Aftermath (25 page)

“There are metal detectors downstairs,
are
you sure you want to humiliate family like that
Mr. Diaz
?”

He liked Georgina, but he would never take
security
advice
from an Executive Secretary. No offense but she wasn’t
well-informed
about his family or
an expert on
personal protection. She heard the rumors concerning his links to organized crime
and stayed on
the job
nonetheless. Men like
Lou safeguarding the building weren’t
hard to miss
. It’s also
a blatant sign his life entailed risks.

Dangers also came
concealed in an unsuspecting face.

Alfonzo
tapped the computer screen in the corner of his desk and
scrolled to the icon for the camera
trained on
the lobby. Sure enough, there was Sergio as clear as day, ah and the dude had on a suit, which told Alfonzo the man came to play. He was ready to take the punk to school and Selange thought she had it bad. The lesson he
planned
to teach this dude was the kind that came from
trying to fuck with someone w
ith a
doctorate in sniffing out bull-shit.

When
Georgina’s
question
remained suspended in air
, she
got the hint and
slipped
out
of the
office
.
He didn’t give her a backward glance.
She didn’t consider the lack of response an insult. A six figure salary and hefty bonuses each year compensated for any offense. Either way, she’d stepped beyond her professional boundary. He’d told her without words to stop prying into
his personal business and at some juncture it might save her ass. Aside from the occasional sullen mood swings, Mr. Diaz was the best boss she ever had
and the
hottest
.
 

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Sophie
untied the silk scarf from around her neck, shook the shiny material with its designer logo imprinted on the edge and wrapped it about her shoulders.
The air was not cold,
the temperature on th
is
October day was in the low 60’s,
it’s the chill settling in her bones that inspired the action.
A
formation of
ice clogged her bloodstream and it would not defrost until she eradicated the source of it. The cold-hearted bitch known as Geovonna.

She had not shared her decision with the women of the circle,
t
hey may say she was acting too quickly and any mistake could cause another
ripple up under their feet.

She watched the entrance of the salon. Geovonna was a creature of habit and those were the easiest to track. The bitch defied her and pranced about shopping and laughing without a care. Her son called her a vile name and it struck a wound in her breast. She loved her son and the hatred he displayed was the result of one woman’s spite. She
had
planned to tell
Giuseppe once her
house
guests were gone.

The love Geovonna claimed to have for Giuseppe was the most vicious kind.

Sophie’s mascara lined eyes squint with hatred when the vapid young woman emerged from the salon and began walking toward her candy colored sports car. The arrogant girl traveled without bodyguards as if her ability to fire a gun
were enough to protect her. Foolish child and to think the attempt on her life a few short weeks ago would have made her more cautious and not the opposite.

Once the car began to move, Sophie nodded to Francisco the driver and he began pursuit at a safe distance. She wanted the woman to see her face in the final hour and realize her mistake. Giuseppe would never marry such a woman and to ensure this, today Geovonna would learn her fate.

Th
ey followed the bright car through the congested Piazza. Sophie ‘tsked’ at the woman’s reckless driving. It matched her behavior.
The silly girl almost mowed over an
elderly pedestrian and
then
a
rider
on a Vespa
near the main square.

Thank goodness
she hadn’t. The
congested Piazza
Castelnuovo is
ringed by the Teatro Politeamo and a number of art galleries where she and Carlo frequented
.
He
r
beloved husband
escorted her to plays here at the theatre and later
they’d sip wine at one of the bistros and sit for hours chatting and people watching without care. This was the Italian pastime, unhurried and social unlike the American tourists rushing about to take pictures of buildings as they roamed the square.

Oh how they’d laugh at the tourists
’ traipse about instead of enjoying the atmosphere like the natives sitting at the sidewalk cafés who understood beauty is in the simplicity of living. Memories are far more meaningful when they are moments captured withi
n the human spirit rather than seen through a lens.

The car sped
on the
Autostrada 29 toward Marsala. Yes, Geovonna was going to visit friends. Her days consisted of shopping, salons and gossip with friends.
Possibly, a
fulfilling existence for a
clueless child
, but
not
for
a woman of substance.

They reached the straight away and Geovonna’s car traveled in the far right lane. Francisco accelerated, checking his mirrors and switched to the left; the engine of the Audi roaring as he changed gears. The car became a bolt of black lightning as it neared the spot with the low railings. His expert hands were undetectable, switching and changing gears like a race car professional. They reached the small car’s back bumper and maneuvered into her lane, aiming at the right wheel well and the little car was sent off course. It spun like a top and
she saw the young woman’s panic-stricken face on the first rotation as she battled for control. In the distress, their eyes met and Sophie smiled.

Their car then roared from view just as the pretty little car with
its
equally pretty driver flipped right over the rail.

                                                ****

Sophie spotted Giuseppe’s vehicle parked in the circular drive of the estate when she arrived home. Nervous tension arose as she wondered the nature of this visit. Had he learned about Geovonna? No….no…that would be too soon.

Curious, she entered the house and heard his laughter and smelled the food. Of course,
he had come to visit the cook and her heart sank. She walked through the sitting area to the kitchen and there he sat, eating and being pampered by Lisette.

He turned in his chair at her entry and stood. “Hello mama.”

“Giuseppe,” she answered curtly.

He had the look of a recalcitrant boy, “Mama, I am sorry for the things I said.”

Lisette pat the tall man’s back fondly then hurried from the kitchen.

“I am sorry, too Giuseppe. I should have told you long ago about Luzo.”

He took a step forward. One stride brought him close to the woman who bore him.
She was t
he giver of his life
and his sorrow was deep
.
The words said in anger bled him like a cut each day he woke and would not let him sleep.
 

Giuseppe
cupped her
soft hands
and peered wistfully at them, remembering the caresses upon his fevered scalp as a child and the hugs to her breasts when he’d fallen from the tree in the backyard and fractured his wrist. Many…many…many warm me
mories of his childhood surfaced. And
in those times were
Carlo, not as a stepfather but a dad who taught him to ride his bike and yes, even how to fight. He saw only love in their eyes and it is that affection which sobered him. He could not punish his mama any longer. He missed her and the meals. He almost starved out there. Without her he would die. Who else cared enough to
ensure he’d eat
?

The long masculine lashes of his father, a gift to both sons along with eyes the color of a clear sky
ascended to her mature face
in remorse
.
He inhaled and
his chest expanded,
but he said nothing
. Instead
,
he drew the
loving woman against the hard shield protecting his heart
and in an instant she sobbed
.

He bowed his head under the weight of her anguish and also wept, “
Mama
forgive me
…m
i dispiace
…m
ama…
mi dispiace…I love you and
papa
.
Carlo is my
father
…
I am his son mama…I am his Geo!”

For Sophie the
days of uncertainty of
her son’s
love
was
swept away.
The arms closing about her
in a tight embrace bespoke forgiveness and healed the anguish of a mother’s pain.
Her tears subsided and she stroked the nape of Giuseppe’s neck as his body heaved up and down in
distress. She had not heard Giuseppe cry this way since he was nine, and as a mother she comforted him as parents’ must do for their unhappy child. “
Ssssssshhhh
, do not weep
…
my son.”

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

“You received more flowers
, I see
.” Carmen
commented after entering through the door and spying the large floral centerpiece on her sister Maria’s dining table.

Maria sat on the new sofa, a peace offering from her son, folding clothes and placing them in neat piles in a large wicker basket on the floor. She stopped, taking her attention away from her
favorite novella on
Ciudad
Televisión
and addressed Carmen
.
“
It
’s
too much!”

Carmen smiled. She hadn’t seen her sister
flustered like this since forever. The charming Bruno DeMarco was certainly going all out to win her affection and frankly, Carmen hoped he did.
Maria could use some romance in her life. The children
and
church
were her primary focus since she’d sold the salon
and
fun was long overdue.

“When
’s
your
next date
?”

“He wants to take me out
Sabado
.”

Carmen smiled, “Really, where to this time?”

On Maria’s first ‘date’ with Bruno, t
hey’d gone to dinner at a restaurant
on
the waterfront. There’s something romantic about the night, soft lights and a view of the Hudson River with an attractive self-assured man
for a dinner companion
.
She was so nervous the fork shook in her hand e
ach time she put it to her mouth to eat. T
he
embarrassment almost caused her to take flight until he recognized her discomfort and put her at ease. He broached a common topic, children and she relaxed almost immediately as she spoke about her grandchildren. After that, the night went well and she found his company refreshingly pleasant and not overly flirtatious. Bruno possessed charm and wit. Eventually, when he escorted her home, she hated the night came to an end.

That was a week ago and he was back in town, business, he claimed once again. Although, she liked Bruno she had trepidations about him.
She didn’t want to appear rude and pry into his
business but what exactly is a shipping magnate, anyway and
was
he
involved in anything illegal
because the latter was a definite deal breaker?

Carmen waved a hand in front of her face
,
“Hóla
, Maria…where you go?”

Maria shrugged, “I was thinking, that’s all.”

“You like him, I see it.”

“Yes, but Carmen you know as well as I do, I have a tendency to fall for the bad men.”

“
You’re
too hard on yourself.
E
very man is not Luzo and this Bruno has no wife. Besides, you
’re
a grown woman
.
Live a little
and
have fun!”