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

Mafia Kings: Valentino: Chapter 3

And that was how I got an interview with the Rosolinis.

An old boyfriend of mine who still lived in town (and who I occasionally still hooked up with when we were both single) drove me out into the countryside for the interview.

Using Google Maps, we turned down a small road bordered by tall, thin cedar trees, then drove until we reached a massive stone wall with iron gates.

We sat there in his car, wondering what the hell we should do, when a voice blared out of a speaker on the wall.

“State your business.”

The voice was so loud that we could hear it clearly through our rolled-up windows.

I opened the car door and stepped out timidly into the freezing winter air.

“I’m – I’m here for the job in the kitchen,” I called out nervously, my heart thudding in my chest.

“Your name?” the voice snapped.

“C-Caterina Martinelli.”

There was a long pause, and I wondered if I would even get in to do the interview.

Maybe I was going to lose the job before I even got a chance.

Then the voice said, “Stay there. We’re sending someone to get you.”

I helpfully suggested, “My friend could drive me up to the – ”

“STAY. THERE. We’re sending someone to get you.”

I quickly got back in the car, terrified of pissing off the voice any more.

My ex-boyfriend stared at me. He was clearly as nervous as I was. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“No,” I admitted. “But I’d like to see the house, at least.”

We waited for two minutes – and then the gates opened up.

On the other side was a black Mercedes. A man in a black suit and white shirt got out of the passenger side and motioned to me.

I got out of my ex’s car.

As I started walking towards the Mercedes, my ex rolled down his window and stuck his head out. “What about me?”

“Wait here,” the man in the black suit said.

“Just – out here?” my ex said, a bit surprised and definitely annoyed.

“Yes.”

“What if somebody comes up behind me? Or wants to leave from your direction?”

“Then get out of the way.”

“It’s okay,” I reassured my ex. Although I sounded so nervous, I doubt he was reassured at all. “I’ll be out soon.”

My ex grumbled and got back in the car.

As I walked over to the man in the suit, the gates closed behind me. I heard them creak and I jumped.

“I need to search you,” the guy said.

“Um… okay…?”

He checked my purse, then gave me a quick pat-down.

“Ooh, I didn’t know this was part of the interview process,” I joked flirtatiously.

He didn’t even crack a smile. He just opened up the rear passenger-side door for me.

O-kaaaay…

I got in meekly without a word.

He shut the door behind me and got back in the car.

The driver did a three-point turn, and we headed up towards the house.

I don’t know that the property was quite as impressive as the Vatican (since I haven’t been to Rome)… but it was still pretty damn amazing.

First we drove past vineyards and orchards. The road sloped upwards, and when we broke out of the trees, I saw it: a gigantic mansion at the top of the hill, three stories tall. It looked old – maybe 500 years old or more.

“Wow,” I murmured.

Neither of the two guys in the front seat said anything.

We reached a circular drive in front of marble steps and a pair of bronze doors.

The guy got out and opened my door. “Let’s go.”

I got out, a little clumsy from my nervousness. As the Mercedes drove off, the man led me up to the bronze doors.

suits were lounging around the entrance. If they were

on the

through a maze of hallways until he pushed back a swinging door to the kitchen

were ancient stone walls, yes, but also marble countertops, an absolutely gigantic island

thought I’d died and

paper in her hand. She was tall and imposing in a black dress, and her curly grey hair reached

the man

Benvenuto,” she replied.

out the door we’d come in

said,

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

local girl,” she said – not a question

ma’am. I live in Florence, but I’m from

realized was a printout of my résumé. “I’m not familiar with this restaurant you work

touristy kind

can cook, and I’ll be the judge of that. Here you

name a few. Small bowls had anise, cloves, and other spices. There was a glass pitcher filled with milk and an

you could cook over two hundred dishes

ma’am. My nonna

whatever you like using these ingredients and only these

her in surprise. “You want

to take my reaction as

fact I was

to cook

And whatever I WANT?!

out of jars. The only thing I did was sauté onions

to choose,” Signora Lombardi said with a hint of annoyance. “If that distresses you, you can exit the interview now if you

I

could make a whole

a pity I couldn’t make the pasta from scratch, but that would

was just

I said. “He thought I’d only be in here

men tell him to

might not leave

Lombardi gave me a tight smile. “Then

could read between the

bothering me about your little

“Okay,” I said sheepishly.

ingredients and was delighted. The basil was fresh from the garden, and the olive oil was

was just pressed,” I said in

first hint of a smile. “It’s harvested from

the way, is there any

“In the refrigerator.”

nice tagliatelle alla Bolognese, a pasta dish with tomato sauce and beef. Besides the traditional garlic and basil for

olive in it

dessert cake where I could

where all the pots, pans, and cutlery were, I grabbed an apron and set to

would glance up and watch me for

doing the thing I loved the most (well, besides sex) in the most beautiful

hour and a half into my cooking, there was a noise as the door opened behind me. I was

I heard the sexiest voice

and smooth as the best

who’s this that looks

turned around in surprise – and

man I’d

a boy like the guys I

tall, probably about

broad shoulders. He wore a loose-fitting white linen shirt, so I couldn’t see his body incredibly well, but the neck

Sculpted pecs bronzed by the sun, with just the perfect

sleeves were rolled up, too, exposing muscular

Like, BIG hands.

wonder

his face that took my

ever seen. A half-smile pulled at the corner of his incredibly kissable mouth. Several days of scruff made him look sexy as hell. His dark brown hair was wavy and fairly long,

handsome than any movie star or musician I’d ever seen, and

mention my pussy fluttered with

Maybe that’s TMI

But it did!

as our eyes met, he burst

a million-dollar smile with

said flirtatiously. “That is, I’m hoping

meaning an unmarried woman – versus Signora, which was the same as

blushed furiously, but I grinned right back at him. “Definitely

“Well, that’s the

trailed down my

particularly like it when men do that

when the hottest guy in the world is undressing you with his eyes, it’s

like a caress, and I immediately felt my

with other parts of my body getting

a peek at his crotch

Barely.

said an annoyed

Signora Lombardi.

she was