CHAPTER SEVEN
SIENNA
I placed my hand on Terzo’s shoulder. “Don’t give up on love. The woman of your dreams is out there,” I told him, meaning every word.
Terzo smiled. “I know she is. If Stefano and Enzo can find women like that, I can too.”
Eve started to say something, but then the stoves around the room began beeping, letting us know our cakes were ready. The sound broke up our conversation, bringing us back to the task at hand.
It was time to see whether my effort had resulted in something edible or if I would have to stop by the store for a dessert to go with our dinner. I grabbed my mitts and pulled open my oven, the heat hitting my face as I reached in and carefully lifted my cake out.
It looked exactly how it was supposed to. Golden, soft, perfect. I set it down on the cooling rack, satisfied with my creation. I turned the stove off, even though I knew it would turn off by itself five minutes after the sensor detected it was empty.
“Mine is ready,” Eve said.
I watched her place a surprisingly perfect-looking cake on her cooling rack.
“It looks good,” she stated slowly before looking my way. A smile stretched across her face, disbelief morphing into pride. “It looks good,” she repeated, all giddy like a kid who’d just ridden a bike without training wheels for the first time.
“Yay!” I exclaimed, genuinely happy for her, knowing how much this meant to her. “Good job, Eve.”
If she could master cooking, she’d feel like she had something more to offer Enzo. I hated that she thought she needed to prove herself that way, but I understood the feeling all too well. Terzo placed his cake down last, setting it on the rack. His was just as pretty as ours.
“We all did great,” Eve said, staring at all our cakes.
I had to admit, I was proud of us. The teacher walked up and down the aisles as the cakes cooled, inspecting everyone’s finished product with a critical eye.
“Looking good,” she said as she walked, offering nods of approval here and there.
When she reached us, her smile widened as she stared at our cakes. “Good job, ladies...” she hesitated, her gaze landing on Terzo. “I mean, class,” she corrected, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.
Terzo winked at her, making her blush deepen before she continued to the front of the room. I bit back a smile. The DeLuca charm was as potent as ever.
“Let’s wait ten minutes for the cakes to cool, then you’ll be able to cut a small piece to taste,” the instructor announced. “There are boxes in the drawer for you to box up your cakes and take them home. While the cakes are cooling, let’s get our stations cleaned up.”
“I’m so excited to taste mine,” Eve stated as she wiped down her station.
We cleaned up our work areas, tossing used measuring cups into the sink and wiping down countertops. We never washed our dishes. I assumed the staff came in after we left and cleaned up the place.
I placed my notepad in my purse while Eve did the same. Terzo returned his to his backpack. Once we were done, we grabbed our little saucers and cutlery. It was time for the main event.
The taste test.
My mouth watered with anticipation. But as I stared down at my cake, I wondered if I should just take it home and let Stefano be the first to taste it. I think he’d like that. Deciding to leave mine untouched, I turned to my bestie.
Eve grabbed a knife, cut a small piece of her cake, blew on it, then brought it to her mouth. I watched her chew and waited to see how she’d react. Her expression shifted from excitement to confusion, then to horror, in the span of three seconds.
“How is it?” I asked, frowning when she cringed.
“Why is it salty?” she groaned, grabbing a napkin to spit the cake out.
I blinked. “What do you mean, salty?”
“Salty, like... salty,” she said, reaching for her water bottle, uncapping it, and downing a good bit of it. She grimaced as she swallowed, clearly trying to wash the taste from her mouth.
“Let me taste it,” Terzo offered, cutting a small piece of her cake. He took a big bite and chewed. Not even a second later, he was coughing. “So... much... salt,” he groaned, reaching for a napkin.
Eve grabbed the recipe card and scanned it, her finger tracing each line.
“I followed this, and I listened to the instructions from the chef,” Eve stated, sounding defeated as Terzo drank a half bottle of water in one sip.
Her shoulders slumped, the excitement from earlier completely deflated. I moved over and looked at her ingredients, searching for the sugar and salt. They were both clear bottles, labeled in Italian, not English.
Perhaps that’s what threw her off. We’d chosen a class that had an English-speaking instructor, yet many of the ingredients were labeled in Italian.
“I’m guessing you added salt when you were supposed to add sugar,” I told her.
She reached for the bottles. Glaring at them, she sighed.
“I just grabbed a bottle of white shit, not even reading it,” she admitted.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed, shaking my head.
“I guess a salted lemon cake could be a thing,” I joked.
Terzo burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny,” Eve mumbled. “This cake is too pretty to be this damn salty.”
Her words only made us laugh harder.
“I want to try again,” Eve insisted.
“You’ll have to do it at home,” I told her.
“I will. Wait. I don’t have a stove,” she whined.
“You can use my place,” Terzo offered.
“Do you want Enzo to kill you?” Eve asked him, raising an eyebrow.
“Bring my cousin with you. You and Stefano should come too,” he told me. “I’ll make dinner. Eve makes the dessert. Another attempt at a lemon cake. And Sienna...” He paused, looking thoughtful. “What do you want to bring?”
“I make a hell of a cherry amaretto sour. I’ll make us drinks,” I volunteered.
“Sounds like a plan. It gives me a chance to redeem myself,” Eve beamed, her spirits lifting at the idea.
“Should we invite Uncle Pietro?” I asked, knowing the old man would get tipsy and tell us all the crazy things Enzo and Stefano did when they were younger.
“Yeah, we’ve got to invite the old man. My brother, too,” Terzo nodded. “I’ll probably invite Rome Cattaneo if he’s back from the States by then.”
“Rome left?” Eve asked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“Yeah. He had to go home and help his brothers with something,” Terzo replied, boxing up his perfect cake. “Last time we talked, he said his brother was now the Don of the Cattaneo family, and he was staying for a while to make sure no one tried to challenge his brother for the title.”
I didn’t know Rome Cattaneo well. Stefano had mentioned him a few times, usually in the context of business dealings. I knew he was managing the casinos that the Cattaneos had established over here in Italy.
He was also creating hacking software for the DeLucas. And Stefano mentioned him using one of their facilities to create pharmaceutical drugs. So the guy was a businessman, a hacker, and a pharmaceutical scientist. A jack of all trades. I could see why the DeLucas were interested in him.
“We can have the dinner when he returns in a couple of weeks, and that would be his welcome back party or something,” Terzo told us, adjusting the lid on his cake box.
“Sounds good to me,” I muttered, wondering if I could convince the guy to create a special drug for me to use against my enemies.
Something untraceable, maybe. Something that would make them suffer without killing them immediately. Or something that would make them talk, spill their secrets before I ended them. I’d think of the specifics later.
“Let me taste a piece of your cake,” Eve told Terzo.
“Why didn’t you ask before I boxed it up?” he complained, opening the box.
He cut her a slice and placed it on her saucer. She took a bite and closed her eyes, sighing deeply.
“No fair. This is so good,” she whispered, staring at his cake with envy. “And you haven’t even put the powdered sugar on top yet.”
Oh, right, the powdered sugar.
I grabbed the small sifter of sugar and began sprinkling it over my cake, creating a delicate white layer that looked like fresh snow. When we ate ours later, I’m sure some would linger at the corners of Stefano’s mouth for me to lick off.
Smiling, I sifted more sugar over my cake. I would’ve preferred to have lemon or at least cream cheese icing on my cake. But that wasn’t what this class called for.
“Let me taste yours, Sienna,” Eve insisted, eyeing my cake.
“No can do, babe,” I told her, continuing to dust my cake. “Stefano will be the first one to taste this baby.”
“I swear, you all just be doing me any kind of way,” Eve complained, watching Terzo sprinkle powdered sugar over his cake.
“What are you going to do with your cake?” I asked Eve as I finished the final touches on mine.
“I’m taking it home and throwing it away,” she replied, carefully boxing up her salty masterpiece. “There’s no saving this thing. I would throw it away here, but I don’t want these heffas to know that I messed up.”
Mrs. Esposito clapped her hands, drawing everyone’s attention to the front of the room.
“Great job today, everyone,” she announced. “Next class, we’ll be working on preparing pasta from scratch. No more of those store-bought noodles.”
“I’ve never made my own noodles,” Terzo said, wiping sugar from his hands.
Eve’s eyes lit up with a competitive gleam I knew all too well.
“Next weekend, let’s make a bet on who can make the best noodles,” she suggested, the failure of her cake already forgotten in the face of a new challenge.
I swear, she was so competitive, even when it came to things she wasn’t good at.
“You’re on,” Terzo agreed. “Don’t get mad at me if I beat you.”
“I don’t get mad, young one. I get even,” Eve told him before staring over at me. “You in?”
“What does the winner get?” I asked, curious about what stakes they’d set.
“Hmmm....” Eve hummed. “Let’s all think of something by Wednesday and let each other know then,” she suggested.