Page 68 of Destino

Giovanni wiped his chin. Things could get messy. He needed to close ranks. “Return to Bellagio. We can’t take him out of there. It’s too risky. So you’ll need to go inside for my answers. I want to be ahead of this fucking mess. Prepared. Take Carlo.”

“He’s too much of a hot head Gio, he will…”

“Take him. I don’t know what you’re walking into, and I can’t trust Lo with the truth. Not yet. You need a gun quicker than your own. You find out everything you can about Giuseppe and Lorenzo. I don’t give a shit how you do it, but you fucking do it!”

“Si.”

“Wait. Wait.” Giovanni threw his hands up in frustration. “We receive the shipment from the Irish in two days.”

“The designer, she’s up and operating after your orders. I’ve had my men keep tabs on the workers. A staff of about sixteen working out of three floors of the building, and they are there early every day and late in the evenings. None of them have ventured to the cellars. Have you worked out that detail?” Dominic asked.

“Contact Marsuvio. Tell him I want a building inspector to pay the ladies a visit, here. We need to minimize activity at that building until my shipment is secured then moved.”

“What reason should he give this time?” Dominic asked.

“Inform the women that they’ve broke some law. I don’t give a fuck. Flavio is close to finalizing the deals in Sicily. Until then we don’t need any distractions.”

Dominic gave another nod and left him to his thoughts. He could be wrong. His young protégé could be wrong. Still his gut said differently. Lost in his doubts, he returned to his room. He didn’t expect the scene that greeted him. Mira had taken a match to a pair of tall slender black candles in silver pedestals and lowered the lights in the room. The table was positioned outside on his balcony and the night air only licked at the flames, causing them to extend and grow brighter. She hadn’t changed out of the sexy wrap dress, and he was grateful.

“Welcome back. Just in time. Dinner.”

He closed the door and turned the lock. He told his men not to disturb him further, no matter the issue. The night was theirs.

Catalina had his favorite meals prepared for his return. Tonight would be the first night he dined in his room with someone special. Giovanni had to consider how many hard laid rules he’d broken since he met her. Starting with opening the doors to her boutique when he knew it didn’t serve his purposes. Now he’d have to manipulate her to get what he wanted. He regretted the lie between them. She blinked at him with the most considerate trusting eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind. I found the candles in your dressers when I started unpacking. I thought it would be nice to eat out here so I had them set the table for us. Your staff is nicer than the one at the Ritz,” she chuckled.

“I pay them well.”

The meal she delivered was of all his favorites. His mother’s recipe was the first course. The room smelled of memories of her. Good ones.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation, Bella. For allowing me these days and nights with you.”

“Will you always call me Bella? Is it my name from now on?” She walked around to her chair and glanced up at him from under her dark lashes. He wasn’t sure when he fixated on the name for her, but it was a natural fit. “Yes.” He nodded. She curled her mouth into a half-smile, and he knew she approved. She pointed at the bottle on the table. “This vino. It’s Chianti. Is it from your vineyard?”

Grasping the bottle by the neck he read the black label. “It is. Shall I?”

She nodded. He poured her half a glass and she laughed. “Wait. Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” He poured his wine next. “I need you sober and fully mine, tonight.”

He noticed how she looked at the smaller dish next to her plate. “We call itgatòdipatate.”

“It looks like… um, a quiche.”

“Yes, think of a quiche. It has potato, egg, ham and cheese and is baked like a pie. It’s traditionally the starter my mother would have served for us. Catalina makes a good version. She always prepares it by hand the day she knows I’m returning. My sister is very spoiled, but she spoils me in return.”

“Did she cook all of this?”

“When Zia isn’t here, the staff does most of the cooking. Zia is the only woman in the house who won’t tolerate strangers preparing food for us. Her words, not mine. Personally I prefer a home cooked meal by the women in my family. Can you cook?” he asked. She blinked at him then nodded that she could. He felt a sense of relief. Modern women today avoided the kitchen as if it were forced servitude. He found love in a dish prepared for him by a woman who cared. He wanted to taste her cooking and more. He picked up a fork and scooped a mouthful. Mira leaned forward accepting the offering. She chewed with a smile on her face.

“Oh, it’s good. Love it.”

“And this.” He lifted the cover of the center dish. “It’sspaghetti ai ricci.”

“What are those chunks of meat in it?”

“Sea urchin.”

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