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“That surprises you? I think you just threatened me.”

“It’s a first.” He dismissed the comment of his threatening her. If he’d threatened her, she’d know it. She picked up her martini, took a long swallow, and placed the glass back on the table slowly. After a deep inhale of a steady breath, she spoke in that soft voice of hers. “Mr. ah, Signore Battaglia, I understand things are done differently here. I owe you nothing including access to whatever you think is beneath my building. I want you to stay away from my business and me or I will… I’ll contact the authorities.”

Giovanni’s brows lowered.

“I’m serious.”

“I wish you would reconsider. I’m really harmless, until I’m disappointed.”

“It was nice meeting you.Buona sera,” she said rising from her seat.

“Prego.We’ll meet again Bella, and soon,” he said raising his glass and toasting her.

The harsh uneven rhythm of her breathing made her exit less graceful. Still she straightened her spine and walked from his table without looking back. He didn’t try to conceal who or what he was, and she’d known a few dangerous men. Maybe he wasn’t a mobster but she knew a shady person when she met one. Kei had a checkered past before he became the King of Wall Street. And the men he dealt with in business were more ruthless than any Mafia kingpin. Every now and then she’d meet some former clients of his at a party or social event she accompanied him to, and he’d dismiss the dark sinister leers she’d get from these men. Giovanni Battaglia didn’t leer at her. His stare held more warmth than she knew what to do with. But he had made his wishes clear, and that did piss her off.Who the hell did he think he was to try to intimidate her?

In spite of her vow not to look back, when she reached the stairs, she gave a parting glance over her shoulder. He was lighting a cigar and exhaled a stream of smoke when his gaze lifted and connected with her. Two men who stared her way as well had joined him at the table. He spoke to one of them, and the man nodded with his eyes locked on her. Mira passed her empty martini glass off to a passing waiter and quickly went down the velvet steps. Fabiana was off to the side of the dance floor with a deep blush to her pale cheeks, and her large green eyes blinking up at Lorenzo. She marched directly to her friend.

“I must borrow my friend for a moment.” She pulled her away gently. Lorenzo nodded.

“Having a good time?” Fabiana grinned.

“Looks like you are.”

“I have some great news—”

“I don’t. We need to get out of here and talk. I just met—”

Fabiana grabbed her by both hands and shook her head hard. “Listen to me first. We’re going to start our vacation by the lake. Lake Como.”

“What?”

“Tonight. We’ll leave tonight and have so much fun. Ready to go? We need to pack.”

“Well… I…”

“C’mon.” Fabiana blew a kiss to Lorenzo and pulled Mira toward the door.

“Wait, I haven’t said a thing to the guests. Shouldn’t I?” Mira asked.

“The party can go on without us. They barely know what they’re celebrating. Let’s get out of here and pack. We have a car to pick us up in an hour.” She could barely object as her friend dragged her out of the club. She tried to explain about Giovanni Battaglia’s demands. Fabiana laughed. Said he’s a businessman trying to cut a deal. She’d handle it. Mira sighed inside of the chauffeured car and figured she’d reserve the sobering questions for when they were sunning at the lake. She’d also give Teddy a call to look into the lease agreement. Gangster or not, Giovanni Battaglia’s request didn’t seem like one she could ignore.

Chapter Three

1970 Virginia –

“Me-ma, can I have it? Huh? Can I?”

“What is it baby? Bring it closer so that gran can see.”

Mira hurried, though she’d been told countless times not to run in her grandmother’s sewing room. She dodged a few boxes of clothes out of practice, and chairs stacked with books on different sewing techniques. She would be six in two days and her Me-ma had sewn a new dress for the party. Mira couldn’t hide her excitement. She’d drawn three pictures and prayed really hard for a puppy. God would bring her one. Mira was sure of it. Bouncing on her feet she opened her palm and showed her grandmother the shiny thing she found in a soft black box in the back of the closet.

Her grandmother’s smile dimmed. She didn’t look happy.

“Me-ma?”

“This is yours baby.” Her grandmother nodded. She plucked the gold link bracelet and fastened the clasp around her wrist. It fit. “See here…” Her grandmother turned the gold pate in its center around so she could read it. “It says Mirabella.”

“That’s not my name.”