“You made this at the last minute out of nothing,” Emmanuelle said. “Didn’t she, Taviano? We just saw her and asked her to come in and whip something up. Good grief, Brielle, are you a chef? A bakery chef or something, because this is really good.”
Under the table, Brielle reached for Elie’s thigh. She had to make contact with him. She didn’t know why it was so important that everyone like what she made, but it was. He shifted his weight slightly toward her. “Fantastic as usual, bébé.”
“You should have hired her as a bakery chef, not as an investigator,” Vittorio said.
“I’ll hire you to work for my company,” Grace offered. “We put on events, fund-raisers, weddings, huge events. We could use someone like you exclusively.”
“She has a job,” Valentino said decisively. “All of you quit trying to steal her away from us. It wasn’t easy to get her.”
“Actually, Brielle,” Dario interrupted, and the table went silent. “This could have used a touch of lavender.”
Everyone broke out into laughter again. Brielle couldn’t help herself, Dario was so funny, even delivered in his straight-man voice. She laughed, but her gaze still strayed to Francesca and Stefano.
Francesca took a bite and exchanged a look with Stefano. She shook her head. “I really don’t like to disagree with you, Dario, but I think it’s rather perfect as it is. I have the apricot soufflé. Maybe you have the peach one.”
“I have the peach one,” Stefano said. “We could vote on it. If you lose, Dario, I get to hire her.”
“In your wildest dreams, Ferraro,” Valentino said.
Emmanuelle rolled her eyes. “Brielle is quite capable of speaking for herself. It doesn’t matter what kind of voting you do. She’s going to choose who she wants to work for.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re married to Val and he makes you say that,” Giovanni taunted.
“Just how could Val make me do anything I don’t want to do?” Emmanuelle challenged.
“All of us know that one,” Taviano said.
“That’s easy,” Ricco said at the same time.
“Just tell you no sex until you comply,” Giovanni announced with a shrug of his shoulders. “Works on you every time.”
“No sex. No sex,” Crispino chanted, clapping his hands.
Francesca threw her arms into the air. “Stefano, are you coaching him behind my back?”
Stefano burst out laughing, leaned in and kissed his exasperated wife. “Even I couldn’t get our son to say inappropriate things on cue, bambina.”
“Valentino Saldi, did you tell my brothers you threaten to withhold sex from me if I don’t do what you want me to do?” Emmanuelle sounded outraged, but she looked close to laughter.
“Why, no, Emmanuelle Saldi, I did not. Now, however, they know it’s the truth.”
Emmanuelle turned her head slowly to look at Dario. “You traitor. You scumbag traitor. I take you in and feed you to keep you from starving to death and you go behind my back and repeat private conversations to my awful brothers.”
“Emme, a conversation isn’t private if I’m there and half the neighborhood can hear you. You need to look up the word private. Besides, I lost a bet.”
“You lost a bet and so you paid it off by telling my brothers that?”
Dario raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply.
Emmanuelle glared at Stefano, who just grinned at her. “They are out of control. Completely out of control.”
“I agree,” Francesca said.
Stefano’s smirk faded. He nodded and gave his brother a solemn look. “Clean it up, you’re not two.”
“I’m two,” Crispino announced.
“Yes, you are and always getting me in trouble with that mouth of yours,” Stefano said. “But I love you for it. What are we reading tonight?”