Giovanni and Rocco both looked over at him curiously. Armando addressed Rocco. “My father wasn’t a generous man. And he was distracted with his affairs in America. I don’t understand why he would set up one of his men to take the fall for your sister.”
Rocco’s lips pressed together in a thin line. Giovanni’s gaze then turned to his uncle. “The timeline. She’s in her forties. That meant it wasn’t Marsuvio who did this, who stepped in, it was his father, Don Peppino Mancini. Your grandfather.”
“The why isn’t important!” Rocco snapped. “The Mancinis stepped in and Marsuvio took her in as a daughter.”
“What did you say? It’s not important? My fucking wife is missing. That
puttana
has been planning this for years, and you want to tell me what is important?”
Rocco rubbed his brow. “What I mean, Gio, is some things happened in the past that don’t concern any of this. And they should stay in the past. I told Flavio and he must have contacted Isabella. You have what you need. Let the rest of it stay buried.”
“Get out, old man. Return to Chianti. In fact, don’t let me see your face unless I request the meeting.”
“Gio, I swear to you. There is nothing more I’m keeping from you. Nothing of importance.
Per favore
. I want to help.”
“The fact that you think you know what is important makes you useless to me,” Giovanni said. “This is the second time you have kept secrets from me. I want you out of my sight.”
Rocco was stripped of his pride in front of Don Mancini, and Giovanni knew it hurt. His uncle looked away with shame. He used the cane to prop himself up and left. Armando observed and said nothing. There was more to the story of Isabella, and the Mancinis. However, Giovanni had no time to waste on that. He had what he needed.
“Will you bring in Nicosia?” Giovanni asked Armando.
“Before I do, I need your word that you will accept my help. I’m not here to be your errand boy. Mirabella is my sister. I want to be brought in to help find her.”
“You had this information. A woman out there trying to kill my wife, your sister, and you didn’t bother to warn me. I’m to believe that now you give a fuck?”
Armando smiled. “My feelings have changed toward my sisters. I only want to protect them now.”
“Or the inheritance that is divided and lost if anything happens to them motivates you,” Giovanni scoffed.
Armando chuckled. “Well, we all have our motives. Don’t we?” he raised his glass to Giovanni and then swallowed the Scotch.
Giovanni dropped back. “Then let’s deal in fact and not false sentiment. Shall we? I will make the deal to sweeten your motivation. Mirabella comes home to me and she will hand over her inheritance to you for a fair price.”
“What of Marietta’s?” Armando asked.
“Not mine to give,” Giovanni said.
“Bullshit!” Armando said.
“You and Lorenzo will come to terms. I suggest you help me free him so you can,” Giovanni said.
Armando shook his head smiling. “Should I get this in writing?” he asked.
“My word is enough,” Giovanni said.
Armando nodded. He stood, turned and walked out. Giovanni pushed up from his seat and went to the phone. He dialed his attorney who answered on the first ring.
“Gio, you were right. Flavio willed over twenty million to Isabella Ricci. She has a home in Rome, two in Sicily, a business, and an old monastery in Lipari. I’m trying to access more information on her expenses. I haven’t gotten them yet.”
“I already know where’s she’s been. Find out where she is.”
“Gio, there’s something else. You met him, Inspector Donatello. He’s going to the courts to get a warrant to do a search and seizure of Melanzana.”
“Let him try. The courts would not—”
“They might, Gio. There is a lot of demand for justice on this. I am fighting it. Because of the death of the boxers, most of our friends are refusing to get involved. I need Dominic. He has the relationships. I’m trying to get him released.”
“Try harder. If the
polizia
come in through my gates I’ll stop them before they reach the door,” Giovanni said.
“You should consider moving the kids. The family. Somewhere safe.”
“Try harder!” Giovanni slammed the phone down. No fucking way he’d suffer the humiliation of a raid in his own fucking home. He would find his wife and then hunt down every enemy for daring to cross him.
**
Mirabella was given clothes, and when she checked the labels they were from her own line. He’d been withholding them to keep her in a state of undress. During their relationship Kei used to love to dress her. She thought it cute at first, like a competition for style. And then it became more controlling. As if he had to have a say in everything she did, including the way she dressed. At times in her marriage to Giovanni she considered him controlling. Now trapped with Kei on a remote island she had clarity. Giovanni was ruled by his fears, and his fears were now her reality. Her sweet husband wasn’t controlling. He was aware. He knew what dangers they faced, and she was foolish enough to not believe.
Why hadn’t she kept her gun on her?
She dressed in the purple strapless dress and slipped on the heels he left. She did her makeup as he requested. She even took time to make sure her hair was styled how he liked it. She didn’t know if tonight was the night his brother gave her freedom. But she had to make sure Kei didn’t suspect.
Kei slipped the disc into the CD player and pressed play. When he turned he was unprepared. Mirabella came down the stairs in the dress she’d chosen for him. Her hair covered the bruises over her brow, and the dress flattered her figure.
She looked at him and smiled. He applauded. She did a curtsy for him after coming off the bottom step.
He greeted her with a glass of wine. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. It’s a perfect fit,” she said.
“I kept all your things. I have some of little rabbit’s things too. Remember her favorite blanket? The yellow one with the bumblebee.”
“I remember it,” she replied.
“I kept it. Do you remember how she would cry if it wasn’t in her hand when she went to sleep?” Kei sipped his wine and took her hand. “I have a photo. Lost it after my arrest. It’s when she took her first steps. You took the photo. She walked to me.”
“Kei, that’s not true. You’re twisting things to fit some warped fantasy. What happened to you? It’s like you’ve changed our past to justify your rage. I’m sorry I hurt you, but…”
“I’m not psychotic, or delusional.” He stopped in front of the table and pulled her chair out. She sat. “I’m not crazy. I love the kid. The same way you do.”
Mirabella looked at him curiously. He knew she struggled with trusting him, but tonight he planned to convince her of his devotion, at any cost.
He sat down in his chair and set his glass of wine on the table. “What did I want when we were together, Mira?”
“Must we do this again?” she asked.
“Its not a game. It’s a question. What did I want?”
“Marriage,” she answered.
“And children,” he reminded her. “I wanted you and a family.”
“That was years ago. What do you want me to say? I was always honest. I fell in love with Giovanni—”
“You fell in love with me first!” he shouted her down.
She looked away. Unintentionally he ruined the mood. The CD switched to a different song and the timing was perfect. Mirabella’s brows lifted. He smiled. “Hear that? Do you hear that? Does Giovanni know that’s your favorite song?”
“Curtis Mayfield,” she said in surprise.
“It’s your favorite. Right?” he asked.
“Not really it was a song that—”
“You used to play it at night when you worked late. Every time I hear it I see you in your design studio cutting and sewing fabric.”
“Do you know why I played that song? Why it was important to me?” she asked with a sad smile.
“You never told me,” Kei said. “I don’t think I ever asked.”
“It’s a gospel song. Not sure if you realized that,” she said. “People get ready, there’s a train coming…” she choked on emotion and lowered her gaze. “My grandfather, it was his favorite song. He’d play it on his record player and smoke his pipe. My granny would be sewing, cooking, or helping me with my homework. It was a song to comfort me. To remind me of who I was and where I came from,” Mirabella smiled faintly and then looked away from his gaze. Kei left his chair. He went to her and extended his hand. She accepted it. He pulled her into his arms and held her close. She let him hold her. He listened to the lyrics. He never thought of the meaning behind the words. When he played it he only saw her. He remembered the nights he’d sit in her design studio and work while she sketched, cut, and sewed garments. She lifted her head from his shoulder. She looked into his eyes. “Let me go,” she said to him again softly.
He kissed her. She tried to escape his kiss but he insisted. He kissed her deeply, and then kissed her neck as held tighter to her. He enjoyed how soft she felt with her body pressed to his.
“Kei?” his brother spoke.
He let her go. Mirabella stepped back and wiped her mouth.
“What is it?” Kei shouted.
“Uncle Dao. He insists on speaking with you. Now.”
“He’s on the phone?” Kei frowned.
Bao Zei nodded his head.
Kei looked to Mirabella. “I won’t be long,” he grunted.
She couldn’t take much more of his touches and kisses. Her skin was crawling, her stomach twisted into a pretzel knot, and her face was frozen in pain from her fake smiles. She needed to get away from him. Bao Zei glanced back at her. When their eyes met he nodded his head in the direction behind her. She looked back and saw the door.
“Kei!” she said, a little too abruptly.
He stopped.
“I’ll just go to the bathroom,” she said.
He shrugged and left. What did he care about her stepping away? Kei believed she was completely trapped and blocked from escape. Mirabella backed toward the door and as soon as Kei turned the corner she ran for it. She opened the door and it led to a kitchen. She paused. She looked around. Was she sure he nodded toward this door? She put her hand to her forehead in panic. “Damn it! Damn it!”
She walked through the kitchen and saw the pantry door. She almost turned away from it. A draft blew it a few inches inward. She opened the door and discovered the pantry had yet another door. It was wide open. She didn’t hesitate a moment longer. Once she was out the side door she took off her shoes. She ran for the forest. She didn’t stop to think of direction. She didn’t stop to think of the men she knew patrolled. He said to run to the beach and she’d have rescue. So she ran.
Chicago, America –
Shae laughed and sipped her drink. Sondra continued on with latest drama between her and her husband Chuck. Shae listened. Her gaze however switched to Tanisha. One of her best girls was on stage with three newbies, teaching them the latest dance moves. They had only three days for rehearsals before they were needed in L.A. for a video shoot. Her girls would be filmed as the background dancers to one of the top selling rap artists in the nation at a plush mansion. The gig promised to pay her close to a hundred and fifty grand. It could open doors with the record label to sign on for more of their artists.
“So? Are you and Chuck going to work it out?” she asked Sondra.
“Nah, I’m done with his lying ass. I just wanted to make sure he had something to remember me by,” Tanisha said. She speared an olive at the bottom of her martini glass with her drink pick and plopped it into her mouth.
“Okay girl. Give it up,” Tanisha said. She leaned forward on the table.
“Give what up?”
“You! Girl you were in Italy! With Mae! How was it? You haven’t told us shit about those fancy parties and that big fashion show you went to,” Tanisha smacked on her gum. “I am dying to know.”
Shae shrugged. “It was fine. Nothing to tell.”
“Bullshit!” Tanisha scoffed. “You ain’t neva quiet. Did something happen?”
Before Shae could answer Tony, the owner of the club that her girls worked for at times approached. “Shae, yo baby, you got a call in my office.”
“Thanks, Tony!” Shae smiled. She stood. Tanisha grabbed her arm.
“When you come back I want to know what is up! Shit! At least tell me you got to hang out with that fancy rich sister of Mae’s.”
Shae chuckled. She shook her head and walked to the back of the club. The music the girls rehearsed to finally muted when she closed Tony’s office door. She sat behind the desk and found the phone waiting for her on the messy stack of litter that Tony kept covering it.
“This is Shae.”
“Shae? It’s me. Marietta!”
“Mae? Hi? What’s up?” Shae asked.
“Have you been watching the news? Did you hear?” Marietta asked.
When Shae returned home she dove right back into work. She was burning the candle at both ends to keep from thinking of Carlo. “I’ve been really busy. Is something wrong?”