Mafia War by L. Steele

5

Karma

I glance around to find Luca stalking over to Michael. What the hell? What is he doing here? Michael stiffens, his nostrils flare, and color suffuses his features. His shoulders seem to grow even bigger in size, stretching the material of the suit-jacket. He pivots, closes the distance to Luca, then smashes his fist into Luca’s face.

There’s an audible gasp from the congregants as blood spurts from Luca’s nose and drips to the floor. He staggers back, then straightens. He makes no move to defend himself as Michael plants his fist in his left shoulder, then his right, then slams it into his stomach. The breath whooshes out of him and he drops to his knees. He bunches his fists at his sides, bows his head almost in supplication as he waits…and waits.

Michael raises both of his fists as if to bring them down on him and I scream, "Stop!" I lunge forward and every bone in my body seems to protest. My head spins at the abuse I am subjecting my already battered body to, and I grab hold of Michael’s jacket. "Stop," I pant, “please, don’t do this."

There are more gasps from the mourners. Behind me, I sense Nonna and Michael’s father rising to their feet, but I ignore them.

"Get away from me, Karma," he growls. "Get out of my way before I hurt you."

"You said you’d never hurt me, Michael," I hiss. "You promised you’d never allow anything to happen to me."

His shoulders bunch. Thick waves of tension vibrate off of him and his muscles jump under his skin. His entire body tenses and I am sure he is going to shake me off and complete what he’d set out to do, but he pauses. One by one, he forces his muscles to unwind. He lowers his arms to his sides and I release the breath I’d not been aware I was holding.

"Karma," Nonna calls out to me in a low voice. I turn to her and she glances at Michael, then back at me. She shakes her head. Something in her gaze reaches out to me. I can’t understand what she’s trying to tell me…but something inside me insists that I obey.

I release my hold on Michael and stumble. Michael pivots so quickly that he seems to blur. He grips my shoulder, holds on until I have regained my footing. He eases me back into my seat, then points a finger at me. "Stay," he growls, before he stalks over to where his brother has risen to his feet.

The two men glare at each other. Luca’s features are pale but his gaze is clear. Defiance is evident in his stance, but his eyes reflect regret and hope and love… I swallow, turn to Michael, take in the hard set of his features.

He jerks his chin and Luca holds up his hands. "I am sorry," he says in a voice low enough that only Michael and his family can hear. "I am truly sorry, brother."

Michael blinks and his features twist as if he’s torn between forgiving him and hitting him again. Then he seems to compose himself.

"I forgive you," he snaps, "but you will have to pay your dues, Luca. What you did can’t go unpunished."

Luca draws himself up to his full height, "I would expect nothing less."

Michael nods, "Then welcome back, fratello."

Luca holds out his hand. Michael ignores it and winds his arm around his brother's neck. Luca grips his shoulder and the two embrace.

A palpable murmur runs through those assembled as Michael claps Luca on his back. Luca does the same, then both step back.

"I am so sorry," Luca murmurs. "It was my mistake to go after something that belongs to you."

"And mine that I never trusted you enough to let you in on our inner workings." Michael steps back. "But let’s discuss that later." They both turn to look at the open casket.

"Fuck," Luca swears, "fuck, fuck, fuck." He balls his fists at his sides, "I should have been here protecting our family. I failed you, brother, and for that, I will never forgive myself."

Michael stays silent. The two stare at Xander’s body for a few seconds more. Then, Luca walks around and to the other side of the pew. He sits down next to Christian who glares at him before he looks away.

Michael walks toward the front of the church, then turns to face the audience. A frisson of fear runs through the gathered people who instantly fall quiet.

It’s unusual that he’d be the first to speak. I’d have thought the priest would read from the Bible, but he’s the Capo, so I guess Michael makes his own rules, even at a funeral.

He glances around the assembled people and silence envelops the space.

"Alessandro Donatello Domenico Sovrano was more than my brother. In many ways, he was my son. My flesh and blood. The child I brought up and protected and made sure he never went to bed unhappy. He was the most talented of us. He had the face and the heart and the temperament of an angel. He was the youngest, and yet, he was the thread that held our family together. Now that thread has snapped and it falls to me to avenge whoever took him from us." Michael glances around the room.

I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know that he’s making eye contact with the different heads of the families who’ve gathered there. I imagine the leaders of rival clans are also there. At least, I think I saw Nikolai among them.

The silence stretches as Michael continues his silent assault on the audience. Someone coughs, someone else shuffles their feet, a baby cries and is shushed. The sound of someone sniffing reaches me. I glance over to the other side of the aisle, and find a girl clutching a handkerchief in her hand as she glances in the direction of the coffin. Her shoulders shudder, her features seem to crumple. She jumps to her feet and runs out. I spring up to go after her, but Nonna grips my arm and hauls me back.

"Leave her be; she needs time to come to terms with what has happened," Nonna murmurs.

I sink back onto the seat, "Who is she? Did she know Xander well?"

"Her name is Theresa," Nonna replies, "she is Alessandro's childhood friend."

Just then, a book drops to the floor with a thud that echoes around the room. I jump and Nonna places her hand on my leg. Her touch is reassuring. I glance toward the front where Michael hasn't moved from his earlier stance. The silence stretches once again, a beat, then another.

"What is he doing?" I whisper. "Why isn’t he speaking?"

"He’s making sure he gets his message across to all those who are present, making sure they’ll take the message out to whoever was responsible for what happened."

Nonna firms her lips. She pulls her hand away and I stare straight ahead.

Michael sweeps his gaze over the audience, then nods. "I will hunt down the murderer who was responsible for my brother’s death, and when I catch him... Not even God will be able to save him from what I have planned."

Goosebumps pop on my skin. He returns to his seat and the priest takes his place to read from the Bible.

Two hours later, I glance around the living room of my husband’s home.

For all practical purposes, we are still married and I am still in the role of the Capo’s wife… A role I am hoping to keep for a long time, despite Michael’s insistence to the contrary. Fact is, I can’t see myself anywhere else; can’t see myself with anyone except him.

If I’d had any doubts about this… If I’d held onto any notion of escaping from him before… The car incident completely wiped all of it out of my mind. Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, where I had floated after being ejected from the car… When all my barriers had dropped and I had sunk into the depths of my subconscious mind… At that point, I had shed all of my inhibitions, all of my fears, all of my insecurities, and I had embraced what I truly want. Him. I need him as much as I need the air I breathe. I yearn for him as much as I wish for a place to belong. I hunger for him, thirst for him, covet him with a passion that comes from somewhere deep within.

I ache to know him fully, completely. I hanker to have a family with him, to carry his children, to envelop myself in that sensation that I only get when I am with him. When I am secure in the knowledge that he belongs to me and I to him… That our darkness cancels out that of each other, that our hearts and minds and intentions are in sync… Maybe because I had lost the child I had briefly carried, because I had almost lost my own life, I know now what I am meant for. To not only embrace my art as a fashion designer, but to also embrace my heart’s calling to be a mother, to embrace my soul’s purpose to be his other half, to be the Beauty to his Beast, to be his.

There’s a touch on my shoulder, and I turn to meet Nonna’s shrewd gaze.

"You’re in love with him," she declares.

I half smile, "Am I that obvious?"

"You wear your heart on your sleeve." She peers into my face. "It’s why you took a knife to him… It’s why you now follow him with your gaze, in the hope that he’ll recognize what almost anyone else can read from your expression."

Shit.My shoulders slump, "I am that obvious."

"Except to him," she glances toward where Michael is speaking with Seb.

Christian and Luca are glowering at each other, while Massimo is speaking with a woman I don’t recognize.

In another corner, Nikolai Solonik, stands quietly sipping his vodka—yes, Michael had provided for everyone's tastes. Nikolai’s two brothers stand on either side of him. None of the three are speaking. With their imposing height and wide shoulders, not to mention the tattoos that peek out from under their collars and from the edges of their shirt sleeves, they should seem threatening… But somehow, the feeling that emanates from them is more of curiosity as they follow the proceedings.

In a third corner, a tall, broad-shouldered man sips his whisky. His lean features are striking, and there's a tightly leashed sense of power about him.

"That's JJ Kane, head of the Kane Company," Nonna offers.

"The Kane Company?" I wrinkle my nose, "Why do they sound familiar?"

"They are the most powerful organized crime syndicate in England."

Of course. I have read about him in the news. "And he's here, why?"

"He wants an alliance with the Cosa Nostra to grow his presence beyond the UK."

"I thought Mafia men don't share their business dealings with women?"

Nonna chuckles, "But then, I am not just any woman. I am the Nonna of the Capo and the mother of the Don." She turns to me, "Besides, I have my sources."

"You mean you have spies within the clan?"

"Also, people who owe me who keep me informed of all important developments." Her eyes gleam, "Of course, if I were to ask my son and grandson, they wouldn't refuse to share information with me, but this way is more interesting, don't you think?"

"Interesting?" I open and shut my mouth, "You really are quite a woman, you know that?"

After the funeral, Michael had driven me here. We hadn't exchanged one word the entire way. Hell, he hadn't even directly looked at me for the duration of the trip. It's almost as if he's trying to avoid me.

"So why is he avoiding you?" Nonna's voice interrupts my thoughts.

What the—!Is she reading my mind or what? I blink, turn my attention to her, "Who’s avoiding me?"

She clicks her tongue, "Don’t try that with me. You know who I am talking about."

I blink rapidly, then bite the inside of my cheek. If I thought the Sovrano men were overwhelming… Well, Nonna is, undeniably, far ahead of them. "If you mean Michael, it’s because he feels responsible for the explosion and for…" I clutch at my glass of wine, "And for the baby, and for what happened to Xander."

"Ah," she takes my arm and guides me to a chair, "sit."

"I am fine." I frown.

"You’re not fine. You just left the hospital and you’ve been through an emotional rollercoaster, not to mention the physical impact of the car blowing up."

I flinch.

"It hurts to hear it, huh?"

"You know it does."

"It’s better to talk about it than to keep it all bottled up inside."

"Is that what you did with them when they were growing up?"

She draws in a breath, then urges me to sit down. I sink into the chair, then glance up at her, "Did you?"

"I wish I had," She straightens, and glances across the room at the faces of the Sovrano brothers. "I wish I had been more open with them. Wish I had taken them from under their father’s care earlier…but I was weak."

"You, weak?" I laugh, "Not quite how I see you, Nonna."

She glances down at me. "I come from a traditional Sicilian family. I was married at sixteen, pregnant at eighteen with my first child."

"Don Sovrano?"

"Don Sovrano," she nods. "I had four other miscarriages after him. Gave birth to a girl who didn’t live."

"I am so sorry," I whisper.

Her lips twist, "It was a long time ago."

"Does the pain…ever go away?"

"It…fades a little with time," she draws in a breath, "but it never leaves you. It settles in your heart, becomes a part of it, so you occasionally take it out and glance at it. You try to get over it but it doesn’t really leave you. It becomes a part of you. And much as you want to take the story out of you… Some resonance of it always remains."

"Oh," I blink back my tears, "that’s…profound."

She glances away, then back at me, "I know you’ve been through a lot in the short time that you’ve known Michael, but the two of you are lucky."

"We are?" I stare, "How can you call us lucky? He kidnapped me. I tried to kill him. He married me because my father promised me to him and he… Ah…hasn’t exactly been nice to me since."

"He saw you, saw something in you that he wanted; he took you, wedded you, and despite the fact that you stabbed him at his wedding, did not kill you."

I bite the inside of my cheek.

"You escaped him, only to return to him."

"Only because I thought he was dead."

"He faked his own funeral, knowing it would entice you to come back to him."

I shuffle my feet. "I still wanted to escape him," I whisper.

"Only you were foiled by the car-bomb."

"Now he doesn’t want to acknowledge me anymore. He is convinced that my being with him puts me in danger. He wants me to return to London."

"Are you going to?"

"No," I swallow. "No," I say with more vehemence, "if he thinks he can snap a finger and I obey him, then he has another think coming."

"If that isn’t true love, what is? He is worried about your safety and you are worried about him. The two of you found each other." She raises a shoulder, "The circumstances were a little, what you English might call dodgy, but that only adds to the excitement, I am sure."

"Nonna," I open and shut my mouth, "you can’t say things like that to your granddaughter-in-law; and at a funeral too."

"You’re right."

"I am?"

"I am not nearly as drunk as I should be at the funeral of one of my favorite grandsons." She glances around and a waiter materializes with a tray of drinks. She snatches up a snifter of whiskey, then holds it up to me, "To Alessandro."

I opt for the wine, then raise my wineglass, "To Xander."

She drinks from her own glass, then stares into the depths of her whiskey, "He wasn’t what he seemed you know?"

"Xander?" I frown, "Are we talking about the same laid-back man who loved to paint and who was the most charming of all the brothers?"

"He was all that, and brilliant at his painting too. A genius ahead of his time, some would say." She takes another healthy swig of her whiskey. "I loved him more than anyone else, maybe even Michael sometimes." She glances around the room, "And the boys know it. But what they didn’t realize was that he was also confused."

"Confused?"

She glances at me, "Let’s just say, he felt something for Theresa, but never told her so. Not because he couldn’t, but because he wasn’t sure if he loved her. Because she wasn’t the only one he was interested in."

I straighten in my seat. "You mean there was someone else he loved?"

"Not one…" She stares at me meaningfully.

"Oh, so you mean he slept around?"

"He did," she glances away, then back at me, "and not only with women."

"Oh," I take a sip of my wine, "which is normal, right? People are attracted to both men and women sometimes."

"Not in Sicily, they aren’t."

"Oh, please," I scoff. "Sicilians are not exempt from who they are drawn to, and I don’t understand why you are speaking like this about Xander, considering we’ve just come from his funeral."

"When you are old like I am, you are always only one step ahead of death, and you never know when it’s going to catch up with you."

A shiver runs down my back. "That’s…"

"The truth," she cuts in. "I’ve learned it’s best not to fuck around when you have something to say."

I laugh, then turn it into a cough, "Didn’t expect you to use that word." I take in her determined features, "You’re a force to be reckoned with, Nonna."

"So are you."

"I am?"

She tilts her head, "You’d have to be for the Capo to marry you. You do realize that he broke the norm when he did so."

"And that’s a problem…?"

She raises a shoulder, "I’d have been happier if he’d married a nice Sicilian girl, who’d have stayed home and given him kids, but it wasn’t to be."

I glower at her.

She raises her hand, "I hope you don’t mind I’m being honest with you. I feel like we’ve gone beyond the need to hide things from each other, don’t you think?"

"By all means," I tighten my hold around the stem of my wine glass, "go ahead and tell me what you’re thinking."

"Ultimately, though, I am coming around to the fact that you are good for him."

"You are?"

She nods, "Clearly, the two of you are in love with each other, and as I said, it’s rare to find that, so…"

"So?"

"So, you’d better play your part and make sure he comes around to accepting you now. And I do hope and pray that you get pregnant quickly again. Nothing like having a man’s child to completely change things and ensure that your marriage is on rock solid ground."

"And here I thought you were ahead of your time."

"I am." She smiles sadly, "It’s why, after going against my son and ensuring that I moved the boys to LA and took them out of his grasp, and after holding my own against the men of the Cosa Nostra, one thing I have realized is that it’s best not to make things too difficult for yourself."

I frown, "I am really not sure what you are trying to tell me."

"That what you did earlier, when you tried stopping Michael from attacking Luca in front of everyone else... Don’t do it again."

"Excuse me?" I snap. "I'll do what I want, when I want with him. He's my husband."

"And the Capo of the Cosa Nostra."

"I know that," I scowl.

"Do you, though?" She looks me up and down, "You are the wife of the most powerful man in Europe. Which means your position comes with certain responsibilities."

"Oh, please," I scoff. "It's not like I am married into the bloody British royal family."

"Isn't it?" She arches an eyebrow.

I blow out a breath, "Can you please stop playing games and just tell me whatever it is that you are trying to say?"

"You tried to stop your husband from beating up his younger brother in front of his rivals and in front of the people who look to him as their leader. The same brother who helped you escape earlier. At the worst, it looks like you were trying to cuckold the Capo—"

"Oh," I gulp.

"—at the best, it looks like you were trying to defy him."

"O-k-a-y," I flush.

"Either way, you made him lose face in front of his clan and his business rivals. And the fact that he didn't turn on you, but actually listened to you, revealed that he places a lot of faith in you."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Haven't you been listening to anything I have been saying?" She scowls, "You showed yourself as being his weakness—"

"—which means I made myself a target all over again? And that it's probably only a matter of time before they try to get to him through me again." I slump my shoulders.

Nonna half smiles, "Knew you were smarter than you look."

"Gee, thanks." I twist my fingers together. "So, what? I need to be more careful how I come across with him in public."

"Among other things." She purses her lips, "Can I share something else with you?"

"Please," I raise my hand, "don’t stop now."

"I didn't get along with my mother-in-law, at all, god rest her soul," Nonna crosses herself, "but she did give me one piece of advice which stood me well."

I eye her warily, "And that is?"

She leans in closer, "You need to be a feminist at heart and an independent woman to the outside world, but when it comes to your husband, you want to be his mistress in daily life, and his whore in bed."