Page 15 of Bought By the Mafia

We turned a corner and reached what I assumed to be a restricted section of the gallery, if the guard at the entrance was anything to go by. Giovanni showed the man a card and he let us through. The area had an interesting selection of art, mostly paintings. It was definitely the more eclectic part of the gallery. Unlike the earlier sections, this one did not have artists standing next to their art. I stopped to look at the pieces. One was a small Picasso, the size of a pocketbook. The one next to it looked like a Warhol. They were fewer patrons here, but one could tell most were here not to look, but to do business. One man in particular examined a Basquiat with a magnifying glass as if examining its authenticity.

While strolling, I got distracted by all the priceless art around me, and almost bumped into Gio when he halted. Finally, something had captured his interest. It was an art piece of an abstract woman painted in black, crying into a river that turned into a sea of gold with specks of black. It was a striking piece.

Even though Giovanni hadn’t been much of a talker ever since we arrived. He fell deeper into silence as he stared at the painting. “Found what you were looking for?” I said, looking for a way to fill the uncomfortable silence. There was something about the painting that was mocking me. As if it was saying something that I should understand, but was failing to.

“Yes.” His voice was gruff. I couldn’t see his face. He was standing in front of me, but I could not deny the heavy emotion in his voice.

“Sounds like you find it moving.”

“How can I not?” he turned to face me. If he had been feeling anything soft, it was all gone. Rage and disgust were what I saw on his face when he said, “I had to sell it because of your stealing.”

I almost wanted to roll my eyes. He was being a little dramatic. A man like him had more than enough money that I doubt he felt it the way he seemed to claim. The dude was vacationing in Greece on a yacht when we met. “Do you want a sorry? Sorry. Who’s the artist anyway, so I can tell them how affected you are by their art?” That last sentence. I don’t know what made me utter it, but I wanted to hurt him the same way he was hurting me. However, his response was the last thing I expected to hear and made instantly regret my statement.

“My mother.”

6

The painting was just as I remembered. Whoever had it before had maintained it properly. The gold of the water, whilst a little brown than I recalled, still had a shimmering tone to it that contrasted the black paint of the woman. Just looking at it brought back a wash of memories I thought were long gone. Memories of her painting this exact work. She would let me into her studio, a privilege only I ever gotten, and let me watch her work. Giving this up was hard.

When Kevin told me he found the painting, I thought I was going to come in here, buy it back and walk out. Overwhelming emotions were the last thing I expected. Maybe it was because of the person I came with. Simona was the reason I had to sell it. And here she was, standing next to me, mocking me.

“I’m sorry,” she said. It sounded sincere, but I would be a fool to trust a professional liar like her.

“No need for the apology, Simona. I know you don’t care.” I turned back to the painting. There was no price on it, but if Kevin put it on display, he probably thought it was going to fetch a higher price from other buyers. There were art collectors in here and most of them probably did not recognize it because it’s a different style than the one she’s known for. But if one of them looked closer… Well, that’s not going to happen. I signaled to Mickey, who had been following us discreetly throughout and told him to make sure no one ever comes near the painting except us. His intimidating body would probably be enough to scare most of these artsy folks.

“When we took your money…”

“You’re still talking,” I said without looking at her. I thought it would be enough to dismiss her. I was doing everything I could to show her how cold I was, even though a part of me was feeling the exact opposite.

“Come on, Gio. Can I at least explain myself?”

Without wanting to, without thinking, I turned to face her again as if compelled by a mystical force. She had a mask of sincerity again. I ignored it. I might fall for it if I wasn’t careful and turned my gaze away from her face, only for it to land onto her enticing cleavage. Her dress was form fitting and elegant. It dipped low at the chest, making her breasts appear like two round apples begging to be licked. An idea popped into my head of dragging her away from her into an empty room I saw earlier and fucking her senseless. Maybe that was the solution. Fuck her until I no longer felt like this, because right now, she was making me feel nothing but conflicting emotions, and I hated it. Order and sense is what my life is about and she was bringing in chaos and destruction.

“You had a yacht. I didn’t think you’d miss one million dollars.”

“Yeah, you don’t think, do you? It wasn’t the one million dollars that set me back. It was the chain of dominos you started. Because of your actions, I ended up losing a lot more money than what you stole. But that’s the problem with people like you. You don’t think about anyone beyond yourself.”

Thing is, she didn’t steal my money, but a client’s money just when we were illiquid. The client ended up telling everyone in his circle that my hedge fund was a Ponzi scheme and his circle told people their circles. On and on it went, resulting in the company losing money and clients. Then it all coincided with a stock market crash, which made the loss so much larger that the company almost went into bankruptcy. It’s funny when you think about it. Many have tried to take down the Morelli family and failed. The only person who came close was a scamming little party girl who wanted to buy more shoes.

“What did you do with the money, anyway?” She looked away and did not respond. My bet was shoes and clothes. She seemed to love wearing all the best things. What else could she have spent it on?

“What do you think? Am I a genius or not?” I turned my gaze away from Simona to Kevin, who was smiling as he came over to us. Mickey stopped him in his tracks and looked at me for assent. I nodded once and he let Kevin go. “Your boy is tough, guarding you against me, in my gallery. Or,” he squinted his left eye as he leaned forward, “you don’t want people to know a Coretti is in the gallery.” Beside me, Simona choked. “Maria Coretti?” I heard her whisper.

“Including your brand-new wife?” Kevin said in mock disapproval. “I gotta say, that’s cold.”

“How much is it?” Because of how famous she was before she died and because she had few paintings, her work was often expensive. Kevin, like the money grubber I knew him to be, mentioned a sum so big that Simona let out a strangled gasp.

“Her work has only gone up in value as the years pass. Who knows, I might sell it to you at a bargain. I could open it up to auction.”

He really was trying to fleece me. That was the problem of being the suit-wearing one in the family. Everyone assumed you were straight and forgot that you came from a line of killers. I shifted my weight onto one foot and pretended to think. “An auction. That sounds like a great idea. You could do one of those. But then if you choose that road, it won’t be just Mickey over there I would come with. Maybe, let’s say hypothetically, I could come with a few more mickeys and have them light this place up before the auction. We would take the good pieces, of course. Your little Picasso and Basquiat will come with us for safekeeping.”

Kevin’s eyes widened.

“But we don’t have to do all that. Unlike my brothers, I’m a man of business. And if I’m offered a reasonable price, I respond reasonably.”

Kevin gulped. I could see sweat running down his neck and I was sure he was close to soiling himself. A smile that did not reach his eyes spread over his face. “You know me, I like to test waters. That offer was just a little tester. The actual price is…” His new price was a third of his original price. Much less than I sold it for and much less than he probably bought it for.

“Now that’s reasonable,” I said.

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