Page 75 of The Mafia King's Reign
“I also brought you something else.” I pull the Tiffany box from my jacket pocket.
Her eyes widen at the signature blue. “Salvatore…”
“Open it.”
She sets the flowers on the side table and takes the box with careful fingers. When she lifts the lid, a small gasp escapes her. Inside, nestled in velvet, is a set of diamond earrings, a matching pendant necklace, and a delicate bracelet that catches the light like captured starlight.
“This is too much,” she whispers.
“Nothing is too much for you.” I take the necklace from the box and move behind her. “May I?”
She nods, and I drape the diamonds around her throat, my fingers brushing against her skin as I fasten the clasp. She shivers at the contact, and I have to force myself to step back before I do something reckless like bury my face in the curve of her neck.
“Perfect,” I murmur.
She touches the pendant where it rests against her collarbone. “You can’t buy me with jewelry, you know.”
“I’m not trying to buy you, Valentina.” I offer her my arm. “I’m trying to deserve you.” Color rises in her cheeks, and I feel a quiet satisfaction knowing I’m the one who put it there. She takes my arm, and together we walk toward the dining room where my brothers are waiting.
* * *
The formal dining room is rarely used. My brothers have homes on other Vitale properties, but the mansion, like the empire, fell to me. Most nights I eat in the smaller breakfast room or, more often, scattered throughout the house. But tonight is different. Tonight, Valentina meets my family.
Matteo is already seated at the table, scrolling through his phone with the focused intensity he brings to everything. When we enter, he looks up, and his expression shifts from neutral to genuinely interested.
“So, we meet again, little mouse,” he says, rising to greet her.
“Matteo,” I warn.
He ignores me, taking Valentina’s hand and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “A pleasure to formally meet you. As I’m sure you’ve already figured out, I’m the smart and rich one.”
“He handles the money,” I clarify. “The calculator does most of the work.”
“Numbers don’t lie, fratello.” Matteo winks at Valentina. “Unlike certain brothers I could name.”
Raffaele enters from the back hallway, still in his work clothes. Black shirt, black pants, and the kind of quiet intensity that makes most people step aside when he walks into a room. He’s built like a wall, broad and imposing.
“Brothers, Ms. Marino.” He says. “It’s Vitale,” I correct him. “Not yet. But maybe you can tell us all why the fuck you’re in such a hurry to make her one. I say we kill fucking Marco and settle this now.” “That’s what I said,” Matteo adds. “That’s enough,” I command, slamming my hand against the table and Raffaele puts his hands up in mock surrender. I nod for him to introduce himself to my queen.
“I’m Raffaele. Head of security,” he says to Valentina before sitting down.
“Among other things,” Elio adds, sliding into the chair beside Matteo. “Raffaele’s the one you call when things need to get… handled.”
“Subtle, Elio,” Raffaele says dryly.
I pull out Valentina’s chair for her, and she sits with the kind of grace that makes the room feel smaller. The diamonds at her throat catch the candlelight, and I watch my brothers take note of them. Of her. In the way I can’t seem to take my eyes off her.
“Fellas, let’s make this quick. I have a few ladies waiting for me back at the penthouse,” Elio says, adjusting his chair.
Dinner is served, a traditional Italian feast. Antipasti, pasta, braised lamb, and enough wine to drown a small army. As the meal progresses, I watch Valentina navigate my brothers with surprising ease.
She asks Matteo about his work, and he launches into an explanation of offshore accounts that would put most people to sleep. But she listens, asks follow-up questions, and actually seems interested. She makes Elio laugh with a joke about his dating habits, but that doesn’t surprise me; Elio gets along with everyone. Raffaele, on the other hand, has one more fucking time to say piss me off tonight.
Lucky, Valentina seems unphased by his shit. She’s a natural. She can fight this all she wants, but she has to admit that she fits here like she was always meant to be a part of this family.
“So, Raffaele,” Valentina says, setting down her wine glass, “you handle all the gruesome stuff?”
“I oversee everything from security to enforcement. I have men to take care of most of it, but sometimes…” He pauses, meeting her eyes.
