Page 122 of King of Omen

The Calibrese brothers, it appeared, were fans of the finest cuisine, most of which they cooked themselves, the excellent wine they collected and what cooking styles were best. They spoke so fast in a mix of Italian and English, and with such passion, it made my head spin.

As I discovered, Italians were mad about what they eat, these men more so.

Stanley Tucci had nothing on the Calibrese family.

Lorenzo, Vitto, and Alessio crowded into the kitchen and around the stove, attempting to one-up each other with their culinary skills.

They argued, chided and teased one another without mercy while Mauri and I observed, enjoying the free entertainment.

They threw in food-related sayings at will, their words were peppered with an abundance of metaphors linked to gastronomy.

Lorenzo translated the phrases for me. ‘Cacio sui maccheroni is cheese on macaroni, which means the perfect solution, or buon’ come il pane—as good as bread, which means all that is wholesome, good, and essential.’

I asked, ‘Are these similar to English phrases such as ‘icing on the cake’ and ‘spill the beans’?

‘Esattamente, exactly.’

‘But why do you use so many and so often?’ I pushed.

He canted a brow with a slight turn to his lips. ‘Cara, our love for the freshest ingredients and age-old recipes are woven into our DNA and show off where you’re from and are proud of. We talk about food often because every place in Italy has its unique dish, which its residents worship, and we gather to eat while celebrating traditions, culture, rites, and the utter magic formula for life. In some places, the components of a meal are a sacred secret, a profound expression of heritage and identity.’

I lifted a glass to him. ‘Bella storia.’

His eyes widened, as did his smile. ‘You’re practising Italian, baby?’

‘Only for you,’ I murmured, delighted by how his eyes danced at my revelation.

After a filling meal of fresh prawns and gnocchi accompanied by two salads and more crusty, buttery bread, we all headed to the mansion’s home theatre to view a new release action film.

The men loved it, shouting at the screen during the exhilarating chases and adventures.

I sat back in the crook of my man’s arms, loving the closeness and camaraderie between Lorenzo, his brothers, and Mauri. The banter between the four of them was hilarious to witness.

They transformed before my eyes from elegant, cold mafia princes into rowdy, boisterous men being men.

The laughter echoed throughout the room, and I smiled at the scene, a rare moment of peace and joy amidst the chaos of our lives.

As the night drew close, the brothers staggered out, whisky bottle empty, faces flushed, eyes sparkling, words slurred slightly. It was endearing.

With sweet kisses to the palm for me and pounding hugs for their brother, Vitto, Alessio and Mauri disappeared into their rooms.

Lorenzo and I went into his primary which was bathed in a muted glow from a lamp on the nightstand.

He slid the door shut behind us, his eyes ablaze as a flutter of excitement exploded in my chest.

‘You are delicious,’ voice husky as he tugged me close.

He lowered his head, his body heat enveloping me as he tugged me into a passionate kiss, and I let myself be swept away in the moment.

Our hands roamed, exploring every inch of skin, and the intoxicating desire that had been building between us all evening broke free.

I ran my hand through his hair, rubbing the soft strands glide through my fingers, grateful for the devotion and support he gave me.

Tracing the curve of my back, sending shivers down my spine, he whispered, ‘You are everything I never knew I needed.’

I smiled, the truth of his words washing over me. Once a stranger, this man had somehow become the most important person in my life.

We made love slow and tender, creating magic in our world just for us. For those long, exquisite moments, all that existed was us two.

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