Page 43 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

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The longer I worked at the house, the more I saw of the extended family – Valentino’s brothers, father, uncle, and cousin.

I already knew Niccolo from the day I got hired. Something about him always scared me a little. He would seem happy and in a good mood – but underneath, I got the sense that he could turn on a dime and get furious. Not to mention that he would mess with your mind… andenjoyit.

Another brother scared me, too: Adriano. I saw him blow up at a couple of men who worked for the family, and I made a promise to myself right then and there never to be on the receiving end of his temper.

Just to be clear, Adriano was never mean to me. He was pretty distant – he never spoke to me unless he wanted something – but he would always make eye contact with me when he entered the kitchen and nod at me in greeting.

That was more than I could say for some of my bosses back in Florence.

In contrast, Massimo was a giant teddy bear. He would smile and be pleasant whenever he saw me, asking me how my day was. I loved Massimo.

Roberto was kind, as well. He was quiet and kept to himself, but he would smile and say hello whenever we saw each other.

But the brothers’ father, Leonardo? The difference between him and most of his sons was like night and day. He was most like Valentino: full of laughter and charm.

The people in my town had whispered about Leonardo’s nickname, but for a guy they calledil Mostro,he sure was friendly. If he saw me in the kitchen, he would tell me I was so pretty that I ought to be married to a prince from Monaco instead of there in his kitchen. And he always complimented my work, even though I was still only doing prep.

By the way, everyone on staff was instructed to address Leonardo as Don Rosolini.

Now, itcouldhave been an old-timey way of addressing the leader of a rich family…Lord Rosolini…

But I’d seenThe Godfather.

I knew the kind of man you called ‘Don’ in Italy.

Let’s just say that the mafia vibes were clearer than ever.

But even if hewasmafia, Don Rosolini was kind to me and made me laugh.

On the other hand, Valentino’s Uncle Fausto made my skin crawl.

He was nice to his brother and his nephews, but he treated the kitchen staff like we were beneath his contempt. He rarely spoke to us, and when he did, he acted like we were too stupid to understand anything.

His son Aurelio was even worse. He was an out-and-out asshole. He would complain about everything and insult us to our faces.

Once he threw a temper tantrum and slammed a big metal bowl of sliced fruit across the room, scattering it everywhere. When everybody stared at him in fear, he screamed, “WELL?! PICK ITUP!”

Everyone in the family was very different. Some were wonderful, like Valentino and his father…

Some were pleasant, like Massimo and Roberto…

And some were awful, like his uncle and cousin.

Niccolo and Adriano weren’t awful, exactly… but I still kept my distance.

There were others I kept my distance from, too: co-workers who were nasty to me.

Shit rolls downhill – and when Fausto or Aurelio were assholes to some of my co-workers, they just passed along a big steaming helping to me.

I learned to avoid them at all costs.

One of them was an old Sicilian woman, Filomena. She somehow found out about me and Valentino, and every time I saw her, she gave me the evil eye or sneered.

I wanted to tell her,Bitch, mind your own business!but I bit my tongue.

If I’d learned anything in life, it was to not make waves – so I just avoided her as much as possible.

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