Epilogue

LORENZO

A bowed man in his sixties stood in line at a small bank in a rough neighbourhood of Casoria, a town adjacent to Naples.

Clutching his ID in his liver-spotted hands inside the tidy reception area, he blended in with everyone else in the room, all waiting to meet a banker.

The 67-year-old hid in plain sight, wearing a faded leather jacket, hat, and dark eye wear.

He withdrew a generous amount of cash using the alias Tito Guccino.

But as he made his way out of the front doors to a side street, a voice stopped him.

‘Eh, Carlo?'

The older man paused and whipped around.

‘Who's asking?'

I stepped forward, lifted two fingers to his lips, and kissed them.

Although dressed in a cap, sunglasses and black sweats that disguised my identity, he caught on in an instant to who I was, and he paled.

‘It'd be too awkward to say more, no?' I murmured.

Carlo muttered something.

‘Cosa hai fatto? What did you say, old friend?' I attempted to clarify.

‘Fuck you, Son of Omertà.'

With a scoff, I smirked. ‘I think you're the one who is fucked, Abrazzio.'

Carlo leaned into me, baring his ageing gums. ‘Do you think this is over?'

I inclined right in, growling into his ear. ‘It is now. I am the sharp-fanged giant serpent of your nightmares who will slither wherever you are and haunt you anyplace you go. Whatever you try, my piercing vision will find you and paralyse you as my unfortunate prey. I'll tear you apart until you are no more. Ciao, Carlo, enjoy your new life in the hands of the Carabinieri.'

The older man panicked, head whipping around as I melted away.

From the shadows, my eyes followed his hasty rush along the thoroughfare. Behind his glasses, his eyes were terrified and furtive, clutching the last of his dwindling cash.

He got to a street corner, about to cross and meld into the crowd, when he jerked at the butt of a gun slipping in between his ribs.

‘Carlo Abrazzio, come with me.'

He turned to tag a stern-faced Carabinieri officer staring down at him.

In seconds, more of Italy's militarised police moved in fast, fearful they would miss their chance to capture the long-wanted fugitive.

Grim-faced, the once invincible Abrazzio capo stared at the ground as passers-by cheered and applauded on the footpath.

Minutes later, the man who, at the height of his infamy, boasted of mowing down his enemies in their sleep surrendered with a sad smile. Officers grabbed each arm and led him by a small army of armed officers who ushered him into a nondescript van.

Across the street, I studied the unfolding scene with interest, standing alongside three others - Mauri, Valerio and Vitto.

‘Tutto finito,' Valerio growled.

I jerked his chin, pulling my cap lower as more military cops thundered past. ‘Can't believe we found him because he used the alias of a deceased Mafia boss's nephew, one he had murdered himself.'

‘After years running and a few close calls, the feared and ruthless capo mandamento's goose is cooked,' Vitto added.

‘Speaking of lunch, anyone? I'm starved,' Mauri suggested.

‘You're always hungry,' Valerio jested.

‘That's because I need a truckload of energy to deal with all your fuckin' Calibrese drama,' Mauri threw back with a grin.

‘Andiamo,' I rasped. ‘You three nab food. I've got a woman at the villa waiting on a lot of loving.'

My companions groaned, even as sirens wailed and the police vehicles streaked past.

We turned heel and strolled away chatting, just five souls enjoying each others' company and soaking up the warm summer sun.

MIA

I vividly remember my childhood dancing around Bianca's living room to the most romantic Italian songs. At the time, I didn't understand what the lyrics meant, but regardless, they aided in my falling in love with the idea of Italy.

Naturally, I was excited when Lorenzo suggested taking me on a trip to his hometown of Naples, with stops in Milan, Cinque Terre, Florence, and Rome.

Starting in the birthplace of the mythical King Romulus, there was so much to experience and explore, although all we wanted to do was stay in bed.

We checked off all the must-see tourist destinations in each city, indulged in some shopping, and savoured various delicious Italian cuisine.

At last, we landed in Naples, where we stayed in Lorenzo's stunning villa overlooking the famous Gulf with the island of Capri in the distance.

I was charmed and enchanted by his staff and met Valerio, his Neapolitan-based brother.

He was yet another striking Calibrese sibling.

He was quieter and more studious in comparison to Lorenzo's brooding, passionate intensity. Still stylish as all the brothers, he had dry humour and a twinkle in his eye. For all his cool, calm collectedness, I sensed he had a darker, more ominous side to him.

On his first day back home, Lorenzo took me on a whirlwind tour of his hometown. We sampled delicious Neapolitan cuisine and explored the winding streets walled in by Naples' four hills, which offered breathtaking views and a charming promenade.

Our excursion turned a little sombre when we visited the graves and marble memorial where his parents were interred.

I helped him lay flowers, holding him in my arms as an unexpected wave of grief passed through him.

‘I miss them, and Bianca too,' he rasped.

‘I understand, honey,' I said, squeezing him tighter and lending him my quiet, unwavering support.

‘The battle isn't over,' my man murmured. ‘Someone once said the mafia is Medusa-like, and like the myth, no matter how many times you cut off its snakeheads, more sprout in their place. My prayer is that we've escaped the worst of our nightmare.'

The following day, Lorenzo disappeared until mid-afternoon, telling me he'd had an important errand.

I lost myself in the breathtaking views of his home, the ocean, and the vibrant colours of the sea and garden. I spent time in the kitchen with Lorenzo's housekeeper, Mrs Venetio, with whom I practised my rudimentary Italian.

When he returned to pick me up, my man had a shit-eating grin.

‘What's made you so happy, honey?' I asked as he whisked me away for an early meal.

‘I stared at evil in the form of an old man and lived,' he murmured from behind the wheel.

While Mauri flew with us to Italy on this trip, Lorenzo had given him a few weeks off, so a second SUV followed ours as our security detail.

‘Tell me more,' I invited, intrigued.

Lorenzo sucked his teeth and shook his head. ‘I wish it, bella, but this one stays at the highest level of Omertà. What I can say is, a mali estremi, estremi rimedi . To extreme evils, drastic remedies.'

‘You mean desperate times call for radical measures?' I clarified.

He nodded with a curl to his lips. ‘Esattamente.'

‘Is that all you have to say?'

His jaw tightened, and I glanced away with a smile, dropping the topic. Perhaps it was for the best.

Minutes later, we soon strolled into a magnificent restaurant with one of the finest sea views I'd ever seen.

Our stunning meal was served in a romantic, laid-back atmosphere on an outdoor patio overlooking the bay. Every bite, from the fresh prawns to the tender squid and buttered grilled fish, was packed with genuine Mediterranean ingredients and experiments with sweetness, acidity and superb flavour.

Later, we wandered hand-in-hand through the cobblestone streets.

We rambled past the city's inset shrines, walled-in memory boxes depicting loved ones long lost. We explored the historic heart of the city, its nooks and crannies, and its delightful small markets.

‘Do you miss it?' I asked my love.

His face clouded for a moment. ‘I do. Most people in Australia think I was mad to leave this place. But it holds too many sad memories for me, bella. You and my new life are what I want to cherish. I can always visit Naples.'

At the Mermaid's Fountain, one of the most beautiful in the city, located in Sannazaro Square, Lorenzo nabbed me at the waist and danced with me in his arms.

Gliding together, the splendour of the breathtaking night ambience and the lights reflecting off the water created a perfect and molto romantico moment.

Later, we drove home, thrumming with passion for each other.

We raced up the steps from the driveway and into the villa.

He chased me to our room, where I fell laughing on the bed as our lips melded, hands working over our skin in a rush of desire.

I twisted into his arms as he locked them around me, one hand in my auburn hair tugging back, his mouth crashing down with fever.

He took my lips without mercy, the kiss scorching in seconds.

Thrusting his tongue inside me with a feral growl that shot right through me, straight through, down deep, detonating between my legs.

Lorenzo bent over me, tongue snaking, licking, fingers sliding, stroking, owning me. One hand slid under my hips, pushing me up against his hard length.

I swayed, savouring his firm lips, his musk, and his sizeable muscled frame I'd never tire of.

With a moan, I went for his tee, hauling it up.

He helped me, breaking his mouth from mine to drag it off.

It was time to lose my gear.

He moved at a savage tempo, dragging off my top, skirt, and underwear in seconds.

Throwing me back onto the bed, he crawled over me with a growl.

His hands cupped my tits as his mouth fell on them, laving, suckling, latched on to a nipple, worshipping each mound.

He released, his lips returning, and I yielded, cranking my head up and holding the back of his as I opened to him.

His grip went to my hips, knee sliding between my legs, and I complied, lifting widening, readying myself.

With a grunt, he pulled from me and flicked a glance down at my heaving waist and lower still to where I was so wet for him.

Inflamed, wild, heat-seeking for his touch.

He headed south and, clutching my waist, elevated it and dipped his head so he'd feast.

I scrabbled, pulling, squeezing the tension out of the sheets, limbs spasming as he licked, tongue moist yet nubbed. He lavved my clit, setting off me off into unleashed panting.

He massaged my ass, sucking me deeper into his mouth.

Bare feet pressing down his spine, I arched higher as a keening scream broke through. A storm of rapture hit, splintering ecstasy through me, pulverising every last defence.

Gasping and coming in waves, I jolted when Lorenzo surged over me, his hand rubbing his heated cock over my super-sensitive pleasure spot.

‘Bella?' he rasped.

‘Please,' I begged, reaching for his rear. I lurched as he plunged in, impaling, filling, driving me to the point of madness.

‘Baby,' I breathed, wrapping my arms tight around him, lifting my knees high, and cramming my thighs to his sides as he drove into me.

‘Fuck, bella, sei così sensuale,' he grunted against my neck, powering deep.

‘You're breathtaking,' I whispered.

‘Bene,' he growled. ‘Molto bene.'

I agreed, propelling my hips higher, chasing my next crescendo with wild fever. As I took his cock, his tongue heated the folds of my ears, sending a fierce tingling down my spine.

I returned the favour, flicking his barbells, squeezing and kneading his nipples until he groaned.

‘Paradise,' he ground out. ‘I've found fuckin' paradise with you, bella. My beloved. Mine. Fuck,' he groaned, slamming into me.

‘Honey, I'm coming again,' I forewarned in a string-out cry, frenzied ecstasy amping, pelvis rolling around his ramming cock.

‘Come for me, bella, now.'

I clutched onto him, thighs shaking with pleasure as I pressed my face into his neck.

My moans reverberated through the corded veins of his nape as he thrust hard, with increasing speed, between my legs, joining me in wild release with an unfettered roar.

I gripped him for a long time, taking it all in.

The sensation of his softening yet still thick length inside me, the honey of his skin under my touch, and the sweat and musk of him invaded my senses.

I savoured and ran my fingers over him, committing him and this precious moment to my eternal memory.

‘I love you so much, bella,' he rasped into my ear.

‘Ti amo, Lorenzo. Per sempre vostri, forever yours.'

He kissed the dip in my neck where my figa, my omen and my locket lay, and I remembered Bianca's words and her gift to me.

Him.

I sent a silent thank you to her wherever she was, with Lorenzo still buried in me, his face nuzzled in my collarbone, breath ragged, lips pressing into my nape.

Where he'd always belonged.

THE END OF ONE BEAUTIFUL, WILD ROMANCE