Page 141 of King Of Order

‘Not too much flour,’ Mrs. Venetio instructed in her lilting voice, her eyes twinkling as she glanced at my work. ‘It must be soft, like silk.’

I followed her lead, watching as she rolled the dough into thin sheets and cut it into perfect ribbons of tagliatelle.

The kitchen exuded all that was sacred and divine in food—tomatoes simmering in one pot, a richragùbubbling in another, filling the room with the heady scent of garlic, basil, and slow-cooked meat. The sauces were thick, fragrant, and gleaming with olive oil, ready to be ladled over the pasta we had just made.

The process was satisfying: working the dough with my hands, shaping it, and the wheat against my fingers.

It was messy and imperfect, but it was fuckin’ real. A sense of pride swelled in my chest when I saw the pasta come together, glistening and fresh.

The girlfriends, Mia, Cleo, and I, got swept into the chaos of baking Rio’s cake. Flour dusted the counters, and laughter bounced off the walls as we shared stories and blended ingredients.

Glowing with pride as a new mother, Mia offered her tips while holding her baby close. I couldn’t help but smile at how easy it was to slip into their rhythm.

We kneaded dough, whisked eggs, and licked frosting off spoons like we’d been friends forever.

It was light and fun in a way I’d never experienced before, surrounded by love, warmth, and the effortless closeness of people who cared for one another. For the first time in my life, I belonged.

Nevertheless, it was also overwhelming. I had never been part of anything like this—never enjoyed the comfort of so many people who seemed to want me around.

For so long, I’d missed the affection and constant noise of family—no cozy meals surrounding a table filled with jokes and memories of a shared past.

The overwhelming substance of it, the sheer beauty of it all, threatened to swallow me whole.

When I thought it might, Rio caught my eye.

He must have seen the turmoil building inside me because, without a word, he took my hand.

Pulling me away from the clatter and chatter, he led me down one of the villa’s quiet corridors.

We found a small corner with soft light, and the sound of the ocean echoed faintly through the open windows.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, his voice deep and concerned as he cupped my face.

I let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch.

‘I’m not used to this, Rio,’ I admitted in a whisper. ‘All this love, all these people. It’s beautiful, but it’s a lot.’

His eyes softened as he pressed his forehead against mine. ‘You’re part of this now,leonessa. This is your family, too.’

He kissed me on my temple, reassuring me. ‘If it ever gets too much, I’ll always be here to pull you away, OK? You’re not alone.’

I nodded, the tightness in my chest loosening at his words. He held me for a few moments longer, letting the peace between us settle my racing thoughts before we returned to the kitchen. This time, I felt lighter and able to breathe again.

Once the food was ready, we carried it all outside, the sun’s warmth embracing us as we set the table under the vine-covered pergola.

Plates of grilled meats—steaks, sausages, and chicken piled tall, and bowls of steaming pasta dressed in rich, aromatic sauces passed about. The aroma alone made my stomach rumble with anticipation.

Wine bottles were uncorked, and the deep ruby liquid poured generously into glasses that sparkled in the afternoon light.

Gio cooed and babbled from his high chair, his legs kicking, tiny hands waving about as if he sensed the joy surrounding us. Mia fed her little one with one hand, laughing at something Cleo said.

There was abundant life here—so much laughter and love—and it wrapped around me like a blanket.

We all gathered along the long wooden table, sitting beneath the shade of the vine tree. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling our skin in golden patches.

The atmosphere was alive with clinking glasses, the occasional burst of chuckles, and the gentle hum of conversation.

Mauri sat at one head, his cat, Lupo, curling at his feet. Lorenzo sat at the other. While Mrs. Venetio poured limoncello shots for everyone, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she toasted Rio’s birthday.

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