us before we head home. Sleep in.”
“I intend to,” Catalina winked. She started to walk off and stopped. Marietta could sense her staring at her. When she looked over she saw concern on her face. “Did you know that Armando was going to gift you and Mira that portrait? Is that why you’re worried?”
Before Marietta could answer Catalina continued. “Don’t be. I was thinking about it tonight. Maybe I was wrong and you were right. Armando is your family too. Gio and Lo will have to accept it. Mira will have to accept it. Maybe together we help to make sure they do.” Catalina looked at the covered portrait. “I think the gift was sweet. A nice gesture.”
“Sweet?” Marietta frowned. “It’s creepy how he did this. The damn thing looks like we actually posed for the portrait.”
“But you said you loved it,” she said.
“I only said that to avoid the awkwardness. To be a gracious hostess. The more I look at it I have to ask myself if Armando truly did this from his heart or for some other reason.”
“Coming from a man like Armando Mancini, trust me, he doesn’t have a gentler side,” Catalina turned and left the room. Marietta hadn’t thought of the gift. She had been too busy seething with jealousy over Shae and Carlo to be bothered. She stood and went to the corner of the private room. She removed the draped cover from the image.
Marsuvio Mancini stared into her eyes. Marietta stepped back and stared at the portrait. Her father had a cruel unwavering look. Armando had found a way of softening him. Marietta knew who she was because she was depicted as the fairer skinned of the two. She stood to the right of her father on the portrait, with her hand on his shoulder. Mirabella was to the left. She didn’t touch Marsuvio in the portrait but she did smile in that gentle manner that her sister often did.
“Why are you in here?” Lorenzo asked from behind her.
She glanced back. He staggered into the room. He closed the door too abruptly and straightened his back. When Lorenzo did he stood taller than most men. But his bloodshot eyes, and that sly smile tilting the edges of his mouth, revealed plenty. He was drunk.
“What do you think of this?” Marietta asked. She turned her gaze back to the portrait
“I think we should throw it in the trash,” Lorenzo said. “Let’s go to bed. I want to fuck.”
“I’m serious, Lorenzo. I really think it has meaning. How did he get our likeness so well done? It looks like we posed for it. Is this how you remember Mancini? He was a powerful man, larger than life. Wasn’t he?”
“He was an asshole.” Lorenzo said as he stepped behind her. “I believe he’s part Spanish.”
Marietta ignored the comment. Lorenzo was the only one who constantly mocked or commented on who was a legitimate Sicilian. But he never cared to explain to her how he too had blue eyes like his bastard cousin.
“We’re all mixed with something. The point is, he’s my father. And Armando was very generous to give us this. Look! It has the Mancini crest.”
Lorenzo pushed the portrait and it fell over to the side. Then it dropped flat on the ground. Shocked, Marietta whirled on him to shove him in retaliation. But he caught her by the wrist. “I told you, Marie, you can’t trust the fucking Mancinis. Especially Armando. He’s a
figlio di puttana
!”
“You’re jealous, and an ass,” she shouted.
He grabbed her by the hair and pulled so hard her chin was forced up. Marietta grimaced. She closed her eyes when the tip of his tongue traced her neck to the diamond stud in her earlobe.
“You’re drunk!” she said and fought harder. This time she got him off her. He stumbled back. She slapped him. His inebriation reduced his balance and he fell to his hands and knees. “You’re such an asshole!”
Lorenzo laughed. He looked up and grinned at her. Marietta rolled her eyes and started to smile. He managed to stand. He wiped his hand down his face. He put up both his hands in surrender as if she were going to strike him again, and then laughed harder. He went to the portrait that was lying facedown. He stood it upright and placed it back against the wall. And then he dusted it with his hands.
“Welcome to the family, you fucking cocksucker,” he said to Mancini and gave him a salute.
“Let’s go to bed.” She turned for the door but he caught her by the arm and pulled her up against his chest. “You smell so good,
bambina,
and your hair. Yes. Your hair smells good too.”
“Lorenzo, stop pulling on my hair!” she pushed at him again. She tried to turn in his arms to lead him away, but his grip was too strong. She struggled with him as they both went down to their knees. “Jesus! Why must you be such a jackass?”
“Happy birthday, Marie,” he kissed her face and neck as he pinned her beneath him.
“Lorenzo, stop!” She kicked her legs and tried to buck underneath him. She broke free and grabbed his face. “Stop,” she said. “It’s a turn off.”
He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. His focus became the rise and fall of her breasts beneath him. “They’re so pretty. Your tits, Marie, I fucking love them. Will they get bigger when you become pregnant?”
“Shut up!” she said.
“I love them. I love your pussy, sweet, sweet, pussy!”
“Lorenzo, you’re heavy!”
“Your skin, and your thighs. I love your fat ass. I love to fuck you in your ass.”
“Stop it!”
“I’ve fucked a lot of women, Marie.”
She stopped struggling. She lifted her gaze back up to him.
“I haven’t fucked anyone else since I met you. No woman has had everything I wanted. Not even Fabiana. No woman.” He kissed her face. “There is no woman like you, Marie. My dick gets hard when I’m sleep just because you’re next to me. Gio said Mira was different when she was pregnant.”
She laughed. Lorenzo laughed. He dropped his head and laughed. “He said her body felt different. He said he loved her more. It’ll be like that won’t it? And your breasts. I’ll suck on them every night.” He dropped his face between her breasts and started to bite and nibble on them.
“Damn it that hurts, Lo!” she started to fight him off her again. He lifted his head to her screaming.
“Do you love me?” he asked.
“Don’t be stupid.” She shoved at his immovable shoulders. Her heart beat hard, and then harder in her chest. Even though she doubted her ability to protect her love for him, she could never deny it. She kept her expression carefully neutral when she answered.
“Yes, Lo, I love you. With all my heart,” she said.
He looked up at the portrait. His gaze hardened as he stared at the man who was her father. “You cannot trust Armando. I’m the only man you need, Marie. The only man you trust.”
“Only you. Now stop,” she said. “You’re drunk. You stink with liquor breath. Let me take you to bed.”
Lorenzo grinned. He dropped his face to the side of her neck as he clawed at her designer original. He forced himself between her thighs. He was in her. Swift and hard he thrust into her. Marietta held to his sides to try to slow down the invasion. She turned her face away to avoid his sloppy kisses. She locked eyes with her father. He stared at her from the portrait. Was it her imagination or did he smirk?
**
“Ciao?”
she whispered.
“Ciao,”
he answered.
“What are you doing in here?” Mirabella asked. “I thought you had a meeting?”
“I missed them,” Giovanni carried Eve to the bed. He put her on top of the mattress gently. Mirabella adjusted the covers over the kids. The bed was large enough for both her and Giovanni to join them.
“I had a talk with her while I waited for you,” Giovanni said.
“Good,” she eased her arm around his waist.
“Eve loves Captain Hook, but not as much as she loves Papa,” Giovanni smiled.
“Maybe we should stay a few more days. Go out on the lake. You and I both have been distracted,” Mirabella said.
“True,” he kissed her brow. “Unfortunately we need to return home.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why so soon?”
For close to two years the tension in the family had eased. If it returned it only meant one inevitable truth, there was more conflict and danger in his world. “Should I be worried, Giovanni?”
“Never, Bella. Cautious. Always. But as long as I’m alive and by your side, you should never be worried,” he replied.
She lowered her arm from around his waist. She took his hand and squeezed it. “They are so beautiful,” she said.
“Like their mother.” He turned her and she came into his arms. His hand held hers and the other was snug around her waist. They danced to their own music. And she smiled with happiness.
“We’re going to America!” she silently cheered.
“You will show me where you grew up,” he kissed her brow.
“And where my grandfather preached. I’m so excited. I wanted to tell Marietta, but I’ll wait. I plan to call home. There’s an aunt and cousins that I haven’t spoken to in many… many years. They probably have questions since we’ve gone public.”
“I find that curious, Bella,” Giovanni said.
“Why?” she asked.
“You never speak of your family there. Why haven’t you called them to introduce your sister?” he asked. “Do you keep in contact with any of them at all?”
“We’re not that close. Don’t worry, I’ll introduce everyone soon enough. Look at me I’m rambling.”
He kissed her cheek. She squeezed him and felt so much love swell in her heart it made her light on her feet. He spun her in a half circle and they continued to dance.
“I love my life,” she told him. She danced in his arms with her face pressed to his chest.
The Next Day –
“Are you avoiding me?” Carlo asked.
Shae kept walking. She managed to dodge both him and Marietta by returning to her room well before the party ended last night. Brunch was at noon, and so many Battaglias remained, she blended and disappeared in the chaos. Where Marietta had gotten off to she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She hitched her purse higher up her arm and started toward the cars. The Battaglias were on the move. All of them now headed back to Sorrento.
“Shae?” Carlo touched her hand. “Can you look at me?”
The first reaction she had was to turn and shove her fist into his face. Anger hit her like an electric surge. How she managed to resist was a mystery. Instead she glared at him. He looked stricken by the anger he saw on her face. The damn hypocrite. Here she was foolish enough to think he was more than the murdering thug they whispered he was behind his back. He’d made a fool of her.