‘Hmm.’
It felt as if Carlo made sure to hold Alessio’s gaze for his next comment. ‘These guys, don’t trust them.’
Alessio’s eyes fixed on the pair.
Uh-oh. Here we go again. Get ready for Round Two . . .
‘The one in the black with the gut, that’s Sebastiano Bellomo. He’s as stupid as he looks. He’s a sheep. A follower.’
Alessio stifled a laugh. ‘And the guy in the blue?’ Alessio recognised him as Elio Martino, but he knew he needed to keep up appearances.
‘He’s your biggest concern.’
‘My biggest concern?’ Alessio’s eyes rolled over tall, blond Elio, who, by the look of his toned physique and impeccable manscaping, clearly had tickets on himself beyond the kitchen. ‘What’s his deal?’ he asked with feigned interest.
‘Elio Martino. One of the dirtiest, most untrustworthy men in the town.’
Alessio looked again. ‘Right. This Roman god?’
Carlo laughed. ‘He’s a force in the kitchen. They both are. And they are our competitors in the competition. It’s us four.’
Alessio nodded. This was what Francesca had said, too. ‘Us four . . .’ It’s all feeling very real now.
‘So they cook for—’
‘Sebastiano for Lu Ientu. Elio for Da Martino.’
A few things fell into place in Alessio’s mind. The encased rolling pin by the welcome stand at Da Martino. The claims of ‘superiore’. Elio thrived upon the power he had earned when he broke Giacomo’s long-standing title as winner of the competition.
Immediately, Alessio disliked Elio even more, and that, coupled with this new information from a second source, reinforced Elio’s position at the top of his mental Caution! watch list.
He returned his focus to Carlo. Goofy-looking, lanky Carlo, who was clearly an underdog here in town. ‘Thanks for looking out for me.’
‘I’m surprised Francesca hasn’t mentioned these things yet.’
‘She will go through everything in due course, I’m sure.’
Just then, behind them, the volleyball players cried out and Carlo and Alessio both turned to watch. It seemed a dramatic shot had missed its target. While he looked on, Alessio noticed Elio staring coldly at him. It was the same brand of steely and calculating as when they had met in the piazza, and it communicated You? Again? and Watch yourself! all in one look. It was loaded.
Then the moment was broken when Sebastiano sidled up to Elio, clearly whispering something. Elio gave his companion a sly nod, the left corner of his mouth twisting into a smile.
‘Keep an eye on him,’ Carlo reiterated quietly. ‘But keep an extra eye on Francesca when he’s around.’
Something in Alessio’s stomach lurched. ‘Francesca? Why? Are they involved?’
‘Ha!’ Carlo couldn’t restrain his guffaw. ‘Absolutely not! We all grew up together. School. A small town, no? Their fathers shared a terrible – how do you say, rivalità?’
‘Rivalry.’
‘Yes, rivalry. Allora, that rivalry extended to Francesca and Elio. Both are geniuses in the kitchen. But Elio has never forgotten how his father couldn’t out-do poor Giacomo. And now, Elio’s passion is directed at beating Francesca. Perhaps in his father’s honour too. He loves it that she herself is not allowed to compete in the festa.’
This extra layer of context clarified in Alessio’s mind why Francesca had been desperate enough to nominate him for the competition. She had no control whatsoever over the next phase of Trattoria dei Fiori’s legacy because she, Maria and Elena were all women. As outdated and unfair as it was in this day and age that they weren’t allowed to compete, she needed a man. Him. And the timing of his arrival had been perfect. Now, Alessio felt the weight of what his ‘Yes’ truly meant. It wasn’t just about this year’s festa. It was about all the feste that had come before – and whatever the future would hold for them. For her. She wanted nothing more than to defend the glory of her own pasta champion. Her papà. That responsibility now rested on his shoulders.
Alessio sighed. ‘Elio’s father is also gone?’
‘Sì, a few years ago now. He was much older. Which is why there were a number of years when Elio and Giacomo were competitors in the festa. It was brutal. The pasta version of a battle in the Colosseum.’ He gave a solemn nod. ‘I do my best to help Francesca when I can. We both do, my sister and I. But Elio is very . . .’ Carlo shrugged.
‘Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.’ Alessio saw nothing but sincerity behind Carlo’s light brown eyes. ‘Francesca’s lucky to have a friend like you in town.’
