The Hitman's Mark

25. Soldier

Women like Valentina, the daughters and wives of the most powerful men in the Cosa Nostra, did not partake in housework. They had servants for that. If Leonardo saw his heir busying herself over a pot of tomato sauce, he'd undoubtedly consider it an insult.

His mother frowned, and hesitation inked into her dark eyes. Although she'd been married to Leonardo's cousin many years ago, after his death, her connection to the Romanos nearly severed. Matteo knew that she likely hadn't been to a proper Romano dinner party in over thirty years. Didn't realize that the don's family lived a drastically different life in their polished mansion.

"Oh, I offered to help," Val interrupted, stepping closer to his mother. The two women's eyes met, and they shared a wide smile. "We all did. Your mother taught us how to make fettuccine al pomodoro. Look!"

Indeed, Matteo had smelt the tantalizing tangs of tomato and basil all the way from his bedroom upstairs. His mother loved to cook, but he hadn't realized that she had help until he heard voices in the kitchen as he descended the steps. Still, he'd been surprised to find Val at the helm, stirring his mother's signature sauce.

"Well, she taught Val and me how to make it," Allison added with a playful smirk, cocking a generous hip to the side. "Luca's been causing problems."

Matteo glanced toward the young bodyguard, who seemed to have relaxed from his initial suspicions. Luca shrugged sheepishly. "No men allowed in the kitchen, apparently."

"That's right!" his mother piped and pointed toward the kitchen table, already prepared with napkins, silverware, and glasses of wine at every spot. "You boys, take a seat at the table. We're eating soon."

He knew better than to argue with her.

***

Despite his initial doubts, dinner went well.

His mother hadn't entertained guests in months, maybe even a year, and Matteo knew she loved having company over. He tried to visit his mother in their family's old home at least twice a month, but Leonardo kept him busy. Sometimes, weeks separated their dinners, and his mother undoubtedly grew lonely.

She always kept his sheets washed and his bed made, prepared to host him whenever Leonardo gave him a break. Most nights, Matteo spent at the Romano estate or in a small apartment in the city, but, when he'd been shot, his mother demanded that she return to his childhood home to let her care for him. He knew she enjoyed every dinner they spent together, but, watching his mother host Val, Allison, and Luca, Matteo wished that he could give her something more. A family to host every weekend. Grandchildren to cook traditional Italian meals with...

"Really?" Val giggled, sipping on the remnants of her second glass of wine. She sat directly across the table from Matteo, giving him the perfect view of her flushed skin and vivacious smile. "He was scared of clowns?"

Matteo frowned as his mother revealed yet another secret from his childhood. Throughout all three courses of their meal, their dinner party laughed at the various tales that Adele dredged up from his youth. He might've been more frustrated by her betrayal, but, for the first time in years, happiness bounced off the walls of the Costa home again, and he couldn't bring himself to disrupt it.

"Terrified!" his mother chuckled, pressing a hand to her reddening chest as she took a long swig of wine. "When he was five, I took him to a local fair. He wanted to go through the fun house attraction alone, so I let him."

Matteo froze, sudden heat surging up his neck. He knew where this story ended. "Ma–"

She paid no heed to his protest and continued, losing herself to laughter along the way. "A clown chased him back out a few minutes later, and we had to go home for clean pants!"