Page 226 of La Dolce Vita

“You don’t get it. This ends in blood. Blood. Yours and mine. La dolce vita? There’s nothing good here any longer. It’s a lie. Run, walk away, what the fuck ever it takes, just go. Before it’s too late.”

Gunshots rang out. Giovanni and Lorenzo shot out of their seats as if blasted from a cannon. They both ran for the door. The shooters sped away before they were outside of the ristorante. Giovanni looked around to see two of his father’s men dead. And a woman screaming holding a young child. He stepped around the car. His father was face down. Blood. There was lots of blood.

“Nooooo!Aiutatemi! Aiutatemi!Get help! Get help damn it!” Giovanni turned him over. Patri spit up blood, but his eyes were wide and alert.

“I don’t feel anything,” Patri said and coughed up more blood with a wry smile.

“Hang on. Hang on Patri. Help is on the way!” Giovanni held his bleeding father in his arms. Lorenzo stared on in shock. Giovanni could feel his father weakening. He held him even tighter. “Don’t die. Don’t die!”

Present -

“I’m here, baby, I’m here,” Mirabella said. “I’m so sorry.”

At some point, she’d returned to the office. His wife pulled him into her arms and held him to the best of her abilities. In her arms, the pain ebbed and flowed. He could barely steady his breathing to tell her to leave. He didn’t want her to see him in this state.

“I was wrong, baby. You’re my priority. Always. Forgive me,” she said. "I'm your Donna. I am. I swear it."

He let her hold him. And then he pushed her away. “Lasciami in pace—leave me alone. Go.”

She nodded sadly. She tried to kiss him, but he pushed up off the sofa and walked back over to the bar. The glass of the latest bottle crunched under his feet. Mirabella sighed. She put her hands on her face. He found another bottle and opened it. He drank down a long numbing swallow. “BellaI...” he turned and found her gone. The door was open. He heard the front door close. She was gone. He took another long drink that incinerated the delicate lining of his throat. He inhaled and exhaled—the pain began to ease.

ChapterThirty-Five

Puttana

Sorrento, Italy

Marietta sat in the dark. She couldn’t cry. She did nothing but worry. The long wait drained all the energy she had left inside of her. After an hour of sitting in the same spot, she had to get up and move. She paced the floor with her hand to her belly. She didn’t turn on a light. She brought out two guns to keep with her at all times.

Where was he?

Why was he taking so long?

And then a car drove up. The headlights sliced across the window and severed the darkness. Marietta picked up a gun. She didn’t believe for one minute that Giovanni couldn’t find them. Italy was small. Sorrento was even smaller. And everyone knew everyone here.

The car door opened and closed. Marietta held the gun out in front of her. She waited. After a few minutes, she heard the sound of keys unlocking the door. A deep sigh of relief escaped her. The door opened, and Lorenzo walked in.

“Where have you been? I’m terrified!”

“I had to see Carlo.”

“Will he help us? Talk to Gio?”

“No. I just had to see him. Say goodbye.”

“Lo, no, we can’t leave. It’s not safe.”

“We have to, Marie. Soon. Right now, you need to rest.”

“Are we safe here? Can’t they find us?”

“They can’t. Let’s go to bed.”

“Bed? You want to sleep?”

“What else can I do? I need to give Giovanni a chance to cool off. I need to find out what his next move is. Carlo might tell me. He might not. But there is nothing more to do tonight.”

Marietta shook her head. “There is something we can do. Let me go home. Let me talk to Mirabella and get her to talk to Giovanni.”

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