Page 48 of Destino

Mira laughed as well. “No. I want to know, what is it that you do exactly?”

He kissed her lips softly. His face lifted with a boyish smile so wide and pure. How could she think he could be part of something nefarious? In this moment his handsome features almost made him angelic. Still she wanted to know about him. The hard demeanor, the power he exuded among men, the tattoos on his arms and back. “Are you the leader of a Mafia family? What does that mean? Being a Don?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Answer a question with a question. I know you aren’t a drug dealer. I’m asking about organized crime. Are you really some sort of Mafia king or something?”

Giovanni withdrew from her. “Or something,” he mumbled.

Mira turned to her side. “You were going to be a lawyer. You studied in America. Why didn’t you finish that dream?”

“It was just a dream, and dreams aren’t meant to be finished. Plus that was my mother’s wish, not mine.” He said dryly. “I told you my father needed me. As did my family. So that dream is over.”

“That’s not true, I dreamt all my life to—”

“To what? Be a dress maker?” he laughed at her. “Some dream. Making rags for spoiled pampered brats!” he spat.

Mira flinched. She sat upright. “That was uncalled for! How dare you talk to me like that?” she said angrily turning to get out of bed.

He reached gripping her arm forcefully, pulling her back to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Let go!” she shouted, trying to push him away.

Giovanni overpowered her, pinning her to the bed. “I said I’m sorry!” he said in her face. “The fight is over.”

She stopped struggling underneath him.

He sighed. “I overreacted. Let’s not make a big deal out of it.”

“Is that how you respond when you’re asked a question you don’t like?”

“No, no…I was wrong. Let’s start over. I shouldn’t have insulted you. We cannot discuss my business. It’s not something that you and I will ever discuss.”

“You’re right, because there is no us. Now will you please let me go so I can return to my room?”

“Shit.”

“NOW!” she refused to be swayed.

Giovanni released her. He fell over to his back blowing out a frustrated breath. Mira rose from the bed. She hurried to gather her robe and cover herself. She could barely stand on her feet without swaying. Her legs and back ached from the acrobatics performed in his bed. She needed a tub packed with ice for relief.

“So this is what you do? You run because we disagree?” He glared after her.

“No. Watch me walk away, and not look back.”

“Wait.”

“Screw you, Giovanni.”

“Bella!” He shouted in a deep authoritative voice that stopped her cold. She glanced back at him almost in fear from the hard tone he used. But he didn’t seem to be threatening her. He looked more pained than anything else.

Giovanni put his hand to his forehead and rested his elbow against his raised knee. “My mother was a sad complicated woman. She lost a lot of her happiness at a young age and gave up her family to be with my father. She wasn’t Sicilian. Do you understand?”

“No.”

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