Repaying the Mafia’s Dept

ISABELLA The sun rose a little while ago. I’m not sure what time it is. I think it’s still early enough to be classed as early morning.

I’ve just been lying next to Tristan watching him sleep.

He’s out cold. It’s moments like these when I feel like I’m the one who has him at my mercy.

I openly stare at him, admiring the beauty of his face and his gorgeous mass of hair, wild and tousled. A result of our wild love making all night.

That’s what we did last night. Make love. I might not have been with many men or be as experienced as other people but I know how I feel. I know how I felt last night and the change occurred from the second he kissed me.

It was a surrender to the call of what we want to be. It’s like that man and that woman who met in the park weeks ago are calling to us to explore what they wanted us to be.

His breathing changes and then his eyes flutter open. The piercing blue is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

He lifts his head slightly when he sees me looking and smiles revealing his straight white teeth.

“You’re watching me again, Bellezza, if you’re not careful I might get the wrong idea,” he says.

“I don’t know what other ideas you could have signore than all we’ve done,” I say.

“Well I might think you want to have me all over again, like you haven’t had enough.”

“You might be right. I might not have had enough.”

His smile widens then falters when he looks past my head and sees how bright it is outside.

I watch him and can almost read his mind. He’s thinking about leaving because it’s going to look suspicious that he’s in here with me. I just don’t want him to go anywhere.

Once he goes through that door everything will change again. Reality comes back.

Maybe it wouldn’t if he stayed with me.

“Do you have to go? I mean… I know you have to go. I get it, but couldn’t you just stay today? We could go outside or something and you could find some excuse to stay with me. Just today.”

His gaze clings to mine. “I’ll stay. How about I just stay and we don’t worry about any excuse. I’ll just stay.”

My heart lifts at the thought and I smile at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. So… what do you want to do with me today?”

I laugh. “What do I want to do with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me more about you. I want to know about you.”

“Okay…but only if you tell me more about you.” He straightens up and a lock of hair falls over his eye.

“I thought you knew everything about me.”

“No, I want the stuff you can’t find. The things only you can tell me. Like your favorite color, although I have a feeling it’s pink.”This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“It is pink.”

“Okay, now I can check that off my list.” He smiles.

“What else do you want to know that’s not on paper?”

“Everything, Bellezza. I want to know everything.”

“I want to know everything about you too.”

“Okay then the first thing you should know is I like you.”

I smile back at him. “I like you too.”

We spent most of the day on the beach and when we went back we had dinner on the terrace of my room.

Candace and Dominic weren’t around when we got back in so we just brought up the food the maids made and enjoyed the company of each other.

I had Tristan all to myself all day and all night.

I fell asleep cocooned in his arms, safe. But then I was stolen away by my dreams. Taken away captive to the memories that enslave me to the past.

That is where I’m truly helpless against my will. Kidnapped by my memories of the nightmares that haunt me.

Fog fills the room thick and stifling.

I’m here again.

I’m on the stairs.

I’ve been here so often I’ve become part of the fog, part of the memory that won’t leave me.

My mother screams and I run to find her on the floor. My father, that wicked devil stabs her over and over again.

Blood is everywhere. Mama’s head rolls to the side and she looks at me with cold dead eyes.

Seeing me but not seeing me.

“No!” I scream as my father continues to stab her.

He doesn’t stop, but I see that man behind him.

His face comes into view clearer than before.

His crooked nose seems more pronounced and his brown eyes hold a dark sheen to them as he stares back at me .

I’m paralyzed by his stare. I wait to be taken away like last time but the arms that bound me don’t come tonight.

I realize then that whoever that person was knew what was going on. They knew my mother was being killed too and did nothing.

I wait for something to happen, anything. I’m just stuck here standing around waiting. Staring at the scene before me as everyone stays where they are, frozen in time.

the fog suddenly thickens and then their gone. Gone but replaced by something else. another memory.

I see myself this time sneaking down the passageway of somewhere dark. I’m young. Maybe twelve… yes… I remember this. I am twelve. I’m at Nikoli’s house. His was the first home I stayed in when I moved to the States.

It’s dark and I remember hearing voices.

I creep in the passageway and stop in the shadows where I can see three men. My father, Nikoli and that man from the night my mother was murdered.

“Y ou have proven your worth,” my father says to the Italian man. “Y ou have been a true brother in arms for enough years and now the time has come for us to accept you as a member of the fold. We will form the Kruv’ omerta. The blood code between Russia and Italia.”

They raise drinks and clink glasses then set them on the table. Then one by one they take a knife and pierce the tops of their fingers. Blood drips on to a piece of paper and one by one and they all say ‘kruv’ omerta.

“Cu e surdu, orbu e taci, campa cent’anni ‘mpaci,” the Italian man says. “He who is deaf, blind and silent will live a hundred years in peace. I become a brother of the Circle of Shadows this day forward, pleading my allegiance to the order. A pact between Russia and Italia.”

I watch then suddenly those arms I waited for to take me comes for me. And I can’t breathe.

Everything fades to the darkness.

“Isabella…” someone is calling me but they sound far away. “Isabella, wake up Bellezza. It’s just a nightmare, come back to me.”

It’s Tristan.

His voice pierces through the darkness like a light and I follow it. I open my eyes and see him.

I start coughing and run my hand through my hair which is matted with sweat. I’m drenched in it.

He sits me up in the bed and switches on the light, then grabs a cup of water.

I down it and need more. He gets me more and it’s only with that second glass that I feel better, but not calm.

“Isabella, it was a nightmare baby,” Tristan says taking both my hands into his.

“I keep having the same nightmare and it’s not of Eric anymore. It’s just of her… my mother.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re finally able to do something to get justice,” he suggest.

“I don’t know. Tristan… there was someone else in the room with my father. A man. He watched as my father stabbed her over and over again. He was there watching.” I recall the whole blood ritual too. I’ve heard of things like that and that was the one and only one I saw. That time it was Sacha that grabbed me and told me to never let my father know I saw them.

He didn’t know that I’d seen the man before. I think though it was more about what they were doing, as in the significance of it. Kruv’ omerta. I know what it translates to but not what it means.

“I’m sorry Bellezza.”

I want to know what it all means. I’ve never been able to ask anyone.

“Kruv’ omerta. Cu e surdu, orbu e taci, campa cent’anni ‘mpaci. He who is deaf, blind and silent will live a hundred years in peace. Kruv’ omerta,” I say and Tristan’s hand stills on mine. His skin goes pale and I realize I’ve said something of importance.

“Isabella where did you hear that?” he asks.

“It was a secret meeting I shouldn’t have seen. I dreamt about it. It happened ten years ago. The same man was there with my father and Nikoli. Does Kruv’ omerta have some significant meaning. I know Kruv’ is blood in Russian. Omerta’ refers to the Italian code of silence. But I’ve never hear the two words together except for that night. I remember the man because it was the second time I’d seen him after my mother’s death.”

“Oh my God. Oh my… God. Do you know who he is?”

“No, he’s Italian. That’s all I know.” Which is nothing. Tristan is Italian.

“Did you ever see him again?”

I shake my head. “No, never.”

“But you could recognize him?”

“Yes. I would. I would definitely recognize him if I saw him.”

We stare at each other. I notice the shift in his mood.

“What’s happening? Who do you think he is?”

“Someone who’s part of the plot to destroy us all. Kruv’ omerta is a secret blood oath the Bratva and Italian mafia take. It’s a rare thing. Thank you for telling me about your dream.”

“I dream about him almost every night. It’s like my mind is screaming to me to remember the past.

I’m scared of what could happen next.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he promises. “I will take care of you.”

He brings my hands up to his lips to kiss and I fall for him even more than I should.