Luzo: Reign of a Mafia Don (14 page)

“Perché, she was only being charitable.”

Gina’s nostrils flared. “I do not require charity bello.”

“No, you require humility, now smile and be pleasant to the guests and earn those expensive dresses and diamonds you wear. Mi scusi,” Luzo said.

He wanted to speak with Bruno DeMarco in private. Also, he sought to
avoid smiles of pretense with Don Casentini who had recently arrived. The widowed Don came with an escort, like a shirt purchased in a store. Luzo found it unsettling, the man’s wife died under questionable circumstances several months ago. His pursuit of Sophie caused Luzo to suspect the Catholic Don used death as a means of divorce. Thank goodness Sophie had gone abroad. If he heard the Don behaved inappropriately when she returned, he’d kill the bastard. In fact, nothing would bring him more satisfaction.

No harm would befall Sophie or anyone in his family, ever again.

Presently, he needed to speak with De Marco. The tycoon had recently purchased warehouses along the coasts for import and exports. DeMarco had mentioned learning of similar properties which Luzo might have an interest in buying. The shipping business can be very lucrative, and Luzo sought to have a large part.

***

Carlo laughed heartily when the boy Vincenzo, pointed his middle finger in his face after his ear was tweaked too hard when he refused to simmer down.

“Vaffanculo,” he said to his Zio Carlo. The round face did not appear so innocent when the profanity exited his mouth.

“Be careful I do not break that stubby finger nipote,” Carlo warned the rambunctious preschooler.

The twin Nicolo who they affectionately called Nico, was seated on the floor quietly by his mama’s seat coloring. Carlo offered Nico a coin for his good behavior and the boy frowned, shook his head negatively and went back to his work with the determination of a worker ant as he sifted through the box of crayons until he found the perfect color.

Angelina smiled, rubbed her son’s mane of glossy curls with a hue of blonde highlights in
the serious black. “He is the artist, il mio bel ragazzo.”

Alberti inhaled with pride. His sons were very intelligent, with different temperaments and very handsome. Nico possessed his mother’s sensual mouth, and that is how he was able to discern one from the other initially. However, soon it had become easier to distinguish the brothers. Vincenzo always had a lopsided grin of mischief; Nico a sweet pout.

“One is outspoken, the other pensive. They are Luzo and I. You are the balance in between,” Carlo said to Alberti when they walked outdoors to smoke cigars he had brought back from his trip to Havana. Several boxes were in the trunk of his car; a case for each of his brothers.

“That is true.”

“How is fatherhood from afar?”

“Eh, they are loved by my parents. I believe they thrive best without my interference.”

Carlo took a long pull and blew a cloud into the evening air. “I hear you and your university buddy The Don of Vineyards has opened a secret club for smokes and chess. I am insulted you did not tell me and I found out through an acquaintance.”

“You are invited.”

Carlo laughed. “Ah no, but grazie. I find chess boring and your friend Peglesi insufferable.”

“We have common likes and refined tastes,” Alberti said in Don Peglesi’s defense.

‘”Yes, I know…I know. You both are horticulturists who believe flowers are nature’s bounty and women fine wine to savor.”

Alberti chuckled. “Besides chess and
the discussion of politics, you will be surprised at what a person can foresee by world events.”

Alberti omitted Peglesi and his meetings were also matters of Giacanti business. Peglesi was the descendant of a Protezione of the
Circle, who pledged allegiance to the Giacanti’s. A friend, no, Don Peglesi was more.

Carlo slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Get a donna, stop peering over fences at a lunatic and have more bambini and you
will have no time on your hands for lounge talk with an equally boring male companion.”

“This
is the advice a connoisseur of decadent entertainment with buddies named Snowzer and Crazy Nicky gives to me?” Alberti shook his head. “You’re adults but behave like military men on leave. I do hope you take care with the pene, I have heard men can have excruciating pain when urinating after a night with diseased women.”

“That is the risk taken for the sake of fun in bed.” Carlo replied. He did not disclose to his young brother that he was not a philanderer. In fact, his pene entered only a select few which he termed his regulars. There was Bettina from Catania and Elizabeth. He alternated based on his mood. When he wanted oral stimulation, Bettina could erupt Mount Etna with her succulent lips.
Elizabeth was more demure, she is the lady he escorted outdoors on his arm and had anal intercourse with because she did not want bambini or to disgrace her family, but she thoroughly enjoyed the pene. That she could not deny.

Elizabeth was a self-professed ‘devout Catholic’ and to Carlo somewhat of a hypocrite
for engaging in fornication. But, alas, he would not marry any of these women until his heart stopped beating for Sophie.

“We have different ideas of fun.”

“Speaking of which, our fun-less brother has a birthday tomorrow. We will abduct him and fly to Monaco to take his mind off business for a bit.”

“Excellent.”

“If Sophie was here she would make her special birthday c
ake. She adds rum to the batter and the taste is delizioso!”

Carlo’s smile was lackluster. After the incident four years ago, he and Sophie remained cordial friends. He shopped at her bakery, most of the Mafiosi did. Her delicacies were far superior to anything in the nearby provinces
and, she was a wonderful hostess. They talked regularly when she was unoccupied with her business and travels. They were friends, as she had said, but before she took off this last time, there was something in her jubilant greeting that inspired hope that the love for Luzo was fading. There was a sparkle in her eyes that he may have mistaken for love and the kiss to his cheeks was placed closer to the edge of his mouth.

Anyway, she went away, this time to Israel and three weeks later, she had not rung once to say hello.
He tired of the wait. He prayed the insufferable donna’s obsession with Luzo was over, after-all his brother was married and Sophie’s love was nothing more than infatuation.

How many more years would it take, he wondered before she realized this?

Ah, he was as bad as Sophie, they were both hopelessly passionate about love.

“Sophie phoned…”

“She telephoned, what did she say?” Carlo suddenly interrupted Alberti.

“She arrive
s home soon. She says, there are constant bombings and fears despite the Peace Treaty signed earlier, hostility still exists. I am beginning to think it is safer if she stays here.”

“Exactly…I agree.”

Alberti peripherally observed his brother’s countenance. How could he have missed the obvious?

Carlo was in love with Sophie, who was in love with Luzo.

A triangle of hearts. Although he had hoped Luzo would come to his senses and divorce Gina, he remained married, stuck in a state of vengeance which had yielded nothing except rumors and talks of conspiracies which had not panned out. Their only suspect after duplicitous investigation remained Frank Monticelli, a relative of Umberto Cigliari.

“She asked me to fetch her f
rom the airport next week but I must work. Can you do the honors?” Alberti asked.

Carlo eagerly accepted the duty. Alberti grinned. Sí, Carlo loved Sophie very much.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

The recipe book was filled with kosher desserts; chocolate Mandelbrot, apple and honey cakes plus non-sweets that Sophie liked. Her favorite dessert was the raisin farfel Kugel. She checked that she had written the instructions properly as her friend kneaded dough and made loud slapping sounds with her hands.

The kosher bakery was in a busy section of Tel Aviv. Recruits from the Military Academy frequented before heading to training. They were a boisterous lot, but always polite to the owner and her husband. They came more frequently when they saw the owner’s guest. One in particular, Yosef Glavovitz was utterly smitten. He had been bold and asked Sophie to dinner. She had accepted and
in a week of Sophie’s company, his usually combative countenance had mellowed. Sophie was not Jewish, which was not a problem for him, but his father, a rabbi who wanted his son to marry a nice Jewish girl. But, Yosef didn’t want nice, he craved spice.

Sophie licked her finger and turned the page as she sat behind the counter as Linda baked and her husband Saul and brother Mikael serviced customers.

Linda said over her shoulder to Sophie, “This is when I miss Miriam and wish she was here with us. She was the best with kneading. I have incorporated a dish in her honor; Southern Sweet Bread is a hit.”

Linda Katz and Sophie were friends since culinary school. There was Sophie, Miriam and Linda who had bonded during those days. They were young women from different cultures, yet found their
commonality beyond cooking was a desire to be treated with equality and not second-class citizens solely because they were women.

Sophie’s stomach clenched. Miriam was gone…her dreams of a fine cuisine restaurant dead as well.

“You wait to tell me this now and I leave in an hour. You must give me the recipe!”

Linda laughed. “Okay…first preheat
the oven to 175 degrees C. Grease an 8x8 inch baking dish….”

Linda’s husband interrupted. “Sophie, Yosef has asked to speak to you. He is around back. He is pressed for time.”

Linda wiped her hands. She said nothing as she slid the pan of pastries inside the brick oven. She had seen Yosef’s eyes light up each morning at the sight of Sophie. This was a pleasant change for the young officer with the mean disposition.

Sophie rose and went through a cramped corridor to the rear of the shop. She could see Yosef through the iron mesh screen and hear the activity of downtown. He had his hands in his uniform pockets, looking down at his polished shoes.

She unhooked the latch and stepped outside.

Yosef
was tall, broad and with piercing eyes darker than Carlos’. He was not as handsome as the Giacanti brothers but attractive in an earthy way. Over dinner he had spoken of his ambitions. The desire to protect his country from the newly formed PLO was his main goal. But, he confided, he believed these conflicts would never cease and he did not know if he wanted to fight a never-ending war.

Yosef’s compan
ionship had served as a distraction for a broken-hearted woman, but now it was time to return home. She could not hide or cry anymore. Salvatore Giacanti was mourned and put to rest.

She held
a hand to her queasy belly. “Yosef, what is wrong bello?” she asked.

Yosef scoffed. “I graduate officer’s training. I am being sent to the Intelligence Division.”

Sophie smiled. “That is wonderful, congratulations.”

“I understand you are leaving today.”

“Sí.”

“I ask that you stay longer.”

“Bello, I cannot. I have obligations and I have heard rumors there is another war coming.”

He nodded. She was correct. The War of Independence had been a monumental victory for the people of Israel. The peace accord signed by many Arab nations was short-lived.
A few years after the treaty, the state of Israel remained in perpetual conflict with many Arab nations. The formulation of the PLO worried Israeli leaders and the military was put on high alert. Thus, his transfer and preparation for further subversive training.

His eyes were soft when he looked upon the foreigner, only short years his senior. Yosef wanted her in his life, and hoped she would keep in touch. “I am happy to have met you Sophie. One day we will meet again.”

“I am glad to have met you as well, but I am in love with another Yosef. I do not wish to mislead you. You will make a fine Intelligence Officer Yosef Glavovitz. I wish you well mio amico. Stay safe.”

To the mortar and grout wall Yosef pinned her with a passionate kiss. His tongue was rapid and hungry. A young eager officer nearly lit the fire of a woman until she pulled away, cognizant of the hour and bid him farewell.

“Promise to stay in touch…promise Sophie you will not forget me if this love of yours is unrequited.”

She would try is all she agreed.

When he jogged out of view, nausea spiked and she hurried to a large bin on the opposite side of the yard and expelled her breakfast. This occurred more than once. Sophie wiped her mouth with her wrist and closed her eyes. Several days now the sickness had worsened. Each morning it came…each morning she denied the truth. She had been intimate before. A Frenchman, Jacque Renault was her first; a dare by her friends and not for love’s purpose. Jacque was rather shy, his pene never became solid and felt like a limp sausage shivering inside. Ah, the memory of it was laughable. To her delight she had not become pregnant, mainly because poor Jacque did not ejaculate until pulling up his trousers when the deed was done. Then he became rigid…then there was cum. That was the last of her risqué behavior, until the night with Luzo. Unlike Jacque, Luzo was stone flesh, experienced in bed. His staff shook her to the core and in the morning there was burnt ashes.