Page 57 of La Dolce Vita

Slowly her head lifted from her knees. She looked at him with the most beautiful pair of sorrow filled eyes. He could see all of her pain and suffering in those eyes.

“I can’t live without you either,” she said.

“Ti penso ogni giorno, Bella--I think about you every day, Bella. What you’ve been through. How strong you are to be alive and here with me. Fight a little longertesoro mioto face your demon. And I promise you. I swear it on our children.Sei la donna dei miei sogni. I will find a way to defeat the monsters that haunt you until there is not even the memory left.”

“I love you, Gio,” she reached for him. He hugged her as best he could and pulled her from under the sink. She held on to him and cried. He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to cry as well. How could he defeat the monster in her head? He wasn’t sure. But he was determined to try.

ChapterTen

Blind Faith

Roma, Italy

Renaldo didn't smoke. It was a disgusting habit. But most Italians and Sicilians did. He leaned against the car and glared at two men sharing a cigarette under a streetlamp. They glanced his way. It must have been something in his unwavering stare that communicated his message.Go the fuck away. I don't want to smell your fucking vapors.Soon after, the men turned and started off down the sidewalk. He turned his gaze back to the police station. It was late. And he'd been waiting for three hours since he arrived. Cars, buses, trucks and Vespas all sped down the narrow two-lane road that separated him from the station. He didn't dare cross. Not for fear of the traffic, but for his golden rule. He, like most men he knew, hated thepolizia.

He checked the timepiece on his wrist before his gaze lifted once more. Carlo came down the steps. He carried two luggage pieces as if he were leaving a hostel. Renaldo shook his head and got back behind the wheel. Dominic had found out that Carlo was detained in Roma. He'd been locked up for three days with no access to a phone. Renaldo was called to pick him up after Giovanni had his attorneys get him released.

His friend went to the back of his car and threw his luggage in the boot, before he walked around the front of the car to get in on the passenger side. He slammed the car door with a hard bam.

"Che cavalo!" Renaldo asked him what the fuck was wrong with him.

"Testa di cazzo!"Carlo side punched the car door as he cursed fiercely under his breath. Renaldo shook his head and pulled away from the corner.

"The fuckingpoliziahas crawled up my ass again. Three fucking days of harassment, and I could do nothing but bend over and take it."

"This happens when you travel. It happens to me when I fly back into the country from Africa," Renaldo said.

"Bullshit! It does not happen to Giovanni's men; it didn't until that fucking inspector came to town." Carlo noted. Renaldo had to agree. Things felt very different with theCarabinierisince the massacre in Naples.

"What did he want this time?" Renaldo asked.

"How the fuck would I know?" Carlo snarled. His face was contorted with rage. "He doesn't face me. He sends in his slaves to try to flex muscle and crack knuckles while he watches behind the glass. He brings up old shit that he can't prove, and then makes up lies about how they are on to us and will defeat Gio. It was a squeeze."

Carlo dropped the passenger seat back and closed his eyes.

"We're headed to Chianti," Renaldo told him.

"Why?" Carlo asked, but Renaldo knew he could care less.

"Giovanni wants to see you. Us. I got the call earlier from Lorenzo. Big things are going down in Chianti."

"Nothing fucking ever goes down there. Wait. Wait?" Carlo looked over at Renaldo. "Isabella? Have they located the cunt?"

To hear her name made the bullet wounds scarring his chest burn. It felt like theputtanaheld a fire poker to each scar and pressed it in. Renaldo rubbed the phantom pain with his gloved hand and kept driving with the other.

"Fucking bitch," Renaldo seethed. "I've spent weeks from my wife and son looking for her. No one has seen her. She's here, she's there, she's no fucking where."

"I'll help you find her," Carlo grumbled.

He noticed Carlo had removed his sunglasses. Though it was dark outside, when angry or inebriated, Carlo was known to keep his sunglasses on. His friend didn't seem right. Renaldo caught him rubbing his brow.

"Should I stop? Get you something to eat? You don't look good."

Carlo shook his head. "Tired. Fuck eating. I need a drink and some sleep, and then I'll be fine."

"How was America?" Renaldo pressed.

"Don't want to talk about it," he grunted.

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