“Quaint little place, isn’t it?”
Cara’s head popped up, and her nerves instantly bloomed at the sight of Frankie Ricci. He seemed relaxed, with his hands shoved in his pockets and a small smile on his face.
The coffee shop buzzed with noise around them.
“Frankie, hey,” Cara greeted.
“Studying?”
She closed her spread-open books. “Trying. Sit.”
He did, taking the only other chair at the table. She couldn’t help but wonder, when he looked at her, was he seeing Lea and not her?
“You all right?” Frankie asked.
Cara shrugged. “So, so.”
“I didn’t expect to get a call from you, and especially not one to meet up.”
“I, uh … was in a shitty place for a bit.”
Cara packed her books away. It had taken her months just to gain up the courage to contact Frankie, never mind considering what they would actually talk about. She had lots to ask and say. Whether he would answer … that was the question.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet me,” Cara said.
Frankie leaned back in the chair, his posture softening. “No problem. I noticed you’ve been quiet lately.”
“Quiet?”
“Not so … out and about.” Frankie smiled, adding, “With the boss.”
“Gian.”
He lifted a hand as if to say, who else.
Cara cleared her throat. “I haven’t been out with Gian in three months.”
“Ah.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“Because I’m not,” he replied. “I’m even less surprised because I know his wife has taken a more active role in his business side of life. More than she ever did when they first got married. Kind of forces you into the back seat, doesn’t it?”
Cara bristled. “I’m not with him at all.”
“I didn’t assume that, either.”
Cara checked her impulsive defensiveness. “I’m sorry, don’t mind me. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. I feel like everyone I met knew what was happening, everybody except for me. No one thought to tell me that he was married, or that I was an affair.”
Frankie’s expression didn’t change. “Define ‘affair’ for me, Cara.”
“Why?”
“Because your definition of it won’t fit with a lot of people’s opinions of the word.”
“Really?”
Frankie nodded once. “That’s what I said.”
“He’s married.”
“Yes.”
“He was involved with me in a relationship.”
“Again, yes,” Frankie said.
“Then that is an affair,” Cara pointed out.
Frankie still didn’t look entirely bothered by Cara’s reasoning. “I mean, technically, sure. But only because men who join our … thing, aren’t allowed to be divorced, for the most part. Some do, sure, but they know they’re never going fucking anywhere. Gian, being an underboss at the time, couldn’t afford something like a divorce, given the circumstances of his marriage.”
“Circumstances like?” Cara pressed.
“That’s something he’d have to answer. I just know arrangements aren’t usually made to be broken.”
“He was still having an affair with me. He made me his mistress and he didn’t even have the decency to tell me.”
“Because he didn’t have paper stamped from a proper divorce,” Frankie replied softly. “After how many years of being separated from his wife, is he allowed to have a relationship with someone else? Even though they were clearly separated, why do words like affair have to be tossed into it? Why does the fact he’s married—but again, separated—have to be the first thing to be brought up in conversation? Seems unfair to him.”
“That’s easy for you to say, to defend his actions, sure. But people still consider her to be his wife. They are still married.” Cara glanced away. “Does it seem unfair because you, too, were miserable in your relationship with your wife, and occasionally found a happy pause with my sister?”
Frankie blew out a slow breath. “A happy pause?”
“You’re still with your wife, aren’t you?”
“Yes. We have one child, a girl. Our first boy is on the way, due in a month. We’re very much together. Happily, I might add.”
“Happily. Even after what you did?”
“My wife and I were a lot like Lea and I were, before the pregnancy thing got in the way. Casual, no strings, and we didn’t get too deep with one another on an emotional level. And then the pregnancy came, so our family forced us to do the right thing.” Frankie’s tone twisted bitterly, and his lips curved into a sneer. “We didn’t want to be married. She didn’t want me around, and I didn’t want to be there, either. You think she didn’t know? She knew, but she didn’t care. She didn’t consider us together, even if everybody else did because we weren’t divorced.”
“Oh,” Cara murmured.
“Our unhappiness meant nothing to everyone else, as long as we continued doing the right thing for who we are,” Frankie continued with a heavy sigh.
“And so, Lea …”
“Was there,” he said, “and it was stupid and easy, but it hurt us both a lot, too.”
“And what about your wife?”
“Our daughter was born, and I was over there a lot more. I stayed with her, to help with the baby and whatever else. You could say the baby brought us closer, as silly as that might sound. It’d been a while since I had seen Lea at all when she died,” Frankie admitted, frowning. “There was no proper breakup or goodbye, whatever. It was hard, and it set me back for a while with my wife because I felt like I couldn’t explain what was happening inside my head. Circumstances being what they were, and all.”
“But did you?”
“Eventually.” Frankie chuckled. “She’s pretty amazing, my wife.”
“Did you love my sister?” Cara dared to ask.
“Not in the right way,” Frankie said without even thinking about it. “Not in a way she should have been, not like I do with my wife now. It took a while to figure that out, too.”
“In an unhealthy way?”
“Exactly.”
Cara tapped her fingernails to the table, settled in her heart, yet restless in her soul. “Thanks for meeting up with me to talk about this. I know it’s private, and you really didn’t need to tell me anything, if you didn’t want to.”
“I don’t think this was only for you to talk and learn about Lea.”
“Well—”
“I mean, you can say that, but I don’t think it is. I think that you’ve gotten yourself tangled up in your own situation with a man, and like your sister, you keep running—”
“I haven’t gone back once, actually.”
“But you consider it. You want to.”
Cara wouldn’t look Frankie in the eye. “I’m not like Lea, and I’m not like your wife, Frankie. I have a line that I don’t want to cross, and I didn’t appreciate being forced over it without even knowing what was happening.”
“Fair enough. Question for you, then.”
“Sure.”
“Had Gian said upfront that he had a wife—estranged for years, basically separated from, whatever—would you have continued seeing him?”
“I don’t know,” Cara answered.
But her voice wavered.
She had taken a second to answer.
Frankie continued staring at her, and in that moment, she didn’t think he looked at her and saw Lea at all. He just saw a confused, sad woman.
“I think you do know, Cara. Again, circumstances, and all. They make all the difference.”
Cara made a dismissive sound. “Well, it certainly does now, anyway. Like you said, his wife is present, apparently.”
“Public opinion counts for too much in this life, unfortunately, and we made men are entirely to blame for that, too.”
She didn’t reply to that.
She didn’t know how to.
Cara fidgeted in an attempt to soothe her nerves as the maître D’ of the posh restaurant scrolled through reservations on a tablet. It didn’t help, and considering it had been months since she had dressed up and gone out on a formal date, she felt all kinds of awkward.
“Name?” the man asked.
“Rossi. Cara.”
“Ah, here we are. Follow me.”
Cara managed to get distracted by the high-vaulted ceilings of the restaurant, and the crystal chandeliers hanging over every single table. She was led closer to the open concept kitchen of the restaurant, and further away from the bar.
“Miss,” the maître D’ said, bringing Cara from her daze. “Your table.”
Cara thanked the man, and sat down at the empty table. Checking her phone, she noted she wasn’t early, but she wasn’t late, either.
Nathan—the doctor she met at the café—arrived less than five minutes after she had sat down, wearing a proper suit and a smile. “Cara.”
He took her hand, bent down, and kissed two of her knuckles, allowing her to stay seated. Then, he too took the only other chair available at the table.
“Why do you seem surprised to see that I showed up?” Cara asked.
Nathan laughed, taking the menus from the server before shooing the man away. “No promises, remember? That’s what you told me when we met. I get a random text, just as I’m coming out of a routine surgery, that asks about dinner, and nothing else. That doesn’t seem a little on-the-fence to you?”
Cara had to give him that. “All right, fair enough.”
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. And this place is …” Cara waved a hand high. “Amazing.”
“It helps to know people sometimes,” Nathan joked. “The owner is a friend from way back. I always get reservations last minute, when others can’t.
“Nice to know.”
“Drinks before food?”
“No on the drinks. I think I’ll let you order the food for both of us. Surprise me.”
Nathan flashed her with a smile. There was nothing necessarily wrong with the man. He was charming, good-looking, and decent, by all standards. He looked fit, well-dressed, and had a good path in his life. He was everything that she should want in a man, because he was safe and nice and appropriate.
Cara felt nothing looking at him.
Nathan did nothing for her.
Sad, really.
She just wanted to feel normal again.
It didn’t help that it felt like someone was watching her. Cara tried to brush the odd sensation off and ignore it. Despite regretting her spur of the moment decision to text Nathan for a date, Cara decided to stick it out.
It was only after the food had arrived, and Cara picked at the dish set in front of her, that Nathan cleared his throat loudly.
Cara glanced up at him. “Yes?”
“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”
Had he been talking?
Ouch.
“Sorry,” Cara said. “I’m not very good company, am I?”
Nathan smiled, but she could see the truth in his stare. “Let’s be honest here, Cara. We’re not going to repeat this, are we?”
“Probably not. It’s not you … it’s me, really. I’ve got no business going on dates at the moment, I think. I thought trying might help. It didn’t.”
“Yet, you asked me out tonight.”
“A shitty attempt at something different,” Cara said in explanation.
Nathan didn’t look like he understood, but who could?
Cara was a mess.
And not in a good way.
Nathan took her rejection in style, thankfully. Although, he was quieter through the rest of the meal. He offered to walk Cara out of the restaurant once they were done, but she only agreed to let him walk her to the bar. She didn’t want a drink, just a second to sit alone and think.
At the bar, Nathan leaned in, his hand resting on her lower back, and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for coming out with me tonight.”
Cara laughed lightly. “You’ve got to be one of the strangest men I have ever met. Rejection doesn’t bother you a bit, does it?”
“We win some, we lose some.”
“Thanks for … not being an asshole.”
Nathan’s grin widened, and Cara let him kiss her cheek once more. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Cara. You do have my number, in case you ever want to use it.”
But she wouldn’t use it.
Cara watched Nathan stroll out of the restaurant with his hands in his pockets, and no worse for wear than he had been when he first arrived. The bartender took her order for ice water in a glass, and Cara surveyed the rest of the restaurant while she waited.
It was only when her gaze landed on a familiar pair of dark eyes that she finally understood why it felt like someone had been watching her.
Gian.
He sat at a corner table, tucked away in a quieter part of the restaurant with dim lighting, and what looked to be a glass of whiskey in front of him. Across from him sat an older gentleman, dressed just as well as he was, although the man was several pounds heavier around his middle. His guest seemed entirely oblivious to the fact that Gian was no longer engaged in their conversation, but rather, focused on Cara at the bar like she was the only person in the room.
His stare did not feel like it usually did.
It was hard.
So cold.
Angry, even.
Those dark eyes of his pinned her in place, lips smoothed into a thin, grim line, and his sharp jaw tensed as he looked her over. She didn’t miss the slide of his gaze darting to the left, in the direction Nathan had gone. His hand clenched around his glass tight enough for Cara to see his knuckles go white.
Great.
Cara would recognize that look anywhere, even if Gian had no business sporting it. He was fucking jealous.
All over, unnecessarily, completely jealous. And fuck, it looked good on him. Like every other goddamn expression he wore, from his indifference to his rage, to his sweetness in the mornings, and the way he looked when he fucked her. It all looked damn good.
She had just spent a little more than an hour with a man who was everything that Gian was not, in certain ways. She hadn’t managed to feel anything for him, not even an ounce of the confusing mess she felt with just a glance at Gian Guzzi.
How was that fair?
She should be over this ridiculous mess by now.
Even Gian had told her that she would be fine—that she was the kind of woman who could fall again and again, yet manage to brush herself off and move on with her life. Yet, there she was, not moving the fuck on.
Frustrated, Cara turned away from Gian, refusing to meet his stare again or acknowledge his presence. She had gone months without running into him in the city, and now, in a matter of just a couple of weeks, she had run into him twice.
Someone from up above was laughing at her. Clearly, she had no guardian angels looking out for her.
She snatched up the glass of ice water when the bartender finally brought her the drink, and took a sip. Maybe, if she just pretended like she hadn’t noticed Gian twenty feet away, he would opt to go the same route she did.
Cara hoped for too much.
Just as she finished her water and slid the glass back across the bar, she felt his presence slip in behind her. It was fucking crazy and stupid and intense how that worked. The very fact that he didn’t even need to speak, or make a noise, and she just knew.
Knew that he was there.
Knew that he was looking at her.
Knew him.
“Are you going to corner me somewhere and make me talk again?” Cara asked without turning around.
“No,” Gian said, his voice a rough murmur.
“Good, because I’m about to leave.”
“Is your date waiting outside?”
“That’s none of your business,” Cara replied.
“Maybe not, but I asked, Cara.”
She turned slowly to face Gian, taking note that he still seemed a hell of lot more tense than he normally did. Even with his hands shoved in his pockets, she could still see his unease in his narrowed gaze and tight jaw.
“You have no business asking anything,” Cara reminded him.
Gian’s jaw ticked. “So you don’t want to answer, then?”
“There’s nothing to tell, and you don’t get to ask.”
“I—”
“Don’t you have a guest at your table?” she interrupted, her annoyance rising fast.
“It was over ten minutes ago, but it took him this long to realize I wasn’t interested in the conversation he was offering. Enough about me, let’s get back to you.”
Cara bristled. “Excuse me?”
“Who was that man?”
“None of your bus—”
“Cara.” The quiet way he said her name, so heavy and thick, made her back straighten as a shiver crawled up her spine. Damn him. Gian took one step closer to Cara, ensuring she couldn’t move, as she was backed into the goddamn bar. “At least tell me who he is, that’s all.”
“A date, someone I met. Happy?”
Gian’s eyes flashed with his jealousy, and she hated him for that, too.
“No, I’m not happy.”
“Well, don’t ask if you don’t really want to know.”
“How long?” he asked.
“I’m not answering that one.”
“I’ve seen him here before, with the owner. I could always … ask around.”
Cara stiffened a bit. “You have no right to do that, Gian. Whether or not I see someone, or go out with someone, or fuck someone, isn’t for you to know or have an opinion on. I’m not yours, now. You don’t get a say in anything I do. Learn that, and fast.”
By the time she had finished her tirade, her voice had turned into a harsh whisper.
Gian barely blinked a lash at her rage.
“It fucked me up,” he said, shrugging one shoulder, “seeing you out with somebody else. Smiling like you do, and it just … fucked me up, Cara. I thought, who the fuck is he, and what in the hell is she doing, and why? And it’s fucking disgusting how fast I thought about finding out who he was just to kill him. And you—Jesus, Cara—you don’t even realize how pissed off it makes me that you smiled for him, mon ange.”
Cara sucked in a low breath, willing it to give her some sense of calm.
It didn’t help.
Screw him for the fact he made her hot and bothered, and all he had to do was threaten a man he didn’t even know. God, she hated this and the confusing way it left her feeling.
“You don’t get to say those kinds of things to me. We’re not together. I can date whoever I want. I already told you that. And stop calling me your pretty French pet names, Gian.”
“Why? It still fits. My angel.”
“I’m not yours,” Cara snapped. “Not anymore.”
Gian smirked, his arrogance becoming all the more apparent. “Oh, Cara, you’re always going to be mine. Sempre, amore.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Do you want to play this game?”
“Gian—”
“You are mine, Cara, even if you’re not with me. And do you want to know how I know that, sweet girl?”
Cara refused to look him in the eye. He stepped close enough that his body pressed against hers, but she couldn’t move away. She kept her head turned to the side, even when his hand slid up to cup her cheek and his fingers threaded into her hair.
“I know you’re still mine, because there’s no way on earth you could tell me that man, or any other man, knows anything about you worth knowing.”
“Stop, Gian.”
Why was her voice so goddamn weak?
And why did she want to turn into his palm, not away like she was?
This isn’t fair.
“Has he, or anyone else, even touched you since me? Can you even stand to let someone have you the way you let me have you?”
Cara’s gaze cut to his fast. “Gian.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“No, you won’t tell or no, no one has touched you?”
Both of them.
Cara refused to say that out loud. Gian only smiled like he already knew the fucking truth, like he could see it written all over her face.
“Right. I would be willing to bet he knows fuck all when it comes to you,” Gian said with a dark, husky laugh. “Like the way you won’t get your ass out of bed in the morning, or all the little secrets you like to hold onto because you’re locked up way too tight in your heart, and it takes a fucking sledge hammer to get through.”
Gian inched closer, his unique scent soaking into Cara’s lungs like a familiar drug. Liquor and leather and man. “Let’s be honest, Cara, he doesn’t know the shit that matters, really. He probably doesn’t know what you like, either. I bet he doesn’t know how you liked to be choked when you come, or the way you beg like a good little slut to have your ass filled when your—”
Cara’s hand came up swift and hard. She didn’t even think about it. Her palm cracked against Gian’s cheek with enough force to silence the nearby tables of people.
“Excuse me, miss, do you need anything?”
The sound of the bartender’s voice had Gian’s burning gaze flying over Cara’s shoulder, probably burrowing a fucking hole into the poor man who dared to intrude.
“It’s fine,” Cara said. “We’re perfectly fine.”
“If you’re sure …?”
“She’s sure,” Gian uttered through clenched teeth.
Emotions warred within Cara, heating her cheeks and making her body vibrate. Her palm stung, but she didn’t care. She glared at Gian, daring him to say another word, even when her hand dropped back down to her side. He didn’t look away, but rather, his smirk grew sinful, like he had gotten exactly the reaction he wanted.
“I can say more, if you want,” he said.
“Shut your mouth. How dare you, Gian?”
“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me any man, except me, knows those things, and owns those things where you’re concerned. Tell me.”
She couldn’t.
“You can’t say it, can you?” he asked.
“Fuck you.”
“Tell me to get the hell away from you, then.”
Cara didn’t.
She hated herself for that, too.
What she despised even more, was when he kissed her—hard, demanding, and rough, just the way she liked the most—she didn’t push him away. No, she fisted his jacket and bought him closer, she sighed at the familiarity of his hand curving around her throat and his tongue dancing with hers. She soaked in his scent, reveled in his taste, and hated herself for every second of it.
She wanted more, so she just pulled him closer.
Every bit of anger and disgust came out in Cara’s kiss, and even more bled away the longer she didn’t force Gian to stop. Not when his thumb pressed into her racing pulse, or his teeth bit into her lower lip.
She couldn’t breathe, but fucking hell, she was awake and alive again for the first time in months.
Why did it have to be like this?
Why him and her?
Why?
He provoked her, she knew. His words had been meant to provoke her into this. She was weak enough to let him.
Cara’s lips tingled from the brutality of Gian’s kiss long after he had pulled away. God, she loved it.
Gian watched her like a predator, refusing to move his gaze even an inch, and not letting her drop her stare. She saw his jealousy still lit up like fireworks in his eyes, but she found so much more staring back at her, too.
A man she had missed for months. A man she still loved, though she knew it was bad. A man she wasn’t even sure she knew.
So, why was he so familiar?
“You did that on purpose,” Cara said, her accusation coming out quieter than she meant for it to. “You provoked me on purpose, Gian.”
“I did nothing that you didn’t want me to, mon ange.”
She hated that pet name, too, because she didn’t hate it at all when he said it.
Cara had damn near forgotten they were still in the restaurant, standing at the bar. It became impossible to ignore when the sound of clattering utensils from a nearby table broke her from her daze, and she realized how very public of a scene they had just made.
She finally dropped Gian’s stare.
“Come with me,” Gian murmured.
Cara shook her head. “No, and you know why.”
“Don’t do that, Cara. Don’t refuse me when you know damn well that it’s the very last thing you want to do. Come with me, be with me for a night, and fuck the rest. What’s the issue?”
“You know exactly—”
Gian stepped away from her, cocking an eyebrow high as he did so. “We both could be doing far better things than standing here, arguing about nonsense and details that will never matter to me when it comes to us. And before you even spit it out of your pretty mouth, I don’t think they matter all that much to you right now, either. I am leaving, my car will be waiting at the curb. I’ll give you ten minutes, and then I’m gone. Come with me or don’t, but I won’t stand here and argue with you for another second.”
Cara thought he was joking, or bluffing.
She should have known better.
Gian didn’t joke or bluff.
He gave her a soft kiss on her cheek, and then he turned on his heel and headed for the front of the restaurant. There was so much she had wanted to shout at his back in that moment. Fuck him for the details, as he called them. Fuck him for making her choose like this. Fuck him for making her love him, breaking her heart, and then doing this to her too.
Why wasn’t she stronger?
Why wasn’t she a better woman?
When it came to Gian, apparently Cara was nothing more than a stupid, foolish girl who had no control over herself, nor did she want to have limits where he was concerned.
She watched the clock behind the bar.
At eight minutes, her heart won out.
Gian said nothing when Cara slid into his car.