“Double espresso,” Roberto says. “To go.”
She nods, taps the screen, looks to me. Up close, I can see the faint furrow of a pimple she covered with powder. God, she’s so young and earnest. Was I ever that young and innocent?
Probably not.
“Black coffee and a caramel macchiato,” I say, ordering for Caterina as well. “And—” I tip my head toward the window where the prosecutor’s office sits. “You get folks from the building across the street in here a lot?”
Roberto’s foot nudges mine. A warning. He doesn’t even bother turning, but I know he’s telling me: Don’t.
I ignore him. I’ll ignore good advice when the cost is small and the return is information.
“All the time,” Lexi says, bright, delighted to have a question she can answer without looking at the screen. “They’re like half our business, honestly.” She leans a little like she’s letting me in on a secret everyone knows. “Mornings are wild.”
I smile back, the version that shows teeth without threatening. “Maybe you can help me out?”
Roberto’s exhale ghosts across his teeth. “Luca.”
I keep going. “There’s a new prosecutor. Dark hair, a bit tall, blue eyes.”
Of course I did my research on her. I would be stupid not to.
Lexi lights up like I flipped a switch. “Oh! Yeah, I know her.” She grins, the real kind that touches the eyes. “She’s nice. Always nice and says thank you, even when she’s in a rush.” She tilts her head, thinking. “I don’t really know her name, though.”
“That’s all right. I just want to take something over for her. What does she usually order?” I ask, casually. People want to be helpful. It makes them feel like they belong to the story.
Lexi doesn’t even blink. “Large latte with two shots,” she says, obviously happy she can help. “Sometimes iced if it’s hot out.”
Roberto’s sigh this time carries a little more weight, but he keeps his face neutral.
“Add one of those as well,” I say to Lexi, and add a wink because it costs me nothing, and it amuses me the way color climbs into her cheeks. “All to go.”
She taps, blushes, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear that didn’t need tucking. “Name?”
“Derek. Charlie,” I say, pointing at Roberto. “The macchiato is Kate, and… Panini on the latte.”
Roberto groans.
The girl’s marker pauses, and she furrows her brow. “Panini?”
“Yes,” I assure her.
She continues writing and turns away.
Roberto angles his body to shield a look between us. “What are you doing?” The words are whisper-soft.
“Nothing,” I say. “Just giving the good prosecutor an afternoon pick-me-up.”
“With stupid puns?” he says. “Eleven years, and he comes out doing dad jokes. Ma che cazzo!”
I smile lazily. “I couldn’t resist. It’s a cute name, huh? Makes me hungry every time I hear it.”
He gives me the long-suffering face that says he expects better and that I should know better. “Luca, please. I beg you. Do not mess with this prosecutor. She’s not a weak point.”
“I know she isn’t,” I say and grab a sugar packet to flip between my fingers as we step to the pickup area. “But her routine is.”
“One joke is cute. Make a habit of it, and it’s a problem.” Roberto keeps his voice low.
“It’s a coffee, Roberto,” I say dryly. “Hell, it’s not even that, not really. It’s alatte.”
