Read BELLA MAFIA for Free Online

father who worshiped him. Carolla did that to a beautiful boy because Michael's father refused to deal in narcotics." Domino's hand clenched into a fist. "Yet the don never gave way. You have the proof now; the man who was in this room tonight is one of the most highly respected legitimate exporters of goods from Sicily, and he paid the price. He paid for it with the life of his son."
    Domino paused, shook out a silk handkerchief, and wiped his mouth before continuing. "Michael was his father's son, and he fought back. At the time of his death he was cured of his addiction. But his killers injected him with enough heroin to kill five men. Even that did not satisfy them; they tortured him, beat him, until even the mortician could not repair his features. Don Roberto carries all this in his heart; he blames himself for that broken body, for the terrible things that were done to his beautiful son."
    Emanuel watched as Domino wiped his eyes. The old man was speaking as if the tragedy had just occurred.
    "Why, if he knew all this, did Luciano wait? His son has been dead more than twenty years."
    Domino gave Emanuel a disdainful look. "Because he has two more sons."
    "Yet now, all these years later, he is prepared to jeopardize his life and the safety of his family. I don't understand."
    Domino tucked his handkerchief away and smiled, but his eyes were ice cold.
    "You are not one of us, you could not understand. Call it revenge, call it the end to a vendetta, but I guarantee that Paul Carolla is finished if you get Luciano on the stand. Capich'?"
    Domino excused himself, and again the door opened to some unseen signal. The two men who had brought Emanuel to the meeting were waiting for him.
    Emanuel arrived back at his apartment to find one of his guards washing down, yet again, the main entrance. Red stains could be seen on the cloth as the man wiped the door. Emanuel sighed. Once or twice a week a dead cat was pinned to the door, its guts hanging out, pitiful legs pinned as if crucified.
    "Another cat? They carry on like this, and there won't be one left in the neighborhood."
    The guard shrugged. "This one's a bit different," he said.
    Emanuel looked, not even sickened anymore. "Oh, yes?"
    "Yes, it's yours."Q
    W^ophia Luciano sat beside her husband, Constantino, watching the road, knowing that within moments they would reach the brow of the hill from which they could see the sprawling Villa Rivera.
    The elder son of Don Roberto Luciano, Constantino had handsome features and blue-black hair that were reminiscent of his father as a young man. But only reminiscent; there was a shyness, a gentleness to him that were even more evident when he spoke, for he was afflicted with a slight stammer. Sophia waited for him to tell their children they were "home"; it annoyed her that her husband always referred to his father's house as "home" when they had lived in Rome for the past eight years, but she said nothing.
    Below them now, sparkling in the February afternoon sun, the Villa Rivera seemed bathed in golden light, which spread across the tiled roof, the swimming pool, and tennis courts. White curtains billowed from the painted shutters and caught the breeze along the veranda.
    Constantino stopped the car on the brow of the hill. They could see the striped awnings of the marquee, already erected for the wedding. Constantino stared down while his two sons grew impatient, urging their papa to hurry.
    "Is something wrong?" asked Sophia.
    "They must be workmen, see them? On the roof, around the gates."
    Sophia shaded her eyes and replied, "There'll be a lot of people, darling. You know Mama will want only the best."
    Graziella Luciano was waiting on the porch, her gray hair coiled in a bun at the nape of her neck, her tailored dress concealing her extra weight. Her face, with no trace of makeup, was still, at sixty-five, hardly lined. Her excitement was held in check; she appeared almost austere, but her pale blue eyes were sharp,