Chapter 16 Cielo
Cielo
A corner has been turned. Benjamin and I may never be best friends, but I think he’ll stop fighting me every step of the way now. At least it puts my mind at ease knowing a repeat performance of his drunken wandering ways is unlikely.
He surprised me by opening up a little. It takes a strong person to look inwards. Benjamin has obviously learned from the best. I’m sure his mothers had him practising self-analysis by the time he could walk. It makes me envious. Self-reflection is hard, especially when you don’t like what you see.
In this line of work and this type of family, it’s not something easily practised.
The times I try to navigate my behaviours and feelings usually leave me feeling torn, and I don’t know what to do with that.
I wish I were as confident as Benjamin. He came in here thinking I was going to tear into him.
He held his head high, apologised, and showed a level of self-awareness I could only dream of.
Satisfied Benjamin is safe, and probably back in bed sleeping off his hideous hangover, I contemplate my next move.
Roberto has been dealt with. His lack of attention last night was inexcusable.
He took my anger and apologised. Neglecting his post to screw one of the local boys almost came at a deadly cost. I doubt he’ll make that mistake again.
My remaining issue lies with Penny and Kevin.
Not so much Kevin, because I think he’s a bit of a sheep—follows the crowd.
In this case, Penny is the crowd. She’s the one I take umbrage with.
I don’t have to know her well to get the measure of her.
She uses avoidance tactics to deal with anything emotional: alcohol, men, parties; they are all used as an escape.
Now, I couldn’t give a flying fuck if that’s her go-to method; that is, until it affects Benjamin.
He’s under my protection, and Penny put him at serious risk last night.
I know she was the one feeding him sugary cocktails.
I’ve done my due diligence. That’s how I found out Roberto was preoccupied with a good time rather than watching over our guests.
So, what to do? I’m sure Benjamin would prefer I do nothing, but that’s impossible. Unless Penny is put in her place, she’ll continue to encourage reckless behaviour. And that simply will not do.
Taking the gun from its holster, I place it in the safe below my desk.
I want to have an honest talk with the woman, and arriving with a pistol strapped to my waist will only put her on edge.
Although, she’s several cocktails in, so I’m sure she is already buzzed.
Regardless, I don’t need a gun to look formidable. My face is its own weapon.
Making my way to the pool area, I mentally run through the meetings I have later. The most important by far is with three other family heads: Francesco Luca, Nico Bosetti and Marco De Salvo. Together we make up the Sicilian Mafiosi. Giani Arello too, but he’s the reason I want the meeting.
Between worrying about Benjamin, Lorenzo, the vineyard, and the import business, I’ve concluded I need to bring the other houses in on my predicament. Giani isn’t someone I can deal with in secret.
His attempt to lure me into a ridiculous vengeance war is proof of that. His backhanded tactics have been low-grade, so far, but my gut tells me he’s ready to escalate.
Simply threatening and seeking out Benjamin is proof of that.
If I go toe-to-toe with him, without the other families being aware of the situation, I risk Giani spinning a story that puts the Fusaro family in the wrong.
I’ve worked too hard to let that happen.
Frankly, I don’t have the time for it. Our businesses are flourishing and we are almost at the point where, if we wanted to, the family could extract itself from the Mafiosi entirely—a discussion Lorenzo and I need to have.
My unrest and ill at ease are becoming harder to ignore.
Like I said, meeting Benjamin has somehow changed things for me.
If I were able to analyse myself as well as he can, I’m sure I’d have an answer as to why.
But I can’t—not yet. Too many things feel like they’re changing, and I need to deal with one crisis at a time.
I arrive at the pool with a million things whipping through my mind. That is, until I spot Penny basking in the sun, music blaring, drinking generously from a glass which contains a blue concoction that is likely ninety percent alcohol.
She’s unaware of my presence. I stand and study her for a moment.
Penny Bolton: thirty-six years old, lives in rented accommodation with her flatmate Lisa, and met Benjamin in school, where, to her credit, she befriended him and became his protector.
When Benjamin left for university, Penny drifted from one bar job to the next, never really finding her place.
She still spends her time living like she’s a twenty-year-old student.
She’s had no serious relationships. One-night stands are her flavour. She’s a ship without an anchor.
Adjusting my collar, I take the last two strides over to the portable speaker she loves so much.
She spins and glares at me as soon as I stop the wretched noise.
Her glare turns into something else when she realises who it is she’s trying to intimidate.
My hair is in its severe topknot, and my clothes are immaculate and imposing.
How a shirt and slacks are able to intimidate someone I’m not sure, but I’ve been told enough times my attire adds to the overall “bad boy” vibe.
“Ms Bolton, may I have a word?” It’s not like me to ask, and in reality, I’m not seeking her permission, but I am cognisant of the fact she is one of Benjamin’s best friends.
If I put a foot wrong here, our newly developed ceasefire may fracture, and we’ll be back to trading vicious barbs before we reach dinner.
She sits up and has the decency to cover her barely there bikini with a towel. How anyone finds the female species attractive is beyond me.
“Of course,” she stumbles.
“We’ve not been formally introduced. I’m Cielo Mannucci.”
“P-Penny Bolton.”
I take the time to perch regally on the adjacent sunbed.
Chiara, the house chef, cocks her brow at me through the kitchen window.
She makes the universal sign for drink. As much as I’d love a glass of wine, it’s far too early and I don’t want Penny to think we will ever be that friendly. I give her a subtle head shake.
“I’d like to discuss yesterday’s events.”
“With me?” she asks, confused.
“Yes, with you. I’ve been led to believe your idea of helping Benjamin through what is a traumatic and life-altering time, is to ply him with enough alcohol to fell a horse.”
“I… But…”
“You must know I see everything, Ms Bolton. This is my house, and you are my guests. Now, I won’t excuse Benjamin. He’s an adult, after all, and makes his own decisions, however, I’ve been watching you, Ms Bolton. I’ve watched you encourage him relentlessly.”
“Hey, hang on. You don’t know me or Benjamin.”
“Oh, but I do. I know Benjamin would rather sit with a good book and maybe a small glass of wine. I know he’s a two-drink kind of man, and I know this past week has thrown his entire life into the air.
I know he looks to you for protection. I know you haven’t lived up to that job for a while now.
And I know that instead of helping him work through this, you’ve decided to take the easy way out and get him drunk every hour of the day. ”
“I’m not his keeper,” she protests.
“No, you are supposed to be his best friend. He begged to have you here because the thought of anything happening to you was unfathomable. I agreed. I’m seriously regretting that decision.
Last night wasn’t just some silly drunken escapade.
Benjamin could have got seriously hurt—killed even—and yet here you are, back by the pool, drinking, instead of checking on your friend.
Even Kevin crawled out of bed to make sure he was fine. And thanks to me finding him, he is.”
“I tried to see him last night, but you—”
“I would have shot you if I’d stopped. You are skating through life telling Benjamin how boring he is.
You have the audacity to pick apart his choices when you’re here, being a child, with no direction or prospects.
Benjamin might enjoy books over beer. Microwave meals over clubbing.
But at least he’s content. Can you say the same, Ms Bolton?
” Her mouth bobs open and shut. “No, I didn’t think so.
With that said, I suggest you refrain from ‘helping’ Benjamin until you can offer him more than this—until you can be the person he needs.
Oh, and one last thing: If I hear you have been encouraging him to drink his worries away again, I’ll have you thrown to the wolves, regardless of Benjamin’s wishes. Capiche?”
There, I feel much better now. I don’t wait to hear an answer.
I’ve made myself clear. Now I need to shift focus onto the rest of my day.
The meeting with the family heads is in a few hours, so I have two options: sit at my desk and pore through finances or take a stroll over to the farmhouse I am having renovated.
My plan is to open a restaurant that serves our wine and local food.
It’s been in the pipeline for several years and it’s finally almost a reality.
Stepping out of the villa, I take in the view and a large breath of sea air. The restaurant is a five-minute walk. We have quad bikes and golf carts, but I never use them. Why would anyone want to rush here? Time in the vineyard is precious.
Laughter greets me as I step through the restaurant door. The interior is almost finished and it looks divine. The aesthetic is in line with the villa’s authentic look and feel, but it also boasts top-of-the-line equipment. The kitchen is a chef’s wet dream.
In the corner of the main restaurant area sits Lorenzo, sipping a glass of red with Phillipa and Mary.
They seem to be getting on well, and Lorenzo certainly looks happier.
I’m a little irritated at them too, to be honest. While they’ve been getting to know each other, Benjamin has been struggling.
I can’t imagine it has escaped his mothers’ attentions.
So why haven’t they intervened? Maybe I should find out.
I’ve already set one arrogant shit straight today. Might as well make it three more.
“Good morning,” I say in greeting. “Enjoying yourselves?”
“Ah, Cielo. How are you, tesoro?”
“Busy.”
Lorenzo laughs. “Always on the go, my Cielo,” he says to Phillipa and Mary. “We decided to give the kids some space. Let them enjoy the villa.”
I nod and eye them carefully. “So much space you missed Benjamin’s drunk excursion to the edge of our property last night.”
“Our Benjamin?” Mary replies.
“Or the days before, where he hasn’t been sober for a second.”
“He’s letting off some steam,” Phillipa quips.
I have reached my limit for dealing with bullshit today. Standing with hands on hips, I level a stare at them that could melt glass. “What the fuck is wrong with you all?” I hiss.
Benjamin’s mums look taken aback. Lorenzo carefully puts his glass on the table.
“Your son,” I say, pointing at each of them, Lorenzo included, “is lost. He was kidnapped—by me, witnessed a shooting, met his biological father, discovered there is a mob family after him, and was taken out of the country. You think he’s just letting off steam?
Do you know him at all? Why am I the only one giving a shit?
While you three have been playing Parent of the Year Club, Benjamin has been drowning himself in booze, no thanks to his ass of a friend, Penny.
He got so drunk last night he blacked out.
Is that just him letting off steam, too? ”
As with Penny, the three dipshits look at me agog. “How about you stop whatever the hell this is, and go make sure your child is okay? How about someone here, apart from me, give a damn that we have effectively trashed this poor man’s life!”
I can’t look at their faces anymore. I storm out and march back to my office. Guilt rolls around my gut. As much as I rant and rave at everyone, at the end of the day, Benjamin’s mental distress lands at my feet. It’s my fault. And I don’t know how to undo it.
Maybe I am the baddie he believes me to be. I scoff, “Of course I am.”