La Sposa (43 page)

“
Understood.”

Dominic was brought to a door that only opened
with the swipe of a badge. He entered and found a single table and
two chairs. The walls and floor were both a concrete grey. Long
florescent bulbs in the ceiling kept the place bright and clear of
shadows.

“
Wait here.”

The door closed behind him and the lock
engaged. Dominic loosened his tie. He walked around the table and
took a seat. After a minute of solitude, the grey wool trench he
wore felt hot and heavy. He rose and shouldered it off. In the
Campania
the weather was nice, warm, and pleasant. In New
York, the blistering cold kept his nose running.

There came a buzz. He glanced up in time to
see the door open. A guard stepped in, and then another. Dominic
waited. A tall black man with big shoulders and a bulking physique
shuffled in next. He immediately locked eyes with Dominic. He
glanced around the room, and then his hard gaze returned to Dominic
once more.

“
James. Please. Have a
seat.”

“
Who the fuck is you? My attorney?
These bastards finally got me one?”

Dominic stared at him.

James shuffled over to the table and a guard
pulled the chair out for him. He was locked down so tight in chains
he needed the assistance. Dominic guessed his age to be late
fifties. He, however, had the height and body of a thirty-year-old
athlete. His skin was a medium brown, and his brows and mustache
dark black. He had dark black eyes that never wavered when fixed on
someone. If he was in a suit he would blend within society,
possibly be mistaken for an athlete. He didn’t have a scar or
tattoo on him, which many men who spent time in Italian or Sicilian
prisons carried. Dominic guessed his height to be at least six
feet-four or five.

“
These motherfuckers wanted to deny
me rights. I know my fucking rights. You look too young to be a
good attorney. How…”

“
I’m not your attorney,” Dominic
said.

James’ brows lowered. “What are you? Italian?
Sicilian?” There was something threateningly low in his voice when
he asked the question. He said the word Sicilian as if it tasted
like battery acid.

“
My name is Dominic Battaglia. I
need information, James. Only information you can
provide.”

A deep throaty chuckle escaped the prisoner.
“You! A fucking guinea grease ball wants information from me? Some
shit going down with the dagos in this joint? That it?” James
leaned forward, and his mouth curled into a snarl. “I don’t run
with no fucking Italians! And the last Sicilian I met in here, I
snapped his neck before I ripped off his balls. Ask these guards
why I’m in chains, and they still look scared.” He raised his arms
and slammed shackled fists down on the table so ferociously,
Dominic thought it would split in two. The guards stepped
forward.

Dominic glanced up and shook his head no. The
men held their ground.

“
I’m here about Melissa
Ellison.”

The anger and disgust drained from James’ face
and he slowly sat back. Dominic saw such raw pain flash over his
features, he thought James stopped breathing. The mention of Mira’s
mother hit him hard. James dropped his head, shaking it. “Of
course, of course. A got damn zip would come here about Melissa
after a lifetime of my suffering for my baby you want to turn the
screw,” he said hollowly.

The guards looked at each other, confused. It
was Dominic’s guess that James never showed weakness to any of
them. They were all witness to his greatest weakness
now.

“
Lisa.” James mumbled.

“
Lisa?”

“
That’s what we called her.
Lisa.”

“
So you remember her?” Dominic
asked. It was the wrong question. Immediately, James’ head snapped
up and his eyes blazed with rage.

“
Who the fuck are you?” he shouted.
“That fucking bastard sent you here after thirty years to rub my
face in it. Didn’t he? Didn’t he?! Didn’t he?” James shouted over
and over. One of the guards stepped forward and hit him in the back
of the neck with his baton. James lurched forward and a gurgling
noise escaped him. Drool dripped from his bottom lip. His hate-
filled gaze lifted slowly to Dominic. “He couldn’t face me his
fucking self? So he sends you? Piece of shit guinea
bastard!”

The guard hovered over James, ready to deliver
another strike. “You cool, Walker? Are you cool?”

James turned his neck from left to right as if
working out a kink. He didn’t answer but the guard took it as a
yes. He stepped back.

“
That motherfucker destroyed my
life. You know what? I can live with no life. Not much of it for a
country nigger without a high school diploma. But taking my Lisa
from me was too much. She was barely sixteen when he decided to
take her, and I was too fucking stupid to see his play.”

“
Who took her?”

James frowned.

“
Who took her from you, James?”
Dominic asked.

“
Don’t you know?”

Dominic shook his head. He wouldn’t divulge
who he was or why he came unless necessary. The less Giovanni’s
name was said in the presence of strangers the better. But he
needed James to talk. And he wasn’t sure what he could offer him to
ensure he did.

“
I don’t know. That’s why I’m
here.”

“
A fucking Sicilian like you. They
called him, Manny Cigars.”

“
Is he the reason why you burned
down that club and killed those people?”

James laughed. It was a genuine laugh. “I
didn’t burn down no club. The first man I ever killed was behind
bars. Found out it was a good stress reliever so I kept doing it.”
He cut the guard to his left a sly smile. “But I ain’t kill no
fucking body on the outside.”

Dominic knew men rarely confessed to their
crimes. It was always someone else, anyone else’s crime but theirs.
For some reason, he couldn’t explain. He was inclined to believe
James.

“
How is my Lisa? Still sweet
chocolate brown, isn’t she? Bet she ain’t aged a day since I last
saw her. Sweet chocolate brown. Did she send you here for me? I’ve
been waiting a long time for her to send me a message that she was
good. All good.” Hope softened his features.

“
No. She didn’t send me,” Dominic
said.

“
She’s a sweet baby. Took real good
care of me. And Lisa could sing. Everything about her was soft and
lovely. Best damn thing that ever happened to me. I love her still.
You tell her I said that.”

“
She didn’t send me. James can you
tell me about this man, the Sicilian named Manny
Cigars.”

“
Her preacher father used to grow
apples on his farm. Had these orchids that smelled like candy. Lisa
carried that scent in her skin. I could inhale her all night.”
James’ head tilted back and he became lost in a memory that was
only his.

“
How did you get involved with this
Manny?”

“
Who the fuck are you
again?”

Dominic looked down at his watch. He was
running out of time. “I’m a friend of Lisa’s daughter.”

James looked stunned. It was evident he never
knew what happened to his first love. The prisoner heaved an
affronted sigh. “So they had a daughter? Cause I’m sure she ain’t
mine. Or is she?” James looked up. Again hope in his
eyes.

“
Her name is Mira Ellison, and she
was born in 1964. So I would say no. There is something you should
know. Lisa, Melissa Ellison, she’s dead. She died a long time
ago.”

“
Liar!”

“
She is.”

“
You fucking liar!” James charged
at him. The guards were on him in a flash. He was so strong he
threw one of them off while the other two beat him down to his
knees.

“
Wait! Please! Wait! I have to talk
to him. Wait!” Dominic shouted. Finally, the attack stopped. James
wept. Not from the beating. He seemed unfazed by it. He wept for a
girl named Lisa, who was sixteen when he last saw her. “When she
die?” he groaned.

“
I’m not sure. I think sometime
around 1965.”

“
Nooooo… he killed her. He used her
and he killed her. Didn’t he?”

“
That’s why I came, James. To find
out for her daughter who hurt her. Can you help me? Can
you?”

James looked up from his tears. “She dead. My
Lisa is dead.”

Capri –

“
When are we going to bed?” Mira
yawned.

Giovanni reached and pressed the button. The
anchor began to descend into the blue depths. After sailing around
the islands under the moonlight, she could tell he was tired as
well. He parked the yacht and the men boarded to secure
it.

“
We can go to bed now. Look at
bambina
. She’s a tired princess.” He reached and took Eve
from her arms. Mira sighed. She had felt numb through her limbs
holding her daughter and sitting on the stool. Giovanni kissed Eve,
holding her out in front of him. Their daughter cried in
frustration and he put her back against his chest and comforted
her. “She turns a year older in two weeks. I can’t believe she will
be two. We will have a big celebration.”

Mira walked around to join him. Giovanni
turned and cast her a look to not follow. “Let’s make sure no one
else is onboard and sees my beautiful wife in her underwear,” he
smiled.

A small laugh escaped her. She nodded. “Yes.
Why don’t you see to that?”

He winked and walked out with Eve. Mira wiped
the fatigue from her dry eyes. She stretched them to try to stay
awake. It had to be close to four in the morning. It would be nice
to watch the sunrise but she couldn’t handle it. Her pregnancy
demanded she get her eight hours of sleep in the early stages. She
leaned on the console and stared out into the night. In New York,
Catalina was at Mirabella’s. Mira burned inside to know what she’d
learned so far. Though Mira trusted Teddy, she knew he had a
propensity to try to protect her from the dirty matters of
business. When he and Fabiana were a team, that was okay. But now
she was back and soon in charge. Catalina would get her all the
details that Teddy conveniently kept from her.

She hoped.

When they returned to the villa, no matter the
hour, she would call Catalina and learn the latest. Mira smiled.
She put a hand to her mouth. Soon she would be designing again. And
then she would truly have it all. It was in a time of pure
happiness she thought of her mother, and the things they would
never share. Why did she run from their family, why did she turn to
drugs? She wished she had lived so she could see what Mira had
become.

Giovanni returned. He stepped behind her,
pressing against her backside. Mira turned around and put her arms
around his neck.

“
What has you smiling so brightly
for me?”

“
Love. It heals everything,
Giovanni,” she said. “Where is Eve?”

“
I laid her down. The men are
gone.”

“
So we’re all alone?”

He lifted her by the hips and sat her on the
console. She parted her thighs and he came between. Her legs lifted
and cinched around his waist.

Giovanni couldn’t keep his hands off her or
his dick from inside of her. Since the day she said she was
pregnant, his libido went into overdrive.
Maybe it was some
shared hormonal thing?
Also, there was undeniably a yummy heat
in her pussy. He was addicted to it. He asked her if she felt
different and she dismissed the question. Well, for him she felt
different, hotter, softer, and sexier. Now, with her thighs pressed
at his side and that warm moist pussy of hers pressed to his
pelvis, he contemplated ways to ravish her again.

Maybe he should give her a break?

Maybe he should let her sleep?

Maybe he’d perform better with a little rest
if he waited until after sunrise? Truthfully, he could give a shit
about any ‘maybes’. Right now, she was all he wanted. He stared at
her face. Bathed in moonlight, it was clear to him in the shadowy
captain’s cabin. Long eyelashes dipped low revealing her tiredness,
and her soft brown eyes maintained his stare, refusing to give
in.

He leaned forward and kissed her mouth. The
returned passion fed his hunger for her. He released her, and
lowered his face to bite her nipple and then went further down.
Now, confronting her labia, he buried his nose in between the soft
folds first. His tongue toggled her clit. Her hips undulated,
bringing her sex crushingly close to his flicking tongue, and a
deep pleasured groan tore from her now gaping mouth.

Giovanni sucked on her clit ruthlessly and
then swiped his tongue in a figure eight swirl over her pussy,
until moisture spilled from inside of her.

“
Yes! Please! Yes!” she cried
out.

It was all he could stand. The urge to
overtake her brought him to his feet. He fisted himself to guide
the head of his dick to her opening. Slow and easy, he pushed
inside of her. That all consuming heat through her channel welcomed
him, beckoned that he take it there, further than mercy would
permit. So he stroked forward, thrust after thrust; holding her
tenderly by the neck and hip until he was balls deep.