“Sit, sit!” Gian clapped his hands twice, helping to quiet the men milling around the long dinner table. He waved at the waiting seats, and the men began to fill them. “Dinner is served.”
As he said those words, two women, and one man, strolled into the dining room, each holding platters carrying all sorts of foods. Once the food was set down on the table, the help left and then returned with pitchers of drinks.
After they were gone for good, Gian waited to see if any man at the table would reach for food or a drink before he approved it. None did.
Instead, they looked to him, waiting.
As all good made men did for their boss.
It had taken Gian a couple of weeks to really get used to the fact that a great portion of the Guzzi made men saw him as exactly that—their boss.
He thought it appropriate to hold their first unofficial dinner where the last man they respected and followed as a boss had his, too. At Corrado’s home, at his dining room table.
Maybe he had done this for a bit of nostalgia, too.
Gian took his own seat, said a quick prayer as had become a custom when sitting down to eat dinner with family, and then he waved again. “Tutti mangiare.”
His order for everyone to eat was no faster out of his mouth before the men began to reach for the hot dishes. He wasn’t particularly hungry—a shitty by-product of his stress, likely—so he sat back in a chair that had once belonged to his grandfather, and enjoyed the sight of the Capos and enforcers filling their plates.
Conversations filtered around the table between men, some discussing the events and attacks that had escalated rather violently over the past couple of weeks. Gian allowed them those discussions, and only joined in if he was directly asked a question. He found that he learned a lot more, and the men talked a lot more, when they had a boss who cared to hear what they had to say.
All but one man at the table was made.
Gian turned to his left, where his brother Dom was stuffing his face with pasta. “Hungry, fratellino?”
Dom bristled. “Only little compared to you in age, Gian.”
He laughed. “Relax. You’re lucky to even be here.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Being unmade, Dom shouldn’t be allowed to share the same experiences with made men until he had earned his seat at the table and his spot within the family. But … Gian remembered times when his grandfather had allowed him to sit at the table, and to have a voice. He figured that had been Corrado’s way of making his intention clear about giving his grandson his in to the family.
Gian was only doing the same for Dom.
In a way …
“So, do you think—”
Dom’s question was interrupted by a ringing phone. Gian recognized the familiar sound instantly, but because he wasn’t sure why his grandfather’s house line would be ringing, he looked over the table of men to see if it was one of their phones. None reached for their phones. Corrado’s mansion had been kept running ever since his death, as the Guzzi family had often used it, and no one was quite ready to put it up on the market officially. Even the cook, maid, and the man who ran errands and greeted guests stayed in the house, with pay.
But they never mentioned the home getting calls.
Eventually, the ringing stopped.
The maid stepped into the dining room, pressing her palm over a cordless phone to keep her voice from being heard on the line. “Mr. Guzzi, there’s a call for you.”
All eyes turned on Gian. He stood from the table, leaving the men behind with a demand for them to keep eating, and that all was fine. Although to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure what in the hell was going on.
Just outside the dining room, he took the phone from the maid and put it to his ear. His usual Italian and French greeting slipped out before he could think better of it. “Ciao, bonjour.”
“Gian, how are you this evening?”
Gian stiffened in place. “Edmond. Why in the fuck are you calling me at Corrado’s home? And better yet, how did you know I was here?”
“I know a lot of things.”
“Oh? Try me with one.”
“Fifteen men sitting around your grandfather’s table. Would you like their names? Sixteen, actually, if you include your unmade brother.”
“Spying, now?”
“Hardly.” Edmond scoffed. “You simply never think to look at any of those young gentleman like you should. They’re not all trustworthy, Gian. Each of them has an ultimate goal in mind where this organization is concerned. Sure, it’s true enough that some of them tie those goals to you being their boss, but some … some, probably do not.”
“You’re wasting my time.”
As Gian spoke, he had moved through the left wing of the mansion, heading toward the front of the estate. He checked out the windows, to make sure none of the men stationed outside had taken a hit, and that there was no funny business going on. He didn’t trust Edmond as far as he could throw the fat bastard.
“It’s been a rough couple of weeks, hasn’t it?” Edmond asked out of the blue.
Gian let the curtains close, and headed back the way he came toward the dining room. “Depends on who you think it’s been rough for. On my end, I think it’s been mostly okay. You were the one who started this nonsense, remember. I only recently joined in with a few attacks of my own. I can’t help it if my attacks are more direct and successful than yours are.”
“You assume everything, Gian. Don’t you know what they say about assuming?”
“I know you’re trying to play some kind of game with me, and my food is getting cold. I’m not in the mood.”
“Too bad, it’s time to listen. My attacks were pointed, and only done to either calm a situation, or make a point. They didn’t have to be direct to be successful. That’s what you fail to realize, Gian.”
“Are you done?” he asked Edmond.
“Not even close. I know exactly why you’re doing this.”
“Do tell.”
“You think I killed your grandfather,” Edmond said simply.
Gian’s jaw clenched. “Partly, but it’s not the only reason.”
“Yes, yes. The younger men, they want a boss they picked, they want to act like spoiled children who have their hands held when they’re scared to do what they’re told. We’ve been over this.”
“Your bias is showing again, Edmond.”
“So be it, they’re a dime a dozen. They can be replaced.”
“You’re wrong again,” Gian shot back. “Made men are not commodities to be replaced. Not in this Cosa Nostra.”
Edmond laughed. “You have a lot to learn.”
“It takes time, or so I was told.”
“Be careful not to run out of it before you even get the chance to properly get started.” Then, Edmond said quieter, “But you do think I killed Corrado.”
“It no longer matters.”
“It does, or this would not be happening.”
“Wrong again,” Gian murmured. “Corrado is only a small part of this. Cosa Nostra is not about the one man on top, but all the men who wait on his direction. It’s not me who has forgotten that, Edmond. Good luck, but we both already know how this will end. I could ask you to make it easy on me, but we both know you won’t.”
Gian hung up the phone without a goodbye, handed it to the waiting maid, and joined his men at the dinner table once again.
None of them asked him what was wrong.
Nothing was wrong.
He had this shit under control.
Gian popped the top off his beer, took a long swig, and glared at the game playing on his flat screen television. “I don’t know why you bother to watch this, man. The Leafs haven’t done well in decades, and this isn’t going to be their year.”
Constantino bristled. “Be a proper Canadian, would you? Don’t diss the Leafs like that.”
“He’s more of a Montreal fan,” Dom remarked from the Lazy Boy chair. “Depends on who is winning at the time.”
“That’s a fucking shame,” Stephan put in. “Pick a team and stick with it.”
Gian had news for them. “Since you three are watching the game on my huge ass television, sitting on my comfy furniture, drinking my beer, and you’re not at your own places, you can shut the fuck up now or get the hell out.”
“Jesus, you’re an asshole tonight,” Constantino said absently, his attention snagged by the Leafs’ player cutting down the middle of the ice. “Why are you so miserable lately?”
Gian took another swig of his beer, refusing to even entertain that goddamn question. His mood had been less than pleasant and for quite a while, it had only been getting worse. He had managed to hide it, for the most part, when he needed to. Lately, especially the last few days, his bad attitude had been showing itself more often, bleeding onto others that happened to be around him.
Like easy fucking targets.
Gian knew better; he was smarter than allowing his emotions to rule him or control how he went about his days and business.
Lately, he couldn’t help it.
“It’s nothing,” Gian muttered, setting his beer down to the coffee table.
He took a seat beside Constantino, and decided to watch the game and get the night over with. It had been a while since he’d actually done something with friends—even if Stephan had showed up with Constantino earlier—so he might as well make the most of it.
Gian had forgiven Constantino for his slip at the hospital, and what he’d said about Cara, but it was a one-time only thing. His forgiveness had come easy once his friend apologized, but that was only because Constantino had been his friend for so damn long that he found it hard to stay pissed at the guy.
“But don’t be surprised when the Leafs lose again, like they always do,” Gian said. “They are the most boring hockey team to watch—nothing changes, from season to season.”
Stephan shot Gian a look. “You should get laid. Maybe that would pull out whatever stick got shoved up your ass.”
Constantino chuckled under his breath. “Hey, there’s an idea.”
Dom wisely chose to stay quiet, but that could have been because he had shoved a half of a slice of pizza in his mouth.
Lucky for him.
“Fuck off, both of you,” Gian warned, never taking his gaze off the television.
“So that is it?” Constantino asked.
“What?”
“You need to get laid, Gian.”
For fuck’s sake …
“I need you to mind your business,” Gian said, his irritation rising.
Take the fucking hint.
“Yeah, that’s what it is,” Stephan said with a nod. “Cara—the Rossi chick he was running around with—hasn’t been seen in a while.”
“My cousin,” Constantino said, “I don’t need a reminder, Stephan. I know who the fuck she is.”
Gian’s teeth was starting to grind so hard that his molars were aching.
“What I’m saying is, Gian here, wasn’t running around with anybody else, so if she’s keeping a low profile without him, then he isn’t getting pussy from anywhere.” Stephan laughed under his breath at the glare Gian passed his way. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it is. No pussy makes for an irritated mess of a man, doesn’t it, Gian?”
“I’m two seconds away from throwing all of you assholes out of my penthouse,” Gian replied.
“Hey, I’m just eating pizza,” Dom mumbled around a bite in his mouth.
Gian ignored his younger brother.
“Stay the hell out of my business,” he told them all. “And that is the last fucking time I am going to say it.”
Because mostly, he hated how right the guys were.
He hated how easily they had picked up on his mood and the reason why.
He missed Cara like crazy.
Space, he reminded himself. You’re giving her space.
And also driving himself insane at the same time.
Gian had hoped Cara would get her shit figured out and all would be fine between them. He hadn’t expected … this. Weeks and weeks of waiting, of wondering, and of being entirely fucking alone.
He almost hated how much control that woman had over him.
Except he couldn’t hate that at all.
“If you’re lonely or something,” Constantino said, “then why don’t you go home, Gian?”
Gian raised his brow. “I am home. And Cara wanted space. Although, that’s not your fucking business, either.”
Constantino shook his head. “I didn’t mean here, man.”
All right.
Fuck this whole night.
Gian didn’t even bother to kick the guys out.
He left.
Gian whipped his car into the parking lot belonging to Cara’s apartment building. He checked his phone again, and then triple-checked it just to be sure.
Would you pick me up? My place.
That was all Cara’s text message had said. Gian had barely gotten his confirmative reply typed out before he had pulled an illegal U-turn on a downtown street and headed his lover’s way. He’d only meant to clear his head when he’d left his place earlier, but this was perfectly fine, too.
Gian checked his phone once more, ready to send a message to Cara that he was there, but he didn’t need to. Cara appeared outside the passenger side window, Gian unlocked the door, and she slid inside without a word.
He pulled out of the parking lot while Cara was still buckling up her seatbelt.
“Where to?” Gian asked.
Cara stared out the side window, never looking at him. “I don’t know. Somewhere … quiet?”
“We can do quiet, bella mia.” Thankful for the lack of traffic, Gian headed toward the bay. It was a bit of a drive, but it would be quiet and private. “Do you want to grab some food or something?”
“Sure.”
“Anything specific?”
Cara shrugged. “Anything unhealthy and greasy.”
Gian chuckled. “Junk food, then.”
“What else?”
It took an hour to grab food, and drive all the way to the bay. Gian pulled the car along the metal fence that kept vehicles from going too far ahead. He had only put the car into park before Cara leaned across the seats, grabbed his jaw in her hands, and pulled him in for a kiss. It was not a sweet, hello kind of kiss. It couldn’t be one of those, when her tongue invaded his mouth and she tried to get closer. It was more of an I want kind of kiss.
Gian was more than willing to give where Cara was concerned.
“So we’re doing this first, then?” he asked against her mouth while pulling his leather jacket off at the same time.
“Yes.”
So sure.
No hesitation.
“Whatever you want, Cara.”
Gian hooked an arm around Cara’s trim waist, and yanked her into the backseat of the Mercedes. He used the space between the front seats to get back there, but it sure as fuck wasn’t an easy fit, and Cara fell hard into his lap with a breathless laugh.
He moved so his back was to the door, bringing her along with him. Burying his hands into her hair, he held tight so he could get more of her pretty mouth against his while he had the damn chance. But that only made him want more of her to taste—her cheeks, jaw, and neck. All the spots that he hadn’t been able to kiss and bite and taste for weeks.
He had time to make up for.
Cara, apparently, had different plans. Her hot mouth started traveling down over his throat, her tongue lapping at his pulse point for a moment before moving on again. Gian decided all he could do was let her do her thing as she lowered even further.
“Jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket,” Cara said, working the button and zipper on Gian’s jeans. He lifted off the seat enough to let her pull the jeans and his boxer-briefs down, and pull his shoes off. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without a suit.”
“You’ve seen me without one.”
“Being naked doesn’t count, Gian.”
“You’ve seen me in workout clothes.”
“Which is basically a pair of shorts,” she pointed out.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving the penthouse today,” he said in explanation.
Cara pulled his T-shirt up, and for the first time, Gian let go of the hold he had on her hair to allow her to slip the clothing off. “This is a good look, too. Relaxed. I liked the leather jacket.”
If she liked it …
“You can take it,” he said before pressing another hard kiss to her mouth. “Now, stop talking and start sucking my cock like you were working on doing two minutes ago.”
Cara’s eyes narrowed playfully. “How do you know that’s what I was going to do?”
“Well, if it wasn’t, it’s sure as fuck what you’re going to do now.”
She winked and started lowering down his body again. “Lucky for you, that was the plan.”
Of course it was.
Cara liked to say that it was him who had a gift with his mouth and tongue, but he didn’t think she was aware of her little talent. The second her lips encased his cock, and she took him deep into her throat without slowing once, Gian was in fucking heaven. She always knew how to suck him, hard on the swallow, and looser on the way up. Her tongue swirled at the head of his shaft, while her teeth teased along the pulsing vein that matched the beats of his heart.
And fuck, she didn’t give him a break. She didn’t slow.
She sucked and sucked, while her fingers dug into his thighs. She didn’t stop when his fingers weaved into her hair so that he could hold her down on his cock, and her throat flexed in the best way around his shaft when his hips bucked upward, wanting more still.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbled in a hard groan. “Suck my fucking cock, Tesoro. Just like that.”
He called Cara a lot of things in bed.
His slut.
An angel.
Sexy. Beautiful. Filthy.
But treasure—that one probably fit her best.
Especially when she was sucking him off.
Only something precious and treasured could make him feel as crazy and high as she did when she was fucking him or sucking him dry.
Sex—for Gian—had become something of a nuisance in his life, to deal with when he got the chance. It slowly became a secondary need that took a back seat to his daily responsibilities and the duties that always had to come first.
Not with Cara.
With Cara, sex became a form of his affection. It was yet another way to communicate. It let him feel. He was always relaxed—never bothered or worried about outside issues—whether he was on his knees between her legs, or she was above him looking down. He focused in on her, nothing else, and it wasn’t such a fucking nuisance to be taken care of.
It was an urge that was constant. Unrelenting.
She was always on the back of his mind now, in one way or another. When he wasn’t with her, he was working out a way to be with her. In her effort to have space from him, all she had managed to do was make Gian even more fucking obsessed with her than he had been before. He controlled the urges well enough, but it was like constantly balancing on a very thin string, ready to break. He didn’t want her running scared from him again, he wanted her with him.
The sound that tore from his throat was almost inhuman, his words jumbling together as the pressure and heat in his spine suddenly grew to the point of no return. He managed to get something out, a mix of “fuck, I’m going to come” and “shit, don’t stop.” He wasn’t really sure what he said, he couldn’t hear it. His ears were ringing as his load emptied into Cara’s waiting mouth. She kept his cock tight to her lips and deep in her throat as his cum shot out with enough force to make him dizzy.
Like the good girl she was to him, she swallowed every last fucking bit of it down, too. Then she cleaned his cock with her tongue, and kissed her way back up his body until she was sitting sweetly in his lap, straddling him. The pleased curve of her lips told him that she liked sucking him off, if only because it gave her some control between them.
She didn’t know it, but she had all the control now.
Gian pulled Cara in for a bruising kiss, her lips warm and swollen against his. Despite having just emptied his fucking balls, his cock was still painfully hard, because he wasn’t done. It wasn’t that simple when it came to Cara.
“Thank you for wearing a dress tonight,” he said.
Cara lifted a single brow high. “Why?”
“It makes this easier, and faster.”
He’d needed to get undressed entirely, she only needed her skirt lifted up and her panties pushed aside. Then, he could finally get back to the heaven and home that came with fucking Cara Rossi.
Gian lifted Cara’s skirt and turned her in his lap so that her back pressed to his chest. His hand flew between her thighs to feel what belonged to him there. He buried his face into her sweet-smelling curls as he yanked her panties aside, and brought her down on his length without giving her time to prepare for it. He didn’t want to wait, he was so fucking tired of waiting after weeks of it.
But shit … it was worth it. Every hot, slick, tight inch of her sucked him in and held him in place like she wasn’t going to let him go. Seated deep in her cunt, Gian could breathe again for the moment.
“Oh, fuck,” Cara breathed as she squirmed on his cock in the best way.
“Christ, you’re wet. How hot do you get sucking me off?”
“It’s not normal.”
Her words were a mumble. A hot, airless mumble.
“It is,” he said with a chuckle, his fingers tangling into her hair. “Now, you got what you fucking wanted—you made me come. Give me what I want, Cara. Give me what’s mine, mon ange.”
Her pussy. Her orgasms. Her sounds. All of that belonged to him when they were like this.
Every bit of it.
“Just give me a sec—”
Gian tugged firmly on her hair, quieting whatever she was going to say. “Fuck me, Cara. Now.”
She didn’t need to be told again, lifting enough to ride him while he pulled on her hair and kept a hand between her thighs at the same time. He liked the feeling of his cock and her cunt against his fingertips. He could feel everything, from the way she stretched open every time she lowered on to his cock, to the rhythmic pulse of his heart beating in his shaft. All her juices slicked them up, and he wanted to see her clean his fingers off when they were done.
Gian’s fingers pressed tighter to her cunt, not quite grabbing it as she fucked him, but firm enough for her to feel it. She grinded her clit into his palm at the same time. “All mine, Cara.”
“Yours.”
Of course, it was.
He hadn’t realized how unhurriedly such a thing could build inside him—such a vindictive, needy, greedy, beautiful thing like love. He’d never been in love before, and when he finally understood that he had been slowly falling in love with Cara, he’d been too stupid and too selfish to stop it. He liked the way it felt, after all, even when it hurt.
So yes, all of her belonged to him.
And he wanted her to know it.
Cara dug through the bag of fast food, pulling out a cheeseburger and fries, and setting her bare feet up on the dashboard. After cleaning up, she’d opted to kick her flats off on the floor of the car.
“Busy couple of weeks?” Gian asked.
She handed him over the bag. “Nothing unusual. Mostly boring.”
“That could be considered a good thing.”
“It could.”
“But?” he pressed.
Cara smiled a bit. “But I missed you, too, so that kind of sucked.”
Gian didn’t even bother to hide his grin. “Eat, love.”
She did, pulling out fries to chew on. Once they were gone, she said, “My mom killed herself, or that’s what my brother said.”
“Oh.”
That felt stupid to say.
Gian didn’t know what would be appropriate. An apology felt wrong, considering Cara’s feelings regarding her mother. She didn’t look entirely sad about it, but she didn’t appear to be happy, either.
“Are you going back for the funeral?” he asked.
Cara shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Her death is enough closure for me,” Cara admitted under her breath. “I don’t need to watch her be buried, too.”
“You could have called me.”
Gian heard the slight bitterness in his tone, though he wished he could have hidden it better. He didn’t want to be angry with Cara for asking that he give her space and time alone. It also wasn’t that easy. The longer it had stretched on between them with no word from her, the harder it had become for him to deal with it.
“There was nothing to say,” Cara said dryly. “Not about Serena Rossi, anyhow.”
“You could have called for—”
Cara glanced over at him, her knowing eyes quieting him instantly. “I wanted to call. Every day. Multiple times a day. Every chance I got. Whenever I looked at my phone. It didn’t get easier not to pick it up, but neither did watching the news, seeing shootings and hearing all the problems piling up all over the city. I had choices to make, Gian.”
“Like what?”
“Like if I wanted to keep doing this with you. Whether or not I was okay with what that might mean.”
He cleared his throat. “And?”
Cara unwrapped her burger. “I’m here, aren’t I? I called, didn’t I?”
She was.
And she had.
“The only thing that would make this food better is beer,” Cara said.
“I could have brought some or picked up a six-pack.” Gian set his burger and fries up in his lap. “We couldn’t have come out here, though.”
Cara shrugged one shoulder. “We’ll grab some on the way back to my place.”
“Is that the plan?”
“Yep. That’s the plan.”
“So, we’re going to act like everything is good and you didn’t run off scared?” he asked.
“We will if you stop bringing it up.”
“We are going to talk about it, mon ange. And other things, too.”
She sighed, rolling her pretty blue eyes upward at the same time. “Fine, but we’re eating first. Maybe fucking again, too.”
“I do love the way you think, Cara.”
Her smile was sinful. “I know you do.”
“And you.”
Cara glanced over at him, her eyes knowing and the silence stretching on. Now or never, he thought to himself. If he could feel it, he should be able to verbalize it. How else was she going to know the craziness he constantly felt whenever she was near?
“I love you,” he added, quieter.
“I thought we were eating first before all of that.”
They would.
Gian nodded at her food. “Eat, but it changes nothing. I said what I said.”
She wasn’t running this time.