Calisto
“That’s not even possible,” Emma said, laughing. “The least they could do is make it believable.”
A small sports car on the movie swerved in and out under an eighteen-wheeler as the hero of the flick attempted to retrieve his kidnapped girlfriend whilst in the middle of a high-speed chase. Calisto chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Emma had a point. The scene wasn’t exactly realistic, considering the hero was also shooting a gun out of the driver’s window while he did the dangerous maneuvers. Earlier in the movie, the man didn’t even know how to handle a weapon.
“It’s the action and drama of it all,” he explained.
“Still a little over the top.”
Calisto conceded to her point. “Fine, but you’re ruining the movie for me, so be quiet.”
Emma winked, grabbed a handful of popcorn, and pretended like Calisto hadn’t said a thing. She had set herself up on the other end of the couch, as far away from him as she could get. She had taken the blanket from the back of the couch, used it to cover up with, and tucked her legs up close to her chest. She had been acting strange since she first came in, not saying much and staying a few feet away from him at all times. She wouldn’t meet his gaze when she did talk. It wasn’t like the Emma he knew.
Calisto couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with Emma. The tension in her voice when she had called him earlier prompted Calisto to ask her over for the movie, and nothing else. No, absolutely nothing else.
Definitely not the dream starring Emma on her knees, the one that woke him up with his cock aching, hot, and hard in his palm. He’d woken, stroking himself in his sleep over the cotton pants he wore.
Again.
Because it wasn’t the first fucking time.
The visual of Emma below him with her pink lips open and her eyes on him, ready to beg, had been downright sinful. Calisto had quickly gotten into a cold shower, needing to relieve the tension and cool the fuck down.
He’d just jumped out of the shower when security called the first time to say there was movement throughout Emma’s penthouse. The fucking fools from security knew that no one had entered Emma’s place, so they had no business calling her just to “check up,” as they said. Calisto was sure that was ninety percent of her somber, strange mood. No one wanted to be reminded they were constantly being watched.
“You all right?” Calisto asked.
Emma didn’t look away from the television. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’re quiet.”
“It might surprise you to learn this, since you don’t actually know me and all, but I’m not a very loud person, Calisto. I like being by myself more than I enjoy company, and I prefer the quietness of night to the loudness of the daytime. Just because you found a few pictures of me online enjoying the nightlife doesn’t mean I’m not more comfortable by myself. I can enjoy both things for different reasons. Appearances are deceiving. Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that.”
“Huh.” Calisto grinned. “Imagine that.”
Emma glanced over at him, her green eyes lighting up with mirth. “What’s so funny?”
“I like being alone and I prefer the dark, too.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
They had more in common than Calisto first thought. They were simple things, to be sure, but those were the best kinds of interests to share with someone else. Someone who a person could be alone in a room with and not need to fill the silence. Someone who understood that sometimes a person just needed space to think.
Those kinds of people were rare.
“Thank you,” Emma said softly.
Calisto watched the television, but kept one eye on Emma. “What for, dolcezza?”
A tiny, but still sad, smile curved Emma’s lips. “For inviting me over. I was going to ask you in for coffee earlier, but it didn’t seem appropriate.”
“I would have come in, had you asked me.”
Emma sighed. “Exactly.”
Calisto didn’t have the first clue what she meant. He chose not to press her for an explanation. Emma turned back to the movie without another word. She sunk lower under the blanket like she needed it for some kind of protection or something.
He had news for her.
Calisto would have to be a fool not to see how beautiful and vibrant Emma Sorrento was, but he wasn’t a stupid man. Emma was spoken for—not yet fully claimed, but taken all the same. She was off-limits in a major way. Calisto wasn’t dumb enough to get caught into that game.
His cock thought differently.
His brain, however, was on point.
Emma was a no-go zone.
Men who thought with their cocks got exactly what they deserved. Calisto wouldn’t be one of them.
“We might as well make nice,” Calisto said after a moment.
He could practically feel Emma’s gaze burning into him. Sure enough, when he glanced to the side, he found her watching him under her thick lashes. The devil on his shoulder urged him to snag the blanket and pull it off so he could see the tank top and cotton shorts she wore, but Calisto beat that bastard down.
“And why is that?” Emma asked.
“In a week, we’ll be family. Better to make nice with family than to avoid them. It makes for awkward dinners and holidays if you don’t care for anyone.”
Emma’s teeth caught her bottom lip. Calisto eyed the plump, wet flesh. The tip of his index finger itched with the urge to reach up and free Emma’s lip from her abuse. Somehow, he decided against it.
Too intimate.
Not appropriate.
He shouldn’t care at all, let alone be thinking of things like that.
Thankfully, Emma released her lip from the bite. “I thought you don’t like Affonso.”
Calisto shrugged. “I don’t. Not in a friendly or familial sort of way. I admire him as a boss, of course, but little else. The one reason he gets my respect at all in that regard is because of my raising. I was taught to honor and protect Cosa Nostra, no matter what. I chose this life, and so I live with what it means.”
“But you don’t want to.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Emma cocked a brow like she was taking him in for a second time. “Your words imply that on a personal level, you have little to no respect or admiration for your uncle. On a professional level, you give him what he deserves because of his title and nothing more. To me, that says you don’t actually want to do any of it, but you do it because you have to.”
Smart girl.
Calisto went for a deflection. “Didn’t your father ever teach you to stay out of the affairs of men?”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I always listen. Plus, I came from George Sorrento. He had to know I was going to be a little bit like him in some way. Where do you think my curiosity comes from?”
“Curiosity kills.”
“That line is old, Calisto. Get a new one.”
Calisto laughed loudly, unable to hold it in. “Nice.”
Emma smiled sweetly, but it managed to look entirely evil at the same time. “I try.”
“Fine, I’ll give you that. You’re mostly right. I respect my uncle in business and famiglia only because I have to, not because I want to or think he actually deserves it.”
“Would you tell me something else?”
“That depends on what you ask, Emma.”
Emma tightened the blanket around her frame again.
“You do know that I won’t rip the blanket off and defile you, right?” Calisto asked. “I have a bit of control left in me, despite the rumors.”
“What rumors are those?”
“There’s a few.”
“Indulge me,” Emma said.
Indulging her was the entire issue wrapped up with a sexy little bow. The more Calisto fed into conversation that opened his personal life up to Emma, the more she would know about him, and the closer they might feel.
Those were dangerous waters.
Calisto maintained a healthy distance from everyone in his life—from his family, to those he considered friends, to even his doctor, for Christ’s sake. Keeping people at arm’s length allowed him objectivity to their lives. He didn’t get attached. There were very little, if any, emotions involved. That way, he wouldn’t have to fight with moral dilemmas or personal bias, should something happen. And keeping people away allowed Calisto the peace of mind that no one could hurt him.
Affonso did that—made Calisto like that.
It was easier.
Deflect her, his mind demanded.
“I thought you had a question to ask,” Calisto said.
Emma nodded. “I do. I’ll get to it in a second. Indulge me on the rumors about you first, Cal. I bet they’re far more interesting.”
Calisto ran his fingers through his hair, trying to soothe some of the tension creeping over his shoulders. “People like to talk when they don’t know much about a person.”
“Like they’re trying to fill in the blanks.”
“Just like that,” he confirmed.
“And what do people say about you?”
“Nothing unusual. I’m good-looking, so I must have a handful of women on the side. Normal nonsense.”
Emma picked at her fingernails. “Do you date a lot?”
“No.”
“Let me rephrase. Do you have a lot of women you run around with?”
“I don’t fuck anything with a pussy,” Calisto said, knowing damn well how crude he sounded. “I’m not a saint, and I certainly like a good lay when I find a woman worthy enough to make the effort, but I don’t make a game out of it. I don’t have a list of names I like to add to.”
“But people talk about you like it is a game for you.”
Calisto hummed noncommittedly. “You could say that. They see me out with a woman, dancing with someone at a club, or—heaven forbid—I bring someone to dinner, and suddenly the rumors flare to life all over again. I don’t have the time or give a damn enough to correct people. If they want to talk about me, they can go to it. I have better things to amuse myself with.”
Emma frowned. “You’re twenty-seven.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re saying that you have had no serious relationships at all with any women?”
Calisto blew out a heavy breath. “You’re awfully nosy for a quiet girl, Emmy.”
“The word you used was ‘curious,’ actually.”
“Same difference.” Calisto reached for his beer on the end-table and took a drink. Then he put it back and said, “I’ve had five relationships over the last decade. None that were anything important or would go anywhere. Mostly the relationships came about in my younger twenties, and then I decided that it wasn’t the right time to look for something like a wife.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was being pressured by someone else’s wants, not my own.”
Emma leaned forward, letting the blanket pool to her waist. “So … you’ve never been in love?”
Calisto barked out a laugh. “I’m not even sure that exists. But no. I was close to marrying someone once, but it went nowhere fast.”
“Do tell.”
“This is starting to feel like a therapy session.”
“We’re getting to know each other, Calisto. Nothing more.”
“Right,” he muttered heavily. “Last year, a few months before my mother died, I was introduced to the niece of a boss from a fellow family in New York. She was nice enough—pretty, knew how to behave, and she was exactly what Affonso thought would be good for me where a wife was concerned. That’s probably why he brought her to my attention. I didn’t really love her, I probably never would have, but I trusted her enough to think she would be an appropriate partner for what I needed. I wasn’t even attracted to her, really, but I didn’t need any of that to have a wife. I simply needed an Italian woman in good standing with la famiglia and the church.”
Emma chewed on her inner cheek before asking, “So what happened?”
“My mother died. I learned some things. I decided to take a different path from that point forward. One that didn’t include a woman that my uncle had handpicked for me, never mind one that couldn’t even get my blood hot enough to want to fuck her. I think she was okay with it all, but then again, I never gave her a ring, a promise, or anything else. We just were.”
“And then you weren’t.”
Calisto lifted a single shoulder in response because honestly, he didn’t give a damn. “Anyway, she was the only person that I considered marrying. We had never even had sex, I wouldn’t really call it a relationship, and my affection for her was limited to what she could provide me with in the future.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A boss needs a wife. She would have given me the right standing for my family and Cosa Nostra when Affonso was ready to step down. But as I said, things happened and I decided to change direction accordingly. The marriage wouldn’t have been about what I wanted, but rather, what someone else wanted for me.”
“Someone like Affonso,” Emma said quietly.
It wasn’t even a question.
Calisto swallowed audibly. He could have lied, but he chose not to for reasons he couldn’t explain. “Yeah, for someone like Affonso.”
“So, that’s what he meant.”
“Hmm?”
“Affonso,” Emma said. “He told me that if you would just do what he wanted, then he wouldn’t need me at all. The boss, right? That’s what he meant, wasn’t it? If you would just give him the guarantee that you would take the seat, he wouldn’t need to worry about his legacy carrying on in the mafia because someone from his family would take over.”
“You answered your own question, Emma.”
“In more ways than you know,” she mumbled.
“What does that mean?”
Emma’s lips pursed before she said, “My other question that I didn’t ask. I was going to ask what it was that Affonso wanted you to do that you wouldn’t do for him. I can safely say I know the answer to that now.”
Calisto smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I won’t do for him.”
“Why not? It’s a family thing, isn’t it? Maximo’s father was the boss before him. Affonso’s father had been the boss, and it was your father afterward. Don’t you want to carry on that legacy?”
“No,” Calisto said honestly.
“Why—”
“You’re making a lot of noise and making me miss the movie, Emma.”
Her mouth snapped shut with an audible crack. Calisto could practically feel her glare burning into him, but he pretended like he didn’t notice a thing was different. As quickly as their conversation had started, it was over. Calisto needed it to be this way.
He had to stop her before she got too far; before she dug too deep. Those scars needed to stay covered.
“Can I ask one more thing?” Emma asked in a whisper.
Calisto sighed. “Shoot.”
“Why won’t you give Affonso what he wants?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
Calisto glanced to the side, meeting Emma’s gaze head-on and unabashed. “Because it’s what the bastard wants, Emmy. I’ve already given him far more than he deserves. I won’t give him any more.”
Emma settled back into the couch without saying another thing. Calisto was grateful that she had dropped the subject and seemed content to finish out the movie. A few minutes passed them by in silence. Calisto rotated between his beer and the bag of popcorn between him and Emma.
Then, quieter than her earlier whisper, Emma said, “I don’t know what it is about you, but you make me curious, Calisto. I’m not actually like this all the time.”
Funny.
She made him curious, too.
Calisto woke to bright light, his back aching, and the shriek of the suite’s phone ringing in the background. Groaning, he shielded his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the windows. On the end-table, he counted the six bottles of beer he’d downed during the two movies he’d watched with Emma before he realized she had fallen asleep on the other end of the couch.
Her cute little snores had been enough for him not to wake her. He must have fallen asleep, too, considering the television was flashing a blue screen to show the movie was over. Glancing to the side, Calisto found the couch empty and the blanket that Emma had been using was tossed over the arm.
“Shit,” he muttered.
Pushing up from the couch, Calisto went in search of the goddamn ringing phone. He checked his watch as he strolled into the kitchen with bleary eyes. Six in the morning.
Jesus.
In the last three weeks that Calisto had been watching Emma, he hadn’t known her to wake up earlier than eight. Maybe he should have woken her up the night before and gotten her back to her penthouse and into her bed.
Calisto found the cordless phone under a dish towel on the kitchen island. That confused him more than anything. He was ninety-nine percent sure that he had brought the phone into the living room the night before after talking to security, getting the popcorn set up, and turning the movie on. It shouldn’t have been in the kitchen, and it definitely shouldn’t have been covered by a dish towel.
He didn’t get a chance to answer the call before the ringing stopped. Calisto cursed under his breath again, noting it had been security calling. Quickly, Calisto hit the three digits for the fools downstairs and waited for someone to pick up.
“Good morning, Mr. Donati.”
“Morning,” Calisto grumbled.
It wasn’t a good morning. He was still tired, he probably shouldn’t have chugged six beers in a matter of a couple of hours, and his back still hurt from sleeping in an upright position on an uncomfortable couch.
Fuck the good morning.
“Someone called two seconds ago,” Calisto said. “What did they want?”
“Actually, we’ve called three times. Someone was just getting ready to come up and wake you.”
Calisto blinked and then rubbed at his eyes. “Sleeping off a rough night. Sorry about that. Is she up and around?”
“That’s part of the reason we were calling. We noticed about a half hour ago that your sensors were activating from room to room before Miss Sorrento entered the elevator and went into her own suite. Approximately ten minutes later, the emergency door exit in her pantry was activated. We assumed you were awake as well because of the sensors in your suite, sir.”
It took Calisto far too long to realize what the man was saying.
“Wait one goddamn second,” Calisto muttered. “Are you telling me that you didn’t begin calling me the moment she stepped into the elevator and then entered her penthouse, like you’re supposed to?”
“Well, sir … You see, after last night, the morning shift was left a note that we weren’t to bother you with seemingly unnecessary calls. And again, we assumed you were also awake and knew that she was, too.”
“It’s morning! She entered her place alone! Yes, that is a necessary call.” Calisto’s agitation bubbled just below the surface. He was two seconds away from telling the fool right where he could shove his fucking note. “The exit door, you said?”
“Um, yes, sir. About ten minutes ago. We started calling you the moment it was opened.”
Calisto didn’t berate the man on that issue. It was his own damn fault for drinking before sleeping.
“Thank you,” Calisto said.
He hung up the phone, tossed it to the kitchen table, and made a beeline for the only bedroom in the suite. The moved phone and dish towel suddenly made sense to Calisto as he searched for his suddenly missing car keys. His suit jacket was hanging off the chair where he left it, along with his dress pants. The keys should have been in the inside pocket, but they weren’t.
Cristo.
Affonso would have a fit.
Calisto would be responsible.
Emma must have moved the phone. She likely tried to muffle the sound with a towel so that when it rang, it wouldn’t be loud enough to wake Calisto. She probably took his keys as well.
Sneaky.
Damn, he had to admit it was a good play.
Emmy, you crazy girl … What are you doing?