Page 20 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

“Mamma, Mamma.” A child’s voice reached over, but I kept my eyes locked on the woman. I refused to blink, worried I’d miss a clue. Like it was a life-or-death situation.

The woman turned her head in the direction of the little boy’s voice and that’s when I saw her. That fair, creamy skin with a light tan and luscious lips curved in happiness.

“Hey baby,” she exclaimed and ran towards the little boy, a wide smile spread on that beautiful face. Her profile, her mouth, that nose. Fuck, it was her.

“It’s her.” My voice strained. Fuck, maybe it shook for a second too, but I kept my eyes glued on her form. There was no way I'd let her out of my sight now. She colored her ginger red hair into a rich brown. I didn’t like it. Scratch that, I hated it. But her voice, her smile, her face… they were all still there.

She looked radiant, happy. The smile on her lips used to be the one she gave me. She used to smile only at me like that. But not anymore. She was at the boy’s side in a few quick strides and picked him up into the air, while he giggled happily, spreading his hands wide open.

“Mamma,” he squealed. The boy couldn’t be older than three, maybe two.

The anger and bitterness swelled inside me. I had never felt hatred like this. And I fucking hated her uncle. Hated her family. But this was different, even more personal. It was hate mixed with regret, and another feeling I wasn’t willing to analyze.

Grace’s happy laugh carried on over to us. Everyone’s eyes were on them, smiling. They all knew her. The little boy had a beach hat on that hid his face from my sight. I wondered if he looked like his mother, had her eyes. I reluctantly had to admit that my wife was even more beautiful now than when I met her. The naive and scared young woman of barely twenty-one was gone and in her place was a beautiful woman that took your breath away. And I still wanted her, even seeing her with a child by another man. I needed her like the oxygen I breathed.

Well, I’ll have to suffocate that need!By any means necessary.

“Hey, woman. I want a happy greeting like that, too.” I recognized her best friend; she changed her hair too.

Grace chuckled softly. “Awww, Ella. I missed you, baby.” A burst of laughter echoed, carrying on the breeze, mixing with ocean waves.

All three of them seemed happy. Truly happy.

The memory of that last time I saw my wife played on repeat in my mind. The look of finality in her eyes as I pulled the trigger and then sent her away. It looked like she got over it pretty damn quick.

“Who wants to go to the beach?” Grace’s soft voice teased. It was even softer than I remembered. Her happy laughter mixed with the sounds of the waves, the smell of the sea salt air in the breeze. It would forever remind me of my own bitterness and loss.

“Io. Io.” The boy beamed. “Mama, giù.” He demanded to be put down.

“First my kisses.” She showered kisses on the boy's belly and he wiggled. It felt like being stabbed over and over again, in the sweetest agony.

“Mama, giù,” he demanded, giggly.

“Little boy is bossy,” the ice cream shop owner yelled over to my wife with a wide smile. “Must be like his papà.”

Grace glanced in the direction of the old man and smiled. “No, he’s better than his papà.”

Who is the boy’s father?

The boy put his chubby hands on Grace’s face, and she kissed his palms one at the time.

“Gelato,” he demanded.

“He is turning into an Italian,” Ella, her best friend, came up to both of them as Grace put the boy onto his feet. “He’s speaking more Italian than English.”

Grace chuckled. “Seems appropriate since we are in Italy. C’mon, Ella. Let’s go get a gelato.”

Ella groaned. “Ugh, not you too.”

Grace laughed happily. “Don’t worry. It is one of the few words I know.” She turned her eyes to her son. “So gelato then spiaggia?” Grace playfully shoved her shoulder against her friend, as she uttered the wordbeachin Italian.

I exited the vehicle. Massimo right behind me. I stepped forward; Massimo stood firm behind me. Each step I took closer to my wife, excitement and anger mixed in my blood.

“Fancy seeing you here, wife,” I greeted her in a cold voice.

Her eyes, even bigger and deeper than I remembered them, snapped to me, startled. Actually, startle was too mild of a word. I scared the living shit out of her. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she paled until I thought she’d pass out. We stared at each other, her lips slightly parted but no words came. Her eyes darted around, her breathing quickening, all the signs of her happiness gone.

Seconds ticked into minutes, the sounds of waves crashing against the shore so symbolically mirroring the increasingly crushed expression on her face.

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