Destino (11 page)

“When it comes to the way you’ve approached me, I’d say that word is key.”

“And you still have to turn away from me so I can’t see how much you enjoy this, us.”

“I was here first. I’m not turning away from you Signore Battaglia. I’m just enjoying the night.”

“Then why did you give me the same sexy look you gave me the first night we met? Forced me to rise from my chair and follow?”

“So you admit to following me?”

“I’ll admit to much more if you turn around and face me.”

If she honored his request, they’d inevitably be closer than she needed at the moment. The man was right. He did excite her a bit. But he was wrong to presume closeness would grant him any access to her past the sparring they’ve indulged in so far. He stepped back. She felt his body heat withdraw and exhaled, tightness forming in her chest. She turned and stretched her arms out with her hands gliding over the smooth surface of the railing she leaned against.

“That’s much better, Bella. Tell me how do you like Italia so far?”

“I’ve had a very interesting time,” she began. “After a few days here, someone stole my purse. I lost some precious items including my passport. Then I learn that the Mafia isn’t a myth and wants to force me to pay them to operate my new business in Napoli. To make matters worse the Italian Republic puts a padlock on the doors and forces me to shut down my operations three days before the biggest show in my life. And wait. There is more. A handsome business man who seems to command a small army of men that follow him around with concealed weapons comes to my rescue, only to ask that I now pay him for the courtesy. And, of course, now I’m here with that same man, who thinks he can charm me with a few smiles and sexy winks.”

“Someone stole your purse?” he frowned.

“My point is, I’m tired Signore Battaglia. I only have two weeks of vacation, then I return to a life that requires all of my energy. I’d like to spend the next few days relaxing, not fighting off the advances of men like yourself.”

“Forgive me. I understand.” He nodded.

“
Grazie
.” She tried to step around him, but he slipped his arm around her waist so smoothly she stumbled forward and landed up against him bodily. Out of instinct her hand rose and pressed against the hard planes of his chest. He was tall. She stood in heels and had to tilt her head back to meet his intense gaze. “We’re not done. What of my request?”

“For?”

“Redemption.”

She swallowed. “How?”

“It’s really simple Bella, I’m here in Bellagio for a few days. You and your friend are guests of my cousin. Let me show you some of the beauty of the city. No strings attached.”

The firm way he held her didn’t lessen. She felt drugged by his clean-cut manliness and the firepower in his heavenly blue eyes. How did she go from escaping awkwardness to standing within his embrace and loving every inch of him?

“If I say no, will you leave without further argument?”

“Leave?” He seemed surprised by her request. “No I won’t leave. I like the idea of arguing with you. We’ll discuss it further until you see things my way. I’m a good negotiator.” His gaze traveled from hers to the opening of her shirt, which she knew revealed the swell of her breasts pressed into the hard ridges of his chest.

“I think you should let me go now.” Mira said under her breath, making no effort to pull away.

“If you insist. I wish you wouldn’t.”

“I insist.”

He released her.

Mira adjusted her blouse. “If you want to stay here, it’s your family’s villa. I can’t object. Do it. Just don’t touch me again until I give you my permission.” She walked around him and fast.

“There you go extending invitations again. Sounds to me like you’re considering it.” He called out after her. Mira stopped and looked back. He stepped to the balcony when he spoke. Not bothering to address her directly. “I’m a man of words so be careful of the ones you choose with me Bella. I may just take you up on your offer and do exactly what I want.”

Her mouth opened to say something more, but she was out of words. He finally cast his gaze back over his shoulder.

“Lorenzo said you would be able to show me to my room. Do you mind? I surely can’t find it on my own.”

Giovanni nodded. He walked out to join her. “That’s easy, your room is next to mine,” he smirked

“Of course, where else would it be?”

Together they walked side by side with his long strides matching hers. Again she admired the artwork on the walls. It was a welcome distraction from the glances he kept slipping her. And when he spoke, her heart beat so fast she nearly jumped out of her skin. The man had her on edge.

“Care to tell me more about this purse incident?”

“Huh?”

“You said your purse was stolen.”

“Oh, that. Yes. I keep trying to put it out of my mind. Fabiana and I were on
via Toledo
shopping. It happened so fast. A commotion in the streets then the next thing I know some madman on a motor scooter snatched it off my shoulder. My wallet was in it with my grandparents’ picture. I also lost something irreplaceable.”

“May I ask what?”

“A bracelet. My father gave it to me when I was a baby. It’s gold with the name Mirabella engraved on it. I keep it with me always. Stupid to have it in my purse I know. But we moved here, and I’ve not really unpacked everything, so I kept it on me. I can’t replace it or the pictures of my grandparents, which are all I have of them.”

“Mirabella? Sounds like Mariabella.” Giovanni said.

“And what does Mariabella mean?”

“My beautiful Mary, a Sicilian name given to precious little girls by their father. Your father Sicilian?”

Mira laughed. “Do I look like my father was Sicilian?”

“You look beautiful,” he responded. “And your father thought so. He named you my beautiful Mira. You were precious to him.”

“Thank you for saying that.” Mira smiled. She felt precious every time she looked upon that tiny bracelet. Now its loss burned a hot ache into her heart. Giovanni’s hand went to her lower back, and he gently held it there. To her surprise it was a comfort. She glanced at him, and he smirked down at her. They fell again into a comfortable silence. She stopped at a painting and smiled. “This is lovely. Who was the artist?”

“Morandi.”

“It’s bright. Lights the entire hall with the oranges and purples.”

“I have a few of his originals at our family home in Chianti.”

“Really?”

“Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”

Mira smiled and started walking again. “Maybe.”

Stopping, he pointed. “Here we are. Your
room. Should I come in and turn down your sheets? Wash your back, make you comfortable?
”

The laughter felt free of tension and genuine when it escaped her. Despite her inner voice warning her to keep things light, she was beginning to like her charming suitor. She glanced over to the man positioned at the end of the hall with his hands clasped in front of him, standing stoic. The tall gentleman wore a gun tucked in the front of his pants. He looked at her and then moved his eyes away quickly.

“What’s with the men all over the place with guns? What kind of business do you do?”

He looked over at the man then returned his gaze to her. “Occupational requirement,” he said softly.

“So you are some kind of thug?” she asked frowning.

Giovanni only smiled. “No, Mira. I’m not a thug, just a business man with a gun.”

She turned up her nose. “Good night,” she said turning to leave. He grabbed her hand before she could escape him.

“Will you give me an opportunity to show you who I am without prejudice of who and what you think I am?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s okay, I’m a big boy. I can handle it. I only ask that you let me show you a nice time for a few days. You might enjoy yourself.”

“Okay,” she said letting go of his hand, going inside of her bedroom door.

Giovanni watched her close it in his face and wiped at his jaw, wishing she’d chosen to invite him in.

“Boss?”

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Dominic appear from the top of the stairs, coming toward him, and he stared irritated “What is it?”

“Just wanted to let you know that all is handled. Don Calderone would like to meet.”

Giovanni nodded. “I don’t want Lorenzo involved in this meeting.”

“Understood.”

“And where is Catalina?”

“I’ve sent her back to
Melazana
,” he said referencing the house that Giovanni owned in Sorrento, which was south of Napoli.

“Send word to Calderone that we will meet tomorrow.” He entered his room and closed the door. He needed a cold shower.

****

The sun waking her was a welcomed event. She would’ve overslept if not for the warmth that covered her face and burned away the remnants of sleep from her eyes. Normally, she preferred that all curtains and blinds were drawn shut. But after her goodbye with Giovanni Battaglia, she lay in her bed and stared out at the lake thinking of her heart's failing choices in the past. She didn’t need a man. What she needed was a new life full of independence and adventure. She wanted to make her grandparents proud.

Mira squinted and slowly opened her eyes to the serenity beyond her large oval shaped window facing Lake Como. She lifted on her elbows to stare out across the calm waters. The serene beauty of it all made her a believer in paradise. In the morning the blue waters, green mountains and hills, and ice cream colored buildings looked vibrant and wonderful. She’d get out today and explore.

Rested, she dropped back against her pillow. The time check of her watch revealed it to be just after nine. Mira rarely slept this late. Most mornings she was awake at five, consumed with thoughts of her next big project. She’d work off what fatigue she had left on her treadmill and then begin her day.

Vacationing meant a complete change in plans. Sinking in to the soft cushion of the pillows she stared at the ceiling with thoughts of Giovanni Battaglia returning to her. The intensity in his stare and his self-confidence sent a rush of desire through her veins. He was unlike any other man she’d met. Feeling inspired, she rose from the bed in her revealing black lace camisole, and retrieved her portfolio folder. Her large sketchpad and sharpened pencils slipped out.

Maybe she knew how to vacation after all. Walking over to the vanity barefoot she dragged the chair to the window. Propping the sketchpad against her bent knee she began to sketch the scenery. Paying attention to details, she smiled as she felt herself relax under the flow of her pencil.

A soft click echoed from the door and her gaze lifted from her sketch. At first she smiled, waiting for Fabiana to enter. She had one pencil in her mouth and the other in her hand. The sketchpad rested on her lap with her knees raised and the heels of her feet pressed at the edge of the chair. Before she could lower her feet, the door opened, and Giovanni’s head appeared. He walked in staring at her empty bed. Mira scrambled to cover herself. She rose abruptly with the pad clutched to her chest. “What are you doing in my room?” The pencil dropped from her mouth.

His gaze swiveled to the left. He dropped his stare to her exposed thighs, hips and the barely shielded dark V of her sex. She hadn’t worn panties to bed. The camisole didn’t pull down smoothly over the rise of her backside. So she discreetly pushed the pad down lower to keep that intimate part of her body shielded, which only revealed the tops of her breasts. It would be the best she could do. The blood began to pound in her temples and her breath quickened. He stood silent, staring, and her embarrassment soon turned into outrage. Mira wanted to scream at him. For some reason she didn’t. The tension building between them forced her to reserve her energy for breathing. She glanced at her robe on the bed and knew it was too far of a walk to retrieve it. He’d see more of her. To her relief he understood her dilemma. Instead of leaving, he entered the room and picked up her robe then walked over to hand it off to her. She accepted the robe, and he turned his back.

“Why are you in my room?” she asked again, tying her sash into a double knot.

Instead of answering, he ran his hand over her sketchpad. “This is beautiful.” He lifted it, held it in front of him, and compared it to the scenery beyond the window.

“Excuse me, I asked you a question?” Mira took the pad from his hand. She tossed it on the bed and faced off with him.

The new gentle persona he’d adapted to gain her attention had become exhausting. He wasn’t used to overcoming suspicion over his motives when vying for the affection of a woman. Even his time spent abroad in college hadn’t been strained when he had pursued young coeds of all races. This one here appeared to wake with a sourpuss. Yes, he found her attractive, and he enjoyed her coyness, but he wanted to be done with her refusal to trust him. “I came to wake you, but looks like you’re an early riser like me,” he forced civility in his tone.

“Will you leave, please, so I can get dressed?” She nervously ran her hand through her hair to smooth down the puffiness. Last night her dark tresses had a silky flow. Now it was thicker, untamed.