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.

the entrance. If they were mafia, they looked

more amazing on the inside, with thick Persian rugs, crystal chandeliers,

a maze of hallways until he pushed back a swinging door

yes, but also marble countertops, an absolutely

I’d died

looking at a sheet of paper in her hand. She was tall and imposing in a black dress, and her curly grey hair reached to

Lombardi,” the

you, Benvenuto,” she

the door

Lombardi said, “you

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

not a question but a statement of

I live in Florence, but I’m from

at the piece of paper in her hand, which I realized was a printout of

a touristy kind of

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

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

you could cook over two hundred dishes by memory,”

ma’am. My nonna taught

two hours to cook whatever you like using

at her in surprise. “You

take my reaction

fact

to cook in THIS

And whatever I WANT?!

fixed the same damn thing: marinara sauce with meat. You couldn’t even really call it cooking since I used sauce out of jars. The only thing I did was sauté

choose,” Signora Lombardi said with a hint of annoyance. “If that distresses you, you can

ma’am!” I

could make a whole meal to knock

couldn’t make the pasta

just

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

one of our men tell him to

leave unless I tell

me a tight smile. “Then

read between the

about

“Okay,” I said sheepishly.

Signora Lombardi made a phone call on her cell, I tried a few ingredients and was delighted. The basil was fresh from the garden, and the olive oil

tastes like it was just pressed,” I said in

a smile. “It’s harvested from the

is

“In the refrigerator.”

decided to make a nice tagliatelle alla Bolognese, a pasta dish with tomato sauce and beef. Besides the traditional

bread with bits of olive in

cake where I could

pans, and cutlery were, I

sat at a nearby breakfast table and worked on a laptop. Occasionally she would glance up and watch

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

into my cooking, there was a noise as the door opened behind me. I was so into my cooking that

heard the sexiest voice

smooth as the best red wine

who’s this

turned around in surprise

most gorgeous man I’d

the guys I dated back home or in Florence, but

was tall,

white linen shirt, so I couldn’t see his body incredibly well, but the neck of the shirt

by the sun, with just the perfect amount of chest

rolled up, too,

Like, BIG hands.

me immediately wonder how big something else

his face that took my breath

incredibly kissable mouth. Several days of scruff made

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

to mention my pussy fluttered

Maybe that’s

But it did!

soon as our eyes met, he burst into a

had a million-dollar smile with perfectly

signorina,” he said flirtatiously. “That is, I’m hoping

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

but I grinned right back at him. “Definitely

him grin even wider. “Well, that’s the best news

my body, pausing

don’t particularly like it when men do

guy in the world is undressing you

caress, and I immediately felt

of my body getting more

to sneak a peek at his

Barely.

said an annoyed

Signora Lombardi.

forgotten she was