La Sposa (15 page)

Rosetta chewed on her bottom lip. “
Va
bene.
I will do it.”

Chapter Four

Festeggiamo
– Celebration!

Only one person in all of Italy supported her
cause. And even she rationed her understanding. The truth of
Marietta’s family secrets remained beyond her reach. When pressed
too hard about the history of her mother and father, Gemma Deluca
shut down all communication. Today, she hoped it would be
different.

“
Buona sera
,” Marietta said,
smiling from ear to ear.

The old man looked up from the counter with a
sunbaked face cracked with wrinkles and a balding head with
thinning grey hair. His smile stretched from ear to ear.

“
Benvenuta!
” he
replied.

He came from around the counter with his arms
open for her. He was barely five foot tall. Marietta leaned in so
he could kiss her on both cheeks and she could do the same as they
embraced. His name was Benito. He was Gemma’s father and many
whispered that his age was close to ninety, but he looked no older
than seventy. Marietta shrugged off her coat and he helped her with
fingers crooked from arthritis. The pastry and candy store didn’t
open for another hour. The place was empty, a perfect time for a
visit.

“
Is she here?”

“
In the back. Does she expect you
today?”

Marietta winked. Gemma insisted that she not
visit her store during the day. She didn’t need the trouble if the
Capriccios ever learned they were meeting. But today was an
emergency. With her purse pushed up on her shoulder, Marietta
walked around the counter and through the swinging double doors,
bracing for a tense welcome. She found Gemma covering tarts with
lemon yellow frosting. The woman with cinnamon brownish-red hair
and sparkling hazel brown eyes, glanced up from her work. Her gaze
froze on Marietta.

“
Don’t be upset. I won’t stay long.
I just have to talk to you.”

“
I told you not to come here. The
Capriccios don’t know that I’ve been helping you. What if someone
sees you?”

“
No one did. The store isn’t open.
Please, Gemma. Just a few more questions.”

Gemma swiped her hand in an absentminded
gesture across her brow. She was the same age as Mira’s adoptive
mother Teresa. But Gemma had discovered the fountain of youth. Many
in Chicago called her Sophia because she looked like Sophia Lauren.
In her mid-fifties, she had a trim hourglass figure and polished
tanned skin with naturally curly brown hair she often straightened
and wore pinned from her nape. Gemma threw up her hands and began
to shake her fist at the ceiling. Marietta smiled. She remembered
Gemma’s temper when she was a child. The woman had spirit, and was
always extra nurturing of her when she visited them in Chicago.
Months ago, when she discovered the truth of her identity after her
original birth certificate was delivered to her home, she called
Gemma who confirmed her adoption and gave her a name. Caruso
Capriccio. Nothing had been the same since.

Gemma wiped her hand on her apron. “What is it
now?”

“
A man. I met him today. His name
is Lorenzo Battaglia.”

In a flash, the playful smile faded from
Gemma’s lips. She went pale. So sudden was her reaction, Marietta
hurried over and caught her by the arm to make sure she remained
steady on her feet. And thankfully she did. She had to help Gemma
take a seat. “Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

“
Where… where did you meet
him?”

“
He caught me breaking into Silvio
Negali’s office. We only exchanged a few words.”

“
Basta!
Listen to me,
Marietta. This ends now. The Battaglias are people you don’t want
to mess with. Do you understand me? Stay far away from Lorenzo
Battaglia.”

“
Wow. That bad? He was kind of
smooth.”

The old woman scoffed. “Smooth? Are you thick
in the head, girl? He belongs to the
Camorra
. Two years and
they have murdered and slaughtered innocent people because of the
Calderone war. His family is the most powerful in the Campania. His
cousin is what some now call
Capo di tutti Capi
.”

“
The boss of all bosses?” Marietta
translated.

Gemma nodded. “The evilest of all mafia bosses
to whom all others defer. He proved himself worthy of this title
when he slaughtered everyone under the name Calderone. And do you
know why he did this?”

Marietta was riveted. She shook her head
no.

Gemma sighed. “Some say because he’s a
half-breed, only part Sicilian, the other half pure devil. And
others think it was a smart power move to take over the triangle
which makes up Milan, Turin, and Genoa. Extend the
Camorra
north. But the ones that know better, say it’s because of that
famous black American woman he’s kidnapped. He keeps her locked up
in Sorrento. And I hear she had a baby for him too. He’s a
psychopath, and next to Lorenzo, a choirboy. Do you
understand?”

“
I guess.”

“
Don’t guess girl!” Gemma shouted.
“These men have caused so much pain and havoc on friends of mine.
Lorenzo is trouble. And so is that bastard Don he
serves.”

“
Bastard like me,” Marietta said
through her teeth, not taking kindly to the reference of
‘half-breed’. She’d been called that all her life.

“
Not like you. You,
Cara,
are the best of two flawed people. He is a demon. And the men that
follow him are the personification of evil. I can’t explain it any
clearer than that. Say you understand!”

“
No. I don’t understand. I don’t
understand who my mother was, how my adoptive parents could feed me
bullshit for years, that Octavio was my real father when he
wasn’t.” Marietta said. “I don’t understand why nothing scares you,
but the mention of Lorenzo Battaglia makes you pale with fear.
Lorenzo said he has business with David. He said the name, Giuseppe
Calderone.”

“
Wait! Lorenzo would never discuss
this with you. No one mentions the name Calderone in front of the
Battaglias. Where did you get this information? I want the truth!”
Gemma narrowed her eyes on Marietta.

“
I overheard it.”

Gemma closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m
calling your father.”

“
Octavio Leone is not my father!”
Marietta shouted. “Caruso Capriccio is. Don’t you dare call
him!”

“
You are in over your head. Go
home. Leave here.”

“
I can’t. It’s not about the money.
You know what I endured with the Leones. How they treated me. My
life has been full of holes for too long. I belong anywhere but
there.”

“
Caruso is dead. His family owes
you nothing, silly girl. The Capriccios didn’t even know you
existed. Caruso was as secretive as he was cruel. I of all people
should know. You think Octavio was bad, you have no idea. You are
blessed to be raised outside of his reach. Now that Lorenzo
Battaglia has returned, I am warning you to drop whatever you’re
thinking. Before it can get much worse. Go home. Forget about all
of this, Marietta. Marry a nice man and have babies. Move on with
your life.”

Marietta wiped at her tears. She fingered the
tiny gold nameplate she wore as a necklace. “No. I’m not done. Not
yet. David, my sisters and brothers, will acknowledge me. It’s all
I want. They can have the money if I can have my identity. It’s not
just about Caruso. I have a mother out there; a real mother and I
want to find her. David and that family might know something. I
need this.”

“
Marietta!”

She didn’t look back. She stormed out. If
Gemma wouldn’t help her, then she’d do it on her own. And Lorenzo
Battaglia may be the way to get what she needed out of David. She
snatched her coat and walked out the door.

As soon as Marietta was gone, Gemma dashed to
her phone. She dialed quickly with shaky fingers. When the woman on
the other line answered, she closed her eyes and spoke softly.
“It’s out of hand. She is asking about the Battaglias. What? No. I
didn’t send her to them. She said she met Lorenzo. What do you want
me to do? It’s dangerous. I made a promise to her dead mother, I
can’t see her hurt. Yes. Yes. I understand. I pray you know what
you are doing. Fine. I’ll wait for your call.”

Gemma hung up. She remembered the tearful plea
Marietta’s mother made the night she helped her escape with just
one baby. Now they had come to this day. And she prayed the road
she’d put Marietta on, didn’t send her to the same hell her mother
wanted to save her from.

Lorenzo sat in a plastic green chair outside
of a
rosticceria
, a sit down shop that specialized in
roasted meats. The traffic was light. The frosty day had thawed
under the afternoon sun. Shop owners closed their doors for lunch
and most left to eat at home or take a rest with their families.
They were slowly opening up for business again. He fired up his
half - smoked cigar with his gaze fixed on
Gemma Dolce’s
. He
hadn’t tasted the sweets out of Gemma’s ovens in quite some time.
For her age, she remained a strikingly beautiful and passionate
woman. He’d fucked her a few times in the past. In fact, Gemma had
spent time in the bed of most of the notorious men in the Mafioso,
Camorra
, and
Ndrangheta
, old and young.

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
!”