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Angelo snorts. “Zombies beware.”
“Preach it, brother.”
“Oh, you’re family?” Lorena asks sheepishly.
Angelo snorts again. “She’s definitely like an annoying little sister.”
I gasp. “I’ll have you know I’d be your favourite sister.”
“Favourite or not, still annoying, Alessa.”
“Has Stevie been made?” I pout
“She went her own way,” Angelo shrugs, making me burst out laughing and forget all about the rude chef looking all confused at our exchange. As if on cue, my stomach growls.
“You’re hungry,” Angelo’s expression morphs into concern. “Lorena, can we have two of whatever you’re making?”
Her mouth opens and closes like she’s debating saying something, but the working brain cells must win over, because she stays silent. I watch her like a hawk as she dishes up two portions of risotto, making sure she doesn’t spit in mine. It’s what I would have done. As soon as the plate is in front of me, I waste no time, digging like the starved heathen I am and moaning at the burst of flavours in my mouth. Wow! Wow, wow, wow. Bitchy or not, Lorena can cook.
“Thanks, Lorena. You may leave now. We’ll put away the rest.”
“But—”
“I said you may leave. You won’t be needed for a while.”
She nods, her lips a thin line, then shoots me an evil glare before taking off her apron and storming out on what must be a pair of six-inch heels. How the hell did she cook in those?
“What’s her deal?” I ask as soon as she leaves, pretending I’m not jealous of her amazing cooking skills or the fact she’s apparently slept with Dante.
“She’s the chef. Comes in three times a week and cooks for Dante and—” he stops abruptly.
“And?”
“Luca and I, whenever we’re here,” he finishes, but I know he’s withholding information.
“Who cooks for the old dude I met in the library?” I ask innocently.
Angelo’s sharp gaze snaps to me. I’d feel intimidated, but I went through a ‘sharp gaze’ school courtesy of his brother, Terence the Angry Bird himself. Nothing can phase me now.
“Fuck.”
“Who is he, Angelo?”
“That’s, uhmmm, Massimo. Our father,” he blurts out. “Shit, Dante’s gonna lose it. You can’t tell anyone you’ve met him.”
“Why?” My eyebrows draw together.
“That’s a story for another day. Just promise me you won’t tell anyone else about him.”
“What about Dante and Luca?” I ask.
“Well, you can tell them, but no one outsidelafamiglia1, okay?”
I nod. He seems serious enough for me to take notice. “Going back to Lorena…” I pause, waiting for him to elaborate on his previous explanation.
“She’s a chef.”
“A very territorial one.”
