Page 97 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

“Nonna,” Vicari said, “this is the Rosolini boy.”

She looked up at me and smiled. Her teeth were tiny and yellow, though she was missing a few.

“Not bad, right?” Vicari said. “I got a good one – right?

“Very pretty,” she agreed in a thick Sicilian accent.

I burst out with a chuckle in spite of myself. “Thank you.”

She reached up and patted my cheek softly as she grinned. “You a good boy.”

It was a surprisingly tender gesture…

Especially since we were surrounded by guys with guns, and her grandson was a stone-cold killer.

“And here’s my daughter, Isabella,” Vicari announced.

I followed the Don’s gaze –

And was immediately confused.

There was a girl standing in the open doorway…

But she was actually kind of cute.

She had a nice face, even with zero makeup on.

She was also really shy. She looked at me, but when our eyes met, she glanced away and blushed.

Her hair was dark brown, curly, and extended past her shoulders.

Her clothes were old-fashioned – a floral print dress with dark brown flowers on a light brown background. Everything about it was incredibly modest: sleeves halfway to her elbows, a neckline that hid her collarbones, and a hem down to her knees. She also wore white stockings, flat brown shoes, and no jewelry of any kind.

Clothes could be changed. The one thing I wasn’t crazy about was how thin she was: tall and skinny with no boobs or hips to speak of.

One of the things that drove me wild about Cat was her curves. She weighed a few extra pounds, yeah, but in all the right places. I knew a lot of guys liked thin chicks, but I’d take a thick womananyday of the week.

Unfortunately, my wife-to-be was more of a beanpole.

Another girl was standing behind her – much shorter and rounder with jet-black hair. Cute, too, but in a different kind of way. Given her apron, I took her for a servant. Her expression was blank as she gazed down at me.

All in all, I probably would have gone for the servant girl instead of my new fiancée.

But neither of them could hold a candle to Caterina.

“Come here and meet your new husband,” Vicari demanded.

The tall girl meekly descended the steps and stood beside her great-grandmother, who beamed up at her and put an affectionate hand on her arm.

“I’m Valentino Rosolini,” I said politely.

“Isabella Vicari,” she replied in a quiet voice, then blushed and looked down at the ground – all without smiling.

This was going to be a struggle, I could tell.

But I was a charming motherfucker, if I do say so myself, so I figured I could get her laughing and talking in no time.

“We should probably get to know each other,” I said with a smile. “Is there someplace the two of us can go and talk?”

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