CHAPTER SIX
SIENNA
As Eve and I pulled our aprons on, a few more students entered the room and went to their stations, chatting and laughing along the way. I watched them settle in, mentally clocking their movements, a habit I couldn’t shake even in a cooking class.
Then Mrs. Esposito entered, looking cute in her little chef’s coat, her dark hair pulled up into a high ponytail. The woman was in her early thirties and also taught a yoga class that Eve and I planned to join soon.
“Hello, class,” she greeted, moving to her station at the front of the room.
“Hello, Chef,” we all replied, some more enthusiastically than others.
As she talked, telling us what we were preparing today and going over the ingredients at our station, I stared toward the door. He was late. That was unusual. Normally, he arrived before we did.
“Psst...” I hissed at Eve.
She looked my way. “What? The teacher is talking. You’re going to get us in trouble again.”
“Did he text you and say he would be late?” I asked, keeping my voice low as the instructor talked.
She shook her head, then went back to looking through her ingredients. I needed to let her focus. If I didn’t, and her food came out bad, she’d blame it on me.
“We’re going to work on this together,” the instructor told us. “I’ll be preparing mine as you prepare yours. While our cakes are baking, you’ll watch a video I’ve prepared that covers other baking recipes you can try at home. Be sure to take notes.”
“Did you bring a pencil and paper this time?” Eve asked me, raising an eyebrow.
Shit.
“I forgot,” I whispered.
“So, did I. We’re the worst students ever,” she muttered, causing me to chuckle.
I blamed my forgetfulness on Stefano. I’d been too distracted to think about anything other than him. The teacher started the lesson, demonstrating how to measure flour properly. We followed along, mixing ingredients and stirring right along with her.
“You’re using the wrong measuring cup,” I whispered to Eve.
She looked over at my cup, then back at hers.
“Ohh,” she said, her eyes widening. “I forgot there’s a dry and a liquid cup. I wish they’d simplify this shit and designate just one cup for everything.”
Smiling, I went back to work, carefully following the instructions. We also had recipe cards at our stations, just in case we wanted to get ahead of the instructor and do our own thing. I wasn’t a great cook by any means, but I could follow directions.
When the door opened, I raised my head, instantly alert. Oh, it was just him. All of the ladies in the class greeted him, some of them smiling entirely too hard at our little cousin, with their married asses.
With a backpack slung over his shoulder, he rushed to the back of the room where we were, a few hungry gazes following him. I caught one woman actually licking her lips, and I had to suppress an eye roll.
“My apologies for being late, le mie bellezze,” he told us.
My beauties.
“You good?” Eve asked, stirring her ingredients with more force than necessary.
“I am. Just had to stop and handle some business before heading this way,” Terzo replied. “How are my two favorite ladies doing?”
“I’m doing fine,” I answered, stirring my ingredients, wishing she’d allow us to use the electric mixers. That would save some time.
“Me too,” Eve replied to Terzo, though the way she was squinting at her bowl suggested otherwise.
“Terzo,” the teacher called out, her tone softening noticeably. Even she wasn‘t immune to his DeLuca charm. “Do you need me to go over the instructions for the lemon cake again?”
“No, thank you, chef. I think I’ve got it,” he said, placing his backpack on the bench behind us, next to our purses.
“You sure you got it?” Eve asked.
After putting on his apron, Terzo stepped up to the middle station between us and rolled up his sleeves.
“It’s a few steps to this,” Eve told him, gesturing at her mess of a workstation as evidence. “Plus, you’ve got to use the right measuring cups.”
He shrugged. “It’s just a cake. How hard can it be?”
“Okay, Mr. Cocky,” Eve teased.
I chuckled, wondering what the hell Terzo’s finished product was going to taste like. A couple of women nearby kept glancing toward the back of the room, whispering to each other, but Terzo didn’t look their way.
His attention was on the cake he was preparing, without any instructions from the chef. Eve leaned in slightly, watching his bowl.
“You’ve been holding out on us,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” Terzo asked, not looking up from his bowl.
“This,” she said, pointing at his mixture. “You’re doing this like a pro. You’re not even reading the recipe card.”
I nodded in agreement, reaching for my baking pan as the teacher explained how to prepare the pan before pouring our mixture in. My mixture wasn’t quite ready. It still had a few clumps in it.
“Were you pretending not to know how to cook in the other classes?” Eve asked Terzo.
“No. Those dishes were new to me,” he whispered as he worked. “I followed along with the instructor so that I wouldn’t mess them up. But this is just a simple cake. I can do this with my eyes closed.”
“So you already knew how to cook?” Eve asked.
Terzo nodded, talking as he worked. “Unlike Enzo and Stefano, I’m a single man. Of course, I have to know how to cook. My brother is better at it than I am, though. He’s the one who cooked for me when we were kids.”
Wait. What?
Where had his parents been? My gaze jerked to Eve, only to find her looking at me too. She seemed just as curious as I did. There was a story there, and we wanted to know what it was.
Before I could ask Terzo about his parents, the teacher told us to start pouring our mixtures into our pans. My questions would have to wait. But they would definitely be asked. We poured our mixtures into the required pans and placed them in our individual ovens beneath our stations.
Terzo was a little behind us, but he managed to get his done faster than expected and into the oven. While we waited for our cakes to bake, we watched the video on the middle screen at our station.
It showed us a few baking recipes to try at home. Fancy tarts and cute pastries that looked way beyond my skill level. Terzo pulled three notepads and pens from his backpack and handed Eve and me one, his thoughtfulness catching me off guard.
Smiling, Eve said, “You’re a lifesaver. What would we do without you?”
Terzo blushed, looking adorable. “You two would be lost without me. Just don’t tell my cousins that.”
“Trust me, I wouldn’t dare tell Stefano that,” I replied, picturing my Beast’s scowl at the mere suggestion that I needed Terzo for anything.
They took notes, scribbling diligently as the instructor on screen demonstrated folding techniques. I jotted down a few things, but mostly doodled as the video played, my mind a thousand miles away.
What was Stefano doing right now? Was he thinking about me? Was he worrying about my safety? Probably. The man couldn’t help himself. Part of me found his constant concern suffocating.
Yet, another part, a part that I was still getting used to, felt cherished by his devotion. No one had ever worried about me before, not really. No one except Eve. Oh, and Miss Davies and the ladies at Blue Ridge Inn back home.
But their love and concern were a different feeling from Stefano’s. I felt guilty as hell for wishing he’d tone it down some. I knew the moment he did, I’d noticed, and then I’d start worrying about whether he still loved me or not. I realized that I wanted it both ways, and I couldn’t have that.
What is wrong with you, Sienna?
“This would be a nice dessert to prepare for a lady friend,” Terzo said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I looked at the screen and saw a cherry custard being prepared, topped with fresh berries and chocolate curls.
“It looks easy to make,” he continued. “And women like cherries, right?” he asked, his expression so earnestly curious it was almost comical.
I shrugged. “I do, but I’m not sure all women like them. That’s something you’d have to find out for yourself from the lady you like,” I whispered.
“Speaking of ladies,” Eve rasped, leaning in close. “Have you met anyone you like yet?”
He shook his head. “I’ve met some women, but none that make me go, Hey, she’s someone I want to make cherry custard for.”
I nearly snorted with laughter. For all his deadly skills, there was something endearingly innocent about Terzo DeLuca. I couldn’t help but treat him as family and couldn’t see why Enzo and Stefano were always threatening to dismember him.
“It’s not funny,” Terzo said, his brows furrowing. “You two got Stefano and Enzo going crazy, trying to make the city safe for you all. I want someone to do that for.”
“You want that kind of stress?” I asked, thinking about how Stefano’s worries were eating him alive. Why would anyone volunteer for that?
“Yeah. I want someone I’d kill to protect. Someone I’d burn this city down over. Someone I can cook for and provide for. I want someone to love me the way you two love my cousins.”
Aww. He was such a sweetie. I really wanted Terzo to find love.
But I also knew not every woman was equipped to handle a DeLuca.
They were intense men who lived dangerous lives, lives that could get their loved ones killed.
You had to be brave to fall for a DeLuca.
And knowing how to defend yourself was a must.
“What happened to that one girl you took to a movie a couple of weeks ago?” Eve asked, tapping her pen against her notepad.
“Oh, yeah. What was her name?” I said, trying to remember the details Terzo had shared. He’d seemed excited about the date when he’d mentioned it.
“Her name was Maisie, and she was nice. I was excited to go out with her because she’d just moved here from France and didn’t know anything about my family or me. But, after one date, she asked me never to call her again,” Terzo told us, his expression falling slightly.
“What?” Eve snapped. “What happened?”