Page 19 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

I headed back to the house Massimo had rented for the week. Fucking waste of time. I would catch this afternoon’s ferry off the island. Just as I was getting ready to enter the gate of our own residence, I saw the woman again jogging along the beach. Her body was covered in a light sweat. Although there was a light breeze coming off the sea, the temperature was already rising. It tended to stay warm in these parts till late October and the winters were mild.

My eyes lingered on the jogger, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her, her body soft despite the physical exercise that she obviously put her body through. She raised her hand and waved. I followed the direction of her greeting and saw her waving at the ice cream shop owner.

Definitely not Grace.She never socialized with people outside her circle. Gabriella was her only friend and both of them kept their circle small. In fact, Grace hated being the center of attention anywhere and everywhere. And most of all, she hated physical exercise.

I entered the house with the bitter taste in my mouth.

“Did you see her?” It was Massimo’s greeting to me. He was sure that was her.

“That’s not her,” I told him, heading for the little mini bar. It was barely nine in the morning, but I needed a stiff one.

The look of disbelief on his face was almost comical, if it wasn’t for the heavy lead in my stomach. And agitation.

“Fuck, I was sure that was her,” he muttered. “And that friend of hers. Both of them.”

“I didn’t see her friend, but the woman I saw couldn’t be Grace nor her friend.”

I strode over to the balcony, overlooking the sea. My wife’s fucking eyes were haunting me. Everything about her was taunting me, reminding me of what I could have had. If only I hadn’t fallen for one Romano.

“We are catching the first ferry in the afternoon.”

“That’s at three p.m.”

It couldn’t be fucking soon enough.

I needed to get back to business. Bringing down the Romano family.

Several hours later, Massimo loaded our luggage into the car. We sat in the back of the convertible, waiting for the damn driver to get moving. I felt the tension itching my skin, the pressure of the day ready to explode. It was allherfault. She had the worst effect on me.

The driver finally decided to get a move on. He drove so slowly, I might as well have walked to the damn ferry. I took a deep breath, keeping a lid on my temper. It wasn’t his fault I couldn’t locate my wife.

Until the latest stunt her uncle pulled, trying to proclaim her dead and get all Grace’s inheritance, I was convinced her family was financing her hideout. Otherwise, there was no way she could have survived on the run for that long. And with a friend at that. But now I wasn’t so sure. Now, I questioned everything.

Goddamn woman!

We approached the ice cream shop by the beach and my eyes traveled over the few guests sitting there. I spotted the jogger from this morning right away. She didn’t have a baseball hat on anymore, but I’d recognize that body anywhere. Her back was to us, leaned against the stone flower bed, speaking with a few women and the old man who I guessed must be the ice cream shop owner. She wore a light white summer thinned strap dress, her thick brown hair falling down her back in a soft shining curtain.

“Damn, I was sure that was her,” Massimo muttered under his breath, spotting her. “Different hair but-”

The driver stopped at the crosswalk to allow pedestrians to cross. I hated that I kept staring at the woman. I had sunglasses on so at least it wasn’t visible. There was just something about her that was captivating. No other woman besides Grace ever captured my attention like this. One of the other women spoke vividly, like there was a fucking mime show going on.

Curiosity had me watching her like a hawk, eager to see at least part of her face. Her arms twisted behind her back, her right hand wrapping around her left wrist, stretching her back. I narrowed my gaze. It was something Grace used to do.

The driver shifted the gear into drive.

“Stop,” I ordered him.

The woman was completely oblivious to anyone but her friend speaking to her. The words of an Italian woman with a heavy accent traveled over, her hands up in the air. I had no idea what she said, but the young jogger threw her head backwards and a melodious laugh traveled over the sea fragrant breeze to me. And my heart froze.

“What is it, Luciano?” Massimo asked.

“Wait,” I told him.

I waited for another sound from her. I just needed to hear a word leave those lips, hear her voice, and I’d know for sure.

Massimo and I sat in the car, in the middle of the road by the ice cream shop but nobody seemed to care. This place was so small, there was not even a need for a car.

Another melodious laughter.

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