'You have a better idea?' he snapped. 'You think I should stay here, so you can shout all night and sit with a sour face? Or maybe instead I should go out and earn some money?'
'Ma vai! ' Gina waved a hand at him and flounced away. But she couldn't leave it like that. Pride and her fierce spirit stopped her in her tracks. 'Work, you say? Since when did fucking other women qualify as work?'
Valsi tried to ignore her. He'd had a bad day. That bastard Sal had publicly humiliated him. The last thing he wanted was trouble at home.
'Do you think I'm stupid?' Gina pushed him. 'Do you think I can't smell your whores on you and your clothes? See their scratches on your body? You make me fucking sick.'
'You are stupid. And you're talking nonsense. So shut the fuck up.'
A text message bleeped on Valsi's phone beside his wallet on the hall cabinet. Gina picked it up. 'Who's sending you text messages?' She held it behind her back. 'I read the ones you sent to Kristen. Is it her?'
Valsi wheeled round from the mirror. Slapped her hard. 'You never touch my phone. That's my business. Right!'
Gina held her cheek. It burned. 'You piece of shit. You cheating piece of shit.' She hurled the phone at his head.
Valsi dodged. It hit the wall and then the floor, smashing into several pieces.
The look on his face told Gina she was in for a beating.
She made a run for it.
'Come here, bitch!'
Valsi slipped to her left and blocked the corridor into the main body of the house.
Gina doubled back. One foot slipped on the tiling, twisting her ankle. She kept her balance. Ignored the stab of pain.
'Leave me alone! Bruno, just leave me!'
She headed towards the conservatory. If she made it through to the pool house she could lock herself in.
But she never got there.
Valsi grabbed her left shoulder and spun her round. His face was like stone.
Gina was scared. She jerked her right knee up between his legs. It never made impact.
His hands were quicker than a crocodile's jaws. His instincts still prison-quick. Fast enough to dodge a cell-made knife, let alone a clumsy woman's knee. He held her leg off the ground and slapped her face. She put her hand up to the burning skin and lost her balance. Her head struck the wall. He held on tight and kept her upright.
'Bruno, please don't. Please.'
Valsi could see the fear in her face. Wonderful. He felt powerful. Made him forget all about Sal the Snake and the humiliation he'd experienced.
He pulled her leg higher. Stretched her hamstring until it burned.
Gina had to hold his shoulders to stay upright. He flipped the door open behind her, backed her into the sitting room and dragged the door closed with his foot.
He could smell the fear on her now. See it in the sweat on her brow. Feel it as her heart pounded against his chest. It was exhilarating. It was the first time she had made him hard since he'd come out of prison.
He jammed her against the wall. Forced his mouth against hers.
She tried to bite him.
His hand grabbed her throat. Strong fingers on her windpipe. She wouldn't do that again. He could feel her heart banging against his chest. So fast. So afraid.
Gina closed her eyes. She didn't want him to see her cry. Didn't want him to see the disgust she felt as he fumbled between her legs.
And when he finished, when he'd fucked away the last of the love she had for him and had walked off, laughing, somehow she still held back the tears. Still kept the tiniest shred of her dignity. Just enough to build a new life with.
52
Capo di Posillipo, La Baia di Napoli Salvatore Giacomo was always nervous meeting the great Don Fredo Finelli. Always had been, always would be.
Although they'd known each other for more than two decades, Sal still felt intimidated by his employer. And in a strange way, he liked that feeling. Liked to work for someone who was better, richer and cleverer than him.
As Sal was shown through the hallway to the office in the Don's home he found himself more nervous than usual. Two things were making him anxious. Fear that the Don knew about the incident in Bar Luca with his son-in-law. And the fact that there had been no card on his doormat from his boss. Don Fredo had never forgotten before. Never. But this time – and this was a landmark birthday too – there had been nothing. He was afraid he might say something. Might forget his position.
Fredo Finelli instantly rose from behind his fine desk when the bodyguard showed Sal into the study. 'Ciao, Salvatore, come here, my friend!'
Finelli embraced him warmly, patted his back and gripped his shoulders. 'Let me look at you. My, you don't look bad at all for a man of fifty. You feeling good?'
Sal straightened his jacket and nodded. 'Si, Don Fredo. I think I am as fit and healthy as I have always been.' For a moment Sal feared the old man was about to pension him off, put him out to grass and bring in some young gun to fill his place. It was in his nature to always fear the worst.
'Sit down, Sal.' He pointed to the leather sofas. 'I have to get something from my desk.'
Sal sat and waited. His eyes took in the wood panelling, the photographs of the Finelli family. He liked it here. Liked to feel part of it all.
'I have a little gift for you. Something small to say "Happy birthday", and also "Thank you" for everything that you've ever done for me.'
Sal's face didn't show it, but he was as excited as a kid. The Don handed over a small square box wrapped in gold paper, topped with a gold ribbon and bow. Thirty years ago Sal had dated a girl called Giovanna. She'd kept every bow and ribbon from every present she'd ever been given and had stuck them on her bedroom wall. He remembered it now as his big clumsy hands fumbled to open the gift.
'It's nice,' he said, finally getting through all the wrapping. 'Thank you, Don Fredo, it is nice.'
Finelli smiled. Most people would have managed more than nice if they'd been given a €15,000 watch, but he was all too familiar with Sal's ways. The manner in which he kept himself to himself. His emotions always tight and under control. Nice was about the best he could have hoped for.
'It's a special watch, Sal. Do you know why?'
Sal turned the gold Rolex over and over in his hands. He concentrated hard on the question. He looked relieved, and proud, when the answer came to him. 'It's like yours, Don Fredo. It's just like yours.'
Finelli shook his head. 'No, it isn't. It's not like mine at all. It is mine.'
Sal was shocked. 'Then, Don Fredo, I must not take it. It is too much.' He stretched his hands out and offered his boss the watch.
The Don waved him away. 'No, I want you to have it. It's a Cosmograph Daytona. Eighteen carat gold, with a diamond dot dial. I hope it serves you well.'
The Don paused for a reply, but Sal remained speechless.
'Salvatore, I hope it proves as reliable and trustworthy to you as you have been to me. It's supposed to be the most dependable watch in the world. It is always good to have at hand something or, better still, someone you can rely on.'
Sal didn't look up as he slid the bracelet awkwardly on to his left wrist, pocketing his old Sekonda with its cracked glass and frayed leather strap that stank of his sweat. He couldn't find the words to express himself but he fully understood the compliment he was being paid.
'I can always rely upon you, Sal, can't I?'
Now Salvatore's eyes lifted from his gift. He knew his boss's ways, just as well as his boss knew his. He was going to be asked something important. Something that needed his full attention. 'Yes, Don Fredo. Of course you can. I hope you know that of me?'
Fredo nodded. 'Of course I do, Sal. I need to talk to you about my son-in-law, Bruno. What I am about to say to you must never leave this room. You must never discuss it with anyone else, do you understand?'