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

Mafia Kings: Valentino: Chapter 72

Teaching Isabella and Ludavica how to use an iPhone was like trying to teach two time travelers from the 1800s.

It astounded me how little they knew –

But it wasn’t their fault. They’d been closed off from the outside world ever since they were little. Maybe even since they were born.

Anyway, they marveled over how they could see almost anything.

I thought they might start Googling porn – dick pics, maybe –

But they didn’t.

I guess they were too innocent.

Instead, it was all about works of art. Paintings, statutes, that sort of thing.

And pictures of cities – Tokyo, Athens, Moscow.

And cat videos.

They seemed to like those.

“It’s so cute!” Isabella cried out – a lot.

When we finally got to Cefalù, I took the phone back.

“Awwwww!” both girls whined.

“Time to go see the world in person and not on a fuckin’ phone,” I said as I handed it to Paolo.

“…okay,” Isabella grumbled.

Cefalù was a beautiful medieval town on the seaside.

Narrow, winding streets made of cobblestone.

Apartment balconies overhead with brightly colored laundry drying on the railings.

And everywhere you looked, shops for tourists: cafés and restaurants, clothing stores, knick-knack stalls full of tchotchkes.

There were all those shops for tourists because there were tourists everywhere. They thronged the streets, snapping pictures, and stopped off for cappuccinos or glasses of wine.

Isabella and Ludavica alternated between staring at everything in openmouthed wonder and shrinking away from the crowds of people.

It was no wonder they shrank away: there were probably more people in the streets of Cefalù than they’d seen at any one point in their entire lives – except maybe at mafia weddings. Maybe.

I got on one side and positioned Paolo on the other. We ran interference for the girls, acting as bodyguards as we pushed our way through the crowds.

We finally reached a place where the tourists thinned out, and I herded the girls over to a streetside restaurant. We took a table and gave the server our orders, which came out a few minutes later. I had a beer, Paolo had coffee, and both Isabella and Ludavica got glasses of white wine.

“Wow,” Isabella said, her head swiveling around to take it all in.

“What’s it like getting out of the house for the first time?”

murmured as she

she was clearly overwhelmed by all the people, I could see in her eyes that she was taking in all

gosh – it’s a Testa di Moro!”

‘head of a Moor’ in

was the old term for any Muslim from North Africa

I asked,

there! I’ve read about them, but I’ve never actually seen

bunch of ceramic pots sculpted to look like human faces,

mustache and a turban, and the

Gela but hadn’t thought to ask about

they?”

a Sicilian

centuries – a Sicilian woman of noble birth had an affair with

“Jesus,” I said, appalled.

said with a sigh. “Not looked upon highly

than the

what?”

that he has a wife and a kid he forgot to tell her about. So the Sicilian chick kills him and chops off his head, then turns it into a vase to

“Why?!”

just the guy getting his head chopped off instead of the

“Ugh,” I said.

squeamish,” Ludavica teased

to snap, Yeah, it hits pretty hard

you Sicilians

won’t argue with you on that

this is a Sicilian tradition?”

them

haven’t you ever seen

wry face. “Papa

“THAT’S pretty

are you

like You CAN’T be

of what he does for a living?” she asked, then gave

scoffed. “You might wanna ask your father’s

immediately went

the poor bastard’s name?” I asked.

do you

is out in your barn

But something was off.

a horror movie, standing in front of a door in

something terrible in the next room

trying to build up the courage to confront the

Ludavica’s expression confirmed it.

begging me with

don’t say

immediately backed off. “Why – what

bunch of money and ran off,” Isabella said quietly, her

from Rocco,” I muttered. “That

flooded back into Isabella’s

Ludavica looked grateful.

Paolo just seemed confused.