Chapter thirty-eight
My hair is frizzy from the sweltering heat of the small kitchen, the air thick and sticky as I stir the pot.
The scent of Mamma's soup albondigas fills the room, the rich, comforting smell wrapping around me like a warm embrace.
My stomach growls loudly, and I can feel the hunger building as I sit on the cool, tiled floor by the oven, waiting for the dish to finish.
I've been experimenting with the family recipes, tweaking them and adding my own twist to some, while leaving others just the way they've always been.
In a way, cooking is like a science experiment to me—the measuring, the mixing, the testing of flavors—it's all part of the process, and I love every second of it.
There's something immensely satisfying about getting the measurements just right, the balance of flavors clicking into place.
Being cooped up in the house has actually reignited my passion for cooking, and now I've been crowned the "chief" in the kitchen since none of the men can manage to cook anything edible, let alone anything that tastes good.
Suddenly, the alarm on my phone blares, snapping me out of my thoughts. I jump to my feet, my heart racing a little with excitement, and I quickly open the oven door. The steam rises in a cloud of fragrant warmth, and I pull the dish out carefully, placing it on the counter.
The smell is almost unbearable—so good that it makes my mouth water instantly. I'm near salivating when the boys pile in, loud and full of energy. Angelo and Jax are deep in conversation, discussing some new training exercise they're planning, while Vince stays silent, his eyes trained on me.
I feel the heat creep up my neck, my cheeks flushing as I push a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I try to focus on the floor for a moment, regaining my composure, but I can't help the slight blush on my face.
Finally, when I manage to pull myself together, I glance up to find Vince smirking at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he sips from the water glass I had set up for them at the dining table. His gaze feels almost too intense, but I quickly look away, pretending not to notice.
"I hope you guys have showered!" I tease, my voice light but carrying a mock sternness. "I'm not going to sit here and let your stench ruin my meal."
When no one answers, I turn to face them, hands on my hips, my expression shifting to one of mock disapproval. I hold my gaze steady, trying my best to look serious, but it's hard with the boys acting so casual.
Jax gulps visibly, his eyes darting to the kitchen knife resting on the counter beside me, his grin turning sheepish. He glances back at me, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"We're starving, okay?" Jax pleads, his voice tinged with desperation. "We promise we won't do it again, but please—can we eat while it's still warm?"
I roll my eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh.
"You know where everything is, and if I catch any of you coming to another meal smelling like you just ran a marathon, I swear, I'll beat you up," I warn with mock seriousness, though I can't quite keep the amusement out of my tone.
"Then I'll get Mamma involved. You know how she feels about meal times. "
Jax shudders visibly at the mention of Mamma's strict rules at the dinner table. Her attention to detail during meals is legendary—and terrifying. No one dares break her rules, especially when it comes to how food is treated.
She had thrown a knife at Babbo once because he was on call at the table when she came in from a mission... the knife had been one of her poisonous ones. However, she had purposefully thrown it a few inch away from his hand as it never hit him. Mamma never misses her target by accident.
No one ever dared to break one of her rules again. Not after that time.
Babbo used to tell the story—how Mamma had thrown a knife at him one evening when he'd been on a call at the dinner table, just as she returned from a mission.
The knife had been one of her poisonous ones, the kind she always carried.
But Mamma, being Mamma, never missed her target by accident.
The knife had landed just inches away from his hand, deliberately close, but never touching him. It was a warning.
And from that day forward, no one dared break any of her rules again.
Babbo had always explained it this way: Mamma was strict about meal times because we worked in a dangerous line of business.
There was always the chance that today could be our last meal, our last moment together.
So, every meal was sacred. We had to cherish it, take the time to sit and eat with the family, even if our days were filled with work and danger.
As I set the last dish down and slide into my seat at the head of the table, I can't help but smile at the familiar feeling of family around me.
Vince, of course, always thought this spot was his by right—after all, he was the head of the Sicilian Mafia, at least in most things. But today, this place was mine.
"If only you could reach and Regina wouldn't," Vince chuckles, winking in my direction as I settle into my seat. His eyes glitter with teasing, but there's always that edge of seriousness beneath his words.
I raise an eyebrow, not missing a beat. "Don't be too cocky, I know where the guns are kept and where you sleep," I retort with a smirk, my tone playful but with a hint of challenge. I take my first bite of the meal, letting the warmth and rich flavors fill my senses.
The room hums with conversation as Angelo and Jax join us at the table, settling into their seats. We all eat and talk among ourselves—though Vince and Jax don't exactly get along, I can feel the tension simmering beneath the surface. But at least they aren't fighting, and that's something.
The plates soon clear, and Angelo and Jax vanish as quickly as they appeared, mumbling something about work. The house settles into a quiet rhythm.
I glance at Vince, leaning over the sink to wash the dishes. "Divide and conquer? I'll wash, and you dry and put everything away," I suggest, flicking the tap on, watching the hot water spill into the sink. I squeeze some dish soap onto the sponge, the scent filling the air.
Vince, however, isn't having any of that. "Or I can just sit and watch," he offers, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
I roll my eyes but can't suppress the smile that tugs at my lips. "You just want to see me bend over," I tease, my voice light but with a hint of challenge in it as I flip him off playfully. But Vince only raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by my attempt at defiance.
With a casual smirk, he saunters over to me, his steps slow, deliberate, each one drawing him closer.
The space between us seems to shrink with every second.
He stops just inches away, his scent overwhelming me.
Vince places his hands on the edge of the counter, trapping me between him and the sink.
The proximity is almost unbearable, but he doesn't budge, his gaze locked onto mine.
"What have I told you about that?" Vince's voice drops a little, the playful edge shifting into something darker, more dangerous.
The words hang in the air, thick with unspoken promise.
One of his fingers trails lightly along my side, and I can't help but shiver, the sensation sending a rush of warmth through me.
I try to suppress the involuntary reaction, but it's hard when he's so close, his presence overwhelming. My breath hitches slightly, and I feel a knot tightening low in my stomach. His finger moves, teasing, just barely brushing my skin, and I'm acutely aware of how his gaze never leaves mine.
I force myself to meet his eyes, trying to maintain control, but it's hard when he's so close, when every little touch sends sparks through my body. "You said a lot of things," I reply, my voice almost breathless despite my best effort to sound confident.
Vince's lips twitch into a knowing smirk as his finger circles my side again, the pressure just enough to make my skin tingle.
"I told you not to flip me off," he murmurs, his voice low and thick with a hint of amusement, "Now, what did I say would happen if you did?"
A shiver runs down my spine, and my heart races. I try to pull back, but the counter behind me keeps me trapped in place. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, feel the tension coiling between us with every second that passes.
"I..." I trail off, my mind going a little blank as his proximity affects me more than I'd like to admit. My body reacts against my will, every inch of me craving something I'm not sure I should want.
"I shouldn't do it because I need to respect my elders," I stammer, my breath catching as I try to regain control.
Vince pretends to think it over, his finger moving from my side to the waistband of my joggers. I inhale sharply, my heart racing as his touch ignites something inside me.
"Not quite. Try again."
I open my mouth to speak, but before I can say anything, he pulls at the string of my thong, snapping it against my skin. The sting makes me bite my lip, hard, trying to hold back the gasp that threatens to escape.
"Alexandria," he growls, his voice low and commanding. The sound sends a shiver down my spine, and I feel every inch of my skin tighten in response. "When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Now, what have I told you about flipping me off?"
The weight of his words presses down on me, and for a moment, my breath hitches in my chest. The air between us grows thick, almost suffocating, as I try to hold onto some semblance of composure. I swallow, but it feels like there's a lump in my throat.
I open my mouth to respond, but the way he's looking at me—intense, unwavering—sends my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. His eyes never leave mine, and it feels as though he's waiting for me to crack, to break.
"I—" My voice falters, and I clench my fists at my sides, the challenge I wanted to give slipping away.
Vince doesn't move, his presence towering over me, and I feel the heat of him, the sheer power of his gaze.
One of his fingers trails down my side, so light that it almost tickles, but the sensation sends a jolt straight to my core.
I fight to control the reaction, but it's hard when every nerve in my body is awake, on edge.
"What did I say, Alexandria?" His voice drops even lower, barely a whisper, but it feels like a command I can't ignore.
I try to steady myself, but the way his fingers linger just a little too long on my skin, the intensity in his stare—it's all too much. My pulse quickens, and I feel a flush creep up my neck. I tilt my head slightly, not wanting to look away, but my stomach is in knots.
"Respect," I manage to mutter, my voice shaky despite my best efforts. "You said I should respect you..."
His lips curl into a dangerous smile, but it's a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Good girl," he murmurs, the praise laced with something far more powerful. His hand moves slightly, brushing against my side again, and I can't hold back the shudder that runs through me.
His mouth finds the sensitive spot on my neck, kissing it leisurely, but with increasing intensity. I arch my back into him, a soft moan escaping my lips as his teeth graze the skin of my throat.
I open my mouth to tease him further, just as he pulls at the string of my thong, letting it snap back harshly against my skin when he lets go.
"Don't be a brat, baby. I know that you like being my good girl".
I bite down on his lip, shivering as his hand moves lower to my upper thigh, caressing my skin, deliberately moving closer to where I need him the most. Once again, I lose the ability to think of anything that doesn't involve Vince being inside me.
His mouth travels to my neck, kissing me slowly as I arch into his every touch, the warmth of his mouth making me shudder in anticipation.
We are so caught up in each others desire and arousal that we don't notice the two people entering the kitchen until one snarls, "If you don't stop touching my sister, Vincenzo, I'm going to blow your brains out and I promise no one will find your body".