Mafia Kings: Dario: Chapter 26

The trip to Florence took an hour. Valentino drove the Mercedes, and Massimo sat in the passenger seat up front. He was so tall that he had to move the seat all the way back – and yet he still looked cramped.

I sat in the backseat and watched the scenery go by.

The landscape of Tuscany was truly beautiful. Wheat fields that rippled in the wind… silver-green olive groves… the occasional patch of red poppies or yellow sunflowers.

There were sprawling vineyards with their orderly rows of grape vines…

Cypress trees, tall and slender…

Ancient farmhouses of terracotta and stone…

And every so often there was a castle on a hilltop, straight out of a fairy tale.

But eventually I got bored. After all, I had grown up among all of this… even if I had never seen it while riding in a car.

So instead, I started up a conversation with Massimo and Valentino.

“Tell me,” I said, “whose idea was this little trip?”

Massimo shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“I’d like to know who wanted me out of the house.”

I could see Valentino’s smirk in the rearview mirror. “Well, it definitely wasn’t Dario who wanted you gone.”

My face flushed bright red as I remembered Niccolo’s comments about my screaming being audible throughout the house.

“You’re awful!” I said with embarrassment, indignation, and a little bit of humor.

He just laughed.

“Besides, you’re one to talk,” I shot back.

“How’s that?”

“I know what you do with Caterina.”

Massimo snorted. “Everyone knows what he does with Caterina.”

“At least you can’t hear her through the entire house,” Valentino said with a pointed look at me in the mirror.

I burned bright red –

Until Massimo came to my rescue.

“Maybe you’re not good enough to make her scream that loud,” he said to Valentino.

I stifled a giggle.

I knew it wasn’t true – I’d seen Caterina biting Valentino’s shoulder to stifle her cries of passion – but it was funny to hear.

Plus, I wasn’t about to admit I’d seen Caterina and Valentino having sex.

“Fuck you!” Valentino said playfully as he smacked his brother in the arm.

“The only reason I’m not hitting you back is because you’re driving,” Massimo said.

“So?”

“So you’re a bad enough driver as it is. I don’t want to die because you’re worse at driving than you are in bed.”

“You fucking asshole!” Valentino said, laughing out loud. “Who are you to talk to me about pleasing my woman? The monk who hasn’t gotten laid in over a year – ”

“I could take over for you if you like,” Massimo suggested. “Then we’d see how loud your woman can scream.”

“Don’t even think about it, or I’ll kill you,” Valentino said, somewhere between joking and serious.

“If you don’t kill me with your driving first – stay in the right lane, rimbambito!” Massimo snapped, using a slang term for numbnuts.

By the time we got to Florence, I was talking and joking with the two brothers like old friends.

We drove through the newer parts of the city, past dingy buildings from the last 70 years. Then we got to old Florence – the section that had stood for over six centuries.

Massimo guided the Mercedes through the maze of streets until we reached the Via dè Tornabuoni, the most famous street for shopping in all of Tuscany. It was the Florentine equivalent of Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles. Boutiques for Gucci, Balenciaga, Hermes, Prada, and Tiffany lined the streets.

“Oh my goodness,” I whispered as Massimo parked the car in front of the Versace store. “Isn’t there somewhere else you can take me – like H&M?”

Massimo snorted. “If I bring you back to Dario wearing H&M, he’ll castrate me.”

“Your balls are so small already, it’s no great loss,” Valentino joked.

“I’ll make sure he takes yours, too.”

“Hey – I actually use mine!”

I looked down at my dowdy dress. “But… I’m not dressed to go in there!”

“Yeah, but we are,” Massimo said, straightening the lapels of his expensive suit.

“Stick with us, Alessandra,” Valentino said with a wink and a smile. “We’ll take you places.”

The three of us walked into the store. Massimo and Valentino acted like they owned the place, while I felt like a peasant walking into a palace.

A very stylish woman about 10 years older than me walked over. “Good afternoon, gentlemen – how can I help you today?”

“Dress this woman beautifully and spare no expense,” Massimo said.

“Done,” the woman said with a smile. “And for you?”

“We’re fine.”

“You’re not wearing Versace, though,” she pointed out.

“No – Armani.”

“Well, I won’t hold it against you,” she said in an amused voice.

I was about to follow her when I made the mistake of looking at a price tag on a blouse.

It was 700 euros – about $750 US.

“We can’t buy anything from here!” I whispered in a panic to Massimo.

“Why not?” he asked, and looked around in surprise. “Too ugly?”

“No, it’s all beautiful – it’s just too expensive!”

“What’s too expensive?”

I showed him the price tag of 700 euros.

“Wait – hold on for a moment,” Massimo said.

Then he proceeded to stare at me with a bored face.

I waited for about 20 seconds before I asked, “What am I waiting for, exactly?”

“THAT,” he said as he punctuated the air with a stab of his finger.

“…what?” I asked, mystified.

“That’s how long it takes for our family to make 700 euros.”

My eyes went wide. “It is?”

“That’s not true,” Valentino said to Massimo. “That’d be over a thousand euros a minute – 60,000 euros an hour! That’s a million dollars a day – 356 million a year – ”

“Shut up,” Massimo told Valentino, then turned back to me. “I’m hungry. Go buy some clothes so we can get out of here and eat.”

The saleswoman had me try on dress after gorgeous dress. Massimo watched me every time I came out, though whenever I asked his opinion, he would only say, “It’s nice.” Occasionally he would throw in a “Get whatever you want.”

Valentino got bored after the first dress and proceeded to flirt with every pretty woman in the store.

I got irritated with him on Caterina’s behalf but held my tongue.

I finally settled on a couple of subdued dresses that were still absolutely beautiful – one in emerald green and another in rose. I also got two blouses and two patterned skirts.

“That’s it?” Massimo asked when I brought him the clothes.

“‘That’s it’?!” I exclaimed in a whisper. “All of these together are over 6000 euros!”

He picked up a couple of items I’d had trouble deciding on. I’d eventually discarded them because of the price.

“Do you like these?” he asked.

“Yes, but – ”

Massimo handed them to the saleslady along with a black credit card. “Ring these up, too.”

“Gladly,” she said as she took everything to the register.

“Massimo!” I exclaimed.

“What?”

“I can’t accept these things!”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, because I like my balls where they are.”

“I thought he’d only castrate you if I came back wearing H&M.”

“If he finds out I didn’t let you buy as much as you wanted because of the price, he’ll probably take my pecker, too.”

Once the items were paid for and packed up, Massimo carried a bag in each hand. He made Valentino take the rest as we exited onto the street.

“I can carry them,” I protested.

He refused. “You’re a lady. Ladies don’t carry packages when there are gentlemen present.”

“I’m not a gentleman,” Valentino said with a smile, “so I shouldn’t have to carry them.”

“Shut up, pack mule,” Massimo replied affably, then licked his chops. “Now… where to eat?”