Meet The Family

“Sonny, are you home?” Sasha called out as she entered the house, surprised to see the three cars in the yard. He never had guests according to him and he hadn’t mentioned anything today when she’d checked on him before she left to run to the grocery store.

She stood listening and noted the closed door to his office and made a face and made her way to the kitchen with the groceries she’d picked up. She considered knocking on the door but considering the types of cars in the yard, black SUVs she considered it might be family related and she did not need to know. If it was business, the last thing she needed was to let herself be known as an acquaintance to Sonny.

She would simply go to the kitchen and make lunch and with luck, whoever was here, would leave soon and she would be well hidden in the back of the house. Hopefully, it wasn’t anyone dangerous. Though, it was entirely possible given she knew Sonny kept a loaded weapon in his desk.

She would make him pasta the way Ruthie had taught her to when she was a teenager in this very kitchen. She put the groceries away and after wrapping an apron around her hips quickly made the dough for the pasta and left it to rest. She cleaned up and then set to making the sauce. She was making a large batch knowing Sonny could have it for dinner several times this week while she went to the club.

Right now, he was calling her twenty times a night to complain he was bored and wanted to come and have a drink, but doctor’s orders were for him to be on bed rest or at least house arrest, as Sonny called it, until the wound in his leg closed up completely. They hadn’t had to take his leg but there had been several touch and go days while he’d been in the hospital. Good food, the daily visits from the nurse and the rest and care he needed was doing him well.

She ran the pasta dough through Ruthie’s old spaghetti maker and then put it aside, covered for when she was ready, and she left the sauce to simmer on low. Again, she cleaned up all the mess in between each step just as her grandmother and Ruthie had taught her. She grimaced as she considered how filthy Sonny had let the house get. So far, they were still arguing over her insistence he needed a team in to clean but he wasn’t backing down. She had a feeling she’d be in his kitchen until she was old and gray at this rate. She was forced to admit, she was really enjoying being here with him. It felt good to be needed.

She heard the office door open and then footsteps walking in her direction. She was stirring the sauce presuming Sonny was coming to check on her and then changed her mind at the tempo of the steps. His strides were far more painstaking since his hospital stay. She heard the footsteps falter behind her and fought the urge to turn to make sure she wasn’t going to be shot. Damn mobster house.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my mother’s kitchen?”

She turned around at the unfamiliar voice and then cocked her head as she recognized Gian, Sonny’s oldest son. Now this clown she could handle. “Oh, look, the prodigal son returns,” she frowned at him and then turned back to her sauce. She wasn’t likely to be intimidated by him. Her father was bratva and her grandfather one of the most notorious of them all. “Are you here to ask your father for more money or just to check to see how close to death’s door he is?”

“You little bitch.” He rounded the counter at her, “do you know who I am?”

“Yes. Do you know who I am?”

“A gold-digging stripper my father is putting his dick in.”

At his words she started laughing, “excuse me?”

He went to grab her, and she picked up a rolling pin, “go ahead. Put your hands on me and see how well those hands work when I’m done with them.” Her blue eyes flashed furiously in the man’s direction. She gave a toss of her high ponytail as if willing him to give it a go.

“What is going on?” A female voice cut in.

“This harlot who thinks she can seduce dad into giving him all his money is threatening me.” Gian glowered at her. “She doesn’t know who she is dealing with.”

“This,” the girl tilted her head, “is the infamous Sasha? It’s kind of gross he’s sleeping with a chick younger than me.”

She rolled her eyes at the girl she knew from the photos as Viviana and noted Sonny coming up behind two more women who were storming towards her.

“Who I sleep with is none of your concern,” Sonny spoke loudly.

Sasha turned to look at him in horror. What had he just said? He was as close to her grandfather as one could possibly get. Surely, he had not alleged to his family they were lovers.

“However, as I have said for the umpteenth time, I am not sleeping with Sasha. She is my friend and I love her like a granddaughter, and she is here to help me while I recover from my recent hospital stay.” He came into the kitchen and lifted the rolling pin away, “Gian, I would suggest you back away from her because I’ve seen her do far worse to a man with far less weaponry.” He leaned over the sauce, “are you making puttanesca?”

She nodded but before she could respond someone else joined the fray.

“How fitting,” a deep voice drawled from behind the crowd of people now gathered in the kitchen. “A whore’s dish made by a –"

Sasha lifted her eyes to meet the curious and seemingly judgemental eyes of the current head of the Allegretti family with a warning glance daring him to finish his sentence. If she were a lesser woman, she might have shivered from the cold look he gave her, but she didn’t fear him. She didn’t fear any of them. Actually, as she considered the man who now commanded the attention of everyone in the room, she felt a tingle of awareness. He was a stunningly handsome man. The kind of man who turned every head in the room, female or male when he entered. Why had she never been curious enough to check him out online. Her girly parts were screaming for attention just from his glare.

“Are you calling me a whore, Mr. Allegretti or just being facetious?” In her head she had pictured him the same height of his grandfather with the same soft brown eyes and gentle smile. Instead, he was the complete opposite, easily six foot three, built as wide as a truck through the shoulders and lips set in a condescending smirk she wanted to smack and cold shark-like eyes. His frame was taut, muscular, and lethal and a deadly combination to her libido. She really needed to get over her daddy issues because this guy was much too old for her, not to mention he clearly hated her.

“Wow, big words, and she gets sarcasm. I see my grandfather’s attraction.” He looked her up and down, “I imagine you swinging on a pole must be the trifecta for him.”

“Wow,” she mocked his word, “misogyny and patronizing. Your grandmother would have been so proud.”

“Keep my mother’s name out of your mouth,” Gian stepped toward her.

“I didn’t even say her name you arrogant schmuck,” she gave him an eyeroll and looked to Sonny who appeared to be enjoying himself.

“Do you know who I am?” the man repeated himself.

“Yes, you’re Sonny’s biggest disappointment,” she glared back at Gian stepping toward him as Sonny chortled merrily.

“Enough,” Rin cut in. “Your friend needs to learn her place, Nonno.”

“This is her place. I want her here. The rest of you aren’t welcome. Now you’re intruding on our lunch. I told you she’d be making lunch.” He draped an arm over her shoulder and noisily kissed her cheek.

“Are your guests staying for lunch or will we be dining alone?” She could feel the group’s burning hatred for her at Sonny’s display of affection.

“Like hell are you dining alone with my grandfather,” the blonde woman sneered at her. “If she’s here, I’m staying.”

She wanted to toss the entire meal she’d prepared into the bin, go to her car, and just hide at the club. Instead, she dug deep and channelled her grandmother’s spunkiness, “then you can set the table,” she turned her attention back to the sauce. “Lunch will be ready in a few moments.” She pushed past Gian and grabbed a fresh loaf of bread she’d grabbed at the bakery on her way home from the club. He gave a gasp at her shove of him, but she didn’t even flick him a glance. This family was Italian mafia, and she was dancing all over their respect. She was half Russian. She could care less about their demand for respect. Well, except for Sonny. She flashed him a warm smile and he reciprocated with a shit-eating grin. He was enjoying the way she was standing up to his family.

She grabbed a package of lettuces and tomatoes and red onions and was about to throw a salad together when she realized though Sonny was still leaning over the pasta sauce, the other five people were staring at her. Even the girls at the club didn’t need this much direction, she thought angrily.

“Are you all stuck on stunned? The dishes,” she pointed to the cabinets, “are over there. The wine glasses are in there. You,” she pointed at Rinaldo Allegretti, “can go downstairs to the cellar and get a bottle of wine. Watch the nail on the wall by the stairs. I haven’t had a chance to get down there to pull it.” She pushed Sonny, “you, go check your blood sugars before dinner, please.”

“Why does he need to check his blood sugars?” Rin questioned when the group still hadn’t started moving.

“Because he’s a diabetic?” she questioned him right back as she dressed the salad with oil and vinegar and finely chopped basil. “Seriously,” she looked to Sonny, “how the hell is this a family when they don’t know the most basic information about you. I watched you give yourself insulin for the first time when I was like six.”

“My grandfather is not a diabetic, we would know.” Angie sputtered with a sneer.

“I have been a diabetic since I was in my fifties,” Sonny corrected her. “I’m seventy-five now.” He shook his head. “You were asked to set the table Angie. Surely, you’ve been to enough dinner parties you know where to put a fork and knife next to a plate?” He gave her a cold stare and she huffed and moved to the cupboards. “Rin, go get the wine. Concetta, help your daughter set the table. I’m concerned with her ineptitude she might actually lacerate her wrists while carrying a butter knife to the table.” He gave a cold look at his son, “Gian, just get the fuck out of the kitchen before I end up having to have one of Rin’s men hide your body.”

“So is Sasha your stage name?” Viviana asked smugly as she swiped a cherry tomato off Sasha’s cutting board.

The way she popped it in her mouth was a display of portraying she was more relaxed than she was. She wanted information from Sasha, but she wasn’t as direct as Angie, and she wasn’t as scary as Rin. She went with a flirtatious playful manner. Sasha could see right through her.

“It is the name my mother gave me at birth,” she gave a shake of her head noting Rin had indeed gone in search of a bottle of wine, and it was just the two of them in the room. One was better than five.

“Let me guess, it was her stage name. Was it a cycle of slutty women?” When she reached for another tomato, Sasha stabbed the knife into the cutting board just missing her fingers and she gasped and pulled her fingers back. “You almost stabbed me.”

“Do not disrespect my mother. She was a stripper. She was an entrepreneur. She made a community of women who helped each other along with my grandmother. The money earned by her craft put me through school and has helped countless women put food in their baby’s mouths and clothing on their back. There is more money to be had by men’s needs to jackoff than there is in corporate America. She exploited it and made a fucking mint doing it. Do not ever,” she yanked the knife out of the board, “disrespect her again in my presence. You can say what you want about me, but not her. Not ever her.”

“Geez, okay then,” Viviana backed away with her hands in the air.

Sasha looked up to see Rin had watched their exchange with more than veiled interest, his head cocked to one side and his eyes narrowed. He looked to the knife in her hand with a stern expression and she lowered it to the cutting board. She knew her cheeks were pink with rage. The only problem with being fair-skinned was when she was heated, she flushed, and she was certain she was now but as he overtly studied her, the anger was dissipating to awareness of his masculinity. She turned away from his studious gaze and dropped the pasta into the water.

“You made the pasta from scratch?” Rin queried moving closer to her curiously.

“Your grandfather does not like packaged pasta,” she grimaced. “Though he could be playing me since there is a freezer full of frozen pasta dinners. Regardless, he’s ill. I’ll pander to his game for now.”

“What is his game?” Rin moved closer to her.

“He wants to die, Mr. Allegretti. He wants to die to be with his wife in the afterlife and I won’t let him yet.”

“Jealous?”

She rolled her eyes, “no. He is the closest thing I have to a grandfather here in America. I am not ready to let him go.”

“You’re not from the US?” he asked curiously as he dug around a bin on the counter for a corkscrew.

She shoved past him, pulled open the drawer with the utensils, and passed him the desired item. “I am Vegas born and bred. My extended family lives overseas. I do not see them often.”

“How old are you?” he asked curiously.

“Too young for your old ass,” she quipped smartly. “You’re probably the same age as my dad.”

“I’m forty-two and I wasn’t asking you out, smartass. I am curious why a girl who looks fifteen is taking care of an old man.”

“Twenty-eight.” She answered and pulled the pasta out of the pot and directly into the sauce.

“You do that just the way my grandmother did,” he said suddenly after watching her for several minutes.

“I should hope so,” she gave a sad sigh. “She’s the one who taught me to make this dish. Told me if I could perfect this dish, I could have any man I wanted.” She gave a little laugh, “hasn’t worked yet but perhaps I attract the wrong ones.”

“He said he’d known you your whole life. How have we not met?”

“Because you and your family are a bunch of judgemental assholes and ruffians who are more brawn than brain,” she tossed the pasta with flourish as she insulted him in his family home with far too much ease. She dumped the noodles into an oversized serving dish with flourish. “That’s a direct quote of your grandmother, by the way. Ruthie knew my mother and I would be tortured by you and your sisters. Something tells me after my very brief introduction today, she wasn’t wrong.” She flicked him a glance, “or am I simply reading the situation of a room full of condescending entitled bastards wrong?”