Chapter 2
MIA
I rushed to Bianca's house to prepare it for the wake.
There was to be no burial as she'd requested a cremation.
After checking with her nephews via email, I'd arranged with the funeral director for her ashes to be delivered to me later in the week.
I had been instructed to pass them on to her family. To Lorenzo and Vitto.
The thought sent a wild rage through me as I stepped out of my compact car and dashed inside the home.
Who the hell had Lorenzo thought he was, barging in from overseas and calling the shots of who sat where when I'd done all the planning for that service?
Granted, he hadn't known who I was.
Still, I'd seethed at him from the back of the church for the rest of the memorial, relegated to the shadows, embarrassed at being taken down a notch so publicly.
True, I could not claim to be a relative, but Bianca had meant so much to me. More than he'd ever know or appreciate.
Opening the front door, I set my musings about the Calibrese brothers aside as I had guests to prepare for.
So far, I'd followed her instructions for internment to the letter.
Walking into her office, I pulled out the envelope she'd left for me on the desk, lifting it to my nose. I inhaled her faint floral Bulgari perfume, blinking back tears.
Other than my mum, she'd been the closest female to me since she'd folded my four-year-old self into her arms so many years ago.
I'd been crying for my mother, who'd been torn between comforting me and cleaning Bianca's house.
‘Hush,' the little Italian lady had told me, stroking my back as my sobs receded.
‘You run along. I'll keep an eye on her,' she said to my mother, waving her off with a smile, giving her the chance to complete her work without me clinging to her skirt.
In minutes, Bianca and I were baking biscottis, with me laughing my little face off.
And so we had grown older together. Her home became a second sanctuary to me.
She soon hired my mother as her housekeeper and took me under her wing in her kitchen, learning to craft delicate pastries and decadent desserts led by her skilled guidance.
I was like a niece to her, sharing my wins, cries, awards, and crushes with her.
In turn, she and her husband, Costa, delighted in me, having never had kids.
We took care of their home when they went on their long summer and half-year trips to Italy.
When they got back, they walked into a pristine home, cleaned by Mum and furnished with hearty Italian meals I'd made for them.
When her Costa died in Naples, my mother and I helped her pack and drove her to the airport.
We didn't see her for over a year, but when she returned, we were there for her through her tears and loneliness.
When my mother passed when I was 18, Bianca was the one who helped me with all the preparations and was by my side through it all.
She also instilled in me a sense of resilience and independence, shaping the woman I was becoming.
She helped me with my first rental unit and financed my van, which aided me when I took over my mother's cleaning business, which thrived since.
She gave me wings when I had none, and I'd adored and cared for her in return.
Now, as I hurried through Bianca's house, dusting off picture frames and setting out trays of food for the wake, memories of her flooded my mind.
The mountain views, the sun shining through its windows, and the aroma of fresh herbs from her garden wafted through the air, reminding me of the comforting presence she'd always exuded.
The doorbell interrupted my reverie, signalling the first guests' arrival. Wiping away a stray tear, I set down the letter.
I straightened my shoulders and headed out, pasting on a smile to greet the newcomers.
The house soon filled, friends and family sharing stories of the formidable woman we'd all loved and offering their condolences.
Amid the sombre atmosphere, my thoughts kept drifting to her nephews.
Of more importance, I wondered what they would say if Lorenzo, in particular, ever discovered what she'd shared with me in her final words to me.
LORENZO
‘I was caught up with company work in Singapore. I only managed to catch a flight late last night,' Vitto grunted.
His face was a mask of control, not wanting to fall apart.
He twisted from the front seat, where he'd sat beside Mauri on our way to Bianca's home from the church.
My brother and I used the drive to catch up.
So far, he'd given me a quick rundown of the latest from the family's business dealings in the region, which he ran.
I took care of our European division, and Alessio oversaw our North American business.
Our last sibling, Valerio, kept order and ran security for us all. He'd stayed in Naples to keep the peace in a fast-escalating war of attrition between a growing number of antagonists and us.
‘Have you met this M. Kassa who's been organising the funeral?' I asked Vitto, my thoughts flitting to the mysterious hatted beauty. ‘The same M. Kassa in our email comms?'
‘Nope,' Vitto clarified. ‘But I have a number,' he added. ‘Shall we call them?'
I shrugged. ‘Too late now. So far, they've taken charge. The service was elegant, the flowers and casket classy without being over the top, and I imagine the wake will be more of the same: well-organised. I'm impressed, so let's not bother them now. That said, I'd like to catch them at the house to thank them.'
‘Bene,' Vitto murmured, relaxing in his seat. ‘Freakin' awesome to see you, brother.'
‘Et tu,' I agreed with a wry smile, hiding my surge of love for him. ‘You look like shit.'
‘That's because I am the shit,' he quipped back.
All four of us brothers were bound by blood, purpose and deep, earthshaking affection.
We'd kill for each other. We'd die for each other.
We also enjoyed each other's company. Fraternity, life, and Bianca's insistence had forced us to bond hard, learn to work together and collaborate when many kinfolks in our world had fractured relationships.
Still, our adult responsibilities meant seeing each other was rare. I realised with a stab of emotion how much I'd missed Vitto and yearned to live near him.
‘I gather Alessio won't make it?' Vitto asked.
I shook my head, lips pursed in regret. ‘No, he's stuck in New York on business. He's still shocked, though.'
‘We're here,' Mauri murmured as our SUV turned into a driveway.
I sat forward, curious, as we drove up the sweeping road, heading to a small parking area full of other vehicles.
Guests from the church service, most of them I'd never met, streamed into the house from the cars.
Towards where I'd imagined Bianca lived - a tiny, enchanting cottage surrounded by lush gardens.
However, my initial impression soon changed.
It was clear, at some point, that the weatherboard home had undergone extensive renovations, combining modern design with rustic charm.
Perched at an elevation offering breathtaking views of the iconic escarpment, the house was less cottage and more an unforgettable mountain retreat. With front-row seats to one of the world's most stunning natural landscapes.
Lifting a brow at the incongruous nameplate for the property ‘Blue Bliss', I took in the charming yet surprising sprawling acreage as I stepped out of the vehicle and breathed in the fresh country air.
An unexpected peace fell over me, almost like I'd come home.
I shrugged it off and exchanged glances with Vitto and Mauri.
‘Let's get this done.'
I led the way as we strode up the purple wildflower-lined path and into the oasis of Bianca's residence.
We received nods of respect from stands of men and women clustered in groups on the steps leading into the generous entryway.
I dipped my head back but moved fast, not keen on in-depth conversation.
Mauri did his job, the menace to my charm, the offence to any charges made by a few eager-faced individuals.
As soon as I stepped inside the home, another unexpected wave of calm and belonging came over me.
The house was a dream, surrounded by lush greenery and overlooking the rugged escarpment. It offered the tranquillity of the outdoors with a private garden and an expansive patio, perfect for al fresco relaxation.
The interior boasted modern amenities, with a comfortable and stylish touch throughout the various wings and generous rooms, high vaulted ceilings, and abundant natural light.
The living area was centred around a cozy wood-burning fireplace, and it included two formal lounges, a dining room, and casual entertaining spaces.
The spacious galley kitchen had top-of-the-line appliances and a convenient butler's pantry.
French doors opened onto a private deck with stunning views of the Blue Mountains range and the landscaped gardens below. The grounds featured a pool surrounded by fragrant lavender hedges, colourful hydrangeas, flowering magnolias, roses, and native plants.
The place was packed with Bianca's friends, older couples, men and women, and a few ex-colleagues from the clinic she'd run.
I pursed my lips, surprised to see a working bar at one end of the living area. I headed for it, keen for a drink.
I spotted a flash of lilac from the corner of my eye, and my heart lurched.
The woman from the chapel.
My eyes locked on her as she worked the room.
I noticed her replenish the food, hand out trays, and greet the guests as if she owned the house.
Or perhaps she was the hired help?
Needing clarity, I stepped toward her, hankering to know the truth.
Until a hand nabbed my arm and spun me around.
‘Vitto,' growling, annoyed at the interruption. ‘What?'
My baby brother gave me a furrowed glance. ‘I need you to meet Signore Chivas,' he murmured. ‘He's a member of the San Giovesse familia in Australia and was a close friend of our aunt.'
‘Damn, I'd forgotten we needed to pay and be paid respect, even this far away from home.'
Vitto waggled his brows at me. ‘The San Giovesse family are influential in Naples, and so too here, so watch yourself.'
Narrowing my eyes at my kin in warning, I turned to greet the silver-haired man who'd appeared before me.
He gave me a smile which didn't quite reach his eyes. ‘My deepest sympathies,' he intoned.
With a gesture to step aside, he pulled me close to whisper in my ear. ‘I hope your aunt's passing doesn't mean you Calibreses are getting any ideas moving in on us.'
I canted back to nail him with an ice-cold glare. ‘We have no such plans, and even if we did, it wouldn't be any of your fuckin' business now, would it, Signore?'
He sucked his teeth. ‘We don't need any trouble.'
‘If adversity comes, it's because it's looking for me, not the other way around,' I ground out. ‘ Should it find its way to us, be advised we won't hesitate to make it go away, with permanent efficacy.'
The man blanched and cursed, nostrils flaring.
Giving Vitto an annoyed glare, I jerked my chin at the older man, muttered my polite gratitude for his attendance, and retreated back to the bar, fuming.
‘Hey, he only wanted to pay his respects,' Vitto growled at my six.
I flicked my eyes over him. ‘Brother, they're feeling their way around us. The sharks are circling now that Bianca is gone.'
Unknown to most of the outside world, our diminutive aunt, who'd once worked as a nurse practitioner at her clinic, had been, in fact, the Queen of our family.
The unwanted crown had been bestowed after my father, Stephano, my mother, Selina and Bianca's husband, Costa, had been killed in one fell swoop.
My brothers and I were in our late teens when she'd flown from Sydney to Italy to take over the funeral arrangements. With no one else suitable, she became the boss of our clan, taking over as head of the Omertà Alliance.
Back then, the death of the Calibrese brethren had caused some disruption in the local underworld.
We'd weathered several bloody attempts to seize control, and with sheer grit, Bianca had kept the lineage and legacy stable.
She'd brought together a fragile informal coalition of twenty families to expand dominance of the city's most lucrative rackets, from drugs and cigarette smuggling to protection.
Keeping to my father's wishes, she'd nurtured the family away from organised crime. Her efforts to reduce the family's footprint in the drug trade had meant entering into the more profitable commerce of hiding assets. We moved money and guarded the valuables and secrets of our fellow clans and kindred members.
Under her leadership, The Omertà Alliance became more structured, strategic, secretive, sophisticated and influential.
My brothers and I assumed the role of its enforcers, keepers, and holders of the confidence of many, with the will and capabilities to protect them with ruthless efficiency.
All because Bianca had kept our family shit together.
As I matured, she and I strategised and guided our ship to safe shores while my siblings executed and enforced it. It'd been a partnership made in heaven.
Until now.
We owed her everything.
I was riled by those who thought we were now poised to make a play on the illicit trades we'd long left behind.
‘We've not even buried Bianca, and fuckers already wanted to know about our expansion plans and business affairs. Can't they hold off till after the wake?'
‘They're nervous,' Vitto murmured. ‘They want reassurance. Some have even travelled from Napoli to pay their respects and have a moment with you.'
‘They can freakin' wait,' I ground out. ‘I have no wish to fake it as Don Corleone and have them genuflect and kiss my hand. I'm an introvert, Vitto; I can't do the benevolent boss charade. Tell them to return some other time, and that's my final.'
Vitto sighed. ‘Whatever you say, brother.'
He turned to murmur to the waiting and growing line of well-wishers.
Fuck that shit.
This was not the 70s, and I was no freakin' godfather.
Plus, I had no designs to go back into company work. I was done, and so were my brothers.
The problem was, no one else in the freakin' world had a clue.
Some families, sensing our pullback, were gunning for us, scared witless by the power we still wielded, the knowledge we held and the secrets we kept hidden.
We'd no plans to dissuade them of their misplaced ideas about us, for we'd yet to finalise our blueprint. Until then, we still needed to exude a lethal menace, the one aspect for which we were most notorious.
‘What can I get you?' a young pimple-faced barman asked from behind the counter.
‘A whisky sour,' I growled, eyes swivelling, searching for some colour in the sea of mourners, some light in the freakin' dark.
None was to be found, and I fumed, downing my drink, losing myself in its heated escape until my name was called out.
With a snarl of irritation, I twisted to see another retinue of unknown men of some Mafioso affiliation, with smarmy grins, slicked-back gel hair and eager eyes, headed my way with purpose.
I needed air, some fuckin' atmosphere to relieve some of this shitty grief on my mind.
The anguish this time was different from losing my parents. Then, I'd been too young to understand much.
Now, at 39, I'd learned plenty more, and it was breaking my heart.
Hell, I'd lost the only woman who, for years, had been the most solid anchor in the wild ocean of our world.
Holding back my sorrow was like keeping a savage storm on a leash.
I glanced around, seeking room in the packed space.
With a curse, I decamped.
With Mauri running interference for me.