Mafia Kings: Valentino: Chapter 34

As it got close to sunset, Isabella said she was tired, so she went back to the house with Ludavica and all the women.

Three of the foot soldiers went with them, but the fourth stayed with me.

As a guide?

A bodyguard?

A jailer?

Who knew. Maybe all three.

He was dour, that was for sure. He had a particularly bad male version of Resting Bitch Face – ‘Resting Bastard Face,’ I guess, with a grimace like he’d just bit into a lemon.

He looked like he was in his late 30s, but when I asked him, he said he was only 27.

Life was hard in Sicily, apparently.

But the weather was great. It had been around 85 degrees Fahrenheit in Palermo, but up here in the mountains, it was in the mid-70s.

Since there was nothing better to do – no phone, no internet, no TV, no nothin’ – I decided to go exploring on my own.

Well… with Resting Bastard Face along for the ride, anyway.

The ‘gardens’ I’d walked through with Isabella (and 3000 of her female in-laws) had mostly been a bunch of different plants the kitchen used for spice and herbs, along with fruit trees and some ornamental bushes with red berries. Everything had the scraggly look of plants that could thrive in an arid environment, which Sicily definitely was.

I left the gardens and headed out into the rolling hills.

You could literally see for miles. Lots of craggy grey boulders poking up out of patches of green; the rest was dry brown fields.

“Do they grow something here?” I asked RBF (short for Resting Bastard Face).

“Grain,” he said dourly.

Talkative guy.

From far away, I heard the clanking of cowbells. A half-mile away, maybe more, a bunch of them dotted one of the hillsides, grazing amongst the boulders.

In the far distance – quite a few miles away – there were a couple of small villages: one to the east, and one to the south. I doubted more than 500 people lived in either one. I could only tell they were east and south because the sun was setting in the west, a ball of golden light disappearing behind the clouds on the horizon.

Between the villages and Don Vicari’s, there was the occasional crumbling stone building with a collapsed roof and walls falling in.

But there was one stone building pretty close to the property, maybe half a mile away, that was in excellent shape. It was old, yes, but it still had shutters over the windows, the wooden door was closed, and the roof was obviously well-maintained.

Thinking it was a horse stable or something, I turned to RBF. “What’s that over there?”

He just shook his head somberly.

“What?” I asked.

“It is not for you,” he said in his thick Sicilian accent.

Now I really was curious. “What’s in there?”

“Ask Don Vicari,” he said coldly, then gestured with his hand back to the main house like, THIS way.

I thought about ignoring him and walking over to see for myself –

But decided I would get my answers later.

I could just imagine Niccolo laying out another rule:

Never argue with a Sicilian with a shotgun.

Especially when you’re unarmed, and he doesn’t particularly like you.


We returned to the house, where a servant escorted me to my bedroom.

It was just as rustic as the rest of the place: exposed wooden beams and white plaster walls.

There was a stone fireplace, a wardrobe, a dresser, and a rickety brass bed.

Back in my family’s house in Tuscany, our walls were decorated with art from the last four centuries.

Here in Sicily, I had a framed print of the Virgin Mary with her heart in flames.

Fuckin’ great.

waiting for me, but I didn’t

like giving in… like

me still believed something might happen and I could get out of this

clothes was

went to the bathroom to

tank several feet above the commode, a claw-foot tub (no

splashed water on my face. At least

a knock at

yelled as I toweled off, then walked

opened the door, there stood Ludavica

What the fuck?

there to

on her face didn’t seem to be pointing in that

I hadn’t been obsessing over Cat, banging your future mafia wife’s servant was an excellent

help you?” I

protective of Isabella,”

than I would have thought, and kind of raspy. I liked it. A smoker’s voice, though I didn’t picture

not sure where this

her… ever… either now or anytime during your marriage… if you hit her, or abuse her emotionally, or demean her in any way… Don Vicari won’t

WHOA.

would’ve been pissed off at a guy for talking to me like that

it was kind of funny coming from a 5’1” girl

of myself. “Is that how Sicilian servants

a joke,” Ludavica seethed. “Do not even think of

up my hands like she was mugging me, though I couldn’t stop grinning. “I’ll never harm a hair on her

distrustfully… then nodded once, like she was satisfied with

to go

could I ask you a

looked at me

you grab me one of the books Isabella

“Rupi Kaur.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

read poetry by Rupi

so I thought it might be a good start if I read something she liked. You know…

I’d been wearing,

I can

“Thanks.”

one last time, like I’d pulled off a


but she didn’t show. Guess she had issues

was dark outside, but it was still

in my room except for

floors were hardwood. They’d been waxed recently, but the wood was scarred and pitted like it had seen a lot of wear over

plaster, with exposed wooden beams in all the ceilings. The only pictures on the walls were religious icons and hunting stuff – like a shadowy painting

was a mixture of patterned

tick tick tick of a grandfather clock the loudest

there were no televisions in the house. Or any

living in the fucking Stone

garlic and onion sautéing in butter – and I opened the door to

their 50s, looked up at me without

closed the door, a fresh jolt

the kitchen back home so many times, I’d half-expected to see Cat

when she wasn’t,

I walked through the house, I kept thinking of San Vittore, the

but it had

earth. The stench… the screams… the

was nothing like it. It smelled clean, like floor wax. It was quiet. And despite being plain and old-fashioned,

But despite the differences…

They were both prisons.

I would be here for

SHIT…

say ‘yes’

are,” a deep

in surprise and

in

I was an idiot he found vaguely amusing. “You don’t have to be scared of anything around here. None of

startled me,”

a smirk, like he didn’t believe me. “Tomorrow you’ll go meet Rocco in Pozzallo.

agreed, seeing as there wasn’t much else I

“Better get to bed.”

one eyebrow. “It’s

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255