"The fact that we know they were going to war with the Milanese Dons means they have manpower.  We might get in and kill the target but the getting out part is concerning.  No, I think our odds are better with help here.  Though I'm going to hate what I have to do in order to get it."

Aurora sat forward on the edge of her seat, "The plan is simple.  I come to the Dons as the descendant of true born Italian families who still have respect in the Old Country & as the the wife of an American Don.  Not something they respect but since Billy has things they need, it gets me to the table."

She laces her fingers in front of her, "The males of my family have been slaughtered, and in defiance of old-world traditions, my sister-in-law too.  A non-combatant.  I let them know who William was and that the American government NEEDS someone to pay for this publically and it is only a matter of time before they look to the Italian families and point the finger at them as my brother was very vocally against the Cosa Nostra.  The Godfather's decision to kill a US Senator have, thusly, put all of us at risk."

"As a grieving sister, daughter, and mother... I am here to beg their aid... not something I'm known for but with me being in the early stages of a delicate late-life pregnancy and my son laid up in a bed back home from a gunshot wound ... I think they will buy it.  Mostly because it's true... I do want nothing more than to return home to raise my children in peace and to leave Italian families to handle Italian business."

She shrugs, "I will admit that the Godfather of Venice has reason to be upset over his daughter... a girl who abandoned his household to chase after a lover in the American Mafia... she died in an American conflict and that it was our duty to protect her and we failed in that.  However, the Godfather of Venice has taken more than is reasonable in retribution.  My father, my brothers, my sister in law, my husband's cousin, and the blood of my eldest son... and when they inevitably ask me why the hell they should intercede in this private conflict... then I hand them the proof that my conflict is their conflict.  That the Godfather of Venice is prepared to take Milan."

"They will ask how the hell I came across this information, I will reveal to them my people struck the home of his nephew, the man who was set to lead Milan after the Godfather's victory.  If they help me now they will prevent any future reaching by this old, clearly insane, son of a bitch.  His line will have no further power to speak of and I will return home to my family and never again look to Italy... using my power and influence to make sure the American Government doesn't either."

Oriana sat down as she listened. When Aurora was done, she sighed and leaned back, resigned.

"Fine. I'll stand there and look imposing but deferential. Brigitte, I assume, will look charming but vulnerable. And we'll let you do all the talking."

She studied Aurora's face carefully.

"Have you felt like you're going to pass out again?"

Aurora sighed.  "No, but I'm not under the stress I was the other night.  The last time I went through this, albeit that was years ago an I'm only assuming this is the same thing, it was explained to me by the doctors that the condition is called Toxemia.  It causes my blood pressure to increase to dangerous levels, which is why I feel faint at times.  When I'm upset or overexerting myself, it's likely to cause a bad reaction.  My hands and feet will swell up soon... not looking forward to that bit.  And, there are a number of other things that can go wrong if I'm not getting treatment ... not the least of which is losing the child or my own life."

She shook her head, "The treatment is impossible right now though... it's bed rest and a 'calm soothing environment.'  Medications can be given but the doctors don't like to do that cause it can also cause issues.  They'd rather I laze about for weeks until the baby comes - but who has time for that?  Certainly not me, not right now."

She sighs.  "So I'll take it as easy as I'm able... and we'll all pray that this child is as stubborn about hanging onto life as Gavin was.  I wasn't exactly going through a walk in the park when I was pregnant for him and it all worked out okay so... I'm sure I'll be okay this time too."

Aurora paused and placed a hand on her belly, above the place where she knew the child was growing.  "She's a tough one.  I can feel it."

The phone rang just then.  Aurora stood up and crossed the room, feeling certain in her bones she knew exactly who was on the other line.

"Hello?"  She said.

"Profondità della mia anima."  There was relief in his voice and, best of all he sounded more rested. 

"Il  mio toro, luce dei miei occhi."  She purred back, the stress melting from her voice as if Billy_Mastrosimone alone had a singular power over her to lift the weight of all her burdens and fears.  Realizing she was in the room with the girls still she quickly offered, "A moment Billy, let me call you back from my room."

A quick farewell and then, with a smile more fitting a girl of twenty, she bounded into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.  Brigitte smiled warmly at her disappearing mother.  "One day, I hope to love and be loved like that."  She sighed and looked to Oriana.  "We might as well have a cup of coffee, it's gonna be a bit."

With that Brigitte put the water to warming.

Alone, Aurora dialed the phone and after only a single ring Billy answered.  "How's Gavin?  All the children... how are they?  How are YOU?"

Billy smiled at the phone, at the voice coming from the other end. Like a warm bath that took away all the stresses of the day and of life in general Aurora's voice cascaded over him. Cracked as it was by the reception of such a long distance he, nonetheless, felt more at ease.

"The children are well, Gavin is recovering quickly. Still sleeps a lot more than normal, but he's doing alright. The Bryant's kids are still here with us, Charlie and Addie are still out doing business. Charlie got into a bit of a scrape but seems like he'll be fine. I just got word that one of my guys took care of the guy who did it, so that's good news."

He took a deep sigh as he looked over another piece of paper on his desk. "Out" was all it said, and another weight off his shoulders.

"I have some other good news for mon petit when she gets home too. Short of that, no new developments on this end. What about you? How are the girls? How is everything going?"

"Well, you obviously know we're in Milan."  She sighed.  "We've had a mixed bag of success and ... I won't say failure, but complications.  There's so much you don't know.  I barely know where to begin."

Aurora takes a moment.  

"First, physically, we're in one piece."  she lowered her voice,  "Brigitte met with a contact at the coffee house and was invited to a party at the private residence of the nephew.  I was reluctant but resolved to let her go.  Oriana accompanied her in covertly, while I got near enough to end Mataranzi himself.  Unfortunately with Brigitte and Oriana behind enemy lines... I had to let him go."

Aurora sighs, clearly bothered by this.

"That's about the point that my plan went a little sideways."

Billy nodded, taking notes. Mattaranzi, nephew, estate outside Venice, connection to Brigitte - look into boy.

"Roar, don't worry, you'll get him. That's what you're there for, and I don't have a better person to put on the job. You've got it I know you do. Now, what do you mean sideways? It couldn't have been that bad right? I mean, you said yourself everyone is fine."

He slipped his drawer open and pulled out a cigar to chew on. He didn't want to smoke, but the taste would help for now.

The conversation went on for some time.  Aurora explained everything that happened at the party, and after.  She revealed the details of her questionable health and her fears about Francesco's connection to Mattaranzi and the future fate of Oriana.  She shared her suspicions that her brother had been killed by Oriana's remaining team and that once the US Government found that mob-hired hitmen trained by the Italian Government had taken out a US Senator on US soil... that things might escalate in a very bad way.

Of course this, as she explained, was only one of many things she meant to use to manipulate the Milanese Dons into becoming her own personal army.  She had accepted her father's knife might not be the one kill the Godfather of Venice ... but in truth, SHE was her parents' best weapon.  If she called down the wrath of God upon the old man, then this was as good of vengence as anyone could ask for.

Or so she told herself.

Aurora longed to watch the man die.  She had not wanted to kill anyone so badly in all her life and that was saying something, but she wasn't stupid.  One untrained young lady, an assassin with lethal skills who might still answer to the man who might be manipulating the Godfather, and she... a woman in a delicate condition; they were not an ideal team to siege a compound and kill a man who was probably more protected than the President of the United States himself.  So, the Milanese Dons were the only answer and if they refused... she would put Brigitte on a plane for the US and she would toss the dice at Oriana's side.  Either she, or Mattranzi, would die and that would be the end of it.  

As she hung up the phone she considered Billy's idea for how to get the Dons to come break bread with her and hear her out.  For a man who claimed to be so dumb, Billy_Mastrosimone was every bit as cunning as the Old Wolf & Dragon ever were.  She had married the right man to be sure.  Coming out of the room she smiled at OrianaMontini and looked to Brigitte.

"My dear, how would you like to help me plan a party?"

It was amazing what could be put together in less than twenty-four hours with a simple number one followed by enough zeros.  Brigitte and the hotel concierge were a formidable team, the party was to be a luncheon.  The purpose was to present a sizable donation toward the preservation of the art and architecture within the city of Milan.  There was no way that the city's leadership showed up to accept money from an American Don and the local Cosa Nostra didn't get wind of it and wonder what her game was.

The party was planned for the late afternoon, in the hotel's courtyard.  A small bar would be opened for those in attendance, music would play, an afternoon snack would be served.  Aurora, however, had reserved another meeting place on-site for what she hoped would be inevitable... a private dinning room in which the Dons could speak with her over a full, proper, dinner.  

Aurora wore a black dress of mourning, simple and pretty, something that obviously showed the small swell in her stomach.  Her hair was in a bun at the base of her skull but loose so that the messy curls she'd created fell free from time to time, an attempt brought on by her own vanity to not look as old as she felt today.  

Brigitte was, on the other hand, the image of youth and vitality.  Her blonde curls loose and flying free all about her, her laughter carrying down the halls as she worked with the young boys on hotel staff to finish the setup.  She was in blue as well, meant to appear as the dutiful oldest child of her family, here to escort her mother for this important meeting.  Aurora was happy to hear her laughing, still wondering if her daughter hadn't withheld some horrible detail of her meeting with the Godfather's nephew, something that had made the girl return to the house hoping to kill the boy.  Something that caused the best friend to actually do it.

OrianaMontini, on the other hand, while not at all happy to be taking the diplomacy route - had not dressed up.  Aurora's one small bit of pride in all this mess.  Her bodyguard would be a woman.  She would not hide that fact and she would not ask Oriana to be anything other than what she was... deadly.  She needed Oriana ready for anything and everything.  If the Dons were bothered or amused by a woman working as her protection detail... well that was just too bad.  Today she would, after 40 years of being herself, dutifully fall in line but she would not force Oriana to do so even under false pretext or to help the cause.  It would be her one 'fuck you' to the male-dominated Cosa Nostra.

Oriana had armed herself to the teeth.  It was almost comical.  Aurora didn't think that anyone would be dumb enough to hit the hotel today - a very public venue in a historical city so valued by the Italian government.  Still, she couldn't blame the girl.  Were she twenty years younger and so inclined she might be hiding grenades in flower pots around the courtyard as well.

As the guests began to arrive, those men who concerned themselves with receiving such funds and personally thanking her for her contributions, Aurora waited at the door and greeted each upon entering the courtyard.  Waiters wandered about offering drinks, a sight she didn't see much of in the United States since prohibition began.  Brigitte was beside her, making small talk, whispering observations into her mother's ear when she felt she might have missed something and Oriana was ever nearby ... silent.  Watching.

I'm not Aurora Byrne today.  I'm Aurora, the wife of Don Billy_Mastrosimone of New York.  I need to just... breathe...

It was interesting to say the least what was being done at the Hotel. Not a Don, but a Don's wife was holding a fundraiser. It was what women were for after all, but the Don, had he been there would have been required to show his respect, the wife? She could not be expected to understand. That is why Delfino Gennuso took it upon himself to make an appearance at the fundraiser. He needed to know who this American was, and what exactly she was doing throwing money around in his part of Milan.

Marzio Corbo was new to the life he lead. His father was really the Don, but he was the face. His father? Not really anywhere to been seen for the past six months, so everyone simply started coming to him instead. His father wasn't dead after all, so there was nobody to challenge Marzio for the inherited position he had. The fun part about it was, he had all the power, and none of the responsibility. Being only 35 didn't help matters though when it came to respect of the other Dons in town.

Danilo Bastianelli stepped out of his car and into the hotel with the assistance of his cane, and his young wife of less than a third of his age. She was dutiful, and he knew what she wanted in return and he lauded her with paltry gifts and money. Money was never the problem for Danilo, politics was the problem. The Gennuso family had all the politicians in their pockets, the Corbo's had the love of the people. Danilo had the purse strings. If some American came in to show him up, well, who would miss the 92 year old man and his purse? Nobody. Not if they had American money.

The three Dons were greeted and sat at their own respective spaces in the courtyard, and given everything and anything they asked for as had been arranged. Brigitte made her way to her mother.

"They're all here mama. The young one is Marzio, he's the hothead whose daddy really runs the show so he has to prove himself if he's going to take over when his papa passes away. They say he is very sick and hasn't been seen for months. The really old one is Danilo Bastianelli, he's not going to be happy we are throwing money around, that's normally his job. The last is Delfino, I don't know much about him, just you know, he's a Don and that means something I guess."

Brigitte shrugged and smirked at her mother.

"So, you've got a plan I guess?"

"The young one might bend to your charms, but he has too much to lose by not doing what is expected.  He'll follow the lead of the older ones.  The oldest is set in his ways.  I'm a woman for one, for two I'm throwing about money which you say is his job normally, and I didn't come to him to pay respects before coming to town.  He'll be the one who is a stickler for such traditions.  He may already have decided how he feels about me and will need one or both of the others to give over before he comes to the right conclusion."

Aurora drew a breath, "The middle-aged one has the most to lose though... none of the lust for war and conquest that the young one will have in making a name for himself ... but also none of the sense of wanting to go out with the smell of gunsmoke in his nose rather than rotting away in his bed as the older one might feel."

"I win the young one first and the other two dismiss us as a fool's errand.  They'll say he was swayed by a youthful lust of power or by your pretty smile.  They'll walk from the table fast."  She shook her head.  "It's got to be the old man or the middle-aged one first."

Aurora turned then to the old man and the one who was closer to her own age.  "I think it must be the one nearest to my age.  He'll be the hardest won, but he'll be the lynchpin between the two points of view... old traditionalist with nothing to lose and reckless boy with everything to gain."  

Please Mom, Aunt Tara, I know I didn't listen half so well I should have when you were both alive... but for my children's sake ... be with me now.

"Polite.  Respectful.  Remember Brigitte, men here in Italy are not like men in America.  Even a girl of your young age is expected to know her place.  You represent generations of Luciano, Conti, Mastrosimone ... and Byrne." 

She added the last though they were not Italian, their reputation was known.  A reputation Gavin and Tara had carved into these rocks with their bloody fingers and the wails of their fallen enemies across the globe.  They'd earned their names and Aurora, the grown woman with barely any reputation of her own, sure as hell wasn't going to bring shame to them now.

Aurora lowered her eyes slightly and spoke softly and respectfully.  It was a gentle image Brigitte had almost never seen her mother envoke... only once, a very long time ago, in Las Vegas.  She'd dressed up as she had today, clug to Papa's arm, and was the very image of a dutiful wife.  Brigitte would not ever forget that day.  It was the first time she & Gavin had been shot at - if this whole thing was any indication, it would not be the last time. 

In perfect Italian Aurora greeted her guest knowing the other Dons were watching, wondering why they were not the first and perhaps taking insult.  There was nothing for it though.  Someone had to be first and there was simply no right choice among men of equal power. "Don Gennuso, hai onorato la mia famiglia con la tua presenza. Mio marito manda i suoi migliori saluti. Spero ti piaccia la festa?"

Delfino nodded and sipped his wine before answering the woman in front of him.

"I am glad to see you here in my city Miss Luciano. Your husband does not have a reputation here without his money, but sometimes that speaks for itself no?"

He gestured toward the Hotel.

"When will he grace us with his presence I wonder? Does he plan on making the Dons of his host city wait long? Does he not think we have other more important matters to attend to?"

He looked Brigitte, Oriana, and then Aurora up and down in that order.

"Or are we expected to entertain his hens while he attacks our sheep?"

"Oh I can certainly be entertaining Delfino." Said a voice from behind Brigitte as he came around her, too close even for her comfort. She was paying attention to the Don in front, not the one coming up from behind. She kicked herself for that.

"Marzio. Vedo che tuo padre non ha ancora la possibilità di uscire dal suo letto per sculacciarti e insegnarti le buone maniere."

The younger man scowled at that, but shut his mouth and sat nonetheless.

"Now, Miss Luciano, where were we?"

Aurora bristled at being called Luciano, not just because she did not want to stand on Salvatore's family reputation alone, but also because it was an utter dismissal of her adoptive family and her husband's presence in her life.  He hoped to ply her with flattery ... calling her Miss to dismiss her age ... and flirtation. 

The fool. 

Of course, he thought to woo her as he, no doubt, woo'd all women who came within a hundred yards of him, but she was no easy meat.  Aurora was no longer a teenage chit inexperienced with men and the ways of the world.  If this BOY ever managed to bed a woman of her skill and experience, then that woman would break him and own him forever.  Of that, Aurora was certain.  Unfortunately for him, she had neither the desire nor time, to break in a boy like a spirited stallion in need of a good riding crop across his backside.

Aurora thought to look over to the oldest Don, but she didn't need to.  The exchange between these two told her all she needed to know, either the oldest Don was irrelevant or (more likely) he was the one who spoke with real authority.  These two bantered like boys in a schoolyard, already fighting for her smile and strutting like cocks displaying feathers so she knew her place ... far beneath them.

It was enough to make her grit her teeth, but she refrained, almost hearing her mother whispering to her, 'If you really were beneath them, if they did not fear and respect you, they would not have come.  You control this moment, my Lioness.  Stay on your rocks ... wait for your moment.'

Aurora was standing, the Dons were sitting.  One had just (quite rudely!) claimed a seat without first offering it to her.  A pregnant woman.  Oh yes, they wished for her to feel that they had all the authority at the moment.  She was a hat in hand petitioner, even at her own party.  Both Dons had taken insulting jabs, but maybe they were making her job easier for her? 

A piteous woman coming to plead for help was not someone who you had to put your back up against and reject, in order to prove anything.  And they had insulted her at no less than three times in as many minutes.  It was a tactic to ignore it, only a tactic, but as a rule Aurora disliked social tactics.  This, however, was their battlefield and she had strode brazenly upon it so what else could she do but play the game?

"You honor my father's family by remembering them here.  It's rare to find an American Don who is so well versed in the lineages of the great families like you are."  She nods politely to the young buck, wondering if he realizes that being ranked above American Dons doesn't put him above his peers here.  The compliment was nearly a backhanded one. 

"My husband's family are simple farmers." Humility was one of the great virtues of womanhood, according to that etiquette book she was forced to read at Vassar.  She decided to try it out.  "He is the first to build real businesses and properties of his own.  Noble, but a far cry from the generations of wealth and power here in Italy.  If God is good, my great-grandchildren will have for themselves some bit of the honor I was born into, for all my husband's hard work in these dark times."

Aurora wanted to sit, but she did not.  She would not.  Not until the offered or she was leading the three of them into her den for dinner.  The image of a lioness feasting on bones flittered behind her closed eyelids as she blinked and she smiled.  "I regret to inform you, Don Gennuso, my husband is not here.  I have recently arrived in Milan seeking hospitality, with news for my husband's friends who live here. I hope that I found his friends, friends with whom I might share dinner tonight and some news from not only America... but Venice?  I've arranged a private dining room upstairs, immediately following this little affair."

She waved a hand dismissively, "Of course, if you're busy, I would understand.  I will, wish you well and say prayers for your families' continued prosperity.  You need not worry overly much on my account.  I'm confident that Don Bastianelli will enjoy breaking bread with me and sharing stories, if only because I hear tales of his noble nature even in the United States.  A man of his honor would surely make time for a pregnant woman traveling without the benefit of her husband, even if she foolishly chooses to call America her home rather than Italia.  Yes?"   

Delfino didn;t so much as glance at the young buck before he smirked. She had played her hand well, pitting all three Dons against one another in the immediate, while also mentioning Venice and a more powerful man. Was she in bed with him? What news? That was certainly something that both she and he knew couldn't be passed up.

"Well missus Mastrosimone, it would appear you are more than you would seem. A town crier maybe? No, more than that, a woman gossip." He leveled his gaze at her for half a second before taking another sip. "Sit, it is no time for supper yet, there is plenty to discuss now, unless your matter are private?" He raised an eyebrow and he turned his head to nod toward Danilo.

The old man dutifully stood, and took his time coming to the table. It was infuriating how easily he could feel like he was ordering the old man around, only to turn his back for a second and notice that all he did was let the wolf in the door. He needed to watch himself tonight. Let the boy run his mouth, keep his own tongue firmly within control.

Danilo, when he did finally arrive, first took Brigttie's hand and kissed it, then inclined his head to Oriana and finally took Aurora's hand and kissed it too.

"Please Missus, come sit with us." His voice was old, and hoarse with age, cracked like the paper of an old book, with as much wisdom dripping from it. "I am sure we all wish to know what sort of art it is you're looking to preserve in the fine city and how we can help to." he coughed once "donate, to such a worthy cause." He reached out and took a glass of wine off of a passing tray. "Forgive me my indiscretion, my vioce is not what it used to be."

Aurora took the offer of the chair as a victory and the summons of Bastianelli as another.  Delfino's decision to push for a rush on business talk... Aurora wasn't sure what to do with that.  Her coming to talk business to Dons was a fast way to ruin the headway she was making with the 'I'm a simple wife' situation... asking them to leave the party was asking them to publically give her importance she knew at least one of them didn't want her to have.  

Danilo's arrival and his outward civility, even if it turned her from business to art, was a blessing.  Aurora settled comfortably into her chair.  "Not at all, Don Bastianelli, Milan is blessed with so much worthy of preservation."  Aurora began. 

"My daughters are very big fans of 'The Kiss' which I understand was done shortly after one of the Italian wars for Independence.  My eyes and my hope for my husband's donation bend towards 'Pieta Rondanini' which I understand from my teachers at University was the master Michelangelo's last work." Never before had Aurora been so thankful for being forced to take a stupid art class where she was SURE she'd never use a damn thing she ever learned there.  Aurora smiled then, thinking for a moment of her Aunt Tara who she missed so terribly.

"Of course, I'm not only here to preserve the art."  She said lowering her voice and waved a waiter over to take a small glass of wine from the tray. 

She smiled conspiratorially at the older man, "My doctor ascribes good health in Italian women to fine wine.  I admit that it's hard to curb my love of it while with child.  Limiting myself to only one per day, especially while here so near to the groves where these grapes originate is especially difficult.  My mother was such a vinophile that, I'm told, she could tell you a wine's origin ... Italia or France, with but a sip and if French she'd spit it directly."

Aurora laughed.  It was a story she'd once heard about Marie, though she'd never had a reason to tell it before, mostly because it had to be an exaggeration.  

"Well... I was just explaining to the respected gentlemen beside me that I've arranged for dinner to be prepared for us.  Of course, my inclinations to prepare a meal before business is discussed might just be a habit better disregarded in this case?  Contrary to what you might think, I am seldom in the position to be sharing information of a business nature.  My husband is better suited to it & quite frankly I'm more comfortable with it being that way, but in this case, I fear it could not be avoided.  Thus, gentlemen, I defer to your wisdom and experience on the matter.  Would you prefer to enjoy the party and retire later to a private dinner to discuss business... or would you be more comfortable with these surroundings?"

Danilo stamped his cane onto the ground one time and laughed a bit as she spoke of her mother.

"Your mother must have been a fine Italian. I regret never having the opportunity to speak with her. I do think though that all three of us would very well enjoy a good meal before discussions commence. After all, some of us might not have very many good meals left."

He did not smile, or wink, or even blink as he said the last. It was a fact, a very dry, simple, fact.

Delfino bristled a bit at the old man taking up the reigns of the conversation, but nodded all the same. Marzio on the other hand decided to speak up.

"Now hold on just a second Don Bastianelli. Have you forgotten what this woman has done to her own kin? And you want to move to a private location with her and her..." He looked over OrianaMontini then, "lapdog? Look at hos she stands there! Armed as if to assault Rome itself. It is so clear to everyone here that these Americans have no subtlety and this American Don has made mistakes in allowing his women so much freedom and distance from their place in their home."

Danilo stamped his cane again, forcefully this time. When he spoke though, the tone remained even. Brigitte shuffled her feet a bit, clearly bristling and upset by the younger man. It would seem she was out of commission for this bit, the one guy she might have turned to their side had just struck a very clear nerve or two.

"Basta Marzio, ti dimentichi di te stesso. Sei fortunato che tuo padre ti dia tanta libertà lontano dal tuo legittimo posto a casa."

Delfino then turned to Aurora as Danilo clearly stared the younger man into submission.

"I am afraid, as rude as that may have been, missus Mastrosimone, he is not wrong. His concerns are valid. What do you say to the actions of your past?"

Aurora grit her teeth and bit off the urge to put the child in his place as he began.  The memory of her assault, the kidnapping, learning of Billy's 'death' and the slaying of her grandparents followed by the long walk back to the Mastrosimone home... it all came rushing back to her.  The pain she'd felt on her last trip to Italy was as sharp as it was on this one even after all these years.  It was a pain she would never forget, a pain that most likely she would endure at least one more time before she was reunited with her family and all of Race Street Company.

Her amber eyes in the fading light of the afternoon smoldered, a whisper of the pain she felt glistening there but was never released.  "Cosa vorresti che ti dicessi? Cosa potrei fare per giustificare l'omicidio dei miei parenti?"

She shook her head, "Devo parlarti della ragazza incinta attaccata sul lato della strada, picchiata nell'incoscienza?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"Forse ti commuoveresti quando sentirai che il mio stesso sangue ha celebrato il presunto omicidio del padre di mio figlio non ancora nato? Che nella stessa frase mi hanno raccontato della sua morte, mi hanno anche detto che mi avevano venduto per pistole e uomini in una guerra contro la famiglia di mio padre?"

She sighed.  "Qualcuno di questi ammorbidirebbe i tuoi cuori e renderebbe appetibile una persona che uccide la propria famiglia? Se le tristi storie della vita delle donne commuovessero così Dons, allora le donne sarebbero Padrini in questo e in tutti gli altri paesi."

Aurora lifted her chin and almost growled her words, "Sono una donna italiana come le mie madri prima di me. Il mio primo è morto proteggendomi nella mia culla. Il secondo è morto proteggendomi all'ombra di una casa che non rivedrò mai più. Non faccio scuse. Conti avrebbe ucciso il figlio di mio marito per il suo guadagno politico. L'ho ucciso. Non lo nego e lo rifarei."

She drew a steadying breath.  

"For those I love, there is nothing I would not do.  You should understand, this is very good for you because I come to all of you as my friends.  My friends will long be remembered by my husband when I am done with my work here." 

Aurora looked to each of them in turn, "We share an enemy."  She emphasized this point so they would know this, this was her business with them.

"He has hurt my son, my eldest boy, the same who was growing in my belly when I smiled down on my dying grandfather who had wished to harm him.  Do you really believe I would let such a man off with less than the same honor I gave to Don Conti?"  

Her nostrils flared, "I was content in my kitchen, making gnocchi and cookies for my children... dreaming of the day I will be overrun by grandchildren.  Our enemy has put me in the black of mourning over and over again. He caused me to cross an ocean in a delicate state when I want nothing more than to be home and in bed as my doctor asks of me."

She looked to the man closest to her age, "Mock me, if it makes you feel more secure in your position."

She looked to the youngest, "Fear and distrust me... if you think it will keep you alive longer."

She looked then to the oldest, "But ignore me at your own peril.  I am not foolish enough to have come here with empty hands or thinking to ply you with money and sweet words.  I came because my enemy is a rabid wolf at your door.  I know the details.  Now we can retire upstairs to dinner to discuss the finer details of this situation, which even now is escalating in the halls of our nations' governments and plot our method to resolving it in a way that is profitable to your noble houses ... or you sit here in Milan with your beautiful art and pray that my pretty daughter, my amazon here, and I - an aging pregnant housewife with delusions about her younger wilder days - can take care of your troubles for you."

She shrugs leaning back in her seat, "Personally, I'd never bet against three highly motivated women... but maybe you don't like the sound of those odds?  Maybe you'd like a say in what I do next?"

Danilo, for the first time since arriving smiled.

"There is no doubt in my mind you are an Italian woman. Your children were hurt, and that means you go to fight. My collegue called your woman a lapdog, but I think I have seen her face before, on the faces of the women who lose husbands and who have love in their marriage. I have seen it on your face."

He pointed to her with his gnarled shaky hand.

"I will retire with you, and enjoy your food and your company. But if your woman comes with you, then I must insist my man comes with me as well. For safety if nothing else."

Delfino nodded his agreement, and Marzio just shrugged. "So be it." The youngest said, and all three stood together, Delfino extending his arm for Aurora. The old man extending his to Oriana, and Marzio his for Brigitte.

"Come Missus Mastrosimone, we will hear what you have to say, you are not the only one who has told us of a problem coming in our direction. Do you know a woman named Olimpia?"

Aurora welcomed in the body men of each Don and offered to them a plate of food.  She had known the men would not come without protection and so she planned for them to enjoy the meal as well.  "Among allies, no one should go hungry."

Of course, she sat and ate generously as well.  As the meal began and the staff disappeared, Aurora began, "Shall we get to the heart of it then?"

After getting nods from all of the men, Aurora began in a clear and confident tone, "I am glad you were able to confirm Mattaranzi's aggression from this other source before she was killed. She and her son Ansovino recently died during an internal power struggle."

She continued despite any of the reactions she got, "Mattaranzi's organization will be burnt to the ground, and anyone capable of building it back up to avenge themselves on my family will be removed. Mattaranzi will die. Ave Capua will die. Anyone else capable of rebuilding the organization and continuing this feud with my family... they will also die."

"What I come to you asking, is for help only in attacking Mattaranzi's men and his resources.  If you could at least disrupt his organization for a 48 hour period, drawing men out of his compound, then I will kill Mattaranzi."

She sipped her wine, "When it is over I will gladly return to my husband and children back in America.  Venice will be yours to do with as you see fit.  Neither my husband nor the families of mine in Sicily have designs for the Queen of the Adriatic.  I have but a desire to return to my quiet life and, God willing, die a grandmother in my bed surrounded by my loved ones as my mothers were unable to do."

Delfino this time was the first to speak up. Olimpia was his contact after all.

"That is terrible news Missus Mastrosimone. I will not lie to you, your goals seems to be in alignment with ours, but if her and her only son are indeed dead, that would change things significantly for us." The other two men nodded in agreement, the room being oddly quiet in that moment.

"Forgive us, but we need proof of this claim before we open our plans to you. It is possible that we can talk here together, but we would need proof, and I would prefer to speak with your husband directly. After all, this is a matter which would involve his own resources being brought to bear no?"

Marzio looked Brigitte up and down as she sat next to him. "We may have a way to work around this Don Gennuso." He smiled to the middle-aged man, a knowing smile, before taking a bite of food. "In fact, it may work out even better this way."

Delfino nodded. "Still, proof and then your husband if you don't mind Missus."