Page 107 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

The house was mostly silent, with thetick tick tickof a grandfather clock the loudest sound.

Just like Isabella said, there were no televisions in the house. Or any computers, for that matter.

Don Vicari liked living in the fucking Stone Age, I guess.

I smelled something good from the kitchen – garlic and onion sautéing in butter – and I opened the door to look inside.

A couple of older Sicilian women, probably in their 50s, looked up at me without saying anything.

As I closed the door, a fresh jolt of heartache hit me.

I realized that I’d gone into the kitchen back home so many times, I’d half-expected to see Cat there…

And when she wasn’t, it hurt.

As I walked through the house, I kept thinking of San Vittore, the prison where Dario had served his time.

I’d only visited once, but it had made a searing impression on me.

San Vittore was hell on earth. The stench… the screams… the ugliness…

Don Vicari’s house was nothing like it. It smelled clean, like floor wax. It was quiet. And despite being plain and old-fashioned, it was nice enough to look at.

But despite the differences…

They were both prisons.

And unlike Dario, it seemed I would be here for life.

SHIT…

WHY didn’t I say ‘yes’ and marry Cat?

“There you are,” a deep voice said behind me.

I twitched in surprise and whipped around.

Don Vicari was standing in a doorway behind me.

“Heh,” he laughed in that humorless way, like I was an idiot he found vaguely amusing. “You don’t have to be scared of anything around here. None of my enemies are stupid or insane enough to set foot on my property.”

“You just startled me,” I said defensively.

“Mrm,” he grunted with a smirk, like he didn’t believe me. “Tomorrow you’ll go meet Rocco in Pozzallo. He’ll take you around and show you what to do.”

“Okay,” I agreed, seeing as there wasn’t much else Icoulddo but agree.

“Better get to bed.”

I raised one eyebrow. “It’s barely past nine.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be leaving at five. They’ll have breakfast for you ready in the kitchen at 4:30.”

“In themorning?”I asked, stunned.

“No, in the afternoon,” Vicari said contemptuously. “Of course in the morning. Pozzallo’s three hours away.”

JESUS.

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