La Sposa (36 page)

“
Mira?” he said.

The man removed his glasses from the front of
his overalls and put them on to get a look at her. She remembered
him. He was the one that danced with the fashion designer bride.
Everyone laughed and clapped as he clung to her on the dance
floor.

Lorenzo greeted him in Italian. Told him that
he tried to call before they made the trip but he didn’t answer.
The old man never took his eyes off Marietta when he responded that
he was drunk and just got up for the day. He complained of the
train ride home, and how he should have been given a car
instead.

“
Where is Zia?” Lorenzo
asked.

“
She’s not happy with me. Stayed in
Sorrento.” Rocco walked over to Marietta. She looked at Lorenzo,
not sure what the old man wanted. Rocco wasn’t shy about the
greeting. He took her hand and kissed it. She smiled graciously and
then he reached and pulled her face down to kiss both her cheeks
and lips. Marietta drew back, surprised.

A deep chuckle escaped Rocco to indicate he
knew exactly how inappropriate his kiss was. He walked away, saying
Lorenzo had chosen well, but she didn’t taste as sweet as Mira. The
insult threw her. That and the fact she could have sworn he touched
her breast. He shuffled to the chair and sat. Lorenzo removed his
sunglasses. “Rocco, meet Marietta Leone Capriccio.”

Rocco’s brows lifted. He leaned forward to get
another look at her. “Caruso Capriccio’s daughter? Bullshit! He has
no black daughter.”

“
That’s what the Capriccios tell
her. But she has proof otherwise. He even left her money in his
will.”

The humor drained from Rocco’s face.
Immediately, Marietta knew the man had something to share besides
smart quips. She would fight hard against the urge to pry it from
his chapped lips. For now, she sat in the chair across from the old
man and remained silent as Lorenzo instructed. She waited and
listened.

Chapter Nine

La verità
- The truth

“
Where are they?” Giovanni asked.
He set his glass of water down. Renaldo entered from the left. The
conversation with Santo ended on a good note. Though the news he
shared about Lorenzo left him concerned over his cousin’s
distractions, Giovanni, however, knew he shouldered some of the
blame. He felt his actions over the past two years had left his men
scattered and unsure of his leadership—Lorenzo included. Many told
him details on a need- to- know basis in fear of repercussions.
Lorenzo was hypersensitive about the history between him and
Giuseppe. That must be the reason he left out the messy detail of
the Nigerians stashing drugs in a Capriccio warehouse.

Either way, it was now time to lead by
example, and remove emotion from business. If he could get Santo,
Carlo, and Lorenzo to do the same, they could turn the family
toward more profitable legitimate pursuits.

When Renaldo didn’t answer his question, he
glanced up. “I asked, where is
Bella mia
and
bambina
Eve
?”

“
They decided to visit the beach,
Boss. She and Eve are there.” Renaldo nodded to the sea behind him.
Giovanni cast his gaze back over his shoulder. He returned to the
edge of the balcony and peered down the thirty-foot drop to the
shore where the cliffs ended, and white sand stretched toward the
turquoise waters of the sea. Mira’s fuchsia pink dress blew behind
her in the wind, lifting on occasion to reveal the back of her legs
and thighs. Eve stomped in the sand at her side, trying to match
her mother’s steps while holding her hand. Mira, holding her
sandals in her free hand, would stop when something caught their
little girl’s attention. Giovanni leaned on the balcony and
observed them. He looked next to the sea and remembered Mira’s fear
of drowning. There was so much about his wife left to
learn.

Renaldo stepped closer to the railing, his
hands buried deep in his pockets. They observed as Mira began the
beach walk again. Eve, with her little bowlegs, managed to keep
pace every few steps. The sight of them, happy and carefree, forced
a tight smile to his lips. And the shadows stalking them from
several feet behind made him relax. Leo and Romero remained on the
job, observant and careful. Keeping a close protective watch over
them both.

“
How is Cecilia?” Giovanni asked.
He hadn’t forgotten the young girl’s nasty fall. Nico was with her.
Though Leo and Romero were good men, he preferred Nico on the job
of watching over his girls.

“
She’s recovering. Ankle took a
nasty twist.
Dottore
says it will be six to eight weeks
before she is better. Strange, the entire matter.”

“
Why strange?” Giovanni tossed him
a look.

“
She won’t explain the fall.
Refuses to talk about it. Rosetta said she missed a step but her
injuries appear to be as if she took a leap from the top step. Nico
questioned her again and again to the point of her breaking down in
tears. You know how protective he can be over the
women.”

Giovanni nodded. It was one of the many
reasons why he put the enforcer on the special assignment of
watching over Eve. Though his talents were better served enforcing
Giovanni’s wishes in the field. Nico, for all his brawn and might,
could be gentle as a teddy bear when it came to the ladies in the
family. “See to Cecilia and her family for the unfortunate
incident. But tell Nico to get his ass back here. Now.”

Before Renaldo could answer, the phone rang
inside. Giovanni straightened from his lean on the balcony and went
in to answer.
“Ciao?”

“
Is it a good time?” Dominic
asked.

“
Un momento.”
Giovanni
snapped his fingers. Renaldo approached. “Have the yacht ready. We
are going for a sail and then to dinner. Find Rosetta and make sure
she is ready as well.”

Renaldo nodded and walked out. Giovanni waited
until Renaldo descended the stairs before he put the phone back to
his ear. “What time is it there?” Giovanni asked, checking his
watch.

“
It’s around nine. I wouldn’t call
so soon… but, I needed to give you an update.”

“
You met with
Kimmatore?”

“
We did. There’s something you
should know about Mira.”

“
What? Spit it out!”

“
She had a sister, Gio. Possibly
still has a sister.”

Confused, Giovanni took a step back. “A
sister? I sent you to find out about her parents and you call to
tell me she has a sister?”

“
A twin.”

“
That’s bullshit. Bella never
mentioned a twin. She wouldn’t keep that from me.”

“
I don’t think she knows. Her
mother gave birth to twin girls. I have her medical records from
the hospital in Philadelphia. I’m not sure what happened after she
delivered, because Mira’s birth certificate lists Chicago as her
birthplace. No mention of a sister or father. Just Melissa Ellison
as the mother. The dates are exactly the same, so something is off.
For all we know, the other baby died.”

Giovanni rubbed his brow. He dropped in the
chair behind him. “What else?”

“
The man you say is her father.
James Walker? I have his prison record. He was thrown into jail
four years before Melissa Ellison gave birth. He’s not the
father.”

“
Are you sure of this information?
Especially about the twins?”

“
I haven’t had a chance to run it
through our people. I’m working with Zimmatore and he’s certain of
it. It’ll take time. In a few weeks, I will visit the jail and you
will have your answers.”

“
Good work. How’s our Catalina?”
Giovanni asked with restraint.

“
She’s asleep, exhausted from the
flight. Me too. I’ll call again soon. We meet with Mira’s attorney
tomorrow to start the process of reclaiming the
company.”

“
Keep me posted.
Ciao.
”

Giovanni slumped back in the chair. He exhaled
deeply. A twin sister? Possibly dead at childbirth? And the Del
Stavio bracelet being the only connection his Bella has to her
past. He didn’t have enough to bring the news to his wife’s
attention. He wasn’t even sure what the news would do to her. But
now, more than ever, he was determined to uncover the real
truth.

Chianti –

“
Rocco, I need to know more about
Capriccio.”

Lorenzo purposefully spoke in Italian. If the
old man suspected Marietta understood, he would say nothing; and if
he sent Marietta away, she’d probably refuse and he’d have nothing.
Solving the mystery of why Marietta came to Italy and who wants to
shut her up was now a matter of life and death for them both.
Whoever this Isabella was, she had too much power with the tapes
and photos of him and Giuseppe.

“
What do you want to know?” Rocco
answered.

“
When did Capriccio make a black
daughter and with who? The woman’s name. Who was she?”

“
Who?” Rocco let go a snide
chuckle. “I wouldn’t know of any bastard daughter of Capriccio’s or
the name of the whore to lay down with him,” Rocco said. “If I had
to guess,” Rocco cut his gaze to Marietta. “The affair happened in
America. Not many women here that would make a daughter like
her.”

Lorenzo threw his hands up. “That’s your
guess? Of course it was when he was in America. Let me ask the
question this way, what sent Capriccio to America?”

“
It was a long time
ago.”

“
I’m sure it was but…”

“
Too long to remember.” Rocco waved
him off. “How about I fix us a cappuccino?”

“
Wait! Think, damn it. What sent
him to America?”

Rocco paused. He lowered back to his seat.
When he spoke, his voice had a tightness that neared frustration.
“Caruso was part of Mancini’s
famiglia
, not ours. He was out
of the mafia when he returned. Mancini saw to it. End of story for
the dumb fucker.”

“
Why dumb? You retired to the farm.
Retirement isn’t dumb. For many of us, it’s the smartest thing to
do.”

Rocco’s smirk was absent humor. His cataract
grey eyes narrowed on Lorenzo.

“
I meant no disrespect, uncle. I
don’t get the difference.”

“
There’s a big difference between
me and Caruso Capriccio. He’s a coward.
Stronzo di merda!
He
moved to Milano and opened a fabric business, like that of a
woman,” Rocco spat.

“
And you didn’t find that curious?
Sicilians are different, Rocco, we both know that. It’s why you and
Patri
strengthened the
Camorra,
by abandoning those
traditions. How did Capriccio walk away and it went unchallenged?
He could have turned against Mancini and the other Dons. He could
have become a real problem.”

Rocco shrugged. “Maybe walk is the wrong word.
Run. Yes, he ran away. Exile can mean many things.” Rocco’s gaze
swept his surroundings to emphasize his point. Lorenzo knew a
little of why Rocco ended up on the farm and outside of the family,
but not enough to speak on it. Out of respect, he convinced himself
it was a choice. But hell, like his uncle said, exile can come in
many forms. For example, if Giovanni ever learned of the hit he had
placed on Tomosino, his exile would come in the form of a bullet to
his skull.

“
And Mancini?” Lorenzo pressed. “No
ties, nothing?”

Rocco just stared, mute.

There wasn’t much Lorenzo or Giovanni liked
about Mancini. The old Don was a constant meddler in their affairs
over the past few years. They only tolerated him because of the
history he shared with Tomosino. Even still, Lorenzo itched for the
day he could put a bullet in the Don’s son, Armando Mancini. The
smug bastard shared a history with him and Giovanni that dated back
to their school boy days. Armando mocked the reach and power of the
Camorra,
as most Sicilians did. They truly felt the Sicilian
Mafioso to be the only legitimate brotherhood of blood. And
Giovanni’s bastard blood symbolized weakness for the Battaglias.
Bullshit.

“
Marietta, do you have your
necklace?” Lorenzo asked.

Before they left Milano for the wedding, he
found her in the bathroom upset. She had broken the clasp on the
chain. He watched her drop it in a tissue and put it in her purse.
He knew she had it. Marietta did as he asked and retrieved the gold
chain and nameplate. She dropped it in his extended hand. Accepting
the necklace, he passed it over to Rocco. “She was adopted by
Sicilians in America. Later, she learned she’s the daughter of
Caruso. This is the only thing her mother left her. Turn it
over.”

“
That’s not possible.” Rocco
appeared to recognize the work of the nameplate from the minute it
was given to him. “You say this was given to her by her mother,
Capriccio’s whore? An American black whore?”

Lorenzo’s gaze slipped to Marietta. She wore a
tight lip scowl at the reference of her mother being a whore. He
tried to move the conversation along. “Yes. It was.”

Rocco handed it back. “Capriccio was an errand
boy. A foot stool for the Mafioso and not fit to hold a gun. He
could never have commissioned Del Stavio for something so sacred.
Only the daughters of the Five Dons of Sicily…and…” Rocco’s voice
faltered. His eyes stretched with knowledge and his gaze slowly
returned to Marietta.