“Fair enough,” he agreed, nodding.
“You could sit, you know,” I said, waving toward the stools.
“Didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
“You’ll break in and steal my food, no problem, but sitting in my chair is too presumptuous?” I shot back as I passed him in the kitchen, putting on coffee I didn’t need or particularly want just to have something to do.
“So who is Lorenzo and Celeste?”
“Lorenzo is thacapo dei capi.”
“The what now?” I asked, turning to look at him, finding him studying me with scrunched brows. “Gee, sorry I’m not up on my mafia lingo.”
“The boss. There are five Families. Each Family has its own boss. Under the bosses are the underbosses. Under the underbosses are the capos. Under the capos are the soldiers. But on top of all of their bosses, is the boss of all bosses. Thecapo dei capi.”
“Oh, alright. Sure. So then who is Celeste? His wife?”
“His mother,” Salvatore said, and I swear all the jealousy washed through and out of me like a wave. “What?” he asked, catching the strange look that must have been on my face.
And since I couldn’t exactly tell him that I’d been momentarily jealous of a woman who’d cooked for him in the past, I rushed to cover.
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I asked instead.
“I’m not telling you anything that isn’t already public knowledge,” he said, shrugging. “Where were you?”
“Are you my keeper?” I asked, stiffening.
“Just curious. Not saying you have to tell me.”
“I was dropping my sister back off at campus. She came over for dinner.”
“Explains the dishes,” he said, and I couldn’t quite tell if he was actually maybe momentarily jealous that I’d possibly spend my evening with a man, or if I was just sort of hoping he was jealous. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”
“Yeah. Wren. She was born when I was thirteen.”
“Still puts her a little old for college, no?”
“You’re never too old to get an education,” I said, then immediately cringed at how much of a teacher I sounded like right then. “She decided not to go when she was younger. But she’s really enjoying it now.”
“You got a car?” he asked.
“What?”
“You said you dropped her off.”
“Oh, no. I, ah, I took the cab with her, then back here.”
“Why?”
I didn’t want to answer that.
It was touchy territory.
“I’m overprotective, I guess,” I said, reaching for mugs.
“Your sister, she look like you?” he asked.
“Oh, no. She’s so gorgeous. I mean, drop-dead pretty. We have the same smile, though.”