Page 2 of Mafia Lion's Plus Size Obsession

Yep, Vittorio Leone is a completely honest man. I don’t know how he managed it, but he did.He got out of the mob.

Now, we definitely knew each other when we were younger, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen him. He’s been living life in California. I smile. “So, how is it putting out fires in the Sunshine state?”

He gives me a very Italian gesture as he answers. “Ah, you know, the job is the job.”

We both laugh at that because we both have fathers who sound just like that. “Okay, but really, how is it?”

“It’s great, to tell the truth. I like California. It’s different, and the people are crazy, but there’s one thing I really miss.”

I have a brief thought that he’s going to suddenly say something romantic like in the movies. “Oh, yeah, what’s that?”

Okay, confession time. I have had a crush on Vittorio for as long as I can remember. I never really gave it much room, though, because every girl in the neighborhood had a crush on him. He was always good-looking, but he was also a really nice guy. That is a killer combo in an Italian American community like ours. So, yeah, I daydream.

But Vittorio just shrugs. “Well, you know, I can’t find any real food, not even treats or snacks in Cali. It’s all gluten-free, super food, less carb bologna, you know? But even without the health idiots, there’s nothing Italian, nothing good. I miss the good stuff.”

My heart skips a beat when he answers, and then restarts. Of course, he wasn’t going to confess his undying love for me. “I understand the importance of some quality snacks. My mom has me learning all these new recipes.”

He nods approvingly. “That sounds fantastic. Has she taught you arancini?”

I pretend offense. “What, are you stupid? Of course! I’ve made those since I was just a baby.”

He laughs, and the warmth of it hits me. “Well, tell me something you make that’s fancy now.”

“I’m perfecting mypanelle.”

“Oh, good, good. What else?”

I throw my hands up. “What else, he asks. Okay, I can make cannoli. But why bother when you have Tonetti’s just down the block?”

He acts stunned. “No! Really? You’re not the little girl who came to look at Pop’s geese. You’re not a little girl anymore. You can do cannoli now? Bella, I should marry you on the spot.”

And in that very moment, my heart shuts down. Both of us seem to feel the awkwardness.

“Um, I tell you what, I’ll just make some and I won’t even make you plan the wedding for it.” I pray my fierce blushing is not too obvious.

He nods. “Now I have something to look forward to but for now I should get going. My dad will wonder why I’m not hurrying home to watch the football with him.”

“Oh yeah, my dad, too.” Not really true, my dad is not much of a sports guy, except for betting. But I have to say something.I shrug, “At least if he’s got money on the game and the home team covers the spread.”

He laughs loudly at that and says, “My dad, too. But he still wants me there.”

So, we say goodbye and hug, which is weird and wonderful all at once, and then, he’s moved past me and I’m stuck.

I stand there and try to think about what was bothering me so much before running into Vittorio, but my mind draws a blank.

Vittorio is all I can think about now.

Chapter Two

Vittorio

It is a strange thing to be home. No. That isn’t actually strange. What is strange to me is realizing this no longer feels like home to me. Oh, certainly, there are aspects of this place that are home. The food is far more what I want than on the West Coast. Garrett often makes spaghetti and meatballs at the Company 417 Firehouse, and it isn’t bad.

But once a month, I make Sunday gravy just so my brothers there know how Italian pasta is supposed to taste.

Although I can find some Italian pastries back home, it takes a great deal more work than it should. I can find any pastries, cookies, or cakes I want here. I can also find authentic spumoni, real amaretti cookies, and plenty of home-distilled liqueurs you can’t get in a liquor store anywhere.

And I can get actual sandwiches. I mean, not the crap people call sandwiches. Real sandwiches with real flavor. I haven’t found anywhere back home for that. Sandwiches like the ones Tony Giardia makes at Sangwich Junction. I’m here now in line.There are six people ahead of me and it’s not even lunchtime yet so that ought to tell you how damned good the sandwiches are.

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