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Catalina looked away. Mira rubbed her brow. She didn’t know Giovanni long, but she knew one thing. Loyalty was a big thing with him. If she kept a secret like this there could be consequences. She had to know more.

“When he took me to Palermo for Aurora’s wedding. He was my chaperone when I went to meet Franco and his family. I was so upset after the first meeting. Franco is, well he isn’t pleasant on the eyes. Not like my Domi. He’s short, crude, he smells of dirt and cigarettes. He has a gap between his front teeth!” Catalina tapped her front tooth to emphasize the point. “Domi saw I was disappointed. He tried to cheer me up. I was only seventeen. That night he took me to dinner and though we have family in Palermo we aren’t…” She cast her shy gaze to Mira. “We aren’t welcome to stay. Only when Giovanni is there do they show respect. So Domi and I stayed in a hotel. And we talked, drank wine, played cards… it happened.”

“You have to stop the affair with him! If one of Giovanni’s men had seen you. Do you know how risky that is?”

Catalina didn’t look her way this time. She stared straight ahead.

“You have to end it. For good.”

“Will you keep my secret?”

Mira struggled with her answer. It wasn’t her business. She didn’t want to be involved. But she had seen it, and she had to decide what she’d do with that knowledge. “Yes.”

Catalina threw her arms around her neck. “Bless you! Thank you!” She released her. “You want to see my brother, don’t you? I’ll help you go to him.”

“No. He’s working, I won’t bother him.”

“No he isn’t. I spoke to Domi. He’s alone. And if he’s alone, he’s miserable. Something is wrong. Something is going on with the other families. Go to him.”

Mira felt it too. Catalina rose. She went over and found her satin robe. “Wear this. You have to be covered when you go out there. When you see his men tell them that Giovanni sent for you. Stand your ground with his men. Demand respect and look them in the eye when you speak.Prego.” She helped her into her robe. “They’ll let you in.”

“Maybe I should give him space tonight. If he wanted to see me, he’d have sent for me.”

Catalina shook her head fiercely. “He’s never brought any woman home. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You are changing him. He seems… happy. And trust me a happy Giovanni is what we all need. So go to him.Prego. And we will forget this whole matter with Domi, right? It’s over. That was us saying goodbye. We’re done.” Catalina grinned nodding through her lie. Mira knew she was being manipulated. But she relented. “Where is this villa again? How do I get there?”

“Let me show you a different way. To avoid Renaldo and Carmine. They are the worst. The other’s you can manage,” Catalina said. Mira quickly tied down her robe. It was about the length of her dress she wore today, barely touching her knees. She and Catalina crept out into the hall and down to the lower floor unseen. “There, take that path and it will bring you to his door.” Catalina kissed her on both cheeks. “Grazie, for listening and keeping my secret. We’re friends now. Best of friends.Si?”

“Catalina, I….”

“Grazie!” she waved and hurried off. Mira did as instructed and walked a path through a manmade garden that circled the pool. Soon she saw the cottage and realized the name given to it was due to the rust colored paint that covered its stone walls. Wild vines and ivy grew along the windowsills, wild red flowers blooming about. It looked unkempt compared to the rest of the estate. Still it had such an overwhelming masculine quality to it. There were three men smoking outside of it that didn’t seem happy to see her.

One of the guys glanced to the other confused by her arrival but the other just checked her out. Finally another English speaking man spoke. “Signora?Please return to your room.”

“Can you tell him I’m here? Please?” she asked.

Another man leaning against the wall exhaled a stream of smoke. He was taller than the ones glaring at her, but had an intense gaze that made her feel vulnerable in the night. Mira crossed her arms against the hard stare. “And who are you?”

“Mi chiamo Carlo. Back off boys. I’ll tell the boss you’re here,” he winked. She nodded her thanks and waited. Carlo did as promised. He was in the cottage for under five minutes before he opened the door for her to enter. The darkness closed in on her. She wished she could find a light switch. The front door to the cottage closed behind her. After a few minutes her vision adjusted to the shadowy atmosphere. She bumped furniture, walked towards a door to the back of the place and wondered if she should instead climb the stairs. The knob felt cool to the touch. She turned it slowly. Again more darkness. Was he in there?

“Che vuoi da me?”A deep man’s voice said to her left. Mira wasn’t sure but she believed that he asked what she wanted from him. A bright orange glow of a half smoked cigar was all she could see, until the orange red flames dimmed.

“I’ve been waiting, looking for you. Why are you sitting in the dark?” she asked. The moonlight defined his frame, but his face was covered in shadows.

“Why would you walk out here in the middle of the night dressed like that?” He sat upright. Part of his face became clear in the shadows. His hard tone and stare stopped her heart.

“There’s nothing wrong with what I have on.” She looked down at herself. “This robe stops no lower than the dress I wore today.”

“You shouldn’t be parading in front of these men in underwear! Show some got damn respect,” he yelled.

Mira stunned, turned and headed for the door. Reaching for the knob her anger stopped her. She glared back over at him, seeing him. He drank from a bottle instead of a glass. He made no attempt to stop her or explain himself further.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you acting like a mean jackass? How do you say asshole in Italian?”

He chuckled.“Briccone!”

“Yes! That’s what you are. A meanbriccone! There’s no reason to attack me the way you did. I came out here out of concern for you, and you all but called me a whore!”

Giovanni rose in the dark, the bottle clutched by the neck in his left hand. The other balled into a fist. He stalked toward her. She stood her ground, with folded arms, though her hands trembled with nervous energy. He stopped with a barely a foot of space between them. He reeked of tobacco and the strongest stench of whiskey she’d ever smelled. “Leave,” he said. “I won’t stop you. Go back to your pampered life. I won’t beg you to stay.” His voice held a shaky uncertainty that she couldn’t help but recognize as weakness. He turned up the bottle drinking more, his gaze never shifting from her.