[Elena's POV]

"You think your coffee is better?" Don Viti demanded, gripping his silver cane tight.

"I know it is," Mr. Jackson replied happily. He marched over to the massive catering station, pushed a terrified Italian barista aside, and started grinding beans.

Three minutes later, he handed a fresh cup to my grandfather.

Don Viti took a sip. His terrifying scowl faltered. He took another sip.

"The crema is thick," Don Viti admitted, looking completely shocked. "How do you achieve this ...