Massimo
Valentina’s eyes are wide with anticipation at the turn of every corner on the curvy road to get here. I enjoy the fact she’s not cooped up at the mansion. She actually has me singing the latest Italian pop tune in the car with her, and I’m glad none of my men are around. She’s lighthearted and it’s contagious.
She reminds me of my younger, more carefree days, and maybe life’s responsibilities have weighed me down to where I’m not as much fun as I used to be. Being with her reminds me that growing older doesn’t mean I have to live in solitude or loneliness like Grandfather. Perhaps the wisdom he’s gained over the years will help me from making mistakes he’s regretting in his old age.
We arrive at the rented house an hour or so after we leave home. I let the men check the place before letting her follow behind them. She immediately checks out our bedroom suite. The house is quaint. We have everything we need for a secluded getaway except groceries, and our privacy is lacking due to the continued presence of security, who are in the house next to ours.
I pull out the bag with all our fancy clothes and Valentina begins to dress, and I sneak looks at her as she changes her skimpy panties and uses a beige bra instead of the black one she wore here under her dark sweater.
I methodically pull up my dress pants and don an undershirt, but I can’t stop staring at her as she steps into the vintage cocktail dress. It’s a rare dress and I even hired a saleswoman to track it down for her. She saw it in a magazine and loved it so much I thought it would make her happy.
I have her engagement ring hidden in my luggage, hoping that I’ll have an opportunity to give it to her this weekend. We take Valentine’s Day seriously as we started the celebration born out of the love for our country and now it’s an international day to celebrate love.
I hope we’ll be able to travel more and eventually have a kid to carry on the family name. The issue is, what name will he carry?
My adoptive dad has a son of his own; the Michelis, well, I’m not sure it’s safe to come out of that closet yet, and if I did, I’d then be a fourth son, but not a full-blooded son. I’d never be looked at as one of the original three as I’m dirty born. The love child that lived in exile with my mother’s clan. A child they don’t know about, or so I presume.
“Oh, Valentina, I forgot to tell you, but I made some inquiries regarding a job for you.”
“Doing what?” She sits on the bedroom bench, strapping her shoes around her dainty feet. She finishes before she cocks her head up to look at me, her blue eyes showing excitement through her long eyelashes.
“And what would that be?” She sits up and watches me puttering around the room.
“Working as a counselor with children at the hospital in Florence. It’d be like play therapy, and you’d be able to help them without sitting in an office unless it’s needed.”
I add cuff links to my shirt’s holes, use the cologne, and reach for my jacket.
“Really?” Her face is bright and there’s a twinkle in her eye. A twinkle I wished was for me.
“Yes, they have good security and I think you’d like it. You said you wanted to work. You can meet with them when we get back.”
“Oh my, this is incredible.” She stands and takes a tiny jump of glee. “I never dreamed I’d be able to have a normal life.” She crosses the room, throwing her arms around my neck and kisses me.
I don’t care how badly she crushes my dress shirt that was a wrinkle-free shirt a second ago. With other women, it would have pissed me off and led to an argument whereby the woman would tell me how conceited I am.
“Hum,” I mumble, taking her sweet kisses that are sweeter because she offered them to me on her own accord. I’m not going to spoil the moment and tell her I’m donating money to cover her salary and new equipment to the children’s ward. That, no one will ever know about. I don’t do charity for charity’s sake, there has to be something for me.
That’s how the mafia makes profit. No one gets something for nothing. But if this gives Valentina her dream of independence and a job she’s always wanted, and helps kids in the process, so be it.
I return her kiss, my cock hardens thinking about last night’s hot sex as I slide my arms around her now, our kiss deepening. This is what it’s like giving a woman something she wants, I guess I get affection in return. Interesting. What’s more perplexing is that I like it.
I lean into her, intending for her warmth and attention to lead to more, but she gently presses my chest an inch off her breasts. “Oh, I guess we’d better get going,” she says, as she knows we don’t have time for a quickie.
I turn to adjust myself in my pants as Savio snickers. Micro checks the directions and heads out to grab the SUV so we can ride together.
The irony of normal is lost on Valentina. We’re the mafia normal. As if anything about our expensive spa days, our unique home, and the luxuries we partake in like shopping and dining is normal for most Italians. We pretend we’re normal, but when people ask what we do, it’s a lie. I try to keep things simple, as most big men do. There is always a price to be paid in the life we lead. Seldom are the solutions desirable or simple.
Valentina’s never been on the streets. She doesn’t grasp our world like other wives who are married to those under me. There is a hierarchy and pay scale differences. Valentina might have her friend Laura whom she can confide in. I remember the girl at the gala, that must be her. They seemed inseparable; I wonder how Valentina could have been out of everyone’s sight long enough to get to the garden without being missed that night.
I put an envelope inside my suit pocket for Dante. Valentina hands me the infamous necklace to put around her neck. I’m all thumbs. It’s not because I can’t do the task, it’s that being so close to her does weird things to me. Her skin is softer than cashmere, her body giving off a sweet smell, creating an elixir I’m addicted to.
I extend my arm so she can slip hers through mine and I escort her to the vehicle waiting outside. Her dark blue cocktail dress goes well with her icy blue eyes that only I know how they hide the passionate woman behind them.
We arrive at the small restaurant in the village owned by Juliet’s family. Savio and I exchange a look behind Valentina’s back when we see the meat market sign next to it, the look that only a wise guy could appreciate.
Everyone’s men are milling about, trying to be inconspicuous, as I was told Juliet’s parents are in the dark on what Dante’s family does, but the tabloids have strained their relationship with Dante since De Luca’s murder.
We enter the rustic restaurant with wood beams overhead and all the tables have been arranged with fresh flowers on every table, and a banner that saysMr. and Mrs. Michelihangs over what I assume will be the reception area as there is a cake table under it.