“Catalina?”
She turned from the kitchen counter. She wouldn’t be able to sleep without some chamomile tea. Dominic had spoken her name. He stood in the entrance way smiling.
“Domi?”
“I didn’t have a chance to give you my present.” He walked in and she lowered her teacup. She blinked at him and tried to hide her happiness, but she was about to explode with it. “Turn around. Lift your hair.”
Catalina did as she was told. Dominic slipped a gold chain around her neck with a tiny Faberge egg diamond pendant dangling from it. “For you my love.”
“It’s beautiful, Domi. Thank you.”
He held her from behind. Catalina closed her eyes relishing how sweet his embrace felt. She wanted to say more. She had a gift for him but it was in her room. She didn’t mention it. This moment was gift enough for them both.
“Always remember my love for you. Always.”
“Oh Domi.”
“Always.” He kissed her cheek and let her go. Catalina squeezed her eyes shut and tried to suppress her tears. Her heart raced and her legs felt weak. When she summoned enough air in her lungs to speak she couldn’t. She glanced back in the kitchen for Dominic and found that she was alone. Catalina broke. She pulled out the chair to the table and sat down unable to stop her tears.
Riker’s Island, New York
The speaker system announced his name. He rose from a bench that he shared with six other inmates and approached the door. After a loud buzz the door released and he passed through. He barely heard the guard’s orders. He was too busy fuming over his detention. The guard un-cuffed his hands but kept his feet shackled.
“Move!” The guard’s voice snapped like a whip. Kei did as he was told. If his visitor wasn’t his attorney he figured it was that bastard federal agent who had again summoned a meeting with him. Cheung, his cousin, his blood, had turned on him. He confessed to everything and told some lies as well. As the charges piled on, the hope of his money and influence dragging him out of this hell faded away.
Kei walked the line. In an orange jumper that reeked of the male funk from the other inmates who’d worn it he grimaced, as he counted down to cube six. When he stopped before his visitor he frowned. A beautiful dark haired Italian or Middle Eastern woman sat on the other side of the glass. She pointed to the phone and picked it up.
Who was she? Someone from his firm possibly? Kei sat. He picked up the phone.
“Hello Mr. Hyogo.”
“Who are you?”
“Doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is why I came. I’m here as a friend.”
“I don’t need a friend.” Kei narrowed his eyes on her. “Tell me your name or leave.”
She smiled. Her lips had a perfectly applied rose gloss to them. She tossed her dark hair back over her shoulders and fixed her steely gaze on him. She looked to be in her early forties or late thirties. She had a refined polish to her olive skin and her large almond shaped brown eyes were sharp and assessing. “My name is Isabella. I hear you wanted to kill Giovanni Battaglia.”
Kei’s stomach clenched. “That fucking piece of shit sent you here!”
“No. No. I’m not here for him. I’m here because of him.” She leaned forward. Her smile eased from seductive to sinister. “An enemy of yours is an enemy of mine. Mr. Hyogo, you are facing some serious charges, and the wheels of justice in America churn painfully slow and even slower in Italia. I can be of use to you.”
“So you want to help me? For what?” Kei spat.
The woman didn’t answer.