La Famiglia (24 page)

“
Sei incredibilie. Sei bellisima. Sei uno dono
—you are a gift.
Amore mia
—my love.”

Dominic gripped her by both hips and raised her a bit so he could hit spots beyond her belief. Strong pelvic spasms rippled currents of the sweetest pleasure through her. He dropped his head on the back of hers and they climaxed together.

And then they crashed. Dominic dropped on top of her. Catalina squeezed her eyes shut and forced the tears back. She hated hurting him. All she ever wanted since she was a little girl was her Dominic—and she intended to have him, to have it all.

7.

“
Buongiorno
,” Marietta said. She rubbed the sensitive peaks of her nipples over his chest and planted a gentle kiss to his lips. Her arms were raised, her hands pressed flat to the wall above his head and pillows. She straddled him and the spry pubic hairs that grew wildly over his lower pelvis tickled her pussy. “Nice,” she said as she shivered from the pleasurable contact.

“
Mia moglie
,” he groaned. His hand reached and stroked the side of her thigh.

“I’m not your wife yet. Today is your wedding day silly.” She removed a hand from the wall and traced her finger across his bottom lip. Lorenzo’s lashes parted a fraction. She could barely see the color of his eyes they were so heavily lidded. “You ready to be mine, bad boy?” she asked.

“I’m ready,” he rolled her over to her back. “
Sei tutto ciò che voglio
—you’re everything I want.” Lorenzo kissed her lips, her chin, under her neck, her collarbone. No words spoken in Italian or English had ever affected Marietta so deeply.

Marietta giggled. He parted her legs and positioned his body between. He settled on top of her with his hands firmly gripping her ass. He squeezed. His kisses began the sweet wet trail from the peaks of her nipples to her navel. Marietta swallowed and relaxed a little more knowing he’d keep going. She tingled with anticipation. She drew her knees up and rested the bottoms of her feet on his shoulders as his head lowered to her pussy. Lorenzo opened the outer lips of her pussy with his tongue and plunged it in to swipe up sweetly. His hot breath fanned her distended clit and she shivered. His tongue licked the sensitive skin at the entrance of her pussy and then dipped inside. Marietta tilted her head back and her jaw clenched to suppress a moan, her thighs clamped shut on his head.

And then his lips sealed over her clit and he sucked hard and strong. She lost control. She yelled his name and a slew of curses as she gripped his hair, and thrust her pelvis up to keep his face buried deep. Marietta was lost in pleasure.

Carlo usually smoked his marijuana to unwind. Alcohol tended to make him aggressive, even violent. Tonight neither alcohol nor marijuana could settle his mood. He dropped his head back and listened as Marietta cried out again in pleasure. Lorenzo fucked her good. Envy and guilt warred within him. The sound of her pleasure would haunt him the rest of the night. He should leave the cabin and go top deck. He should turn on the music box in his room or the television. He should do anything but listen to his best friend fuck his woman.

Carlo did neither. He took a long drag of his marijuana and listened.

To his left the satellite phone rang. Carlo exhaled the potent smoke in his lungs and dropped the joint in his ashtray.

“Pronto?”
he answered the line.

“It’s me.”

Carlo sat up. The cabin walls were made of paper. Lorenzo and Marietta’s sex play grew louder and louder. She laughed. He growled. Carlo heard what sounded like her running in the room and Lorenzo’s hard foot falls chasing her down before he dragged her back to the bed to punish her. Carlo grimaced and tried to focus. He never coveted another man’s woman and if he did that woman would be his.

The entire matter had him questioning his sanity.

He had called Melanzana and left the number to the boat for Dominic to call him back. He waited all night. He left another message at Villa Mare Blu. Finally the phone rang.

“I called you hours ago,” Carlo said.

“So?” Dominic answered.

Carlo’s jaw went tight but he kept the anger and impatience from his voice. “I’m with Lo. Your orders.”

“Gio’s orders,” Dominic corrected him. “How is he?”

“The same. He—” Carlo paused. He could betray his friend and tell Dominic of Lorenzo’s plan to marry Marietta or he could trust Lorenzo and play the dangerous game of disappointing his
Don
. Either choice left him fucked and hosed with the stench of betrayal. He was no fucking snitch, he was no fucking coward, but after spending a day with Lorenzo and the brown temptress named Marietta he wanted to be both.

“Carlo? What is it?” Dominic asked.

“Nothing. Nothing. Like I said I’m out here on this fucking boat with him. Wondering when we can come back?”

“We?” Dominic asked.

“Yes we. He’s our brother. Why can’t you remind Gio of that fact?”

“Gio needs no lessons on brotherhood,” Dominic replied.

“Agreed. I’m not questioning Gio. The problem is, Lorenzo thought I came here to bring him in,” Carlo said. “He wants to come home.”

Dominic went silent.

Another burst of laughter from the couple echoed out of the wall. He heard Lorenzo curse loudly and Marietta squeal with girlish delight. He shook his head and clenched his fist. “So when can we come back?” he nearly shouted into the phone.

“That’s why I’m calling. Gio wants
you
back. We have some opportunities to settle disputes in the
Campania
. Namely we can resolve problems with the Mottola clan. Need you on it,” Dominic said. “I’m considering pairing you with Nico for the job.”

No one was better at enforcing the might of the Battaglia clan than Carlo and Lorenzo. Nico was fearless, but a robot. He only followed orders. Not a thinker. And with his menacing height and build he didn’t need to. As soon as Nico entered a room every other motherfucker bowed his head in respect. Carlo liked running with Nico. He liked being primitive in his hunt. But the administrators of Battaglia justice should be he and Lorenzo.

Either way he’d go with the flow. No more of the political shit that Santo and Dominic preached. Fuck a motherfucker up, gut him for retribution; step in his blood and tears on your way out. He had a bloodlust now to work off his frustration.

“How bad is it?” Carlo asked now on edge with excitement. 

“Best explained in person. How long before you can travel back? We’re in Sicily, Villa Mare Blu.”

Carlo mulled the question over. The giggling, fucking, chasing ruckus had ceased in the other room. He could think clearly, breathe easily. He smirked at the idea of crushing a Mottola with his bare hands. “Tomorrow. I can be there tomorrow night or Monday morning at the latest.”

“Good. See you then.”

The phone line disconnected. Carlo dropped his head in his hand. He closed his eyes and thought it over. “Fuck this shit.” He tossed the covers aside and found his pants. He put them on and left the cabin. He pounded on Lorenzo’s door. “Need to talk to you!”

A few seconds passed and Lorenzo was at the door in his boxers, he looked sweaty, disheveled. The bastard still had an erection. Carlo rolled his eyes as Lorenzo pulled on his dick. “What is it?” Lorenzo emerged with a lopsided grin to his face.

“Home. We got trouble. I need to head back. We’re done.”

“Wait!” Lorenzo stepped fully out of the room he closed the door. “What kind of trouble?”

“Mottola. I think Santo has fucked up. Who knows? Gio wants me home to discuss it.”

“When?” Lorenzo asked.

“Huh?”

“When does he expect you?” Lorenzo panted.

“Tomorrow night.” Carlo started back to his door.

“Good. Slow down.” Lorenzo walked up behind him. “We’re coming.”

“We?” Carlo asked.

“Me and Marietta. Today we get married and tonight we leave for Sicily.”

“No. Fuck no, man. Gio wouldn’t—”

Lorenzo pushed him back into his room and he had to shuffle his feet to keep from tripping over them. Lorenzo closed the door so Marietta couldn’t hear them. Carlo guessed he wasn’t aware of how thin the walls were on the boat.

“It’s a perfect idea, Carlo. She’s my wife as soon as the sun rises and we get the priest on the boat. Think on it. Gio needs me too. When I show up with her he’ll have to settle things, accept Marietta. Tell the women the truth so I can leave this fucking exile.”

“Or he’ll cut your throat and mine for disobeying him!” Carlo said.

Lorenzo chuckled. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing. Gio’s weakness is Mirabella. This plan will work. If he wanted Marietta dead he would have ordered it. He’s trying to buy himself time. Well time has run out. We’re coming home.”

Carlo slapped his head. “Fuck, Lo, you’re playing with our lives and hers!”

Lorenzo glared. “I know what I’m doing! Are you in with me or not?”

* B
*

Giovanni walked outside in bare feet across the ebonized hardwoods of the belvedere that extended from their bedroom. Here the beach could be seen and felt. A sweet ocean breeze cooled him as the sun boiled in the sky at such an early hour. Mira was always most beautiful in the morning with their daughter. And it was a tradition that they dined on
the terraces or on the balconies of their vacation spots. Her hair puffed about her head like a lion’s mane. When she wore little makeup and didn’t work tirelessly to straighten her hair, her beauty was personified.

While he slept she had their daughter’s highchair brought inside the room. Mira sat at a white linen clothed table with Eve on her left. She fed their daughter what looked to be warm cereal.

“Morning,” Mira said. “You okay? You were tossing and turning last night. You said
Chiaiano
in your sleep. What is that?” She squinted at him and used her hand to protect her eyes from the bright rays of the sun illuminating her face. Bathed in sunlight her brown skin glistened with a golden tan.

“Chiaiano? I said that?” he plucked a strawberry and tossed it in his mouth.

“Yes. You did. What does it mean?”

“It’s a village in the
Campania
. Nothing to worry over.” He kissed her forehead. He took a seat next to her at the table. A fruit tray and a fresh pot of coffee waited for him. “You know I dream of you when I sleep, Bella.”

“Papa’s lying, Eve.” Mira fed her daughter another scoop and Eve hit her hand on the tray with an approving grin over the taste.

Giovanni eased his feet out from under the table and felt a sharp sting. “Fuck!” he yelled. Mira and Eve both glanced over. He lifted his foot and brought it to his lap. “Damn splinter.”

“You need to wear shoes. You are constantly walking around here barefoot,” Mira said.

“I don’t need shoes,” he scoffed. He concentrated on lifting the tiny sliver of wood from his toe.

“Well do it for me. You rub those calloused feet of yours over mine and I swear I have scratches in the morning.”

“What are you talking about, woman?” he glanced up.

“Your feet. Put on some shoes, rub some lotion on them when you get out of the shower,” she said.

“Or my wife could take care of my feet. Make me feel like her man.”

“Me? Take care of your feet?” Mira frowned. “You mean wash your feet?”

Giovanni chuckled. “Jesus did so for his apostles.”

“So I’m Jesus?”

He winked. “As close to God as I’ve been in a long time.”

Mira shook her head smiling.

The moment passed between them with shared laughter. And then she saw a scowl deepen the crease between his brows. Mira’s head turned and she looked in the direction he stared. Dominic and Catalina walked along the beach, hand in hand. They were headed back from some place. They laughed and talked together looking more in love.

“Did they spend the night in our beach house?” Mira asked.

“No.” Giovanni answered in a tight voice. “One of the other beach villas I’m sure. After I specifically forbade it—”

“You talking about the rule at Melanzana? Oh stop,” Mira said. “Look at them. They’re happy. Let them be happy.”

The request fell upon deaf ears. The look in her husband’s eye said he would not be tolerant or forgiving of this infraction. Giovanni then dismissed the lovebirds. “I have business today. So I’ll be tied up. What will you do?” Giovanni asked as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Spend time with the girls. Speaking of, what about my proposal yesterday? You said you would think about it. I know you’re busy but I need an answer.”

“You disappoint me, Bella,” Giovanni answered.

“What? Why?”

“You think I’m an idiot?” he asked. His crystal gaze leveled on her for an honest answer.

“What does that mean? Of course not.” She gave a nervous laugh. That critical stare of his always made things tense when she just wanted to talk to him. He lowered his gaze and continued to eat. She exhaled a breath and spoke to him in her reasonable voice. “We made a proposal that works for the family. We came to you first, out of respect.”

“Catalina did not come up with a bunch of dresses and fancy skirts to sell at
Fabiana’s
. You and Rosetta have worked day and night on your special project, I’ve seen the drawings.” His gaze flipped up to her and she was frozen in the reflective blues watching her reaction. “Catalina can barely sew on a button unless you hold the needle.”

“That’s not true—”

“And now you want her to represent your fashion business? Give me more credit than this, Bella. The plan of yours, it’s your way to get back in the business. No? Am I wrong?”