Page 73 of Fortress of the King

“Fuck off,” I bark.

Ma clips me around the head. “Language, Angelo!”

I kiss her on the cheek again. “Sorry, Ma.”

Santino and Jonas arrive; they stampede the kitchen like bulls in a China shop.

“What’s cooking, Mama M?” She smacks Jonas’ hand that goes straight for the simmering pan on the stove.

“It’s not ready yet and you haven’t washed up,” she admonishes.

“C’mon, Mama, I’m starving here,”he says.

“Dinner’s up in five minutes. Jonas, you can set the table since your mother will be here any minute.”

Oh brilliant, Aunt Voula’s coming. He does as she says, punching Fynn in the stomach as he passes by, catching him off guard.

“There are too many boys here,” Valentina complains. “Why did you have to have so many boys, Mom?”

“Because I knew a girl would come along eventually.” She winks over at Valentina, and they share a little smile.

It’s good for Ma to have Valentina around so much with us boys always being so busy, it makes me feel less guilty about not seeing her all the time.

Valentina has her own interior design business, so she can work from wherever she wants to and whenever she wants to, although sometimes I wonder if she does anything at all. We’ve got her designing the new casino’s decor and it’s a massive job. It should keep her out of trouble for a while, at least.

“That’s funny though, Angelo, because a birdie told me you cooked for a girl at your house the other night when you were supposed to be at the club.” Valentina grins at me like a Cheshire cat.

“Yeah, where’d you hear that, Val?” I move into the dining room, hoping I can escape this whole fucking line of questioning. This is exactly what happens when you don’t show up one time on poker night.

She taps her nose, telling me to mind my business as I give her another glare.

“Well, a man has to eat, doesn’t he,” I mutter.

“Yeah, he was eating alright,” Dante mutters out the side of his mouth with a grin, and I elbow him hard in the ribs.

“Eww, I heard that.” Valentina pulls a repulsed face.

I give Dante a slap upside the head.

“You cooked for the gallery girl?” Marco splutters on his beer. “And she survived?”

“Don’t insult Nona’s secret recipe, it worked like a charm.”

“Double eww,” Valentina complains again. “Save your sexcapades for your poker nights, I don’t want to throw up before eating.”

We part for Ma as she moves to the table and puts a basket of garlic bread in the middle, eying my sister.

“Valentina, who taught you to talk like that? That is not the talk of a young lady,” Ma scolds.

Valentina points at me. Then Marco. Then Fynn. Then Dante. “Every last one of them, Mama. The first words they taught me in Italian were all the swear words, remember?”

“Hey, I want to get back on the subject of Angelo doing the hired help.” Fynn laughs as all eyes fall on me. “Didn’t you write a clause in the employee contracts about fraternizing with the staff, and we all had to sign it?” fast.

I point at him. “Shut it, shithead, or you’ll be on shoveling duty for the rest of your natural life.”

“Angelo!” Ma scolds again. “That cussing. I didn’t bring up any of you with foul mouths, and here you are swearing and carrying on like you were brought up in a bar.”

My phone rings just at the right time as I fish it out of my pocket and take a few steps away from the family shit show. Fuck knows how Valentina’s caught wind about me cooking, good news travels fast.

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