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.

black suits were lounging around the entrance. If they were mafia,

directed me into the house. It was even more amazing on the inside, with thick Persian rugs, crystal chandeliers, and old artwork on the

he pushed back a swinging door to

was! There were ancient stone walls, yes, but also marble countertops, an absolutely gigantic island filled with two dozen bowls and glass jars, and lots of sleek, modern

thought I’d died and gone to

tall and imposing in a black dress, and her curly grey hair reached to her shoulders. She

the man

Benvenuto,” she

walked out the door

Signora Lombardi said,

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

said – not a

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

I realized was a printout of my

a touristy kind of

all that really matters is whether you can cook, and I’ll

so I could see into the bowls. They were all filled with different things: eggs, flour, onions, garlic, tomatoes, strawberries, lemons, spinach, basil, fennel, spinach, and many other things. There were glass jars filled with dry pasta – long spaghetti, spiral fusilli, and bowtie farfalle, just to name a few. Small bowls had anise, cloves, and other spices. There was a glass pitcher filled with milk and an unlabeled green bottle of olive oil. Salt and pepper shakers

cook over two hundred dishes by

My nonna taught

whatever you like using these

her in surprise.

seemed to take my

fact I was

cook

And whatever I WANT?!

marinara sauce with meat. You couldn’t even really call it cooking since I used sauce out of jars. The

a hint of annoyance. “If that distresses you, you can exit the interview now if

ma’am!” I

hours, I figured I could make a

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

was just one

by the gate,” I said. “He thought I’d only be

have one of our men tell him to go

he might not leave unless

a tight smile.

could read between the

about your little

“Okay,” I said sheepishly.

call on her cell, I tried a few ingredients and

was just pressed,” I

me the first hint of a smile. “It’s harvested from the trees on the

the way, is there any

“In the refrigerator.”

sauce and beef. Besides the traditional

simple peasant bread with bits of olive in it would be

creamy dessert cake where I

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

table and worked on a laptop. Occasionally she would

the thing I loved the most (well, besides sex) in the most beautiful kitchen I’d ever

the door opened behind me. I

the sexiest

the best red wine you can

good? And who’s this that

around in surprise

most gorgeous man I’d ever

the guys I dated back

was tall, probably

I couldn’t see his body incredibly well, but the neck of the shirt was open

by the sun, with just the perfect

rolled up, too, exposing muscular

Like, BIG hands.

made me immediately wonder

face that took

at the corner of his incredibly kissable mouth. Several days of scruff made him look sexy as hell. His dark brown hair was

was more handsome than any movie star or musician I’d ever seen, and my heart skipped a

mention my pussy

that’s

But it did!

eyes met,

had a million-dollar smile with perfectly straight, white

he said flirtatiously. “That is, I’m

English – meaning an unmarried woman – versus

grinned right back

wider. “Well, that’s the best news I’ve

my body, pausing on my

most women don’t particularly like it when men do

the world is undressing you with his eyes, it’s

caress, and I immediately felt my nipples

parts of my body getting more hot and

at his crotch

Barely.

an annoyed

Signora Lombardi.

forgotten she