Page 19 of Destino

“It's what your father called you. You can wear it today, and then we’ll take it off and put it back in the box.”

“My father?” Mira’s eyes stretched. She touched the engraving on the gold plate and blinked in wonder. All of her cousins had a father, and a mother. She knew her mother. They had her picture in the living room. She prayed to heaven for her and often visited her grave with her grandparents. But no one told her she had a father. “It’s prrreeeetty.”

Her grandmother pinched her chin and lifted her face. “You are a special little girl. Very special. Never forget that.”

“I won’t Me-ma… I promise. I’m Mirabella!”

The crescent moon against the starless sky cast such a lovely romantic glow across the mountains and sloping hills they drove through. The misty atmosphere rolled across the valley. Mira slouched against the backseat of their chauffeured luxury vehicle with her lids sagging to the point of closing. Every bone in her body had succumbed to exhaustion. The driver said it would be a little over an hour drive into the mountains to reach the lake. She prayed for speed.

“Where are we going again?” Mira yawned.

“To Lake Como,” Fabiana mumbled. She used the tiny light pad on her day planner to cast enough of a glow to review something Mira couldn’t see.

“What about Tuscany?”

“We’ll do that in a few days.”

Mira closed her eyes. “You’ve been rushing me since we left the club. What’s up?”

“Oh stop. I wanted to get you out of Milan before you switched up on me and found an excuse to return to Naples. I called Angelique before we left, and New York is hammered with orders already. The press is climbing the walls to get an exclusive with you. Neiman Marcus wants to get your daywear line in their stores by August. Even the Prime Minister is inquiring. See here?” She turned the planner to show a calendar with the meetings and events planned for next month. “He’s invited you to a charity dinner. Now be honest. If you found out any of this, you would have called off our vacation.”

Once again her friend had her nailed to the wall. Mira smiled and relaxed. “It was a success, wasn’t it?”

“Of course. It’s time to celebrate. Reap what we sewed, pun intended,” Fabiana smoothed her hand out across the plush peanut butter leather interior. “It's like we’re floating instead of driving down the street, to paradise. I love this car. Hell I love our life. Don’t get me wrong I’m a New Yorker, but I can really see Italia as home. You know?”

“You like him, huh?” Mira asked.

A sheepish smirk crossed Fabiana’s glossed lips. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I saw you with him. When we got back to the hotel you were on the phone. Don’t think because you’re speaking Italian I can’t tell. I saw you. My guess is he’s coming to meet you in Como isn’t he?”

“Close.”

“Close?”

“We’re going to his place.”

“You have got to be kidding me!”

“What? I told you the other day he had extended an invitation for us to visit his vacation home. You seem fine with it.”

“Driver! Stop the car!”

Fabiana let go a gust of laughter. Mira had to suppress the urge to join her. She was half-serious.

“All joking aside, if you will stop and listen to me I have something to tell you. Giovanni Battaglia propositioned me. I think he threatened me too.”

“When did this happen?”

“At the club.”

“How? How did he threaten you?”

“He didn’t exactly, he implied I had to give him access to our building and pay him for his inconvenience. He was rude about it.”

“Oh, Mira. They aren’t in the Mafia. Damn I wish I had never mentioned theCammorato you. The villa Lorenzo owns is in Bellagio. It’s a beautiful lake city in Como. They call it the ‘Pearl of the Lake’. I want us to really start again here. Enjoy everything Italia has to offer. Giovanni Battaglia helped us cut through some red tape. He knows how successful you are. He’s working through the political landscape of Napoli to clean up the city’s reputation and draw more foreign investors, I think. I’m sure I read it in the papers. He’s trying to align with us, and that’s to be expected. But he’s not a threat.”

Mira couldn’t shake the uneasy dread filling her. “Fine. I sound like a broken record.”

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