Avarice Page 12

  The guy hit the ground like a boulder.

  “Bésame culo hijo de puta!” Alfonzo growled angrily without breaking a stride.

  Tony predicted this outcome. His semi-automatic had been on stand-by, but he didn’t have to fire one shot. Alfonzo didn’t require his assistance.

  With Alfonzo, if shit’s personal; he’ll do the honors and cut deep in to a man’s bone.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

   

   

   

   

   

  Ari heard a car door close. “Okay mom, love you too,” she said and shoved the cell phone in her robe pocket before Nico strolled through the door returning from his two day jaunt to wherever at four in the morning.

  “Hey love,” he said when sat forward on the sofa. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  The backpack was slung over his shoulder like a hiker, stubble had grown on his face, and he looked ruggedly handsome. He hadn’t called, most of the time when he was on assignment, he didn’t, and she hoped he wasn’t with Bianca again. “My mom called. I think she forgets the time difference and you know me once I’m up it’s hard to go back to sleep.”

  “Yeah, that happens,” he replied and went to put away his bag and outer coat. When he returned he reclined on the sofa putting his head in her lap. “Ugh, it’s good to be home sweetheart.”

  Ari massaged his scalp. “Tired?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My parents will be here tomorrow. They’re spending the holiday with us. You better get as much rest as you can before my dad challenges you to a wood-cutting contest.”

  Nico smiled, showing his white teeth. “Bring it on.”

  “There won’t be any emergencies I hope,” Ari stated as she began to knead his neck and shoulders.

  “I can’t promise there won’t be a call.”

  “But you can promise if it’s not life or death, you’ll send someone else to deal with it, right?”

  “I can do that.”

  Ari felt Nico’s muscles relax. She leaned over and kissed his throat and then his mouth. “Let me put you to bed,” she mumbled huskily.

  Nico’s lips parted wider. “Um…put me to bed love…make sure you tuck me in wet and tight when you do.”

  Her fingers caressed the bulge protruding from his trousers and he jumped up quickly to grab her hand and pull her along. “Wait, wasn’t I supposed to put you to bed and not the other way around?”

  “You were going too damn slow Ari.”

  Her feet were traveling swiftly on a stationary moving floor because Nico walked very fast. “Slow down.”

  He stopped at the pantry, smirked and pulled the door open, practically shoving her in like a captive. “We’ve arrived.”

  “The pantry Nico?”

  “There’s motivation when surrounded by food.”

  “And what happens if the boys get hungry and pad their asses down here?”

  “They’ll find mom and dad fucking,” he said nonchalantly as he stepped out of his pants, seized her waist, hiking her nightgown as he pressed her to the wall. “Smell that?” he asked grinning before kissing her ear.

  He nibbled lightly on her earlobe as deft fingers inserted between her thighs and then inside her micio. “What do you smell?” she responded in a long drawl too caught up in the sensation to care about aromas other than his.

  “Apples, cinnamon…um…spices.” He teased her lips with his tongue, licking around the corners as he made her wet below.

  “Oh…oh.”

  “Smell it now sweetheart?”

  “Nico…Nico…” She panted several times when he crouched to kiss her breasts, after unfastening several buttons. He then took hold of her thighs bringing her high enough to aim his rod to align with a soft target. He shoved in and her hands spread out to clutch either side of the wall. “Oh…spices are good.”

  Nico’s nostrils flared as her warm body connected with his as he pressed her like dough to the unobstructed space between a spice shelf and one with canned foods.  He was in deep, working like an excavator in her pussy when he heard footsteps and then the fridge open. Ari was about to speak and he kissed her lips closed.

  Having kids didn’t mean parents shouldn’t fuck. Let the boy, who he suspected might be Darren, have a lesson in marriage 101.

  Closed doors, walls shaking and sensual moans were signs of sexual activity. If the kid didn’t understand the fundamental of observation and listening, then dad had fallen short.

  Ari wrapped her arms around his neck. “Naughty.”

  Nico’s head was at her breasts. He wasn’t paying attention to anything other than Ari’s body. She thrashed against him when he pumped hard, smirking at her attempt to remain silent. He pinned her hands high above her head, moving her easy, feeding on woman.

  “Dammit Nico…oh…oh….oh.”

  Nico excited in the huskiness of her voice and when she grabbed his head and climaxed she wasn’t quiet anymore.

  Nico laughed when his suspicions were confirmed and Darren exclaimed, “All right dad you proved your point!”

  “Bene, now get the hell out of the kitchen since you don’t pay attention to noises in your surroundings.”

  “Did you just make me scream on purpose Nico?” Ari said on an up thrust.

  “Not really,” he replied and then went low between her legs for a drink of Ari’s water.

   

   

  ***

   

   

   

  Selange sighed. Goodness, Anita was as nosy as the children. She often snooped and found her gift each year and pretended she didn’t. The house was quiet as she punched the code to the wine cellar, and soon descended the stairs.

  She peered at the racks of imported liquors from all around the world thinking. If she placed the box anywhere along the aisles Anita would definitely find it, so she carried the cumbersome box to the rear of the basement, remembered there was a closet and went to hide it there.

  Selange switched on the light and spotted an ornate trunk inside the uncluttered space. She couldn’t recall seeing the chest before, but then again she hadn’t ventured this far in the cellar in a while.

  She placed the decorative box against a wall and then stepped closer to the antique case. She expected to find old dishes or something of that nature, not fine jewels and a worn journal yellowed with age. Nosy she called Anita, but at the moment curiosity is what made Selange sit on the floor, thumbing through pages, reading the thoughts of a man she never met and being transported to another place.

  Luzo Palazzo chronicled many details about his life. The term autobiography came to mind. Whether each stroke of the pen was true or not, it made for an interesting read. Perhaps, she should have stopped as the hour went on but she hadn’t. There’s always the ‘oh shit’ moments in life that occur when secrets are revealed. Beneath the cellar walls of the ancestral home of the Giacanti’s were artifacts belonging to many Jews and those who opposed Mussolini. Paintings, religious artifacts and precious things that were given for safe passage to America from people escaping Nazi Germany and Italy during World War II.

  Return them to their families Luzo had written in grave conscience. My father has sworn to some that he would. But, the thinning of decades had passed and provenances lost. The Meyers were mentioned and the significance failed to register. As she continued to read more, light was shed on the housing of priceless artwork belonging to Semira as well. But the most shocking of all was what she learned about Nico’s biological mother and Alberti.

  Tears cascaded down her cheeks while reading. She wondered if Nico had contact with his birth mother or had knowled
ge of her sickness. What type of mother would seek to harm her babies, what madness was this?

  The writing on the pages, were they lies?

  Did Nico’s darkness come from this knowledge?

  Poor Nico and Vincent. They had been blessed and cursed. A Giacanti father and a duchess mother of destitute nobility, betrothed to another royal house. Mental illness their crest until Alberti found out.  Save his sons is what he’d done with money. Shield them from the hands of insanity who now saw filth in their blood because he was Giacanti she found out.

  “Alberti Luca, you are Giacanti, the sewage which we were told as children will corrupt our souls. You have lied to me about your identity to impregnate and kill my dreams of marriage to another. You did not love me, why else would you have lied? I cannot love deceit…and I will not allow what I birth to add to your lot!”

  That and more is what Luzo wrote after Alberti confided his sorrow. He told of how Sabrina’s family hid her to avoid anyone finding out about her condition. They had told everyone she’d gone abroad to visit relatives and the lie was accepted.

  But Alberti learned the truth and he went to the secret location. She had recently had the babies. Twin boys. Alberti had sons, the first of the brothers. The youngest of the three had ensured their legacy. They were the stars of hope to a dwindling line of royal men. Vincenzo and Nicolo, were to be protected by the best of the Protezioni and learn their ways. If Luzo had no male offspring, nor Carlo, they would inherit wealth and power. The brothers agreed, Alberti’s sons would need the means to defend themselves and their lineage. So, thus The Butcher was again chosen, after all, Alberti had become the best of the trio in tactics and defense.

  The Butcher aided Alberti in arming their way in to take the infants. Sabrina was in the bathroom with the babies floating in the bathtub. Alberti is who plucked them from the water unharmed. Who knows what may have been the outcome had he arrived any later.

  Sabrina was spared her life and the family paid for their silence. Whatever after was unwritten except a cryptic thought from Luzo. “I have warned Alberti against his sensitivities towards the mother. She is not well, I have witnessed falsity in tone and speech. A dream world is where she lives and he cannot encourage such thinking. Keep the boys safe, protect them from such a woman I implored. My nephews are our future...they give me hope.”

  Selange skipped pages, going to the end of Luzo’s life. At the mention of Alfonzo’s name she hastily read what he had not said on a deathbed confession: “My son is angry. I cannot tell him everything at once. Alberti will aid me there. I know these trials will cause him grief. They are the trails of tears for our family. Let Alberti help him to see we have no choices on certain matters. We can willingly expire or multiply and one day blend with society. I see in my son’s eyes his desires. I will sleep believing he will honor me. Return to Sicily, take up quarters, return the items marked by hatred to their rightful owners. Give peace back to some, give them their birthrights stolen by Nazi scum. This we must do, our family needs no further quarrels, we Giacanti’s have enough…”

  She clutched the book, running through the lit basement up stairs until she reached the master bedroom. With shaky hands she dialed her husband. When he answered she cried, “Honey…are you on your way home…there’s something I need to show you!”

  Alfonzo’s voice sounded far away and forlorn. “I’ll be home soon love. I want to talk to you anyway. See you in a bit.”

   

   

   

  ***

   

   

   

  On the days leading to Christmas Eve in Sicily cenones are banquets of gastronomic proportions. Groaning tables mean hearty eating in a land of food and wines. These celebrations were traditions and of tantamount importance.

  Bucalatti, filled with almonds and pistachios along with dried fruits are tradition. This year Sophie’s excitement stemmed from the addition of foreign sweets and desserts courtesy of Shanda. The guests and family gathered in her villa brought laughter to a previously quiet home. She was happy, extremely blessed that children once more ran through the halls.

  Usually, after dinner on Christmas Eve presents are opened and the huge family huddled around is par for the course. However, Giuseppe was not present. His absence was missed by a mother, but he had called and told her he would arrive a tad shy of midnight which was quite fine because family often stayed over. Sophie had ensured there were copious quantities of food and there would be plenty for her son to eat.

  There was a flutter of excitement in her stomach at the gift secreted in the garage for Shanda. Oh, she could not wait to see the excitement on the girl’s face when the present was unveiled after dinner. Giuseppe had given Sophie permission to do the honors if he did not arrive when the last gift was unwrapped.

  Sophie clapped with glee as Shanda and Carlo’s faces glowed. A mother’s heart thundered at having them to love. She had begun to think of Shanda as a daughter, nurturing and pampering is what she’d given the woman. The change was like the seasons. Seeing her blossom and discovering a passion other than a man and a child brought softness to a senior’s eyes.

  What tragedy for her parents to be blind to their daughter’s gifts. Had they only looked past the disagreements, they would have seen her many talents. But, not every parent who tosses away a child understands they are forever bound. Ties are never really severed, because blood of family circulates in the body and beats in the heart. This is what she saw when she looked around the room. Her joys were many. Lucia’s mother informed her of her daughter’s engagement to Sergio, they were celebrating the news at the very moment. Amelda had already shared this information yesterday. She was also very upset at Sergio for striking her husband. Aye, Sergio was now on Amelda’s list of people to wreak havoc upon. However, a wise mother advised her warring daughter. “Do not bring troubles. Remember the words of Selange.”

  Her attention waned from the subject when everyone was herded to the tree by elders.

  Nico and his family were present but before the opening of gifts he and Ari announced they would return home. Semira had fallen asleep and her parents were quite tired. Their long flight showed.

  Loaded with food and presents from a surrogate mother, Sophie escorted the group to the door to say farewell. She kissed Ari’s cheeks and that of her mother. They looked alike, she thought. She even kissed the handsome face of Ari’s father. His lovely wife took no offense and Sophie smiled because she respected confidence in a woman.

  “Arriverderci!” she exclaimed, glad they had come. But then she returned to her family and the other guests, fluttering here and there as the gracious hostess.

  She prayed Giuseppe arrived before morning. A woman surrounded by family is blessed…but still she missed her husband…he would have spoiled his grandchildren…especially Giuseppe’s son.

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER TWENTY

   

   

   

  Giuseppe yawned. Aye, he could not wait to eat and see his family. He felt better since visiting his brother. The children had given him many presents to take home. Such sweet bambini.

  He laughed thinking of Sal’s question. “Uncle, when a girl likes you, does that mean if you like her you have to have sex?” he asked.

  Giuseppe roared and woke his Tenente. “No…no…nipote. Besides, you are too young. When you are older then we speak sex.”

  “I already had the talk with my dad. I just didn’t get to ask that question and wanted to know.”

  “Is there a girl who likes you,” Giuseppe had dismissed the dumb question. Sal was a handsome young boy. Of course many girls wanted friendship with kisses. The girls around Sal’s age were more mature than the boys. He had learned this early on.

  “Yeah,” Sal admitted. “I like her but not the lovey-dovey stuff.”

  “
The lovey-dovey stuff comes later. Be her friend, that is enough, capisce Salvatore Diaz?”

  “Okay Uncle.”

  “Bene,” he’d said and then left to say good-bye to the others.

  “Ah,” he sighed, stretching his restless legs.

  His mind wandered to his son. Carlo would grow and ask the same questions one day. It was good to have the practice, at least he would know what to say.

  A smile remained on his face as the plane soared above the clouds. He would soon be home albeit late but if all went well his bella would welcome him permanently to their bed; he was tired of sleeping without her. He was a foolish man for not giving Shanda what she wanted.

  Fidelity.

  Giuseppe thought of Kefilwe. She had become like his conscience. He did not want to be a Gamba, brutal and uncaring. Rough around the edges is what Alfonzo said about him. A man raised in a wealthy home was less refined than a boy from poverty.

  Interesting.

  He laughed because that was Allie’s word of choice lately.

  Interesting.

  This recent revelation.

  Interesting indeed.

   

   

   

  ***

   

   

   

   

  Tony shook his head. He’d made his decision and couldn’t back out now. The jet was waiting to take him to Palermo. There wasn’t any sense of waiting until after the holidays. He’d only be alone anyway, better to stay in an unfamiliar place than in an apartment where a distance was placed between him and his woman.

  Tony stopped at his apartment after parting ways with Alfonzo to collect his belongings. He was surprised to find Tiffany at home and not at her sister’s place where she said she planned to spend the holiday. It was almost midnight, the beginning of Christmas Eve and last minute shopping for the procrastinators or those hoping to catch a sale. She was clothed and she looked like she’d been crying.

  He hadn’t gotten around to asking her what was wrong when she stood and told him she’d thought he’d gone.

  “Not yet,” he said. “My suitcase is here.”