Page 27 of Bought By the Mafia

Simona was not in the dining room as I expected, but I didn’t have to look for her. A trill of laughter drifted from the kitchen and filled the apartment. I followed the noise and found Simona and chef Pierre huddled over a pot of soup. One would think it was witches’ brew in the pot the way they stared in wonderment, and then Simona laughed when it bubbled. Chef Pierre laughed as well. The man had been working for me for a few years now, but I have never seen him crack a smile. He was a no-nonsense chef who ruled his kitchen with the strictness of military dictatorship. But here he was, a man in his seventh decade acting like a schoolboy with crush. Then he invited her to taste the soup. She giggled. He smiled. They were comfortable with each other. One would think they’ve known each other for years.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

They both jumped when they saw me standing a few feet away from them. Chef Pierre’s smile disappeared and his usual stern mask reappeared. His cheeks were red, but not from the heat. It was from being caught flirting with another man’s wife. Yes, you should be ashamed of yourself, fool. Simona, as always, was on a planet of her own. Her smile vanished when I took away her fun and she said, “Pierre was teaching me a recipe. Anything wrong with that?” Pierre interjected in a deep French accent. “Simona has been desperate for the recipe, so I was showing her.”

“You too know each other to be on a first name basis now?”

Simona replied, “Of course. When you were away, Chef Pierre would come and prepare food for us. He is your chef, isn’t he?”

“Us?”

“Yes. Me, Johnny and Mickey.”

“So you were a right little throuple while I was away.”

“No. Chef Pierre would eat with us as well. It felt odd for him to just cook and leave us.” A foursome then. No wonder Mickey and Johnny were comfortably helping Simona like she was their sister. She only knew these men for a short while, but they were all having meals and got knows what else while I was away. “I hope he joins us for our dinner?” she said expectantly. Oblivious to the impropriety, she’s breeding among my stuff. No way was ‘Pierre’ eating with ‘us’.

Chef Pierre was smart enough to jump in and offer an excuse about needing to check on his restaurant. He then told us to sit while he finished preparing the food, which he did in record time under my glare. The jovial atmosphere that was there before I came in was gone, and frankly, it was better this way. Simona, however, seemed genuinely sad to see her friend become distant. And when it was time for Pierre to leave, he got out, barely mumbling a goodbye. The apartment went silent after he was gone. The only sound that could be heard was the clinking of silverware against plates.

“You seemed very cozy with Chef Pierre.”

She made a point to not look at me. Her attention was on her phone, which was beside her plate, and was scrolling on it when she spoke. “Like I said, we dined with him while you were away.”

“He seemed smitten with you. Did you give him one of your famous blowjobs to turn an iron-hearted man like him into a marshmallow?”

She whipped up to face me. “He’s old enough to be my father!”

“Has that ever stopped you before in your quest to seduce men to swindle? From what I heard, most of your victims were around his age.”

“For your information the first time I—” she then shook her head and turned her attention back to her plate and her phone.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter. Believe what you want to believe.”

“That you’re a thief who seduces men before taking away their money? I don’t have to believe that. I have first-hand evidence.”

She dropped her spoon and sighed. Her head was still bowed when she said, “I didn’t sleep with Pierre. Or Mickey. Or Johnny.” When she looked up at me, there were tears in her eyes. “Will you always doubt me? Is this how you punish me?”

Had I pushed too far? Suddenly, I wanted to take away all my jibes and taunt and comfort her. The food in my mouth turned bland. Even the wine tasted like dyed water. Never have I been glad to be home and simultaneously wanted to be as far away from it as possible.

13

The wedding was a spectacular event. When Giovanni told about his brother’s wedding, I knew it would be bigger than mine. But entering the church and taking in the surroundings, it was clear that the bride and groom spared no expense. Everywhere you looked, you would see all the money spent on turning this into a grand wedding. The cathedral was transformed into an oasis filled with white and pink blooms. The bride’s wedding gown had a floral sweetheart bodice with ethereal lace embellishments that cascaded into a dreamy tulle skirt. She was the image of a beautiful bride. She looked happier than the last time I met her, which was, coincidentally, my wedding.

“Corina looks beautiful.” I turned away from the blushing bride gliding down the aisle to face Nico, who was practically speaking into my ear. I nodded. As the groom’s closet relatives, they had placed together Nico and me in the front pew. It was just me and him in the pew, unfortunately. His other twin, Enrico, and his older brother, Gio, were acting as the groom’s best men. “Why aren’t you up there with the rest of them?” I asked. I would prefer he was there and not sitting next to me. Nico was quite talkative and had not shut his mouth since the ceremony started. Every other second, he would comment on every other thing. You could not tune him out. He would ask for my opinion on those things he was commenting on. From the church, to the priest and how he Nico used to be an altar boy at this very same parish. To the decorations which he thought were nice but too girly. Listening to him was so exhausting. I suspected it was Gio’s plan to saddle me with his most talkative brother.

“Dante thought it would be better if I had little participation in the wedding. As if I would ruin his precious day.” I wasn’t surprised. Nico had a manic energy to him and anyone would be wise to keep him away from delicate events. “You looked better, though,” he added. The bride had reached the front, and we all sat down.

“Huh?”

“As a bride.”

I almost guffawed until I caught myself. The church was silent now and any sound would carry. He was being factitious or ludicrous. My wedding was like a shotgun wedding. The venue was arranged at the last minute and my dress was probably the first white thing the shopping assistant saw at the store. There was little thought to it. The dress had been serviceable, but that was about it. It was nothing compared to the custom-made designer dress Corina was wearing. “If you think lying will impress me, you’re wrong,” I said.

“I mean, she looks great and all, but you would have upstaged her. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Is that all? Or are you saying that because you brother iced you out?”

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