Page 76 of Mafia Star

It’s Natalia who speaks up. Pia elbows her.

“What? It’s true. At least I’m not the one who told Enzo that. You hurt his feelings.”

Both girls turn to look at me. They really want an answer.

“Yes. Marco and Enzo are boys. They’re always boring.”

I wink, and both girls grin at me.

“What were you watching? It looked way more interesting than anything Marco’s going to talk about over there.”

I jut my chin to where their father, uncles, and cousins stand. Pia grins.

“Totally.”

I turn my head and give Marco a peck on the cheek before the girls lead me away. I know he’s watching me for a moment, then he’s following us. I get a pinch on the ass before he walks over to the men. Natalia looks up at me.

“Do you know everyone yet?”

“Not really. I remember you two from Chelle and Enzo’s wedding.”

“This is Mama. You look like you already know Auntie Nicoletta.”

We stop in front of a woman even more elegant than Paola. She looks like she stepped off a European runway. Glamorous. But her home feels like Martha Stewart should retire. Everywhere looks so comfortable. It feels like a home not a house. Though, from the outside, I think it’s more a castle than anything else.

“Hello. I’m Sylvia.”

Her accent is still thick, even though I know she’s been here for nearly fifteen years, I think. Maybe a little less since Pia isn’t a teenager yet. Then again, what do I know? Maybe she and Salvatore were married a while. He’s definitely older than his wife by a decade. There was so much going on at the reception that I didn’t get to spend much time with the Mancinellis. I wasn’t sure yet where I would fit, so I’d stuck with my family and friends.

Sylvia and I shake hands. Her smile is so welcoming that it puts me at ease as I face the rest of the family. Natalia continues the introductions.

“This is Auntie Carlotta. She’s Matteo’s mom and Auntie Nicoletta’s best friend. See that man over there? The one next to Marco. He’s Uncle Domenico. He’s Auntie Carlotta’s husband. He’s best friends with Uncle Massimo. He’s Papa, Uncle Massimo, and Auntie Paola’s second cousin. Sort of. Like they are, but not like Carmine, Maria, Marco, Luca, and Enzo are my cousins. He was adopted. The other guy standing next to Marco is Matteo. Marco is two-and-a-half hours older than Matteo. They used to share cribs. They’ve been best friends since they were three and could pick. You’ll see him a lot. But maybe not as much now that he’s married to my actual— like blood —cousin Maria. She’s Uncle Massimo and Auntie Nicoletta’s youngest. Marco is number two. Enzo is the last boy, and Luca was the first. Boy and kid. Um. Oh yeah, Carmine is next to the super big guy, Gabriele. He’s Auntie Paola and Uncle Cesare’s only kid. Uncle Cesare isn’t here, but Auntie Paola is. She’s over there with Auntie Nicoletta and Serafina. Sera’s Carmine’s wife. She owns two bakeries and is even better than Auntie Carlotta who was the best baker until Serafina came. Sinead is the one laughing at us. She’s married to Gabe, the huge one. Um. Oh! The short lady is Olivia. She’s married to Luca and is Petra’s mom. Petra’s a baby and still sleeps a lot. Maria’s the one with the really long dark hair. You know Enzo and Chelle.”

The child came up for air twice.

I’m trying to keep up waving and smiling to all the women. The men only glance over when they hear their names. Fucking ears like dogs. Natalia wasn’t speaking that loudly. Pia rolls her eyes at her younger sister.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make you a family tree like I did for the others.”

The others must be the women who married into the family. I’ll take it.

“Girls, go set the table for dinner.”

It’s only then that I realize Marco and I have been running on fumes all day. We haven’t eaten. We planned to after we had sex at my place. That didn’t happen. I remember Paola asking if we’d eaten and teasing Gabe, but nothing came of it for us. My sister appears and hands me three chocolate chip cookies. The big kind like from a bakery.

“Don’t let the guys see, or you’ll have nothing but crumbs.”

“Thanks. These look amazing.”

But I’m not sure if I’m allowed to eat in the living room. This isn’t my home.

“Mangia, mangia.”

Sylvia laughs as she speaks. That’s the second joke today about the stereotypes. Paola’s “didja eat” and Sylvia telling me to eat makes them seem so totally normal. Not like women waiting for their men to go off to— battle? Blow shit up? Steal shit? Beat people up? I glance at Marco and accept that I really am okay with what he must do. Not because he hasn’t told me the details. I definitely don’t want to know them. But because I hadn’t exaggerated earlier or the time I told him he’s a good man. I guess morally gray is my new favorite color. Seems like I’m redecorating my home in it.

Chapter Seventeen

Marco

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