Cara wasn’t entirely sure how she had gotten tucked into a booth at a club with a man that she had no business talking to.
It wasn’t that Gian Guzzi was off-putting. In fact, he was the exact opposite. Cara was sure the man knew exactly how he came across to those around him, and had no qualms about using it to his advantage.
Charming.
Gorgeous.
Sharp lines, dark eyes, a chiseled jaw, carefully styled hair, and that was only the surface. That was what he greeted a person with at first glance. It was the second glance, and then the third, that Cara was sure won a woman over. He brought out the Italian pet names, and then murmured a quick line in French with such perfect precision that it was simply shocking. Tan skinned, a three-piece, fitted suit that showcased his athletic form, a smile that surely made most women weep, and an attitude that begged for attention.
Cocky, even, with his smirks and fast replies that took Cara off guard.
Confident.
As his brown gaze had turned on her, the rest of the club had ceased to exist to Gian. He talked to her. He looked at her. He interested her.
Cara wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.
She had been so stuck in her own head for four months, that for the first time when she decided to pop back out of it and say hello to the world, it happened to be Gian Guzzi waiting there to greet her.
Gian with his fucking suit.
Gian with his goddamn grins.
Gian looking at only her in a club full of beautiful women.
Cara wouldn’t deny that it was something she liked.
There was something she liked about Gian. She didn’t know what to make of it all.
Cara was not stupid. She recognized the surname Gian sported—Guzzi—and knew exactly what it meant, even if she didn’t know him personally.
She knew enough, like the fact that having that last name meant Gian was no doubt involved in things she avoided. In her efforts to stay away from the mafia, she could blame her success for the reason why she didn’t know anything about Gian.
She didn’t know what to blame for her attraction.
“You’re staring,” Gian said.
Cara’s gaze moved up from the slight scruff on Gian’s throat to the pleased curve of his lips, and then to his eyes. “So are you, apparently.”
His grin only widened. “I’m not trying to hide mine, though.”
“Fair enough.”
“Still can’t interest you in a drink, can I?”
“I try not to drink socially, and only on very special occasions. I do like a good beer or glass of wine, occasionally, but I don’t indulge often.”
Gian lifted a brow high. “Why’s that?”
“Alcoholic parents.”
She usually wouldn’t offer too much information about her history or childhood under the feet of her drunken, neglectful parents, but she found it easy to say to Gian.
Gian took the information in stride, saying, “That’s a good reason, then.”
“I thought so.”
“I could order something … virgin,” Gian suggested.
“Kind of a waste, isn’t it?”
Gian laughed, leaning into the booth and tossing an arm over the back, behind Cara. Normally, she would have moved, seeing the gesture for what it was—a move to get closer to her, nothing more—and that would have shut down any further advances.
Cara didn’t do that.
She rather liked how relaxed and confident Gian looked at her side, his arm resting behind her, and his gaze never leaving her.
“I’m not the only woman in this club, Gian,” Cara said.
“I’m aware.”
“You keep looking at me like I am.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
No. “Unsettling, maybe.”
“Unsettling, or gratifying?” he asked. “Because I’ve come to learn that things we find unsettling can often end up being quite gratifying, too.”
Cara wet her lips, and didn’t miss how Gian’s gaze dropped to watch her do that, either. “How thick are you rolling out the charm right now?”
“Not even a little bit, but I doubt you would believe me on that end.”
“I do find it hard to believe.”
He learned forward, close enough for Cara to get another whiff of whatever spicy cologne he wore, and his grin disappeared. Seriousness clouded his features, and suddenly, the interest she had thought he hadn’t been hiding, bloomed in his eyes. It told her that as much as she thought Gian was showing all his cards, he was keeping a few hidden.
“My charm gets me immediate results, and I use it when that’s what I’m looking for.” Gian’s fingers lightly grazed the bare skin of Cara’s shoulder, and she damn near jumped at the touch, shocked at the jolt of heat that flooded her. “I didn’t have any intentions of leaving with someone when I came into the club tonight, and I still don’t. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to, especially with you, it just wasn’t in my intentions.”
Cara sucked in a quiet breath at his candor. “So, I don’t get the charm, then?”
“Oh, no, you’ve got the charm. And then some. I may have lied a bit there. But I’m still sitting here, and so are you, because at the moment, this seems far more interesting than sending you off with a smile. Although, you are smiling, and I wonder how long it has been since you did that … considering?”
She glanced away, the dull ache of her lingering grief settling deep into her heart again. Whatever smile she had been wearing quickly fled, and Cara felt the weight of her pain come down to sit on her shoulders again.
Gian’s fingers slipped under her chin, and Cara found herself looking back in his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
Cara laughed weakly. “I’m always sad, now.”
“Actually, earlier, you said out of control, if I remember correctly.”
“That, too.”
“I’m sure it feels like that, but trust me when I say, feeling out of control should not leave you sad.”
“No?”
“That’s not what being out of control is, bella. Losing control is … a freedom, something you can’t get with any other experience because it’s one of a kind, Cara. Grief is a weight that you can’t get rid of, not right away. Freedom is weightless.”
She liked the way he said her name. His interesting inflection to his words—likely caused by his ability to speak Italian and French—made her name sound far more interesting than it actually was.
Like him, she thought, one of a kind.
“One of a kind” fit Gian, given what he seemed like, in those moments with her. A man who was more interested in talking and being near her, than getting her to the closest flat surface simply because he liked the way she looked. She assumed that, if given the chance, he would probably take an offer to fuck, but she didn’t think for even a second that it was first on his mind.
Then, he glanced to the side, his gaze narrowing at the sight of a couple returning to the VIP section and heading toward their table.
“That,” Gian murmured, “is my goodbye for now, unfortunately.”
Cara tried to hide her frown, but failed.
Bambi and Stephan were returning, it seemed.
She didn’t know where in the hell Constantino had gone to.
“Here, your drink.” Stephan set the whiskey glass down forcefully, spilling a good tablespoon of the spirit on the table. Gian offered Cara another brilliant smile. “I’ve decided I’m not in the mood for it, now.”
“You asked for—”
“Cara,” Gian said, “I know that it’s a no on the drink, but my other offer is still open, if you’re interested. My interest here, however, is fading fast.”
It took Cara a minute, long enough for Gian to stand and leave the booth, before she realized what offer he meant. She watched him disappear into the crowd, trying to decide if she wanted to take him up on it.
“What offer was that?” Bambi asked.
Stephan grunted something under his breath as he sat down at the booth again.
Cara ignored them both, and decided to go for it.
What would it hurt?
Maybe Gian had a point.
Maybe being out of control—or even refusing to be swallowed whole by her grief for a short while—was actually meant to be a good thing.
“Cara?” Bambi asked. “Are you leaving, or …?”
“A dance,” Cara replied, grabbing her coat. Gian had been far more interesting than what she was leaving behind. “I think I’d like to dance.”
That had been Gian’s offer, after all. A drink or a dance. Whatever came of those things—or after—had not been talked about really. She only needed to find him.
Cara figured the rest might be worth it.
The club was far bigger than Cara first realized when she’d come in with Bambi, and she was starting to think, after ten minutes of walking around, that she wouldn’t be able to find Gian.
“You look lost, mon ange.”
Cara had gotten lost in the swell of people in her effort to find Gian. It seemed she hadn’t needed to look hard, because he had found her.
“What does that mean?” Cara asked, spinning around to face a grinning Gian. “My French is non-existent, and my Italian can be a bit rusty.”
“It sounded good, didn’t it?”
Cara cocked a brow. “That isn’t what I asked.”
“No, but it is what matters. Do you want that dance, Cara?”
“I came to find you, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
And just like that, Cara found herself pulled closer into Gian’s body and at the same time the loud, fast music changed to something slower. Not quite slow enough that it required a waltz of any sort, but rather, a grinding, deep bass that vibrated the floors under her heels.
Gian led them into the dance, his hands slipping under Cara’s jaw to tilt her head up while her body moved instinctively closer to his. She wasn’t much of a dancer, but she knew how to move her body, and it wasn’t all that hard to match the rhythm of his dancing. With her face in his hands, she was forced to stare at him, taking in all of those lines and gorgeous features, under flashing lights as he kept watching her.
Cara hadn’t drunk a drop, but she still felt light on her feet.
Dazed, even.
It was strange and wonderful at the same time.
She had never been quite so attracted—never so fast or easily—as she found herself to be with Gian, for whatever reason. He made it easy. She forgot about the people.
Cara only saw Gian.
He didn’t look away from her, either.
“I want you to leave,” Gian said, “and spend the night with me.”
He didn’t even ask.
Cara liked that he was of the type to simply state his desires, not dance around them until the truth spilled out. He clearly didn’t play games. Maybe he was the kind of man who always won, no matter what.
“Cara,” he pressed.
“I don’t usually do that sort of thing.”
She had before; she didn’t make it a habit, though.
“But will you, Cara? If you really want to know what it feels like to be out of control, you’ve met the right man to get you there, but you have to say yes.”
Let go for a night, her mind demanded.
“Yes,” she said before thinking better of it. “I will.”
“Just so we’re clear on something, before we get to my place,” Gian said from the driver’s seat.
Cara hadn’t entirely heard him, as she was too busy watching the street pass her by.
“Huh?”
Cara glanced over at Gian as the Lexus slowed for a red light. His gaze caught hers, he flashed a grin, and then he was leaning over before Cara even knew what happened. The kiss came fast, stunning Cara momentarily. Something wicked, sweet, and hot curled in her stomach and shot down between her thighs.
She forgot they were at a red light as Gian’s lips moved against hers, slow and languid, yet still rough and demanding at the same time. She wasn’t quite sure how he did that, kiss her softly, yet managing to take her breath away with the gentle nip of his teeth to her bottom lip. The slight stubble on his jaw left the best sensation on her softer skin. His tongue warred with hers, a lingering taste of whiskey blooming over her taste buds before it too was gone, and so was his kiss.
The car lurched forward as Gian leaned back into his seat, that grin of his still firmly in place. The light had turned green again. “Pay attention to me now.”
Cara swallowed hard. “You’re very good at distractions.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“What was that you were saying—about knowing something before we got to your place?” Cara glanced out the window, thinking it would help to clear the haze. “Let me guess, don’t snoop, and be out before morning. I can do that.”
Gian laughed, drawing Cara’s attention back in an instant. “Not even close.”
“Oh?”
His gloved hand—covered with black leather driving gloves—found her thigh, slipped high enough to disappear under the skirt of her body-con dress, and then grabbed tight. Cara’s muscles jumped at the sudden touch, but somehow, she didn’t move otherwise. It had grounded her.
Then, his hand moved higher, his pinky stroking over the lace covering her sex.
Cara needed air.
Badly.
“You can leave whenever the hell you want, but while you’re with me, there’s only one thing that matters. This is mine for the night,” Gian said, his pinky stroking along the seam of her lace-covered pussy again. She shuddered under the pressure of the touch, surprised at how her body reacted to such a simple thing. “It’s mine. When and how I fuck it, and how many times I make you come tonight—that’s all mine. Understood?”
His grin had turned sexier under the dash lights.
“Cara?” he pressed.
God, she really needed that air.
“Understood.”
Or, she’d figure it out.
Apparently, Gian intended to start teaching her right fucking then. His hand came back out from between her thighs, and he flipped his palm up on her lap. “Unclasp the wrist for me and pull the glove off, would you?”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Cara did as he wanted, setting the driving glove aside. Once the item was out of his way, Gian’s hand was back up under her skirt, his fingers slipping under her panties, while his other hand stayed firmly on the wheel. His gaze stayed on the road, too.
First it was a simple stroke of his fingers—testing and feeling along her folds. Then, it was two of his fingers sliding fast into her pussy, the sound of her wetness sucking his fingers in deeper as her inner walls clenched around the intrusion.
How was she that wet already?
“Damn,” Gian said, the edges of his lips curling with satisfaction, “you’re soft like silk, Tesoro. And soaked, too. Tight as fuck.” His fingers slipped out of Cara’s sex with a slowness that damn near killed her, before the very tips found her clit and started working the nub with quick, rough circles. Cara let out a hard breath at the change in sensation, her legs tightening to his hand. Never once did Gian look away from the road. “Has it been a while?”
She did not want to answer that question.
Her mouth worked before her brain did.
“Too long.”
“Has anyone ever made you come in a car, going twenty over the limit, in the dark, on the highway, Cara?”
Were they on the highway, now?
Cara’s eyes flew to the windshield, finding, yes, they were, and she had somehow missed them turning off onto it. She checked the dash, too, noting the speed—twenty over the limit.
His fingertips pressed harder against her clit, making it throb, and Cara stuttered on her next breath. “Holy fuck.”
“I quite like hearing my name on your mouth, so try again.” As he spoke, he stopped working her clit, and filled her with two fingers instead, widening the digits as he thrust them in. Those wet sounds echoed as he fucked her with slow, measured strokes, each time widening his fingers, dragging them against her walls. “Try again, Cara.”
“You’re trying to kill me, Gian.”
“No, I’m just taking away what you think is your control.”
He flashed her with a wicked smile.
His fingers curled against her G-spot on the next thrust.
She came harder than ever.
Cara’s head tilted back as an orgasm raced through her bloodstream and the elevator dinged, the doors opening. Gian’s hand slipped out from the back of her skirt like he hadn’t been doing a thing to her the entire ride up to what he said was his penthouse.
Her legs were weak.
Her pussy was wet, sensitive, and needy.
Her body was hot as fuck.
She took a couple deep breaths as Gian stepped forward, leaving the elevator with a wink over his shoulder. “You’re so wet that you left a spot on the arm of my jacket.” He lifted his hand, waving the two fingers he’d had stuffed up her pussy as they rode the elevator up to his penthouse. “Not that I mind. It was kind of my fault.”
Jesus.
That was damn dirty.
And he’d said it without even a grin.
“Are you coming in?” he asked.
Cara nodded, stepped out of the elevator, and kicked her heels off as she looked up. Vaulted ceilings and a beautiful brass and crystal chandelier stared back at her. It was a stunning sight, as most penthouses didn’t have cathedral-style ceilings, never mind a bachelor’s place. The place was very white—the floor, the walls, and the decoration. All white, yet it made it bright, open, and inviting.
“Wow,” she said to herself.
Gian chuckled, hitting a button on the wall that forced the elevator to close. “Admire in the morning. It’s my turn tonight.”
“Your turn, huh?”
Gian took his time removing his shoes and suit jacket, putting the items away, along with Cara’s things. She toyed with the velvet choker at her throat as he checked his cell phone, then put it away with his other things as well.
Then, his attention was back on her.
Entirely.
Fully.
Unwaveringly.
Cara was frozen in place while Gian moved closer, taking his steps slow until he was close enough to pull her in the rest of the way. His one hand slid under her jaw, tilting her head up to look at him while his other slipped lower. She sucked in a sharp breath when his hand skipped under her skirt for the third time, only, instead of fucking her with his fingers until she came, he pulled the panties down around her thighs. The article fell the rest of the way to the floor on its own.
“You don’t need these, sweetheart.”
The second time he kissed her was nothing like the first had been in the car. It wasn’t slow or languid, but rough and demanding. Cara barely registered the zipper on the back of her dress being pulled down, not with how Gian’s tongue seemed to tangle with hers in a way that made her wish it was working between her thighs. He had quite a talent with that tongue of his, and she wondered what it would take to get him to put it to use.
He made quick work of pulling her dress down, letting the top half pool around her waist as he exposed more skin. The penthouse was warm, as far as that went, but Cara still shivered.
His fingertips dragged down her flesh. His palms flattered to her toned stomach. He stroked his digits softly over her lines and curves, like he was taking time to commit them to memory. Each time, she shivered.
The sensation raced over her skin.
“You can’t help that, can you?” Gian asked.
“What?”
His fingertips traced invisible lines over her naked breasts—the dress looked better without a bra underneath. “When I touch you, you can’t help what happens.”
“I don’t know if it’s you.”
Gian smirked. “I do. You wouldn’t be so shocked if it wasn’t a new thing, Cara.”
Goddammit, he was too cocky for his own good.
“I’m going to take you hard in this hallway, fuck you until you feel like you can’t breathe, and then I’ll take you to my bedroom, strip you down, and do it again. I like that little spot you left on my jacket, Cara, but I really want to see what you can leave on my slacks before I have to take them off completely. How does that sound?”
“That sounds filthy.”
“Really?” Surprise lit up his rugged features. “I would think filthy would be wearing them tomorrow with a new jacket to hide the stains because it gets me off.”
Yeah, that was worse.
“I need you to give me a yes or a no,” he urged huskily.
Cara smiled as his thumb stroked over her reddened lips. “You make it hard to say no.”
“Still not a yes.”
“Yes, Gian.”
He tipped his chin up, teasingly. “And …”
“And, what?”
“And that sounds …”
Cara let out a groan. “That sounds fucking great.”
“Well, one of us will be sounding very fucking great in a few minutes.”
He wasn’t lying.
Cara had thought he meant he would bend her over in the hallway, that she might use the table for support as he fucked her from behind.
Instead, he had been the one to lean his backside against the edge of the table, and undo his slacks. He didn’t say a word, simply reached for her and drew her in closer as he pulled his cock from his pants and boxer-briefs.
Cara watched him fist his length, before she dropped to her knees, and took his cock deep into her throat for no other reason than she wondered what he felt like. Silky smooth and hot on her tongue, that’s what. Gian hadn’t even asked, and he only stopped her long enough to tug on her hair, bring her up for a kiss, and then he pulled a condom out of his pocket. He rolled the latex down his length, and pulled her in for another bruising kiss.
“Turn around,” he demanded against her mouth.
She did as she was told, her dress was pushed up, and he pulled her into his lap. Cara didn’t get much of a warning before she felt his cock at her sex, and then he was pulling her down his length with such strength that it took her breath and words away.
His fingers had been good.
So fucking good.
But they were a tease.
She hadn’t realized how big he was until he was filling every inch of her pussy, and it took her more than a few seconds to adjust to that new sensation, and his size.
“Breathe,” came his voice in her head.
His fingertips glided over her skin, her neck, back, and then one hand tangled into her hair. His fingers tightened, tugging hard on her hair with enough strength to make her scalp tingle.
Cara let out a soft gasp.
“What’s mine tonight, Cara?” Gian asked roughly, his hips flexing forward to settle just a bit deeper into her pussy. “Tell me, bella.”
“My pussy.”
“And what does that mean?”
Cara took a second or two too long to respond, as Gian grabbed hold of her wrists, pinned them behind her back, moved her forward and took her with another brutal thrust. “Cara. I want to hear you use your words to tell me what it means that your cunt is mine.”
She had never been fucked quite like this before.
Never been used.
Never been manhandled or roughly treated.
It stunned her how hot she was, how breathless, and weak, and ready she was.
“It’s yours to fuck when and how you want,” she managed to murmur.
“Good girl.”
Those words felt like a softer caress than even his hands had been, earlier on her skin. Like an approval, his pleasure and satisfaction, all rolled into one, over her simple response.
He fucked her like that—hard, long and brutal thrusts with her arms pinned at her lower back and her hair tangled up in his fist. He urged her on with dark whispers in her ear, until all she could hear was his cock driving into her body, and his voice in her head.
“Ride that cock, Cara.”
“Oh, my God.”
Gian didn’t hold back in the slightest, pulling Cara even harder onto his cock, making her toe a thin line between pleasure and pain.
“My pretty little slut tonight, aren’t you?” he murmured in her ear.
She hadn’t heard that before, either. Certainly not in the way he said it, like it was a compliment, as though he liked it, and not the slur that most used it for.
It didn’t sound bad coming from his mouth at all. It sounded rather beautiful. Or he made it sound that way.
It was only when his finger hooked the back of her choker, tugged hard enough to take her breath away for long enough to make her shudder, that she really understood what he had meant.
“Come,” Gian ordered in her ear.
She didn’t think she had a choice. She came as her choker broke, as the air and the relief crashed through her body at the same time.
He touched.
He demanded.
Her body reacted.
Cara awoke with a shiver. She wasn’t sure what had caused it, but the sensation had started in her toes and ended in her shoulders. She knew she wasn’t at home, given the white walls, white sheets, and fluffy white pillows.
White everywhere.
Then, his voice came. The same as it had been the night before. Dark, heady, commanding, pleased, rough, and sinful.
Like sex made in to a sound.
“I’m not going to be able to forget that,” Gian murmured.
Cara knew exactly why she shivered when he spoke, because she did it again at the same time his finger traced a soft, slow line from her lower back, up her spine, to the nape of her neck.
He touched her, and she reacted.
Simple as that.
“And there it is again,” he said, satisfaction curling his tone with a gruff edge. “It’s like you can’t help it, donna. I touch, you take a breath, and I can watch it race right down your skin.”
“Stop touching me, and I will help it.”
“I think that defeats the purpose, Cara. Besides, I quite like it.”
So did she.
That was part of the problem.
It was morning, the night had ended, and that meant it was time for Cara to get back to life. She had taken the night to do something stupid; something wild, crazy, and reckless.
“No, no,” Gian said, his fingers trailing pathways over her neck with gentle strokes. “I’m not sure what exactly turned you stiff, but knock it off. I like you where you are right now. You could at least stay for breakfast or coffee before you run off.”
“You are too smart for your own good.”
“I like to think of it as that I’m quick.”
“Whatever.” Cara rolled to her back, only to find a very naked and pleased Gian lying beside her, his head propped up on his hand. He didn’t hide his wandering gaze for a second, his eyes drifting down over her bare skin, her breasts, and then lower. “I still need to head out, Gian.”
He didn’t react to her statement.
“You look good in white.”
Cara laughed, earning her another one of his grins. “Are you going to keep deflecting what I say if it doesn’t fit what you want?”
“Will it get me what I want, dolcezza?”
Cara thought, now or never. A part of her wanted to stay right where she was. Another part knew it wasn’t wise.
“Don’t be offended, Gian, but I know enough about your last name and your family to make a quick exit. It’s not you, not really. But it is, at the same time—you’re everything I try to stay away from, that’s all.”
His brown eyes darkened with something unknown, but he hid it by looking away. “I see.”
“But you make it really hard,” Cara added after a moment, “and you should know that, too. You make it hard for me to not want to stay, or talk again like we did last night, or even fuck again. You make it really hard to say no, Gian.”
His laugher came out rumbling and thick. Another one of his sexy sounds. “Do I?”
“Yeah,” Cara admitted.
“Could I convince you on breakfast and coffee? Nothing more, I promise.”
Cara didn’t believe him, but still said, “Maybe.”
His hand twisted into her curls, and Cara sighed with a smile before Gian pressed a quick kiss to her temple. Just the heat of his body, and the glimpse of his fit form leaning over hers, was enough to send her spinning right back to memories of the night before. Then, his kiss to her temple moved to the tip of her nose, soft and sweet, before dropping down to her mouth. She could plainly feel the hard length of his erection pressing into her thigh, but as fast as he had rolled onto her to kiss her, he moved away.
“No convincing needed—breakfast and coffee it is, and then you can go, Cara.”
She nodded from the sea of white heaven that was his bed. “You really do make it hard.”
Gian smirked. “Clearly not hard enough, unfortunately.”
If only he knew …
“Your clothes are … somewhere,” Gian muttered, rolling over and sliding out of the bed with ease. “Sorry about that.”
Cara snorted. “Probably the hallway.”
“I’ll have the coffee ready by the time you find it all and get dressed.”
She could manage that.
Surely.
Gian moved easily through his bedroom, picking up a dress shirt and slacks as he went. He didn’t even bother to put them on, staying naked like he didn’t have a single fuck to give in the world. Not that he had to cover up, Cara mused, as his body was a work of art that needed to be appreciated in the light of day.
Once he was gone, Cara went in search of her clothes. Like she thought, she found most of it in the hallway, but her heels and panties were very close to the front door.
God.
It had been worth it, though.
Cara headed for the kitchen once she had made herself decent, only to find Gian wasn’t there, and no coffee or food was in the works. But as quickly as she realized Gian was not in the kitchen, she heard his footsteps approach from behind her.
She turned fast on her heel, thinking he was up to his tricks again.
Cara came face to face with heartache. Gian looked like heartache.
“Gian?” she asked.
He stared at her for a moment, running a hand through the slightly-longer bit of dark hair at the top of his head. In his other hand, he held a cell phone.
“Rain check on the coffee, at least?” He tried to smile, but he ended up with a frown, anyway. “I know that’s not what you agreed to.”
“A rain check?” Cara asked faintly.
“I’ll call you a cab, if that’s all right. I have to head out.”
“Is something wrong?”
Cara knew better than to ask.
She should have taken this saving grace for what it was, and run with it. Whatever happened, it would get her out of Gian’s penthouse quicker than before, and maybe she could leave her strange feelings behind with it. A part of her didn’t really want that, though.
“My grandfather,” Gian said, glancing down at the phone in his hand, “was murdered this morning, when he stood in front of the terrace windows of the room he uses at my parents’ mansion. Sniper shot to the head—dead before he hit the ground—and he didn’t see it coming.”
Cara’s body grew cold all over. “I’m sorry.”
What else could she say?
She knew far too well how this life took and took and took, but rarely ever gave back.
“Rain check,” Gian repeated.
Cara nodded. “Rain check.”
Someday.
“A shame, that’s what it is. Dio. Rest his soul.”
Cara tried to brush off the mutterings of her uncle, but given the way her aunt passed her a false smile and rolled her eyes, this clearly wasn’t a first-time thing.
“It’s good to see you, dear,” Daniele said, taking Cara’s coat.
Constantino came into the house behind her, not even bothering to say hello. He passed his suit jacket off to his mother before she asked for it, and he disappeared down the hallway, likely heading for his father.
“Don’t mind the men this week—they’re a bit off,” her aunt muttered, shooting a glare in the direction her son had gone.
It had been three days since Cara spent the night with Gian Guzzi, and she had not heard a single word from him, about him, or his family. She had come home from school to find a message on her voice mail from her aunt, asking her over for dinner.
She knew what Daniele wanted, and while it irritated Cara to feed into the whims of others, she went. Her aunt meant no harm, she only wanted to check up on Cara and likely make sure she was still amongst the living.
“Food is nearly ready,” her aunt said, “so I hope you’re hungry.”
Cara almost asked if her aunt was going to report her state back to her mother, or even her brother, but thought better of it. No need to be rude to the only family she had left around, even if she would rather keep a distance, given her uncle and cousin’s involvement with the mafia.
“Sure, Zia,” Cara replied, “I’m starved.”
Then, her uncle’s voice boomed through the house again, making her aunt sigh heavily.
“But, Dad—”
“No one is saying anything, Constantino,” Claud complained. “No one knows who killed the boss, or who would even want to. No matter, Edmond and Gian will figure it out, and make whoever it was answer for what they’ve done.”
Gian.
It was the first time in three days that Cara heard his name.
Like his touch, it still made her shiver.