I wonder if Rossi men are deeply rooted in another place and time, when men were heads of the house and women were meant to be cared for.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. One could say mixed emotions sums it up quite well.
I practically raised myself. I met my own needs from a very young age, and by the time I was in high school, set out on my own. I value autonomy and hard work, and dislike the thought of riding anyone’s damn coattails.
But it doesn’t matter. Any of it.
I’m not here to stay.
So I can play along with this. For now. If I don’t, he could suspect I’m not who I’m supposed to be, and I can’t imagine what he’d do if he found out.
He slows his steps when we come to a narrow road lined with cars. The smell of roasting garlic, onions, and tomatoes lingers in the air. My mouth waters.
“Hungry, piccolina?”
I nod. I also really, really wish I knew Italian. When I look at him in bewilderment, his eyes crinkle around the edges. “What, you don’t like my name for you?”
“Didn’t say that,” I mutter, trying to be vague. I need to learn Italian, stat.
He opens the door for me and gestures for me to enter. I wonder what he’d do if I tried to open it for myself. I decide it probably isn’t worth finding out.
I have to step up to get inside. Once I do, the strong scent of good Italian food permeates the air. My mouth waters when a waitress walks past me with a tray of silver plates and bowls bearing cheesy, decadent dishes. At least I will eat well during all this.
We’re instantly swarmed by people. Tall men in suits, some I recognize from the night before while others are new to me.
Romeo, the man in front, walks to me, bows, and reaches for my hand. I look quickly to Orlando to see how he’ll react.
“Well done, wife,” he says in a low voice. “Romeo is Don, the leader of all. He may touch your hand and even kiss it.” He gives Romeo a warm smile. “And he knows I’ll kick his ass if he does more than that, but as a happily married man himself, his wife would finish him off when he got home.”
A younger man with suave looks reminiscent of James Dean’s bad boy vibes, grins. He steps toward me and reaches for my hand as well. Orlando grunts his permission as one after the other takes my hand and kisses it. When each of the brothers has greeted me, Orlando stands up straighter and shoos them all away. “No more touching her. Romeo. You called me.”
“Back room, brother.” Romeo’s eyes dart to me, then back to Orlando.
“Elise comes. She’s been raised as a Regazza but seems sheltered. I won’t shelter her anymore.” Romeo nods. He may be head of The Family, but Orlando is clearly head of me.
Thanks?
Romeo talks in a low tone to a few of the men near us. Two station themselves at the door, an entrance to a back room at the very back of the restaurant. Two others come to me and flank my sides but are careful not to touch me.
“Look too long, Mario, I’ll beat the fucking shit out of you,” Orlando says with the glimmer of a smile on his lips. The ice in his eyes says he isn’t joking.
The young, attractive brother smiles good-naturedly. “She only has eyes for you, man. You know that. She’ll be a sister to me, no more, no less.”
“Good,” Orlando responds as they walk side by side. “Been working on my right hook in the big house.”
Mario flinches but laughs it off. I, however, am not laughing.
To the right, the kitchen’s in full swing. It’s late morning, and I don’t usually eat breakfast, but I’m starving. My stomach growls when one of the chefs pulls a pizza out of the oven, golden and sizzling hot. A waitress fills a basket with rolls so hot, she uses tongs to keep from burning her fingers. Another slices a thick slab of tiramisu and slides it onto a plate. For the first time, I hope he actually gets me pregnant so I have an excuse to eat my heart out.
Maybe he’s bewitched me. Sex and food may be the hardest of appetites to tame.
But we don’t head to the kitchen. Orlando opens the door, but this time gestures for me to stand behind him as Romeo and two of the other brothers, all dressed in impeccable suits, go in before him. Orlando takes my hand, and we enter the back room.
Boxes marked with food names in Italian line either side of the entrance. A few are open, revealing the round, silver tops of canned tomatoes, and others jars of olive oil. The only marking on the bottles are plum-colored stickers with Rossi Family emblazoned in gold.