Page 98 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

“Not alone, you won’t,” Vicari said sternly.

I looked over at him in surprise –

And noticed the old lady was scowling.

Jesus –

What did they think I was going to do, get her behind the nearest bush and go at her like a dog in heat?

“We’ve got dinner set up out back,” Vicari said. “You can talk to her there – with everyone else.”

“…okay…” I said, taken aback at their lack of trust.

I followed Don Vicari as he strode into the house, but I paused at the threshold and glanced back at Isabella.

She was smiling in a resigned sort of way at her grandmother.

“Pretty, eh?” the old lady said cheerfully as she pointed in my direction.

Isabella glanced up at me – saw I was looking at her – and blushed furiously before dropping her eyes.

I sighed as I walked into the house.

This was going to be a weird fucking marriage.

32

The hotel Nic and I had met Don Vicari in was straight out ofThe Godfather Part II.

Now, sitting outside Don Vicari’s house, I found myself in a scene from the first movie.

Michael Corleone (played by Al Pacino) is hiding out in Sicily. While he’s there, he sees a beautiful girl named Apollonia and gets struck by the thunderbolt. That’s the Sicilian way of sayinglove at first sight.

He immediately wants her –needsher – and the only way to do that in Sicily back in the 1940s was to get married (unless you wanted her father or brothers to shoot you in the head).

So Michael talks to her father and goes to visit the girl for the first time. While he’s there at the house, he’s surrounded by a couple dozen of her relatives, from great-grandmas to 5-year-old cousins.

That was pretty much what lunch was like.

There was a massive table set out on a back porch with tons of Sicilian food:caponatamade with eggplant, risotto with peas and bits of meat in it,bowls full of pasta,and lots of cold cutsand peasant-style brown bread. Plus homemade wine in bottles without labels.

Everything was simple but delicious – and very different from the food I was used to back in Tuscany.

Around the table sat two dozen relatives, mostly women with a lot of little kids.

Servants flitted back and forth, filling glasses and bringing new platters of food.

And in the background stood a bunch of armed foot soldiers.

Don Vicari sat to my right. Across from me sat Isabella. Her great-grandma sat next to her and across from Don Vicari.

The old lady smiled constantly. She didn’t eat much, but she could really put the wine away.

Also, I noticed that Isabella’s servant girl hovered in the background directly behind her, watching with that same emotionless expression I’d seen on her face earlier.

“Those are my older daughters, Abriana and Marcella,” Vicari said, pointing out two women in their late 20s or early 30s. They both looked up and smiled dutifully, then turned back to yelling at their kids. “Everybody else are their in-laws – sisters, cousins, aunts. Their husbands couldn’t be here because they’re busy running my territories down south. After you settle in, you’ll go meet my son Rocco. Start learning your new job. He’ll show you the ropes.”

“My new job?” I asked, surprised.

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