Cara woke with a start, jerking upward on the couch at the sound of a door slamming shut somewhere in the penthouse. She scrubbed her eyes with the back of one hand as she went in search of the cause of the noise. Soon, she had narrowed it down to a bathroom, as the sound of water ran heavily behind the door. She assumed it was Gian, because he should have been back by now, and Chris had not followed her into the penthouse when he’d delivered her there earlier.
“Gian?” she called, rapping her knuckles to the white wood.
“Sorry, ma chérie. I didn’t mean to wake you. Head into bed, I’ll be there in a minute.”
She knocked again, instead. “It’s like one in the morning, Gian.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“Open the door.”
A heavy sigh followed the request, but she heard the latch on the door unlock. Cara opened the door herself, stepping in to find Gian stripped down to his boxer-briefs as he scrubbed a bar of soap up and down his arms with forceful strokes. Bloodstained clothes rested at his feet, forgotten beside a waiting trash bag.
Gian picked up a cigarette from the counter, and took a drag, exhaling thick, white smoke to the ceiling. That was a new thing.
“Since when do you smoke?” Cara asked.
“Not very fucking often, that’s when.”
Gian continued his work like Cara wasn’t even in the room, dragging the bar of soap against his fingernails until he seemed pleased that it had done its job. On the counter beside his burning cigarette, a Berretta sat dismantled, as though it too were waiting to be cleaned.
He was almost mindless in his task, barely paying her any attention. Scrub, wash, dry. Scrub, wash, dry. He scrubbed parts of his body that Cara was sure had nothing on them. Occasionally, he’d glance into the mirror for a moment, or lift up his burning cigarette for another drag, but then he was right back at his task once more.
Cara had a million and one questions to ask. The part of her that hated these sights, and knew good and well what they meant, wanted to demand answers so she could confirm what she already understood.
The bigger part of her that loved Gian, didn’t say a thing. It was a choice she had to make. So she made it. Cara found it surprising, how easy it was to make that choice.
“Do you need something?” Cara asked.
“Not at the moment, sweetheart.”
“Okay.”
Cara turned to leave the bathroom, deciding it was best for them both if she left him alone to do his business. She didn’t need to be there to see it, and she didn’t think he needed her there, watching him like a bug under a microscope. Plus, the longer she stayed there, the more curious she became and was liable to start asking questions she knew better than to ask.
Neither of them needed that.
“Wait,” Gian said quickly, “there is something.”
Cara spun around to face him slowly. Gian had rinsed all the soap off his arms again, and was now patting them dry with a towel that he dropped onto the pile of bloody clothes once he finished with it.
“What is it?” Cara asked.
“Remember when I promised you that we would do that trip to Quebec again sometime?”
“Yes.”
“I was thinking I could extend it a couple days, if you don’t mind taking a couple of days off school. You head out tomorrow, and come back Sunday evening.”
Cara’s gaze narrowed, as she was not a stupid woman, and she had not missed how he posed his words carefully. “Me.”
Gian stood firm, his gaze never wavering from hers. “Only you, Cara.”
“No.”
“Chris would be happy to accompany—”
“Gian, that was supposed to be a trip for us, not just me. And no, I am not taking someone else—especially not another man—on it with me!”
“Technically, it was a trip for your birthday. So oui, it was only for you. I was going to tag along.”
“You’re playing word games to distract me from what you’re not saying.”
Gian’s expression hardened as he replied, “Fine, then I’ll say what I mean. It would be best if you got out of the city for the remainder of the week and weekend. It will give me one less thing to worry about, as I do some digging into some people and business that I should have done a long time ago.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Gian.”
“Cara, now—”
“The answer is no.”
“Fuck, you are stubborn when you want to be,” Gian grunted under his breath. He turned back to the sink, going back to his task as though that would get him back on track, and Cara’s refusals didn’t matter. She had news for him. “Don’t force my hand here, bella.”
She stuck her hands to her hips, determined to make him hear her. “You can’t order me around from place to place.”
“Can’t, mon ange? Can’t?”
“That’s what I said.”
“That’s the wrong word, Cara. I can do whatever the hell I please, so long as you are safe and comfortable while I do it. Nobody said you had to be happy about it, though.”
“Then what’s the right word, your fucking highness?”
Gian’s brow dipped in his irritation, his dark gaze flashing over to her in warning. “Won’t, Cara. I won’t do something you ask me not to. See the difference?”
“I see you being an asshole.”
Before Cara had even blinked, Gian pushed away from the counter and came for her. His hand caught her around the back of her neck, he pulled her close, and his mouth came crashing down on hers in a fast kiss that seared her from the inside out. It took her fucking breath away, all the languid strokes of his tongue against hers, and the way his fingers tightened to hold her still. He didn’t let her move away, even when he stopped kissing her.
“Stop being difficult,” he murmured against her lips.
Cara let out a shaky exhale. “I’m not going anywhere that you’re not going, Gian.”
“I love you, Cara, but you’re killing me.”
“You don’t really want me to go anywhere, either.”
“I want you safe.”
“With you,” she said, kissing him quickly, “I’m sure I will be.”
“Chris,” Cara greeted as the man held open the restaurant door for her. “Thank you.”
“Very welcome. Have a good dinner, miss.”
He still wouldn’t call her by her name, no matter how many times she insisted. She figured she could break him of the habit, eventually.
Gian was waiting for Cara beyond the entrance of the restaurant, his sharp, black suit making her gaze travel over his fit form to appreciate the sight of him standing there like he was. With his hands clasped at his back, and his stare focused on something inside the restaurant, he seemed almost relaxed.
Cara knew that he couldn’t possibly be as calm as he appeared on the outside. Gian’s mind always ran a million miles a minute, and with the problems he had been having lately, she was sure that only made it worse.
Yet, there he stood. Like a fucking rock in a hurricane. Refusing to move or be moved. Unflinchingly calm in the eye of a storm. Always strong.
Cara wondered if this man knew his strength, or the power he wielded because of it. She was positive that if anything made Gian a formidable threat to the men in his business, it was this right here.
“Something caught your eye?” Cara dared to ask as she approached.
Gian’s head turned, his lips tugging into a sexy grin as his gaze landed on her sapphire-blue, body-con dress. He didn’t hide his wandering gaze, making Cara smile and her cheeks heat up. “Something certainly has now, my beautiful girl. How was your day?”
“Long, but I got through it.”
“Chris wasn’t too pushy when he showed up to bring you to dinner, was he?”
“Chris is always pushy,” Cara joked, “but I blame that on his very impatient boss.”
Gian winked, his arm curving around her side as his hand laid flat to her lower back, above the swell of her ass. “He’s paid very well to put up with me, trust in that.”
“I’m sure. Have you ordered?”
“We have, yes.”
Cara’s brow furrowed. “We?”
As far as she had been told, this was supposed to be a dinner for only her and Gian, no one else. She certainly hadn’t expected guests to be included, too.
Gian bent down to kiss her forehead, his fingers pressing lightly to her back to urge her to walk forward. “Seems I wasn’t the only one who made reservations here, tonight. They suggested we merge the tables, and I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Like you give a shit about being rude.”
He chuckled. “For some people, I do.”
“Well, who is it?”
“Constantino and Stephan, actually.”
Cara didn’t bother to hide her discontent.
Gian only laughed harder. “We’ll be gone before you know it, and I know you were told to pack a bag to stay with me tonight at the penthouse, so stop moping.”
“I’m not moping.”
“What would you call that frown, then?”
Cara eyed him from the side as she said, “A displeased smile.”
“Nice try. Don’t mope, love. It’s not a good look on you.”
“I wanted you to myself all night. I’m not asking for a lot.”
Gian pulled her impossibly closer. “I’ll make up for it, but if you insist on that moping of yours, I’ll be forced to take whatever action necessary to put an end to it.”
“Including having dinner alone?”
“I told you, it would be rude.”
“Then, how—”
“I do own this place, and there’s a lovely private office in the back. Private in the way that no one can see inside, but they can certainly hear a lot.”
Cara’s body heated instantly. “Stop that.”
“I’ve given you fair warning. Stop the moping. Fix your face, beautiful.”
She shot him a playful glare before plastering on a smile that made Gian nod in approval. She had done it just in time, too, as they rounded a half-partition wall to come to a stop at what would be their table.
Constantino and Stephan—a man she hadn’t seen since that night months ago, at the club with Bambi—sat chatting together, seemingly unaware that Cara and Gian had arrived. They only took notice when Gian pulled out Cara’s chair, and then pushed her in closer to the table.
“Evening, cousin,” Constantino greeted.
“Constantino,” Cara replied.
Stephan only nodded at Cara before going back to his conversation with Constantino, like she wasn’t even at the table. Cara didn’t mind, really.
Gian’s fingers stoked Cara’s thigh under the table after he too had taken his seat, though his hand never wandered higher. No, he simply continued his light, teasing touches, reminding her of his earlier threat to make her smile, if needed.
The bastard.
God, she loved this man.
“The food should be here soon, if you want to wash up or anything,” Gian told her.
Cara nodded, thinking she should do just that. Chris hadn’t given her much time to do anything except throw on something appropriate after she’d arrived home from classes. “I’ll be quick.”
“Bathrooms are toward the back, bella.”
A quick kiss later, that was all but ignored by the other men at the table, and Cara headed for the bathrooms. She made fast work of washing up her hands, and did a check of her little bit of makeup in the mirror, finding her lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara had held up remarkably well throughout the day. She fluffed her curls with her fingers, resetting some of the waves, and headed back out to the table.
She nearly rammed into a familiar man as she rounded the hallway corner leading back out onto the restaurant’s main floor. For a brief second, as she apologized out of habit for not paying attention, she hoped he wouldn’t recognize her.
She knew that was a foolish wish.
Of course, Frankie would recognize her face. Her features were a perfect match to her dead twin’s. And from what information she had gathered from Gian and Lea’s online, private journals, the two had been involved for quite a while. It still made her a bit uncomfortable, given the circumstances of their relationship, but Cara was now sadder about it, more than anything else.
She wished Lea had told her.
“Cara,” Frankie said, taking a wide step back.
“Frankie.”
He shifted from foot to foot, shooting a glance over his shoulder before looking back to her. Nervousness wrote heavily all over his actions.
Cara cleared her throat, waving toward the semi-private area. “I should get back to my table.”
“Sure, but first, uh … could I apologize?”
“For what?”
Frankie shrugged one shoulder. “A while back—at the club when you showed up. I probably came across as rude, and that wasn’t my intention. You shocked me, and your face, it really took me off-guard. I’d seen you from afar before, with Lea, but never up close like that. When she said identical, she meant that quite literally, I guess.”
He offered her a tentative smile that Cara returned. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not, Cara. I am sorry.”
She nodded quickly. “Thank you.”
“How are you?” he asked, posing the question with a careful tone. “Don’t feel like you have to tell me, if you don’t want to. You certainly don’t owe me anything, but in a way, I feel like I might know you. She talked about you often, even though we tried to be casual and keep the personal shit out of it all.”
“She’s doing well,” came a deep voice from behind Frankie.
Cara’s gaze flew to Gian, who had clearly come looking for her, and she smiled a bit wider. “I am. I’m doing a lot better now.”
Frankie murmured something fast in Italian to Gian, who shrugged in response, as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
“All is fine,” he assured Frankie. “As long as she says so.”
“It is,” Cara said. “Thank you again, Frankie.”
Gian side-stepped the man as Frankie headed down the hall toward the men’s bathroom. “I need to make a call, Cara. Can you find your way back to the table without running into someone else?”
She laughed at his teasing. “I’m sure I can.”
“All right, get going. The food is waiting.”
He dropped a kiss to her forehead before he headed down the hallway, bypassing the bathrooms altogether and exiting through a back door into what looked like an alleyway.
Cara wasn’t all that interested in sharing a table with her cousin and Stephan while Gian was gone, but she sat back down with a smile and surveyed the pasta and salad dish that had been set out for her.
“What the hell took so long?” Constantino asked.
“And where’s Gian?” Stephan added.
“I had a conversation with someone,” Cara replied, “and Gian is making a phone call.”
“Who?”
Cara glanced at her cousin. “Pardon?”
“Who were you talking to?”
Jesus.
Why were people so nosy?
“I ran into Frankie coming out of the back,” she said, offering little else. Constantino should know enough to know who Frankie was—or had been—to Lea.
Constantino made a noise that sounded unpleasant under his breath.
Stephan shot his friend a look. “Relax, man.”
“These donnas make it fucking hard,” Constantino muttered. “First the one, now the other. It’s a damn shame, like they don’t even care how they look or how they’re making the rest of us look.”
“I beg your pardon?” Cara asked sharply.
Constantino paid her no mind, still going on to Stephan in his way. “You know what I mean, Stephan. You’re not quiet about what you do running around with that girl of yours, but at least Lea had the fucking decency to keep out of sight when she was with Frankie, for the most part. This isn’t any different, no matter what anybody says.”
“Constantino,” Cara snapped.
Her cousin’s gaze cut to hers. “What?”
She wasn’t entirely sure what Constantino was going on about, but she certainly didn’t fucking like it. She definitely wasn’t going to sit back and let him compare her relationship with Gian to the one Lea had been involved with, where Frankie was concerned. She didn’t see how the two could possibly compare. It was like apples and oranges.
“If you have something to say to me, then say it,” she told her cousin. “But keep in mind, your opinion of me, my business, and what or who I choose to do are none of your fucking concern.”
Constantino rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly the fucking problem. You don’t care that everyone else is looking at what you’re doing, and seeing it for exactly what it is, Cara. Playing a man’s whore, nothing else. It’s shameful.”
Cara felt like he had slapped her. “Why am I playing any man’s whore? Because I’m not like every other principessa della mafia, getting married the first chance I can, and making sure every little fucking thing I do is approved by a man in my family? Is that why? You know what, don’t bother answering.”
She stood from the table, already done and wanting to get the hell out of there. She could take a fucking cab home, for all she cared. She wouldn’t, however, be sitting there for another second longer.
“Go fuck yourself,” she told Constantino before leaving.