Mafia Kings: Valentino: Dark Mafia Romance Series #6 by Olivia Thorn

Mafia Kings: Valentino: Chapter 2

I was the middle child of five kids. Our house was crazy – total chaos. The only peace I found was with my grandmother in the kitchen. She lived with us and cooked for the entire family.

My father was a bricklayer, and my mother was a schoolteacher. With so many mouths to feed, their salaries didn’t stretch nearly far enough.

My father was very serious. People used to joke that he was more German than Italian.

Always be early. If you’re on time, you’re five minutes late.

You owe your employer your very best efforts.

Never, EVER give less than 100%.

My mother prized getting good grades above everything else.

I was not serious at all, which irked my father – and I was terrible in school, which exasperated my mother.

Me?

I just wanted to cook.

My grandmother passed away when I was 11, and it was the saddest day of my life…

At least for another ten years.

But I kept on cooking and preparing all the family’s meals by myself.

I didn’t mind. I actually loved it. Working in the kitchen made me feel close to Nonna, like she was still with me.

I’ll say one thing: my parents never complained about my cooking. That was the one thing they didn’t criticize about me.

When I hit 12, I developed another obsession:

Boys.

I went boy CRAZY.

All I could think about was the cute boys at school. I would fantasize about kissing them.

I dreamed up ways of getting them to notice me. At first I tried making cannoli for them – hard pastry shells stuffed with sweet ricotta cheese and things like chocolate or nuts. They loved them, but they didn’t do anything but ask me for more cannoli.

When I finally got the attention I craved, it didn’t come from the boys in my own class – but older boys in school.

Much older.

I’m joking! They were only two or three years further along than me.

But they still seemed so worldly and cool.

Some of them even smoked.

Oooooh!

Real bad boys.

And I got plenty of their attention!

All it took was getting boobs.

I ended the school year flat-chested and came back the next fall more developed than every other girl in my grade level. All the older boys came flocking to me after that.

It was uncomfortable dealing with grown men leering at me, which felt icky and gross –

cute boys a couple years older

Bring it on.

kissed a boy for the first

the first time when

all downhill

that was all I could

activities secret by sneaking out at night. I’d

for years before she got married. She got pregnant at 18 from her boyfriend, which – since my parents were devout Catholics –

was a huge cautionary tale for me. I knew I didn’t want to settle down yet, so I sure as hell couldn’t get pregnant. As

the candy stopped. But when I started sneaking

hide my sneaking around… but I couldn’t hide my terrible report

was ruining my life. But I already knew I didn’t want to go to university. University

Bleh.

university, you choose a profession while you’re a teenager and go to a school specifically

an istituto professionale. That was the closest

would be tons more cute guys at university, I might

and people talked. Probably some boys bragged about sleeping with me, their parents

to hear from other people that my daughter’s the town slut?!”

That stunned me.

that he’d found

two, that he would ever call me

was horrible to hear

was totally unfair. Yes, I’d slept with a few more guys than other girls had – but almost everyone in my class was hooking up. It’s not like I was the lone sinner in a sea of saints. And I

to stay in relationships long. I got bored

they clamped down hard. I couldn’t

and sisters – my grades, my behavior, the way I dressed – but

your sister and

did, but got knocked up by one of the guys she was

me in

stared at

bedroom I shared with my little sister

done that, I thought. Nonna NEVER would

that moment, I vowed to move out as soon

graduated a few months later at 17. By the way, all Italians who aren’t on the university track graduate at 17. It’s not like I did anything

soon as school was over, I went looking for a job

vast countryside in central Italy. Our town wasn’t a

moved to Florence, the

me go. They made a lot of snarky comments about my sex life, but

roommates in a tiny apartment, but it

I wanted. And there were plenty of cute

went to parties and discos, drank too much, had fun with boys

awesome. Except

in Florence would hire me as a cook. Sure, I could work in a tourist trap and make 2000 gallons of spaghetti per day – but I didn’t want that.

working my way up, but that wasn’t even a possibility. Everybody I interviewed with said I had to go to a fancy culinary

from my grandmother, but they all

learned how to cook from her grandmother. You need more than

money for a culinary institute, and I couldn’t ask my

to owe them anything or give them any sort of control over my life

already knew they wouldn’t give me a cent. They’d say that if they

was they didn’t have any money

day and tried to save my money to go to a

I was as good at saving

what little money I had left over

years in Florence, life was great… until it

in

fun with boys, but I never fell

to get