Destino (3 page)

“Ciao Lorenzo,” Fabiana breathed in her sex kitten voice.

“
Signora Girelli
. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all evening.” Lorenzo’s accent wrapped warmly around his words, and Mira thought her friend would drift up from her seat into his arms. He lifted Fabiana’s hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and then leaned forward to kiss both of her cheeks. His gaze then shifted over to Mira. “And who is this?”

“This is Mira Ellison.” Fabiana extended her hand to her friend with a radiant grin.

“Ah, the renowned designer. There has been much talk of the fashion events in Milan this year, and I’ve heard your name mentioned more than once. Congratulations.”

Mira nodded her thanks.

“May I join you?”

“Of course, you and Francesco invited us.” Fabiana gushed.

What did she mean Francesco invited them?
She glanced to her left and noticed Francesco’s wicked grin.
Dammit, this is a double date. A setup. She should have known better than to trust Fabiana’s girls night out invitation.
She had half a mind to get up and walk out. Before she could question her friend a conversation began at the table in mostly Italian between the three and she felt angrier.

More wine was poured.

Mira took a sip and smiled at the garbage breath man. He ogled her breasts as if they were a pair of pork chop sandwiches. It felt degradingly icky and was the final straw. She’d give it maybe ten minutes, and then she’d announce a headache and make a break for the door. Surely she knew enough Italian to get a taxi back to the hotel.

To her relief a reprieve came. A member of Francesco’s staff approached. He offered apologies with an unsolicited kiss to her cheek and promised to return. All of which he said in Italian. Unfortunately, this Mira understood. Fabiana seized on his departure, and she did so in English. “Lorenzo what’s with your friend? I thought you said he was one of the most sought after bachelors in Napoli?” She slipped Mira an apologetic wink. “He’s not what she expected.”

“Please don’t speak like I’m not at the table.” Mira said. “Besides, I never told you I wanted to double date.”

“I know. But you
need
to double date.”

“Fabiana!”

“Ladies.” Lorenzo chuckled. “Francesco isn’t just the manager here. He’s part owner of
Isabella’s
along with me. Here in Napoli he’s the most sought after bachelor. Women are constantly climbing over each other to gain his affection.”

“Then someone should give him a toothbrush.” Mira mumbled.

Fabiana laughed. The humor drained from Lorenzo’s sly smile and gleamed in his unwavering stare. Mira felt a bit uncomfortable with the depths of the baby blues fixed on her. She sipped her wine and tried to ignore it. The conversation became less strained when Lorenzo asked her about Naples and how she enjoyed his city.

“Unfortunately, we haven’t seen much of it, have we?”

“No.” Mira conceded. Naples was an interesting city. Certain areas reminded her of the slums of certain boroughs in New York, and others were so pretty it had to be plucked right out of her dreams.

Fabiana continued. “I would have preferred to purchase property in Milan to start Mirabella’s Design House. The Republic would not grant it.”

“You mentioned a sponsor?” Lorenzo slipped Fabiana a look. “It’s unfortunate your building was closed, and he couldn’t aid you.”

Fabiana flashed Mira a smile, and she gave one in return. Her girl could always find a way where there was none, now she was stumped. The politics of this country had them caught in the middle and even Fabiana couldn’t undo it. Kei, Mira’s former lover, said he would no longer fund her company and pulled out a large investment. It hurt deeply, both financially and emotionally.

“My family may be able to help. I’ve already discussed it with my cousin.”

Mira cleared her throat, noticing the uncomfortable tension rising over the conversation. Their benefactor wanted to remain anonymous. Fabiana refused to drag him into the matter further. Instead she wanted the help of this man? Why?

“Can I offer a toast?” Mira asked. The two looked up at Mira’s request. After a pause they reached for their glasses. “To Napoli and all the wonderful friendships to come.”

Glasses clinked and the tension eased.

Lorenzo set his glass back on the table. “Where have you been since your arrival in Italy? Have you visited Capri yet?” Lorenzo pressed.

“Mira hasn’t ventured out of our place in the evening since the incident.” Fabiana said.

Lorenzo’s eyes stretched. “Incident?”

“It’s nothing. I’m over it.”

“No, you aren’t.” Fabiana frowned.

“May I ask? What happened?” Lorenzo pressed.

Mira really didn’t want to share her embarrassment, but she saw no way out of the conversation. With a burdened sigh she relented. “We were walking down
via Toledo
in the evening doing some light shopping. There was a scuffle or argument between two people in the street.”

“It started from nowhere,” Fabiana interjected. “Pushing and shoving, loud voices. Kind of startled us both.”

“Yes.” Mira nodded. “And then it happened. A man on a motorbike sped bye and snatched my purse from my arm. So forceful the strap broke.” She snapped her fingers. “In a flash. Gone.”

“It was awful,” Fabiana added. “Scared the hell out of both of us.”

“I lost my passport. The embassy is helping me obtain a new one. Doesn’t matter. I lost something irreplaceable in that purse.”

“
Che
?” Lorenzo asked.

She ignored the ache in her heart and stole a deep breath before she could speak. “It’s personal and it’s gone. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to keep it in my purse.”

“You didn’t lose it. Someone stole it from you.” Lorenzo corrected.

“She’s been on edge since it happened. Damn bastards.” Fabiana grumbled.

“Safety is important ladies. You need to rethink my offer; I can ensure you’ll have the protection you need.” Lorenzo said.

“Excuse me?” Mira lowered her glass. “What kind of protection?”

“You plan to make Napoli, Campania your home? Open a business in the heart of the city, and crime can be an unfortunate consequence. Sometimes it’s best to have allies. Though I can’t guarantee a gypsy won’t go after your purse again.” Lorenzo kept his gaze leveled on her. “I can however, promise he’ll wish he didn’t.”

Mira grappled with understanding what he was suggesting, and her best friend looked incensed. She spoke hurriedly to Lorenzo in a cool exact manner. She did so in Italian. Lorenzo sipped his wine and listened. He didn’t seem fazed or impressed by Fabiana’s short rant. His steely gaze slipped over to Fabiana who held firm in her position. “
Beh...
Have it your way.”

“What’s going on? Stop speaking in Italian to keep me out of the conversation, it’s rude!”

“We’ll talk about it later.” Fabiana waved off her concern.

“No. We’ll talk about it now.” Mira demanded. She returned her focus to Lorenzo. “What are your terms?”

An easy smile crossed Lorenzo’s lips. “Things are done differently here. I’ll let
Signora Girelli
explain.
Mi scusi belle
.” He eased his chair back and rose. Fabiana forced a wan smile before she drank down the contents of her wineglass and reached for the bottle to pour more. Mira shook her head at her friend’s attempt to shield her from the dirty details of their business. Of course, she couldn’t blame her. Both had been stressed since they decided to relocate to Italy.

“What is it now? First the store closes and my designs are locked up in there and now there is more?”

“Mafia.” Fabiana blurted.

Mira sat back. “Huh?”

Fabiana chuckled. “We’re in Italy girl. Don’t be surprised.”

“What the hell does the Mafia have to do with you?” Mira asked concerned.

“Not me. Us. We’ve had a few encounters.”

“We? From who?” she glanced around the empty balcony for Lorenzo. “Did he threaten you? Is he part of the Mafia?”

“Lorenzo? No. Well, I don’t think so. He’s from a very powerful family in Napoli. The Battaglia’s. They’re well respected throughout the southern region. He’s been trying to advise me. I just don’t like his advice. Those terms he’s speaking of involve weekly payments to men you don’t want to know, men in the
Cammora
.”

“Okay I’m afraid to ask. What is the
Cammora
?”

“It’s what the Mafia is called here. Several families make up the Cammora, and they run things inside and out of the Republic. Very corrupt. There’s nothing to worry about. We don’t need that kind of help. Those leeches pray on naïve Americans. Trust me you’re a celebrity, and our being American protects us.”

“You’re leaving something out.” Mira felt like an idiot for not knowing more of this end of her business. “I want to hear about these encounters. Details.”

“Actually you don’t. Besides it’s not a big deal. We have friends on our side, remember the Sicilian investor, our sponsor? Name’s Mancini, he’s a good ally.”

“But you didn’t want to involve him I thought?”

“Our boutique being closed has nothing to do with Cammora, just some red tape that we can cut through with the local authorities. That’s where the Battaglia’s are useful. If I drag Mancini into the matter it will just become more complicated, since he’s not a favorite with these men. That’s the only help we need from Lorenzo’s family and that’s what I told him before he left.”

“I don’t like this.” Mira could feel her skin goose pimple and rubbed her arm against the night breeze. “Feels off to me.”

“We are to refuse all contact with the
Cammora
. We start paying these men their little taxes and before you know it you’ll have investors you don’t want.”

They’d been together since Parsons and were closer than sisters. It was Fabiana who introduced her to Kei, a Chinese Wall Street businessman who would keep her naked and in bed all day in the beginning of their relationship because he couldn’t let her out of his sight. He later became the first investor in Mirabella Couture and secured her a spot at New York Fashion Week. Now they were over. Their love affair had been strangely fulfilling and different compared to the limited love life she’d had in Virginia. She’d never dated outside of her race or been around so many people from different cultures. New York was an explosion of new experiences. Several years later Fabiana was her best friend, and she had found the courage to start a new life in Italy.

“I’m sorry. I’m not accusing you of anything.” Mira softened.

“You’re right. I should have told you. We’ll talk more on it, just not here. I swear. Let’s enjoy the evening. Okay? I really like him, girl.”

“You barely know him.”

Fabiana’s eyes sparkled. “So? Does that matter? Tell me your honest opinion of him so far. And forget the Mafia stuff because he’s nothing more than a businessman. A sexy, tall, handsome, Sicilian businessman that would make my mom smile if I brought him home.”

“I don’t know. Something about him is off. I can’t pinpoint. He’s a little intense.”

“Ha!” Fabiana laughed. “And Kei wasn’t intense? The man treated you like you were his chocolate covered love toy.”

Mira chuckled at the comparison. Kei had never been as controlling as Fabiana thought. Mira was very old fashioned when it came to relationships. She believed in catering to her man as long as it was a shared experience. Kei was the type of man who’d paint her toenails while she read her favorite book or rise from bed in the middle of the night to get her pain pills because she had menstrual cramps. When they were alone he always proved to be very loving and tender with her. “Kei and I had an understanding. But we grew apart, and it makes me sad. I’ve changed. I’m not the nineteen year-old girl who needed a father figure, lover, and friend. I’m a woman now. Kei said he didn’t want me to change, and I couldn’t stay the same for him no matter how much I tried.”

“He wanted to marry you.”

She nodded. “Yes. And I have my regrets. Things ended badly. I hurt him. But it’s over now, and I’m ready to move on. I think.”

Francesco returned to the table with the arrival of a meal she hadn’t had a chance to order.

“He says it’s prepared just for us from the chefs.” Fabiana translated Francesco’s announcement. Mira found herself a bit disappointed that the evening would be shared with the man who was all hands and bad breath. Francesco sat next to her again, embarrassingly close. She could stand it no more.

“Oh, good grief! I don’t feel like putting up with this tonight.” Mira knocked Francesco’s hand from her knee and shot him a murderous warning. He began to apologize in Italian, and she rolled her eyes when his hand returned to her thigh.

“Lorenzo should be back soon,” Fabiana said.

“Well this one here is giving me the creeps. Would you keep your damn hands off me?” Mira snapped. Francesco threw his napkin down on the table and rose saying something heatedly in Italian before storming off. They looked at him and then each other before exploding in laughter.