My heart jolts at his name.
“Roberto, Antonio, Caterina, Nico, Vito, and Lucia, her husband, and two daughters,” she says, rocking back and forth. She blows out a breath. “I don’t want to add any pressure to you, but it’s a bit of a big night for us. Somewhat of a family reunion.”
“I see,” I say, but I really don’t.
“It was great of Giovanni to hire you for this. Luca has a chef for the house, and she’s great, but he wanted something different for tonight, you know?”
I don’t, but again: “Of course, I understand.”
“And we all know I can’t cook worth a damn,” Elena says with a grin. “I can recite case law in my sleep, but I can’t poach an egg without an adult in the room.”
We all snort. The tension in my neck drops another notch. I didn’t expect that.
But it comes right back full force when a tall man steps into the kitchen.
A man who looks like he’s been walking into rooms and taking charge of them his whole life. Dark jeans. Dark sweater. Dark hair swept back away from a handsome face with strong features. He takes it in fast—me, the island, the labeled cambros, the cooler, the baby. He doesn’t say a word.
I know who he is before Elena says anything. The jaw. The eyes. The temperature change.
He doesn’t look at me right away. He looks at Elena. Everything in him softens a degree that would be funny if it weren’t so human.
“Panini, you burned water once,” he says fondly.
“The pot had it out for me,” Elena says, dead serious.
Luca’s gaze finally cuts to me. I straighten without meaning to.
“This is Bianca,” Elena says, tipping her chin my way. “She’s feeding us tonight.”
“Bianca,” he repeats, voice even. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for having me,” I say. My tongue wants to stick to the roof of my mouth. I keep my hands visible on the island so I don’t clench them.
He steps closer, not looming, just... present. “Vivian treating you right?”
“She is,” I say. “Everything’s in order.”
“Got everything you need for tonight?”
“I believe so.”
He glances at the walk-in.
“The langoustines Giovanni promised are in?”
“Yes.”
“You happy with them?”
“They’re lively,” I say.
He nods once like that’s the only answer he wanted. “Good.” His eyes come back to mine. “Tonight is for family. No theatre.”
“I can do that.”
A beat. He studies me, and I fight the urge to shuffle under his gaze. “You should know that in this house, we eat and mind our business.” Not a threat. A boundary.
I think.
