“Nah.I’m not—”
“That’swhy.”She jabs a finger at his shoulder.“You’re picky.Never ‘in the mood’ for anything.Never touch what I put in front of you unless it’s cigars and whiskey.You eat so infrequently, I’mbaffled by all those muscles.”
I take a big bite of my sandwich and give Cora a thumbs-up.
She beams, pleased.
From what I know, Cora Ricci is their first cousin once removed.Though they simply call her “aunt.”She lost both her sons in a drug war back in Italy.Grief and severe depression took over when her husband died months later.After a suicide attempt, Stefano went to Italy himself to bring her here and got her the help she needed.
But after observing her these past few weeks, it’s become clear she tries to fill the void by mothering Lorenzo, Gio, and Stefano, using them as stand-ins for the men she lost.While steadfastly refusing to speak a lick of English.
It didn’t take me long to figure out that appreciation is her love language.She thrives on praise, on being needed, on having her efforts recognized.
Too bad Lorenzo is about as warm and appreciative as a floating iceberg.
“Whatever,” he mutters, waving her off.
Cora clucks her tongue and walks out.
Around a mouthful of sandwich, I ask, “So, why aren’t you at Mass?”
Gio and Stefano supposedly left for it hours ago.
Distractedly, he replies, “Because I know, accept, and am comfortable with the fact that I’m beyond saving.”
Efficient.Why waste time faking it, right?
His jaw clenches as he glares at the screen.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin.“Is she an ex?”
“Hmm?”he responds, still distracted.
“The woman you’re stalking.”
That gets his attention.
His gaze snaps from the screen to me.“You hacked my shit?”
“Nope.”I take another bite of my sandwich.“You’re getting better at tech now—thanks tomoi—so you’ll understand soon enough that once you’re given even a smidge of access to something, that’s all you need to create a million pathways to…well,everything.
“Fortunately for you, I’m team Castellos.Plus surveillance bores me.But I do find your obsession with this particular person interesting.Data shows you’ve been stalking her for alongtime.”
He slams his phone face-down on the desk.“Stay out of my business.”
“You make it hard to.”I gesture at the phone.“That feed dictates your mood.”
Licking a bit of sauce from the corner of my mouth, I press on, “So, tell me…what has you so irritated right now?Is it the Bugatti guy with thelushhair who slept over after their date last night?”
A low growl rumbles in his throat as he drops his head back and rubs his eyes.“Every day…everyday she does this.Poke and poke and frustrate me to no end.Maybe I should just let my brother kill her and be done with it.Should I?I think I should.”
I stifle a giggle.
He’s right.Idopoke and prod him when we’re working together.But on purpose.To pull him back from whatever edge he’s about to spiral off when that surveillance feed starts screwing with his mood.
Sometimes I do it just to test him.He has a low tolerance level, so the extent to which he puts up with me reveals how much he likes having me around.And judging by how much of my inquisitive prodding and unsolicited opinions he endures?Methinks Lorenzo Castelloreallylikes having me around.
“You won’t,” I say.“You like me too much.”
