Luzo: Reign of a Mafia Don (13 page)

She nodded. For Miriam she planned to make each suffer. Death must come slowly. They must feel the cuts. They must bleed and see the same color that streamed from Miriam’s wound. Then they may understand their ignorance.

Knowledge for some comes too late.

Sophie eyed the instruments. “Do you have a very tiny knife?” she asked as she demonstrated the diminutive size with two fingers.

Carlo’s dark eyes sparkled with mirth. “I do not.”

“Ah but mio amico, only real men require a pene.”

A smile formed on Carlo’s mouth and then a chuckle escaped before he laughed. “I must remember never to make you cross. It may result in a grande pene fatality.”

The grunts of frightened animals resounded.

“You will never have to worry about your pene,” Sophie teased. She looked to Carlo’s lower extremity. “You have already proven who you are.”

She chose the hacksaw and walked boldly to the sheriff and swung the serrated blade straight at his neck. She would not waste time on the cazzo. She wanted to go home, ora!

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

“What is the cost?” Luzo asked the banker during an early morning meeting that Alberti attended. Four years of apprenticeship and Alberti had learned much about business right from the lion’s den.

The figure was disclosed and Luzo fell silent, thinking.

“The interest alone exceeds what I paid for a similar property in the north. I do not think the rates are beneficial. Lower them and then I may reconsider,” Luzo responded.

“But, signore, this is the lowest we can go.”

“Arriverderci,” Luzo exclaimed dismissively.

The banker closed his binder and rose to his feet.

Once he exited through the door, Alberti said, “The price sounded reasonable.”

Luzo did not lift his head from the document he read. “The property lingers on the market for many years. The bank wants a sale but does not want to incur a loss, but the longer it remains on their books, they lose money with its upkeep. It is a drain on their profits. Besides, I do not need the bank, the bank needs me. He will be back…”

There was a tap on the door. The banker had returned.

“Enter!”

The company representative for the largest bank in Italy approached the desk. “We will sell you the property at the offered price.”

“Bene, draw up the documents and forward them to my attorney by morning. Any later and the offer is rescinded.”

“Sí.”

Luzo did not take the extended hand. He was not in a good mood.

The banker’s arm dropped to his side. Like a sheep he meandered out again.

When the door clicked shut, Alberti laughed. “You are rude.”

“He picked his nose several time
s. Would you prefer I care about his feelings rather than mine?”

“No.”

“Bene. It is not personal. He has a sale. That is what matters.”

“But what of courtesy?”

“Courtesy is afforded to the person who is courteous. It is rude to flick crud from one’s nose. It is nasty!”

Alberti smirked. The more time he spent with his eldest brother, the more enjoyable their conversations. His brother had a knack for wheeling and dealing. Charm is an added bonus as well. But, balance is needed and relaxation should not be parties to talk shop.

“How are my nephews?” Luzo asked as he leaned in his seat to engage in conversation.

“They are well. Vincenzo is the most outgoing. I worry about Nicolo, he is introverted.”

“Carlo was similar.” Luzo laughed. “Look at him today, a virtual chatterbox!”

The chuckles floated on air as they shared a moment of merriment. Alberti enjoyed the sound. Luzo
in a light mood was rare. Curiosity made him pry. Luzo and Gina did not behave as a loving couple and he considered it odd. “Why did you marry someone you do not love?”

The question took Luzo off guard. His brother the romantic was as inquisitive as he was smart. He told the young man the truth. “It was an arrangement. It is beneficial to us both.”

“Who benefits more?”

Luzo grumbled. “There is not a measurement. She hosts parties well. She is
pretty, a consummate socialite and that is good for my business.”

“She is pretty but Sophie is kind.”

Luzo laughed. “Ah, I see. You are a matchmaker, but I am married fratello. Besides, Sophie does not like me in that way.”

“Then you are blind.”

“Perhaps I am. I see her beauty but she is not the one. I cannot explain this, the chemistry is not there.”

“When I was small. Sophie talked about a boy she liked who died. She said he had eyes the color of the
sky and if he had lived they were fated for marriage.”

This news was shocking. “She said that?”

“Sí. I believe she still hopes for that day.”

Luzo became thoughtful. Sophie was a very beautiful woman. He did not realize her amorous emotions were strong, but merely child-play. Luzo frowned. “We are not children or meant for each other. Let us not speak of this again.”

Alberti stood. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He needed to walk. Luzo spent too many hours at work. Even Carlo found time for enjoyment other than plotting vengeance, gathering wealth and consorting with Mafiosi.

“I am leaving early this evening and plan to stop by Sophie’s shop before she closes. Her cannol
o are delizioso, have you tried one?”

“No, I have not.”

“Come, I will treat.”

A gentle smile from an older brother warmed Alberti. Maybe, he should not have spoken of Sophie’s confidence aloud to the
object of her affection, but like Luzo, Sophie had busied herself with the concerns of the world and business to avoid addressing emptiness.

Ernesto’s mother passed away on the twins second birthday and then his wife’s elderly parents soon after. These tragedies were not unexpected, death is inevitable and comes quicker for the sickly and aged. Waste time is what a fool does when love is there for the taking, it seemed only he and Carlo managed to balance work and the cursed Giacanti legacy through romantic dalliances. Carlo surprisingly, seemed well adjusted in the role of bachelor. Oh, the women flocked about the surly brute but commitment was a closed door. What Carlo’s heart yearned for Alberti was unaware, but he saw twinkles in the eye more often than in Luzo’s.

Outdoors, the sun glowed in a hearty welcome as the evening’s shade is lowered. The cars rolling by were quieter and sleeker than those earlier. The hours of living were swift steps. It was like passing the windows of shops, seeing the different displays, whether food or clothing and noticing each one had changed.

Change can mean growth; antonymous to progression is stagnancy. 

They were instantly flanked by bodyguards. Sometimes, Alberti forgot they existed. In a country where organized crime was born, such men often co-existed without undue violence. They rubbed shoulders often, children of family married family, unions were peace accords and he supposed that is what Luzo did to appease men like Cigliari and Casentini.

Alberti had become wiser, romance and love of flowers had not altered his cognition to the ways of La Costra Nostra. The legacy of their African
ancestor, who had sons by a King, split the people and an uprising was born. Disdain simmers in the darkened hallways of black hearts toward the foreign born. Xenophobes were everywhere, surprisingly Sicily was changing for the better. Skin, a mere fleshy coating which protects organs and bones is a furor in America in the hated minds where pigmentation is how the foolish judges souls.

Many wars had come and gone over trivialities, but conflict within cannot be resolved outwardly. To a Sicilian, it was inevitable that more atrocities would occur because ignorance never learns.

Semira Afizwusi symbolized love.

If only others knew of it.

They entered the automobile and settled in the backseat. Luzo sighed and reclined his head. To the roof of the luxury car he spoke. “Give the directions to this world famous bakery as I close my eyes Signore Luca.”

Alberti acquiesced and recited the address to the driver. In public, they were not brothers but business associates.
Luzo snored during the entire trip. After they arrived, Alberti glanced over and considered whether or not to wake the sleeper.

He observed
the pair of Mafiosi heading to the door of Sophie’s shop. He recognized Don Casentini. The Don had a crush on Sophie for many years. When she had returned from America, he hovered around the places she frequented. Sophie made mention of this in a flippant remark which Alberti refused to dismiss. After the death of Ernesto’s mama, Sophie lived in the villa alone and of course he was concerned about the Don’s advances.

Sophie detested the man.

He tapped Luzo’s leg. Without alarm, he said, “We have arrived Signore Palazzo.”

Luzo sat forward, his eyebrow ascended as he viewed the awning above the quaint shop. Sophie had opened the business weeks ago and he had intended to visit eventually, however there was always something important which surfaced to take precedence, but he was here now.

The brothers were soon entering the bakery. Don Casentini was seated at a table with a relative. Luzo removed his hat and nodded as he passed the men, and the action was returned. He sauntered to the large display case with sweets of many denominations and his stomach growled like a wolf. The delicious aroma made it howl louder.

The signora taking orders was a perky brunette. Alberti ordered first since Luzo was undecided. He purchased a pie and several cannoli to take to his parents and bid Luzo farewell now that Sophie had emerged from the kitchen to greet her newest customer. He wanted to see the twins, share a quick game of chest with his papa after dinner and then he had an engagement to attend. He was invited to the flat of a local girl, nothing serious. He had not experienced love with any
donna since Sabrina. His memory was long and so was his heart.

***

After three scrumptious treats, Luzo wiped his mouth and winked at Sophie who decided to sit at his table to keep him company. Don Casentini continued to glance in her direction and she frowned uncomfortably. His flirtations bordered on crass. He was tactless and worse, a balding pervert. There is no secret about his fetishes –women talk.

I
f the rumors were true, Don Casentini would never receive anything from her other than pastry. There is no way, she would allow him to tie her to a bed, beat her with a belt, urinate on her sensitive skin and then suck the cazzo’s pene after such degradation.

Ugh!

“Did you really like?” she asked Luzo to distract from the disturbing image.

He sipped the exotic tea she had brought from her trip to India for her birthday and then said, “Delizioso. Grazie.”

“How is Signora Palazzo,” Sophie politely enquired, although she did not care. Gina Bocelli was a bitch. How and why Luzo wed the ice princess is a mystery, even if he wanted entry in to La Costra Nostra through a blood relation, he could have chosen better.

“Bene. She is in Paris.”

“And you remain here?”

“I do not shop in Paris donna.”

“Oh,” Sophie grimaced. So, Gina splurged on clothes and shoes, yet neglected her husband. She had been a cow young and far worse older. She pranced about haughtily, a Mafia Princess to the hilt. Unfortunately, her reputation had been sullied prior to marriage when she was caught giving oral stimulation to a Don while his wife was in labor by the scoundrel’s mother-in-law. Apparently, Luzo had not heard or did not care. If that is the type of donna he liked, then he could always expect an empty stomach, but a professional sucking by a trollop.

Sophie stiffened. Don Casentini approached. He stopped at their table. “Grazie, your cakes are very sweet. Buona notte.”

“Grazie, bueno notte.”

Luzo smirked. Sophie had an admirer, which was not surprising.

“Bueno notte Don Palazzo,” Casentini replied as an afterthought while walking away.

Luzo did not respond. Rudeness requires no answer.

Sophie leaned forward on the small table, unaware her bosom was more enticing than pastry. “I do not like him,” she whispered after the door closed.

“It is apparent.”

“He comes in each day and sits and stares. But he is a customer, what can I say?”

“I will speak with him if his visits make you uncomfortable donna.”

“Por favore do not cause discord in your home.”

“And why will that be, I am not married to the cazzo.”

“I did not mean to insult you. I only meant since he is your wife’s second cousin, she may wonder why you defend me when he has done nothing but patronize my establishment.”

Luzo’s brows furrowed angrily. “Cosa?”

Sophie cupped her mouth. Luzo was unaware of Gina and Don Casentini’s relation. Santo!

Luzo eyed the door long after the patron had gone. He had wondered why the stronzo had been courteous these many years. Even the families had shown more respect and he assumed it was due to Don Cigliari’s order. The cunning was not shocking; the knowledge he had not foreseen the duplicity was. Of course now he would be more careful. Gina knew nothing of his dealings, yet he planned to ensure she never
would.

The jovial shop girl said good-bye to her employer and guest. Sophie rose. It was getting dark and she often closed at this time. She excused herself and went about counting the
day’s earnings, slipped the money in an envelope and then went to the back office for her belongings.

When she returned she wore a thin sweater to protect her sleeveless arms from the evening cool. “Grazie for coming Luzo. I
hope you come again. Next week I am going to Israel and hope to return with a new kosher recipe,” she said.

“You travel just for that?”

She laughed. Her smile was gorgeous as her face and hourglass curves. Yes, it was not surprising men admired her beauty.

“Travel is a cultural education silly. I also learn the proper food preparation from the native’s kitchen. If
I am to duplicate a recipe it should be done correctly, sí?”

Luzo smiled. “Sí.” He stood. “I will escort you home donna.”

“I have an automobile, but thank you.”

She walked to the door and flicked off the lights as he waited there.

“I insist.”

“Then I will drive and you will sit in the passenger seat since you insist.”

Luzo’s smile broadened. He had not sat beside a woman driver. This would be a first. Of course his chauffeur and guards would follow, just in case she ran off the road.

Sophie drove like a professional and very fast, too.

In fact when they arrived at her home, he checked his watch. Sixteen minutes and four seconds exactly. When he drove to the rural provinces of the borgata to visit Ernesto it took more than thirty minutes. He did drive leisurely to inhale the spectacular views of flowering hills and the rocky terrains along the eastern shore.

He escorted her inside the quiet home which had once been filled with a pack of boys and a feisty girl. He could smell the senior presence which once existed before traveling on to where
old spirits go to rest. The furniture was identical to what he remembered as a boy, solid woods carved with intricate spirals on the feet and arms.

She tossed her purse on the sofa. “Café or spirits?”

“Neither, grazie.”

She removed her shoe one at a time, looking at him with a grin. “I do not bite bello.”

“I recall you bit quite hard.”

She laughed. “I see I have left marks on your memory.”

“Fond memories as well.”

“Bene.” She removed her sweater. Her slender arms were exposed. “I am glad you have forgiven that pes
ty girl. Carlo has forgiven me, too.”

Luzo considered whether to mention what Alberti confided and then decided he would not embarrass her with what a girl had told a child long before becoming a woman. He said many things when an ignorant youth.

He had turned to bid her good-night when she said to his back. “You did not like me then, I did not like myself.”

His hand released the doorknob. He considered her words as he stared at the solid painted wood. Sophie had been one of the boys, except she wore pigtails and a dress. What he felt for her then was kinship and admiration.

When he looked at her faced her today, he did not see a pesty girl but a vibrant woman in love with a memory. His feet brought him to her, his hand attached to her soft skin and his mouth kissed her with depravation. What she held for the boy was given to the man as she worked loose his tie, the buttons on his shirt and the belt to his pants. Stopping a wrong when clenched within a fist of lust is impossible to do, even for a heartless Don.

Her delicate throat is what he kissed as he unzipped her dress. It was unleashed from her body with his help. The brassiere she wore was black, modest, yet sexy as the
donna who urged him on by whispering her love and clutching his arms.

He could not treat her with disregard. Sophie was more than a trinket, she was a keepsake for a special man. He would love her this night, fulfill her fantasy and perhaps they could both escape. She wanted a dream hearth, a devoted husband and he could never lie to make her believe he could change when what he sought was revenge.

They were naked and unashamed. Tonight he wanted the taste of her body.

Up in his arms she went as he kissed her and ascended the stairs, kicking open doors until he found the room with the largest bed. She smiled, because the bedroom chosen is where she had run to pray as a girl beneath the hanging on the wall of a patron saint after receiving news of his death. She had cried
oceans for the Giacanti family.

Luzo’s firm hands widened her thighs. The ebony head bowed to her now. Sophie’s cry contained joy as he worshipped with his
tongue her wanton temple. An image of Carlo flashed in her mind, why, she did not know. But she thought of him more than she liked to admit. But, with Luzo’s hands and mouth upon her; the vision of her dear friend Carlo was cast aside for a childhood fantasy.

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

A
spicy aroma is what awakened Luzo. He looked around the antiquated room and awareness settled in. The light from the sun shone on his actions. His clothes were folded lovingly over the top of a chair, something a sweet wife would do for a husband. Downstairs was a special donna who deserved far more than he could offer. Tepid affection isn’t enough for such a fiery love that his coldness would soon smother. He gave a forlorn sigh as he slid up in bed.

He raked his fingers through his thick hair, hating himself for what he must do to kill Sophie’s love for him for an eternity.
Determined, he climbed out of bed and dressed in haste before traveling to the kitchen.

His breath froze at the sight of Sophie clad in a robe with
flowing black hair shimmering under the lights as she hummed happily as she prepared breakfast.

For a moment he almost wanted the same dream, but then he thought of his mother…his father…sorellas…and then the dream faded.

“Sophie.”

She spun around wearing happiness’ garment. “Luzo, you’re awake. I make breakfast.”

“I must leave bella.”

The joyfulness after a loved filled night lingered in her speech.
“Bello, but I had hoped you would stay longer,” she said setting the flame to low and then walking to where he stood.

She went on her toes to give him a kiss. He remained rigid. Exuberance ran to hide and clarity shown in her face. “You do not love me as I love you.”

“I care for you donna.”

“To care is not the same.”

“Last night was lovely and so are you.”

“Why do you not love me?” she asked. Her heart was breaking. They had shared such passion and she had thought it a declaration of his true feelings. But, this morning he wore a
frost coat. “Por favore…tell me why you do not love me bello.”

Luzo heaved and tossed his
head back to peer at the ceiling. Ah, he should not have allowed Alberti’s romanticism to collide with practicality. Gina was his wife and a means to an end. He could not falter now for sugary creams of a sexy woman. With Sophie he would forget…and it is the pain that kept him alive.

“Mi dispiace,” he finally replied.

Without shame she clung to him sobbing, confessing she had not married because her heart would not close him out.

Luzo detached her hands from his shirt.
He held them, made fists and squeezed a part of his strength to her. She calmed; dignified she stared in Luzo’s obstinate face. With tenderness Luzo stroked her like a child with tender words. “There is a love on the horizon, far greater than any I can give. Donna you have done nothing wrong. Sophie, you are magnificent. Had I remained that boy and knew of your affection, I would have given you a boy’s protection.” He kissed each of her wet cheeks, and then hugged her tightly. Sophie breathed rapidly against the solid trunk, uncaring her sausages began to burn. To her hair, he whispered aloud, “Salvatore died on foreign soil and I am no longer that boy you loved or remember. Bury Salvatore so that you may live happily, por favore donna forgive me, but I must go.”

That morning
Luzo released a dove. 

Soon after, Sophie departed for Israel, earlier than scheduled due to her shame.

She had been stupid. Luzo was a girl’s dream.

Carlo was a woman’s loving reality.

Humiliation gave her sight. But she could not face Carlo after the act. He would never respect her now. Frankly, she could barely stand to look at herself.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

“And how much did this bash cost?” Luzo asked as he escorted his wife around the ballroom floor decked out in a midnight tuxedo.

“Less than my shopping spree,” she smiled as he held her waist as they greeted the influential guests pouring through the doors.

“Buongiorno,” Luzo said to a local Don.

‘Buongiorno Don Palazzo, Signora Palazzo,” the Don replied respectfully.

“You are gorgeous Signora Benaducci. It is amazing that you are so lovely after giving birth. I am jealous,” Gina said.

The compliment brought a smile to the homely donna’s thin lips. “You are too kind.”

When the couple joined the other guests, Luzo snickered. “You are a consummate liar.”

“Giving a compliment to someone who probably receives few if any is charitable.”

“Charitable, you?” Luzo laughed. He found the statement humorous.

Another couple approached. The son of a wealthy businessman had brought along his genuinely sweet spouse, who smiled at their hosts. “Buongiorno Signore Palazzo and Signora Palazzo. I do so love the color of your dress Signora, it brings out your eyes.”

“Grazie,” Gina responded and when the DeMarco’s passed, she whispered, “Ah, she is a bitch.”