Ti Amo (Battaglia Mafia Series) Read online

  Giovanni entered. The place had none of the comforts he knew Lorenzo was accustomed to. His mouth thinned into a sour grin over the misfortune. Served the bastard right. Carlo and Carmine sat at the small kitchen table on folding chairs. Renaldo was in front of a television set on the recliner watching a soccer game. The men rose.

  Carlo spoke first. “Gio.”

  Carmine who was only twenty-two followed his mentor’s lead. He had proven himself to be a good earner. “Hi Boss.”

  Giovanni refused to remove his coat. He had no intentions of staying long. His gaze tightened on Lorenzo. “Dica? Why did you summon me? I have business back in Firenze,” he asked in a low voice, taut with impatience.

  Lorenzo walked over to a small table in front of the sofa. On top of it was a long brown envelope. “Fish is dead. We got him.”

  Giovanni shrugged. The fact that it took his men close to two years to kill the bastard burned his gut. Lorenzo continued, almost smiling as he spoke. “I’ve come into some information. Please sit, Gio. There’s more to discuss.” Renaldo stepped away from the only comfortable chair in the room. Giovanni glanced to Dominic who shrugged that he had no clue what Lorenzo was up to. That didn’t surprise him. Lorenzo never hid his jealousy of Dominic’s appointment, and disrespected him often.

  “Don’t waste my time,” Giovanni said taking a seat.

  “I know that Mira Ellison’s death has caused you pain.”

  Giovanni blinked at him surprised. The last words he expected to come from anyone’s mouth was her name. It was blasphemy! “Get to your point and fast.”

  Lorenzo sat across from him on a worn sofa with sinking pale yellow cushions. He picked up the envelope from the table. He held it gingerly in both hands. Giovanni’s brows lowered with suspicion. “This is why we couldn’t have this conversation over the phone. You must see it for yourself.” Lorenzo said.

  Careful of the contents inside he pealed the seal apart. Lorenzo opened the envelope and dumped pictures across the table. Giovanni couldn’t make them out from where he sat so he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. Sunglasses and hats the woman wore covered her face, but she felt familiar. The slender shapely build of her body, the thick dark hair fanning around her shoulders all felt familiar. Pain and uncertainty surfaced and centered in his chest making it hard to breathe. So he held his breath as he dared to look closer at the images.

  “We found Fish just like I promised we would cousin. The fucker wouldn’t give up Angelo. He thought he had something you’d want more than his boss. Information that would spare his life.”

  Giovanni’s gaze ripped from the images to latch on to Lorenzo’s.

  “I put a bullet in him all the same. Baggiano’s dead.”

  “Who is in those photos?” Giovanni asked, unwilling to accept what his mind screamed.

  “Fish said he botched the bombing in New York City. He said Mira Ellison isn’t dead.”

  Giovanni’s gaze lowered once more. His gloved hand reached to the pictures then stopped. He couldn’t get his head around what he was seeing, hearing. His cousin had tricked him before. He could trust no one. Not even the evidence before his eyes.

  “She lives in Muri, Switzerland, with an Asian man named Kei Hyogo.”

  Giovanni’s heart hitched on the last words spoken. She lives? With a man? She’s alive? Giovanni’s mind was congested with doubts. He squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to show any weakness to his men. Still he felt weak, almost light headed. All of him felt on the verge of collapse. “Have faith,” he said under his breath. Those were the words she whispered each time she visited his dreams. He opened his eyes and saw the men staring at him curiously.

  Dominic walked over and picked up the photos. After his consigliere scanned the images he passed them over. Giovanni accepted each.

  “How? How is what you tell us possible?” Dominic asked.

  “Fish kept a journal of his contracts. Details were specific so he could collect on payment.” Lorenzo pointed to a bound leather journal on the table. “Read it, Gio. It says after he planted the bomb he saw a woman who looked similar to Mira Ellison arrive with cameramen chasing her. He saw her clearly when she entered the building. The doorman called her by another name, Angelique. Fish wrote that Angelo discovered Mira had an assistant named Angelique. She was black American too. Fish killed the doorman to keep the secret. They figured this was the woman who died that day, and they wanted to be sure you believed it was true. Fish was hot on the trail of Mira after the bombing. The day he discovered she had a lover named Kei Hyogo he learned of a private flight out of the country. He was there. He took these photos. We paid Fish’s mother a visit. We convinced her to let us have access to his things. The photos and journal were there, along with cash that will be given to the family of course.” Lorenzo cleared his throat. “I did my own research, and this is all true cousin. The Asian man owns her business now. He travels between the states and Switzerland often. In fact he’s with her now.”

  Each photo cut through him. The pain of her rejection, betrayal, burned away the love in his heart. She let him die inside, thinking she was dead. He truly believed in what they shared in the short time they knew each other. He was a fool. A constant fool.

  “We leave for Switzerland.” He rose, tossing the photos as if they were trash.

  The men didn’t speak. No one questioned him. For that he was grateful. There were plenty of reasons for him to question himself now.

  ****

  Mira sat in front of the fireplace watching the flames burn brighter and wood logs char then crackle. She had covered herself in a red and orange afghan. Kei was near. She could hear him moving about the cottage and the sounds grew closer. Soon he’d want to have ‘the talk’, and she dreaded it. Mira exhaled a deep breath to ensure her voice sounded confident, controlled.

  “Is she sleep?” she asked, sipping her tea. The meandering had stopped, which only meant he was staring at the back of her head from somewhere in the room.

  “Yes.”

  Mira smiled. “She loves when you come to visit. Usually I can’t get her down so easily.”

  “She sat on that little toilet you call potty,” he said.

  Mira chuckled. “Because you asked her to. Thanks for that. We’re having a bit of trouble with this potty issue.”

  “I love her.” Kei sat next to her on the sofa, close. Mira sipped her tea, keeping her focus away from the questioning look in his eyes. “She’s beautiful, Mira. She has your spirit; she’s in my heart.”

  “Mine too, Kei. She’s everything to me.”

  “And me?”

  Her gaze shifted to him. The smoky look of desire in his eyes made her heart beat faster. What held her back? He was a good man, and a good lover in the past. He saved her life. Eve had grown so attached to him that she cried when he left them to return to the States. Her daughter needed a father. Kei’s advances, proposals, touches, and kisses when she relented had not wavered. There was no mistaking the truth. He wanted the role of father, provider, and lover again. He even wrote her love letters when they were apart.

  That evening he wore his hair loose, free of the leather band that kept the blue-black silky strands smoothed and bound away from his face. He looked even more strikingly handsome this way. And he had grown bolder. Just the other night he walked in on her changing, and his gaze lingered as she struggled to cover herself. The determined look of desire in his eyes when he watched her silently now only strengthened the sexual tension between them. She had to deal with him now.

  “Kei.”

  “It’s going to be a tough winter. I’ve made arrangements to work from here, to help you.”

  Mira held her tongue.

  “It’s been almost two years, and I’ve been really patient. Eve is thriving. We are more of a family together than apart. We can leave here. Go to Hong Kong. Start a life there.”

  “I’m not ready,” she sighed, ignoring the way his ha
nd slowly caressed the top of her thigh.

  “You haven’t tried,” he said running his other hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair.

  “I have, you know I have.”

  He removed the cup of tea from her hands and placed it back on the saucer. “I’m in love with you, can’t you see that?” He brushed his lips across her shoulder and the touch sent a warm lovely sensation through her.

  “I’m not in love—.”

  “You sure? We had a history that goes further back than what you shared with him; still he’s between us.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him. This conversation is about us.” She turned her face to look into his eyes. He drew so close she thought he’d kiss her. But he refrained. Kei always respected her boundaries. It was another reason why she was so trusting of him.

  “We have to deal with this man, Giovanni, every time I touch you and you pull away. What do you think, Mira? That you’ll see him again someday? That you two can ever be anything?”

  It was a valid question. She knew she would never see him again. If she dared try it would put her and Eve in jeopardy. And by some chance if he still cared for her, he’d want her in his life. Then what? A life of chaos and danger for her daughter? In the Battaglia world she lost so much, her career, her best friend, her identity. She wouldn’t raise her daughter that way. There would never be a future with Giovanni Battaglia.

  “How’s your Italian?” Kei asked.

  Mira cut her gaze over to him. Kei stared heatedly at her. “I know you’ve been taking lessons, teaching Eve words. I thought you were going to concentrate on German, maybe French.”

  “Are you checking up on me?”

  “I have to know what you’re doing to keep you safe. To make sure no one can identify you as Mira Ellison. They can only know the name you took. Evelyn. Why did you decide on that name? Why not Melissa, your mother’s name?”

  Evelyn was Giovanni’s mother’s name. The story of Evelyn McHenry paralleled her life in many ways. Going on the run she felt the name was fitting. His mother had done the same thing once. Run from his father until he found her and dragged her back. “Melissa is too close to home. I needed something different. You already know this.”

  “What I know is that you gave our daughter his name, Battaglia. And you have his mother’s name. I never said anything, but I do my homework, Mira. You know I do.”

  “I have no explanation.”

  “Of course you do. You want him again. You want him to find you.”

  “Oh give it a rest please!” she shouted. Something she never did with Kei. It was hard to raise your voice with a man who never, ever, raised his. Mira calmed herself. “I fell in love with him. I told you that. When we came here I was depressed and lonely for my friend. Maybe subconsciously I chose the name because of him. All I know is I did what I had too to make myself sane.”

  “He’s the reason your life was shattered.”

  “I thought you wanted to talk about us. Why are we doing this?”

  Kei shook his head. “You’re holding onto a memory of just 3 weeks of your life. Fabiana is dead. All we have now is Eve, and what we build with our love for her. Do you not agree that I love her?”

  “I do.”

  “Then give her to me Mira. She sees me as her father. I want her to take on my name. I want us to be like we were.”

  A feeling of tired sadness passed through her. She felt the sting of tears and blinked them away. “I can’t help the way I feel, Kei. Yes, I care for you, but I’m… he’s the father of my daughter. I know it doesn’t make sense but we are tied to him in a way I can’t bring myself to sever. We created her. I can’t move past who I am today to think of a future with you. I need more time.”

  “Mira—.”

  “Please stop.” She knocked his hand away. He captured her face and his lips crashed on hers before she could escape. She pushed against his chest but allowed the kiss. It felt good to have a man touch her, and want her. Kei’s kiss was as strong and commanding as Giovanni’s. Kei tried to push her back on the sofa and she decided to resist. Breaking the kiss she turned her head. “Not like this. Don’t rush me, okay?”

  “Does it even matter how much I need you to love me again Mira? I’ve put my life on hold for you. Does any of it matter?”

  Mira stood up shrugging the blanket from her shoulders. “It matters.”

  “Then show me.” He reached for her hand once more.

  She pulled away in an abrupt manner that drew a frown of disapproval from him. “Sorry. I faked my death. I’m not going to fake a romance with you. I can’t hurt you like that Kei. If it happens for us again we have to let it happen naturally.”

  Of course she remembered how they once were. But the passion between them did not compare to what she had with Giovanni during those short weeks. “Maybe it’s you that needs to rejoin the living and not me,” she said. “Find someone to love you the way you deserve.”

  “No. I had that person. She’s standing before me.”

  Mira spoke calmly with no compassion in her eyes or smile of tenderness. “I don’t want what we had. I didn’t when we broke up and nothing has changed. I just need to raise my daughter in peace. It’s not her fault that her parents got it wrong. And even if I only knew him for three weeks, I knew enough about him to know he’d want to love her too. So I gave her his name, gave her the identity I can’t have. That makes me happy.”

  “If Fabiana were here what would she say about the woman you are now? And you’re right. We can’t go public because your life would be in jeopardy. Those men who killed her, who killed Angelique and Eduardo are still out there. They need to believe you’re dead.”

  He rose. This time his touch was soft, apologetic. And when his lips brushed her shoulder she felt their shared passion from before, like a spark in her cold barren heart. He didn’t push her. He embraced her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder as an act of compassion not a move for seduction. “I love you, Mira.”

  She chose her words carefully with her eyes closed. “Give me a little more time. Maybe I’ll find a way to move forward. I just need a little more time.”

  “We have all the time in the world.”

  ****

  Giovanni walked up the tiny steps and ducked as he entered the hull of the private plane. Dominic, Lorenzo, Carlo, Renaldo and Carmine all followed. He would fly back to Napoli first and conclude business. Then they would all make the trip to Switzerland.

  Underneath his deepest feelings of disappointment and anger he felt profound relief. Mira lived. Somewhere out there she existed. She hadn’t died because of him. The nightmare he’d been living for two years was over. Or so he wished. There remained the fact that she’d fled him to be with another man while he suffered and mourned her death. He never thought of hurting her. He’d never laid a hand on any woman. However, his rage toward her now had him dangerously close. The man, whoever he was, was a dead bastard for coming in between them. Taking a seat near the window he pressed his lips together and relaxed, closing his eyes.

  Dominic dropped next to him with something in his hand.

  Giovanni opened his eyes. His consigliere brought the envelope of photos and journal he had tossed aside. He glanced up at him frowning.

  “I thought you might want them.” Dominic said, keeping his gaze trained forward.

  Giovanni secretly had. He only tossed them away in front of his men to save face. He accepted the package with a small grunt of thanks. As the plane taxied down the runway he removed the photos and studied her image again. She’d better have one hell of a reason for running from him. No matter how Flavio had intervened she was supposed to know his heart.

  Lorenzo stuffed his overnight bag in the overhead compartment. He looked over at Giovanni who hadn’t spoken again since they left his home. He knew his cousin struggled with the news of his lover’s resurrection. He couldn’t fathom how he’d feel if Fabiana had lived. There was also more truth. Something Lor
enzo discovered only days ago. Mira Ellison had a baby, a brown baby with blue eyes that looked uniquely like his cousin’s. She had named her Eve Fabiana Battaglia. Lorenzo buckled his seatbelt smiling. His cousin was in for one hell of a reunion.

  Chapter Three

  Morning came quick. Mira felt as if she’d slept on a bed of rocks. She tossed and turned all night with dreams she couldn’t recall. She managed to cover herself with her robe and make it downstairs to prepare breakfast on steady legs. However, fatigue weighed her eyelids and she kept yawning uncontrollably. Her gaze lifted from the step in time to keep from colliding with Kei. He waited for her in the narrow stairwell, evidently having heard her rise.

  “Morning.”

  “Hi,” he said softly.

  “Is Eve up?” Mira asked through a yawn. She didn’t hurry to rise because she knew Kei would be with her daughter as soon as she opened her eyes.

  “She’s in her chair eating dry cereal. I want to take you two to breakfast. How fast can you get dressed?”

  Today was not the day for an excursion. She really craved more sleep. Mira smiled weakly. “I can cook something for us.”

  “Enough of you in the kitchen. I want to take my girls out. It’s nice today. Besides you stay cooped up in here too much as it is.”

  “I’m a little tired.” She wiped her hand down her face and stretched her eyes to fight back her exhaustion.

  “I see. You don’t get much sun or exercise. Relax sweetheart. Please let me help. Let’s have breakfast and let Little Rabbit run around in the snow.”

  Mira nodded. “Fine, bring her to me so I can change her. We’ll be ready within the hour.”

  Kei nodded but stepped forward instead of backward. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding us, since we had our talk.”

  “Really. Have you been paying attention? I spend every minute of the day chasing a toddler.” She crossed her arms.

  “And I’ve been chasing you.”

  Despite the twinge of irritation pricking at her heart she smiled and cupped the side of his face. “Eve does love the snow. Doesn’t she?”