“No.” I swallowed my food and looked over at him. “This is really good.”
“It’s our mom’s recipe,” Angelo said between bites. “She made this for us all the time. Stefan was picky when we were kids.”
“And you weren’t?” Stefan countered. “Mom made gnocchi for you. You always whined, Mommy, I want the cheesy potatoes.”
I laughed, and Angelo snarled at me.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Angelo.” I pinched his cheek and smiled. “We were all kids once, even scary Mafia guys.”
He shoved my hand away, but I thought I saw a tiny smile grace his lips.
“Dante makes this for the twins once a month,” Nico told me. “It’s a family tradition.”
Family.
They were treating me like I was one of them. It finally hit me why Dante was so mad. He didn’t share his table, or a special meal, with his employees.
He was being nice.
Well, fuck.
I glanced down the table at Dante, who fisted his fork as he chewed with his eyes on me. He had a soft spot for the twins. It wasn’t hard to see that he treated them like sons. The ten-year age difference, combined with their mother dying at a young age, must have forced him to become a father figure.
It gave me a completely different insight into the real Dante Luciano. Maybe he wasn’t that bad. On the other hand, though, I wasn’t so sure he was all that good either.
“How about your mom?” I asked Nico. “Do you guys have traditions?”
He spooned another helping of gnocchi onto his plate and shrugged. “Not really. My mom lived in Vegas my entire life. I only saw her on holidays and special occasions. And she can’t cook for shit. My dad tried to teach her but—”
“We don’t talk about Cara at the table,” Dante interrupted.
I looked at Nico. “Cara is your mom?”
He nodded. “My mom is a sore spot with Dante.”
“She’s a sore spot for all of us,” Angelo shouted. “Don’t fucking talk about whores at our dinner table.”
Nico got out of his chair, his hands balled into fists. “Use the word whore and my mother in the same sentence again, and I’ll put a bullet in your fucking skull.”
Three sets of chairs scraped across the floor at the same time.
“Threaten my brothers again,” Dante said with his gun aimed at Nico’s head, “and I’ll send your ass back to Vegas in a fucking casket.”
The twins and Dante pointed their guns at Nico’s head.
“This is fucking crazy!” I waved my arms between them. “What are you doing? Nico is your brother, too.”
“Half-brother,” Dante challenged. “The bastard. He’s not even a real Luciano.”
“He’s your father’s son, which makes him a Luciano,” I pointed out. “Look, I’m sorry for asking Nico about his mom in front of you. I didn’t know she was off-limits. This isn’t his fault. It’s mine. So will you lower the guns? Because it’s making me uncomfortable.”
“You better get used to this, college girl.” Angelo winked. “We have dinners like this a few times a month.”
“You’re family,” I said to diffuse the situation. “I don’t think you want to kill each other.”
Stefan shoved his gun in the chest holster and dropped into his chair. “Depends on the day.”
Angelo withdrew his weapon and took his place beside Dante. “Wait until the holidays. There’s usually at least one casualty.”