Savory Sabastian

By Anne Marie Citro

The music festival turned from a night of singing, laughter, and fun into a nightmare when a monster took the lives of fifty-eight innocent people in the form of an automatic weapon. Within fifteen minutes, the shooter irrevocably changed the lives of the families and friends left behind.
Disillusioned and angered, Sabastian Savage stood at his father and older brother’s gravesite, holding his inconsolable mamma, when he noticed an adorable blonde crying as hard as his mamma. Who was she? And why was she so distraught? Sabastian wished he could find out, but a funeral was not the time.
Evangeline Rossi, or Emmy for short, was painfully shy, and with good reason—too many people had hurt her. So, when she met someone who sincerely cared, she held on with both hands. Shawn Savage had been one of those people, having been a father figure for her while she struggled to support her granddad and herself, and his death truly gutted her.
Months after the funeral, Emmy ran into the sexy, handsome Sabastian, Shawn’s own son and a man she had seen often yet in no way had the confidence to speak to. So, of course she was flattered when he directed his attention her way . . . until he opened his mouth.
Now Emmy was stuck between a rock and hard spot. The remaining Savage brothers had banded together to fill their father’s shoes by helping their mamma’s dream become a reality, which in turn extended to offering Emmy the opportunity of a lifetime. But, could she accept if the jerk was part of it? Did Emmy have the courage to stand up for herself and sweeten Savory Sabastian?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Marie Citro
• Release date: Oct 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463241851

Anne Marie Citro

Anne Marie Citro grew born and raised in the greater Toronto area of Ontario, Canada. She grew up in a large, loving family. Anne Marie is married to a very patient man. He is the love of her life. They have four very cool sons, and the girls they brought into their family that have become daughters of her heart. She has been blessed enough to finally have a beautiful granddaughter after four sons. She has her own personal gaggle of girlfriends, who enrich her life on a daily basis and make her laugh. Caesar Friday is her favourite day of the week. Caesars with the girls and date night with her hubby. She works with special-needs teenagers, that have taught her how to appreciate life and see it through gentler eyes. Anne Marie was encouraged by her husband to follow her life long dream to write. She loves the characters that take over imagination and haunts her dreams. She loves the arts and she has tried her hand at painting, wood sculpting, chainsaw carving, wood burning, metal and wire sculptures. Yes, her husband is a very patient man! Anne Marie is an avid reader and enjoys about three books per week. But nothing makes her happier then riding on the back of her husband's Harley and throwing her arms out and feeling the wind race by. Anne Marie and her husband take a few weeks every year to travel to spectacular destination around the world. Anne Marie is excited and can't wait to see what the next chapter holds for her life.

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Anne Marie Citro

Published by Anne Marie Citro at Smashwords.

Copyright 2018 Anne Marie Citro

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

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Editing by: C&D Editing

Cover created by: Ravenne Villanueva

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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offence to the content as it is fiction.

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This book contains mature content not suitable for readers under the age of 18. This book contains content with strong language, violence, and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are over the age of 18.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Note to the Reader

Chapter 1: Hallelujah by Bon Jovi

Chapter 2: Under Pressure by Queen & David Bowie

Chapter 3: Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton

Chapter 4: Taking Care of Business by Bachman Turner Overdrive

Chapter 5: You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon

Chapter 6: Here I Go Again by Whitesnake

Chapter 7: Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word by Elton John

Chapter 8: Stupid Boy by Keith Urban

Chapter 9: The Reason by Hoobastank

Chapter 10: Love Me Or Leave Me Alone by Dustin Lynch

Chapter 11: Fa La Ninna

Chapter 12: Demons by Imagine Dragons

Chapter 13: Craving You by Thomas Rhett

Chapter 14: Kill A Word by Eric Church

Chapter 15: Brother by NEEDTOBREATHE (Gavin DeGraw)

Chapter 16: My Old Man by Zac Brown Band

Chapter 17: Everything by Michael Bublé

Chapter 18: She’s Got A Way by Billy Joel

Chapter 19: Diamonds and Twine by Ryan Hurd

Chapter 20: When I Look At You by Miley Cyrus

Epilogue: Volare by Dean Martin

Thank you

Acknowledgments

Sneak Peek

Dedication

This book is dedicated to a man of integrity and grit, George Winter. I created the teacher character in this book after him because he was a teacher who cared, and not because he had to, but because that is who he is. This man took an angry, young teenage girl with multiple learning disabilities and taught her how to read and write.

Teaching isn’t just about reading, writing, and arithmetic; it’s also about inspiring a student to be everything they can. I know he saved one young woman, and I cannot imagine the countless others he has saved along the way.

The best analogy I have ever heard about learning disabilities is that your brain is like a chest of drawers. The kids with learning disabilities have drawers that are open and everything is a mess, but with help, they can organize their drawers enough for it to make sense. He helped her make sense of her chest of drawers. He also taught her how to hold her head high and to try new things. For that, I say thank you.

Note to the reader:

I have included a small glossary of Italian slang words. Some Italians might disagree with the meaning, but it is slang and regional. The meanings used in this book are what I grew up knowing.

Bambini - babies

Bambino/bambina - baby boy/baby girl

Basta - enough

Bellissima - gorgeous

Capisci - do you understand?

Ciao - hello or goodbye

Cara mia - my darling

Coglione - asshole or male testicles

Dio mio - my God

Fanculo - fuck

Piccola amore - little love

Piccola tesoro - little treasure or little darling

Shamo - stupid or idiot

Stunad - moron

Scustumad - stupid person

Vaffanculo - fuck it

Chapter 1

Hallelujah by Bon Jovi

The words of the song Hallelujah tore at Sabastian’s heart. He knew his mamma loved this song, and in her own fragmented mind, it was a way to combine her love of religion and his dad’s love of music. A beautiful tribute to them both. It was her final farewell to the man she worshiped, the man she had dedicated her life to, bearing him five sons.

If it was just his dad, Sabastian knew the four of them would have been able to get their mamma through the tragedy, but they weren’t just laying their dad to rest; they were also burying their oldest brother, Marcello.

No woman should have to bury the love of her life before turning the age of fifty. For damn sure, no mother should ever have to bury any of her children. Her firstborn child, whom she had nurtured for nine months while being almost a child herself. The child she had fought with all her strength to bring into this world because none of Sabastian’s mamma’s deliveries were easy, as she would tell anyone who would listen. Especially after she lived through all their childhood illnesses, stitches, fighting, and then the dreaded teenage years with cars, sex, drugs, and rock and roll, and doing eighty percent of it alone. It was a sin to survive that, just to lose him so senselessly.

It took ten minutes to shatter Valentina Savage’s world. From ten-o-five p.m. to ten fifteen p.m. a man obliterated fifty-eight loved ones and injured countless others, who were all now living with the aftermath.

Standing at their gravesites, holding his mamma, made him think of all the other families who had been affected. He knew how it felt to have the bottom dropped out of his world.

A monster had taken the lives of so many families in the form of an automatic weapon. He’d had no idea the havoc he would wreak . . . or maybe he had?

By ten sixteen p.m., he had changed the face of the world as they all knew it.

The Harvest Music Festival had turned from a night of music, singing, laughter, and fun, into a nightmare for hundreds, if not thousands.

Sabastian’s nightmare.

At the end of Hallelujah, when the title was repeated ten times, Valentina broke.

Oh, Dio mio, no. Please, God, I beg You. Don’t do this to me. I won’t survive. His mamma bawled as her legs gave out.

Her weight transferred to his younger brother, Santino, and Sabastian’s forearms as they held her up.

God, please don’t take them from me.

Sabastian looked across the caskets at his other brothers, Alessandro and Luca, who watched their mamma fall apart, knowing the lowering of the caskets was next. Their fists clenched in frustration at not being able to help. However, their mamma had wanted two of her boys beside their dad’s casket and two beside Marcello’s.

The priest lifted his eyes to Sabastian, looking for some direction.

Like he knew what the hell they should do? He was the second-born of five boys and had never had to make any decisions. It wasn’t his role in their family. Their mamma was the leader of the pack, and when she wasn’t around, it had been Marcello.

When Valentina was mad or embarrassed, she referred to her sons as a pack of wild animals, not house-trained sufficiently for society. That was one of the kinder things she said when she was livid with her sons.

Five boys, six if you counted their dad, and one tiny woman to keep them all in line. The woman was a saint in every aspect, except when she was mad. Then, not even the devil could hold a candle to her. Even when their dad had been home and not working, she was the one they had all deferred to.

Valentina was as beautiful as she was hot-tempered, even in her late forties. Over the years, Sabastian had found it necessary to drop more than a few friends who had thought she was his sister. When they had found out Valentina was their mamma, she had become the Mediterranean MILF that every horny teenage guy wanted, which would then make them enemies to the brothers, who would collectively beat the shit out of any who crossed the line, ousting them from every social circle within a fifty-mile radius.

Nobody fucked with the Savage brothers, no matter how brave or stupid they were. The Savage boys were famiglia. They could swear, fight, and beat the shit out of each other until their mamma either threw a shoe at them or flicked their backsides black and blue with her wooden pasta spoon, but the minute one of them needed help, they all dropped everything and showed a united front. Because that was how their mamma had raised them.

Now Sabastian and his brothers were carrying the weight of the strongest person they knew, and all because some psychotic asshole had shot a hole straight through the fabric of their famiglia.

The director of the funeral home, in his infinite wisdom, decided at that moment to approach the family and hand each of them two white roses to lay on the coffins.

Valentina screamed, No! and dropped the roses, not ready to say her final goodbyes.

Fuck! Sabastian whipped his head up to his brothers and motioned them to their side, so they could help with their mamma, who was fighting against the grip of two of her sons.

The baby of the famiglia, Santino, rushed to her, crying out. Mamma, please! He wept as he gathered her into his arms. I’m sorry, Mamma . . . so sorry. You’re breaking me, Mamma. The smart little asshole knew if Valentina had to be strong for one of her boys, she would pull it together.

Sabastian bent to pick up the flowers his mamma had dropped.

Santino’s scheme worked, as Valentina lifted her face to look at his destroyed one. Oh, il mio bambino, I’m sorry. I’m okay. Turning, she addressed Sabastian. Please, I can’t do this with everyone here.

Sabastian understood totally what she was saying. Funerals were an oxymoron. People were coming to give their last respects, when all the family really wanted was the privacy and reverence to say goodbye alone. Their intentions were admirable, but their presence was suffocating.

Sabastian was a very private, controlled person. The thinker, his mamma always said, and his thoughts now were to get everyone away before his mamma really lost it.

Walking to the priest and funeral director, he asked, Will you please ask everyone to leave? We need some privacy. Ask them to go to Zia Lucia’s house for the wake. We will come when we can. Waving Zia Lucia over, he pointed her out to the funeral director.

Just as Zia Lucia stepped forward, Sabastian saw an adorable little blonde he recognized but couldn’t place, crying as hard as Valentina. She was the cute girl next-door type, even with her little red nose and not a stitch of makeup left on. Who was she?

His dad had known a ton of famous people from the music industry, which was obvious by the show of support today.

Sabastian locked eyes with her deep, rich, sienna-brown ones for a split-second before he heard his mamma begging to God again. He took one last look at the blonde before turning back without a second thought of the girl, whose eyes projected comfort as well as pain all in one look.

Sabastian nodded to his three brothers.

That thought gutted him, as he had always had four brothers, a fact changed irrevocably by a man with warm, blood-filled precise hands and ice-cold hatred running through his sick black heart.

Sabastian listened as the director asked everyone to give the family some time alone and to join them at Valentina’s sister’s house. Sabastian could hear his other aunt, Zia Giada, arguing with Zia Lucia about her right to stay. He couldn’t help thinking Marcello had always been a lot like Zia Giada—bossy. Maybe it came with being the firstborn or the one in charge.

Sabastian glared over his shoulder at Zia Giada for even thinking she could pull that overbearing shit at the funeral. She knew it was at Sabastian’s request. Her nephews were men now, not little boys, and she was not the godfather of their famiglia.

Zia Giada staggered back a step at his look, instantly acting regretful and chastised. She might be able to push her sister’s buttons, but she sure as hell was not pushing Sabastian’s.

Sabastian caught one last look at the retreating back of the blonde, all alone, her shoulders hunched and shaking from crying. Who is she?

That was the last thought of her that he had as he turned, ready to get his mamma through the hardest moment since hearing about the massacre.

Reaching for the closest of her son’s hands, she said, My bambini, we say goodbye together. She sobbed out the last word.

Sabastian was still carrying her roses, as well as his own, as she led them to the ground between their dad and brother.

Santino, place a rose on Marcello, then Daddy. Alessandro, you next.

Sabastian watched the tears streaming down Santino’s face as he laid a hand on his brother’s coffin, and with his other, placed the stark-white rose on the deep mahogany casket. Leaning down, he then brushed his lips to the smooth wood, saying, I love you, bro. Somberly turning in his Sunday best and stylish shoes, he took the three steps to his dad’s casket, performing the same ritual, then sobbing out, I love you, Dad, my old man. Tapping the casket five times, muscles suddenly tensing, knowing his mamma hated when they called her beloved husband old man, he then lifted himself and turned. Sorry, Ma.

Pursing her lips so tight the tears slid from the side of her nose to her chin, she hiccupped. Breathing hard through her nose, Valentina gathered every bit of strength to say, "He loved that you boys called him that ever since the song ‘My Old Man’ by Zac Brown Band was released. It was me who hated it because, to me, he was too young and vibrant to be an old man. The strength she had for Santino disappeared as she cried out, arms opening for the baby of the famiglia. He was too young and strong to die."

Luca luckily had a hold on her from behind. Otherwise, she would have toppled Santino.

Mamma, Santino cried. It’s going to be okay. He wrapped her tightly in his arms.

Finally lifting her head, she furiously wiped her tears. I’m sorry. Your dad would want me to be strong for my boys. She dabbed her eyes with their dad’s soaked pocket square.

For the love of Jesus, Valentina was killing them. Sabastian knew in the depths of his heart that his mamma was the strongest woman he knew, but she was also the most emotional he had ever met. Valentina Savage had the heart and devotion of an angel, but she wore her emotions on her sleeve and didn’t care what anyone thought about it.

Sabastian could hear his dad screaming in his head, "Take care of her. She is the heart and soul of our family. Hearing his warning brought back another thing his dad had always said, You boys better pray I go first, because if she leaves us, there is no more family."

Sabastian had never understood those words until this very moment. His dad had been right. She would recover after her grieving, because she would put her kids first. Whereas his dad would have wallowed in the misery of his broken heart and left the boys to fend for themselves. That had been their old man. He had lived for Valentina Savage, while she lived for all her men.

Sabastian was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize it was his turn to say the final goodbye until Alessandro nudged him.

He walked to his brother’s coffin first and placed the rose on top. Dropping his head, the tears made it impossible to see the sleek Italian loafers his mamma had bought for them. Silently, Sabastian thanked Marcello for everything he had done for him, and then cursed him for leaving him to take his place. He didn’t want to be the oldest.

He then shakily went to his dad’s casket, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say goodbye to the man he had idolized his entire life.

Damn you, old man. How could you?

The thought weakened his knees as he flung his hands onto the casket to stop himself from falling.

Sabastian heard his mamma’s breath catch as he laid the side of his cheek on the shiny wood and tapped his fingers five times, like all his brothers had done. Moving his lips to the top, he watched his reflection as a tear dropped.

I love you, old man.

The moment the boys all feared had come.

Valentina’s final goodbye.

As her breathing became labored with the internal battle of the next moments of her life, Sabastian clasped his mamma’s hand and squeezed tightly as Santino grabbed his. Sabastian instinctively knew Luca or Alessandro had done the same thing on her other side. Linked, the five of them approached Marcello’s casket, where Valentina lost it.

Oh, Dio mio, not my baby! He was in the prime of his life. What kind of plan can God have to take my baby? Marcello, Mamma loves you. I’m sorry, bambino. I didn’t protect you. I was there for your first breath, and Daddy was there for your last. It should have been me! No, God, I’m begging, don’t— She broke free from their hold and threw her tiny, broken body across the casket, rubbing her hands across the surface as if she were rubbing her baby’s back.

Sabastian could hear his brothers crying through his own sobs. It was killing them. Out of anyone in the world, his mamma did not deserve this.

Luca twisted his face to Sabastian, again, like he was supposed to know what to do.

Pissed, he bent and lifted his mamma off the coffin and cradled her against his shattered heart. Marcello knows, Mamma. He adored you. Take a deep breath, and then you need to say goodbye to Dad. The workers are waiting.

Valentina lifted her face to Sabastian, and her look gutted him. He knew if he said another word about the workers, he would be lying right next to Marcello.

He pathetically mumbled, Sorry, Ma.

See? I suck at being the leader of the pack. That’s why I was son number two.

The hurt and surprise in Sabastian’s eyes must have made Valentina realize she was taking her anger out on the wrong person. Running her freezing cold fingers down his face, she relaxed the strain. Forgive me, Sabastian. I don’t know what I would do without you. She looked at his other brothers. All of you. You boys are my only reason for living. I love you, i miei bambini.

Gently pulling away from Sabastian’s arms, she walked to Shawn’s casket, running her hand along the top. She had stopped crying or wailing, and that was a hell of a lot more frightening to each of her sons.

Luca nudged his head toward the coffin, and the four boys all stepped closer in case she fell.

Sabastian placed the last rose in her hand.

Looking at the rose, she brought it to her nose and sniffed, closing her eyes.

In a split-second, and before anyone could react, she climbed onto the casket, uncontrollably whimpering and curling into the fetal position as she jammed her fists and the rose into her stomach.

Oh, Mamma!

Panicked, the boys all looked at each other, uncertain of what to do.

Alessandro was the first to react, leaning down and placing his head on the casket and his hands on his mamma, holding her as she wept. Santino was next, followed by Sabastian and Luca.

They covered their mamma with their hands, transferring all their love and strength, therefore giving her permission to let it all out. Because, when they walked away, they were going to have to get tough with her. Valentina knew it, and all four sons knew it. They would give her today, but tomorrow was the beginning of the next phase in all their lives. The old man had had a plan, and although it was supposed to be him living it, they all knew they would fill his shoes.

When Valentina was all cried out, they all lifted up, and then Luca helped her down.

I won’t leave until the last bit of soil covers them.

None of them argued with her. They were serious. If she needed to fall apart today, that was okay, because they were putting her back together tomorrow.

The five of them sat silently on the grass, hand in hand. The guys in their Sunday suits, and Valentina in her pretty black dress and jacket.

When the job was done, the workers placed all the floral tributes on the freshly covered graves.

Alessandro and Santino then got up and extended a hand each to their mamma.

Standing, she brushed her dress off, then walked to the graves. Kneeling, she plucked seven white roses from the casket spray under the ribbon that read husband and seven from Marcello’s casket spray under the ribbon that read son. Clutching them tightly to her chest, she lifted her head high, then turned and walked to the limo, unaided by any of her children.

Apparently, they had only had to give her the service, because walking away, Sabastian could tell she knew her life was not going to carry on as she had always hoped.

***

Today, when the sun rose, Sabastian was bitter. Could the powers above not have made it a cloudy, gloomy, rainy day, to match his mood? He was sleeping in his childhood bed beside Marcello’s empty one.

He glanced toward his brother’s bed, wondering how someone could be alive one minute and not the next. It seemed like a dream, and that Marcello was going to walk through the door any minute and give him shit for something.

He dreaded going downstairs and facing his mamma. He smelled food, so she must be cooking. It had to be good sign, because Valentina lived to cook for her family. Sabastian knew she missed it since three of them had moved out.

He dragged himself out of bed and, after using the washroom, pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. As he made his way to the stairs, he heard talking, meaning at least one of his brothers was with his mamma.

When he entered the kitchen, he was surprised to find all his brothers were up.

Mamma looked at Sabastian sadly when he walked in. Good morning, Sabastian. I made Nutella pancakes. Sit down, and I will get you a plate. Espresso or American coffee?

He bent to kiss her cheeks. Morning, Ma. Espresso, please.

The minute she turned her back, he lifted his brows at his brothers. She was doing way better than he had expected.

They all lifted their shoulders, also unable to read her.

Sabastian sat while she made coffee and served breakfast. When she was finished, she brought her coffee to the table and sat.

Staring down at her espresso, she added two teaspoons of sugar and stirred as she said, I want you all to go back to your jobs and your lives today. It has been a long couple of weeks. I appreciate all of you helping me through, but we need to move on. It’s what your dad would have wanted.

Everyone sat quietly.

Luca kicked Sabastian under the table.

Right, he was the oldest now and was supposed to take the lead.

Mamma, we need to talk about the future.

For the first time since she sat down, she lifted her head and looked at him with determination. I’ll figure something out. Your dad had insurance, and I can get a job, maybe sell the house. You boys are not going to get saddled looking after me. I’m a grown woman, and too young to be looked after by my children.

Pushing his cup and empty plate out of the way, Sabastian reached for her hand. Dad had a plan. We need to talk about it. He gestured to his brothers. We have known about it for years and were helping him.

It was like he had slapped his mamma with the way she jerked her head back. What are you talking about?

Can you open the safe? Luca thankfully jumped in.

Blinking even faster, she pointed her spoon at Luca. Yes, but I have already been in the safe. I had to get the deposit for the funeral home. I know everything that’s in there.

Santino smirked. Not everything. Dad had a false back put in on the third shelf, where he hid the stuff. He also made sure we all knew where it was in case anything ever happened. Santino’s face fell, and so did Valentina’s.

Fuck, Santino! Alessandro huffed out.

In the blink of an eye, their mamma cuffed Alessandro across the back of the head. No swearing in my house. You know better. Now apologize to your brother.

Alessandro rubbed at the sting as he apologized. For such a little thing, she sure packed a wallop.

Please just open the safe, and we’ll show you what we mean, Sabastian pleaded.

They all followed their mamma into the study and stood by the closet where the safe was. She moved the dial, and once it was opened, stepped aside as Sabastian bent forward and moved the false back to retrieve the papers. They all heard the whoosh of air from Valentina when he pulled them out.

What is it? she asked.

Let’s go back to the kitchen. Sabastian carried the documents like he was carrying Cinderella’s glass slipper, knowing that what they were going to tell their mamma was going to change her future, just like Cinderella’s. Except, without her prince.

Sabastian asked his brothers to move the plates so they could spread the information out.

Alessandro noticed his mamma was shaking. Grabbing her hand, he told her, It’s okay.

When everyone was settled, Sabastian told her, Dad was planning for your future. He bought a piece of property between Allentown and New Tripoli to build the B&B you always wanted.

What? she exclaimed, covering her mouth.

Yeah, Luca jumped in. He bought it ten years ago, and we have been working on it for nine. Every time one of us joined him on a tour, we would take an extra ten days or more to work on the property. Remember all those fishing trips? He wasn’t giving you a break from us; we were working to make your dream come true.

Because Shawn Savage had been a musician, they had all been raised with music in their blood. He had been beyond talented. There hadn’t been an instrument he couldn’t play. He had also made sure each of his sons could play every instrument.

Their dad hadn’t belonged to any one band. Instead, when bands had toured and needed more stage presence, he would play backup guitar, the bongos, and any other percussion instrument you could think of. He had also sung backup. The man had been gifted with an amazing voice, something Sabastian had inherited from him.

Their dad had also played every genre there was, and with some of the most famous bands in the world. That was how he had been killed. He and Marcello had been playing backup at a country music festival. They had just finished up their set and the next act was taking the stage when the bullets had started to fly.

When Shawn had been home, he had played at local bars for cash and to keep fresh and updated. He had also saved most of that money to build Valentina’s dream. Shawn had been offered steady jobs in different bands, but that hadn’t been their old man. He hadn’t been able to choose just one genre of music—he had loved them all.

He had wanted to play music while remaining anonymous, to give his family the most normal life possible. Shawn had also wanted to retire at the end of this year, so he could give his wife her dream, seeing as she had sacrificed so much of her life for his.

Dad veered a little off your original dream, Santino explained. He wanted to open a small resort that was dedicated to bachelor and bachelorette parties. He told me that, while he was traveling, he saw a lot of young women get out of control and so drunk he was worried how they would get back to their hotel. He didn’t think it was safe. Therefore, he wanted us to build a safe place where bridal parties could let loose and enjoy various entertainments in one location.

Valentina squeezed Luca’s hand to a point of pain. With her other hand, she clasped her throat. He never said a word. I mean, he told me all the time about the bridal parties he saw, but he never said a word about a small resort.

Because he wanted to surprise you, Luca spoke. He was so close. We finished all the cabins and the main lodge. He also built us each our own cabin behind the main lodge. He gave us each the choice of joining in the business or just having our own place to go when we visited you.

Sabastian couldn’t help adding, He wanted you to have everything. The business you dreamed of, and your family close but still independent.

His words were the ones that broke the dam. Valentina started to cry.

Alessandro got up and hugged her from behind. Mamma, don’t cry. It’s what he wanted for you. He loved you so much.

Santino pushed a napkin into her hand, and she wiped her eyes, pulling herself together.

I’ll never get the chance to thank him.

Yes, you can, by opening the resort and making it a reality. This, Sabastian was sure about.

Frustrated, she pushed her chair out. Thankfully, Santino moved quickly out of the way.

Pacing the kitchen, hands flailing like the typical Italian woman she was, she asked, How? How am I going to run a place like that when I have never worked a day in my life? I know how to cook and take care of my family. What do I know about running a business? Your dad was the business savvy one, not me. I don’t have a clue—

We’re going to help, Luca interrupted.

Whipping around like he had just said he was having a child out of wedlock, she sliced her hand in the air. No. I won’t allow it. I won’t have you boys sacrifice your lives for my dream.

Ma, just listen. We talked last week, and each of us agreed. We want to be a part of the family business, Sabastian tried to reason with his stubborn mamma.

Liar! Advancing, she pointed at him. You love your job. You told me last month when you got your promotion that it was your dream job. And now you’re all of a sudden eager to leave it? Please don’t treat me like an idiota!

Santino laughed. Geez, Ma, call a spade a spade, why don’t ya?

The tough little Italian spitfire spat back, Don’t patronize me, Santino, or you’ll feel the splinters of my wooden spoon.

All four brothers burst out in laughter at the absurdity of her hitting them on the ass at their ages. Valentina stood five feet four inches, while her boys all hovered around six feet. When they had been teenagers and she had gotten mad enough to lash out with her hands, they had gotten in the habit of holding her forehead so she couldn’t reach them. That had just pissed her off more, so they would guide her toward the closest door, release her, and then run like hell, knowing whatever was in reach would become a projectile.

That woman could make a shoe curve around a corner better than any professional baseball player. Nine times out of ten, she had even nailed her intended victim. And the bruises were a reminder to never mess with their pazzo mamma.

Narrowing her eyes, she pressed her palms out. Basta, che cozz? You all think this is funny? I brought you into this world, and I can take all of you out with less effort than it was to bring you in.

They laughed harder at the feisty, tiny fighter. They weren’t allowed to swear in her presence, but if they pushed her buttons, Italian swear words flew as fast as her shoes.

Controlling his laughter, Sabastian told her, We mean no disrespect. Sit down and hear us out.

Still disgruntled, she made a production of giving them all the evil eye before planting herself in the chair and listening to their plan. They nearly lost her again when they disclosed how they had already given notices at their jobs.

Her