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 than

Bring it on.

kissed a boy for the first

had sex for the first time when I was 14, with my first

all

cute boys… that was all I could think

sneaking out at night. I’d

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

didn’t want to settle down yet, so I sure as hell couldn’t get pregnant. As a result, I always used condoms, and

But when I started sneaking around, I had to bribe my younger sister again, who demanded her cut every Friday afternoon. I used to tell her she was worse than the mafia about

around… but I couldn’t

me non-stop, telling me I was ruining my life. But I already knew I didn’t want to go to university. University was for people

Bleh.

teenager and go to a school specifically for that. You basically choose your life path

an istituto professionale. That was the closest

would be tons more cute guys at university, I might have done better

some boys bragged about sleeping with me, their parents overheard, they started gossiping about it, and then some busybody decided

from other people that

That stunned me.

that he’d found out

would ever call

horrible to

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 wasn’t sleeping with just anybody. Most of the time I had boyfriends, and

stay in relationships long.

my parents knew, they clamped down hard. I couldn’t sneak out anymore at night, which

unfavorably to my brothers and sisters – my grades, my behavior, the way I dressed – but one day my mother

sister and marry a

you mean the sister who snuck out just like I did, but got knocked up by one of the guys she was banging?” I

mother slapped me

at

I shared with my little

would have never done that, I

moment, I vowed to move out as soon as

a few months later at 17. By the way, all Italians who aren’t on the university track graduate at

went looking for a job so I could get the

that I came from a small town in Tuscany, the vast countryside in central Italy. Our town wasn’t a tourist attraction, so

Florence, the nearest big city with tons

a lot of snarky comments about my sex life, but

in a tiny apartment,

guys as I wanted. And there were plenty of cute

drank too much, had

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

even a possibility. Everybody I interviewed with said I had to go to

how to cook from my grandmother, but

to cook from her

a culinary

to owe them anything or give

cent. They’d say that if they gave me

they didn’t have any money to spare,

spaghetti a day and tried to save

good at saving as

what little money

Florence, life was great…

trapped in my

fun with boys, but I

began to get