“Johnnie was pulled out of the lake this morning,” Constantino said. “All limbs attached, though, so clearly they wanted us to know.”
Gian rubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning. “Fuck.”
“Edmond is making a point.”
“Or the older generation did it,” Gian pointed out.
“It’s still for the boss, Gian.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m saying—”
“Johnnie had a verbal disagreement with one of Edmond’s favorites the night after your car went boom last week, and all of the sudden, he shows up dead.” Constantino scoffed, quickly adding, “Not to mention, he’s the second body this week, but he could have been the third in two weeks, had the bomb on your car been successful.”
Constantino was making all kinds of sense, even though Gian wished it didn’t have to be this way. The sudden surge of violence on the streets between the younger and older generation of made men in the Guzzi Cosa Nostra was disconcerting, but not entirely a surprise.
The younger men had taken the bomb on Gian’s vehicle as a personal affront, as though it was the boss’s one way of removing the last person the men thought might give them a voice. Any verbal or physical action that disagreed with the boss was suddenly met with severe punishment—to make a point, to make the men sit down, and shut the hell up.
“I’ve been shut out for a week,” Gian admitted.
“Completely?”
“No calls from Edmond or his new consigliere. No calls from the older Capos, and any attempts I’ve made to see them or check in, have been fucked over in some way. He’s shutting me out.”
Constantino swore under his breath. “This isn’t good.”
“No.”
“What are you planning on doing now, Gian? Reconciliation was fine before someone tried to knock you off, but what now?”
Gian didn’t have a simple or easy answer for that. “I need to find out who tried to kill me first, and then I’ll figure out the rest.”
Somehow, he held back from adding.
“Look to Edmond, or one of his minions.”
“I’m aware, asshole,” Gian said, “but I want a name behind the bomb and a reason first.”
Gian still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on within his own famiglia. Violence, yes. Discontent, sure. Lines had been drawn in the sand, and Gian had attempted not to put himself on either side of it, but managed to get put on one anyway.
“These issues—the problems between the generations—have been ongoing for a decade,” Gian said. “Why now, has it suddenly gotten so out of hand?”
“You should already know the answer to that, but the fact that you admit these problems have been ongoing says you have chosen to be blind to the complaints for a long time, Gian.”
He let that insult brush off his shoulders.
Sort of.
“It was manageable when Corrado was alive,” Gian replied. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“It was manageable because one side knew that when Corrado was dead, they would finally have what they wanted—a younger boss they respected and had common ground with in la famiglia. You, Gian. And they didn’t get you. They got another ancient fool in Edmond, who doesn’t understand that it’s not the forties and fifties anymore, and the rules need to change with the world we live in.”
“You’re starting to piss me off again; Corrado wasn’t—”
“He chose to be blind or placate, too. Don’t make that mistake, man.”
“He’s shutting me out,” Gian reminded his friend. “That means he’s not going to let me get close enough to put this to an end.”
“And the bomb,” Constantino said. “Don’t forget the bomb.”
How could he?
“I have too many things to deal with, all at once. Corrado, Edmond, the men, the fucking bomb. All of it.”
“What if it’s all the same man behind those things, though?”
“That’s too simple,” Gian said. “It’s too easy. This life isn’t easy. Nothing about it ever is.”
Constantino didn’t bother to argue that point.
“One thing at a time,” Gian added, “and whether you want to admit it or not, there are a lot of men who would benefit from putting me in the boss’s seat.”
“Your point?”
“It’s easy to point the finger at Edmond; easier, even, to make me look at him. No one said these men were fucking dumb, Constantino. I’m not going to treat them like they are, it could have been anyone.”
“I still think Edmond—”
“Yes, because you would also benefit from me, not him, holding the highest position,” Gian interrupted. His friend stayed quiet for a long minute. “Do you see my point, now?”
“To an extent,” Constantino said quietly.
“Then give me time to think and work this out. I need to talk to people, look them in the face and see if they lie to me. I know these men, I’ve spent my whole life with these men. It has to be one thing at a time, man. That’s how a smart man does it. I won’t tear a whole organization apart, in an attempt to rid myself of only a couple of bad seeds. My grandfather built this fucking family into what it is, and I won’t ruin it.”
“Don’t take too much time.” Constantino laughed, though it came out strained and dry. “You were lucky with the bomb, but that luck won’t last forever.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
“Just saying.”
“I’ll call you later,” Gian muttered.
He didn’t even bother giving a proper goodbye before he hung up the phone.
The elevator door opened, and Gian stepped out to a waiting consigliere for the building. The man smiled, and held out a key fob.
“Your new Mercedes is waiting at the front, Mr. Guzzi.”
Gian took the device. “Thank you, Gene.”
“Have a good day, sir.”
He looked over the key fob for the new Mercedes as he exited the building. The car he’d wanted had to be shipped in from Quebec, leaving him without a vehicle for most of the week. He’d simply used his enforcer as a driver, but he was glad to have his own wheels again. The sleek, black two-door parked in front of the building was running, warming up in the cold March air.
Gian unlocked the car, but he didn’t even get the chance to slip inside the driver’s seat. Another black car, a four-door Mercedes with dark windows, pulled up beside his on the street. He recognized that damn car, and it took all he had not to ignore it and get inside his Mercedes.
The back window of the car rolled down.
Gian gave the man sitting in the back a look. “Edmond.”
“I think you mean ‘boss,’ Gian,” Edmond replied coolly.
“I said what I meant.”
Let the fool make of that what he wanted.
Edmond’s jaw tightened. “Get in the car. Let’s take a drive.”
Gian’s hand twitched with the urge to reach for the gun at his back, but he knew better. It was broad daylight, in the middle of a very busy street and city, that was filled with cameras for the city and the police.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m not interested in taking a swim in the lake today,” Gian said, turning back to his waiting vehicle. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Get inside now, or Nathan will paint the side of your new car with your brain matter, Gian.”
Well, then.
Gian chose not to question Edmond on whether or not the man’s driver did have a gun pointed at him in that moment. The windows were tinted too dark for Gian to truly see inside and know for sure.
“Front seat, passenger side,” Edmond ordered.
Fuck.
Gian slammed the door of his Mercedes shut, locked the car, and jumped inside Edmond’s vehicle as he had been told. Sure enough, the driver and enforcer had a gun out, pointed, and ready to blow. Gian stared down the barrel of the weapon, both irritated and cold inside.
“You know where to drive,” Edmond told Nathan. “Take it slow, though, as I’d like to have a chat with my underboss on the way.”
“Got it, boss.”
Not for a single second, did Nathan drop the weapon as he pulled back onto the road. Gian’s gaze didn’t move away from the gun, either.
“Unsettling, isn’t it?” Edmond asked.
“Be specific. This whole show feels rather fucking unsettling.”
“The gun.”
“It’s not even half as unsettling as a bomb blowing up thirty feet away from you,” Gian replied. “Or having your boss shut you out from at least half of your organization. Or getting a sniper shot to the head while you drink your morning coffee and stare out the window. At least with a gun in your face, where you can see it, you know what is waiting for you. It’s not trying to sneak up on you when you least expect it.”
Edmond chuckled. “Someone’s prickly.”
“You did ask.”
“I did.” The older man sighed heavily from the back seat. “Seems we have a problem happening on the streets, don’t we?”
“Seems so.”
“One would think, given the attention we’ve received from the officials lately, what with Corrado’s murder, amongst other things, that we wouldn’t need or want more eyes on our organization,” Edmond said.
“I would agree with that.”
“Except you don’t.”
Gian shrugged. “Some things can’t be helped. What’s happening between the men, the rising discontent, is not new. It’s an ongoing problem, only now they feel like they can be heard if they shout a little louder, or make a few more problems.”
“You see those men through very rose-tinted glasses, Gian.”
“I think I take them for their word, and see what they give me,” he replied easily. “It’s you who doesn’t think the younger Capos deserve a voice in this organization. You told them that again and again—you made it even more apparent, when you placed yourself into the boss’s seat without allowing them a vote in it.”
“Be that as it may—”
“That is what it is,” Gian interrupted. “There’s no other way to look at it, Edmond.”
“But there is,” the boss replied quietly. “There is, because there is you, Gian.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I believe things have gotten out of hand these last couple of weeks, and I place the blame for that squarely on you.”
Gian barked out a laugh, and for the first time, glanced away from the gun to stare at Edmond. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Had you not given half of my men a reason to believe they could dissent and rebel, then I wouldn’t have these problems at the moment. They genuinely assume that by supporting you, they will eventually get what they want. And so, this is what we’re going to do about it.”
“Do tell.”
“You’re going to walk yourself back over to my side of things—act as the proper underboss your grandfather trained you to be for the last few years, and shut your mouth about the rest. Because, you see, when the men see you getting in line, they’ll begin to move back into their proper places as well.”
“You honestly believe it’s that simple?” Gian asked, amused.
“I believe it’s what needs to happen. They’re all sheep, they will follow the wolf, as sheep tend to do.”
“I wasn’t standing on either side of any lines until a bomb was set on my car, Edmond.” Gian smirked. “And even now, I haven’t properly taken a side. I didn’t think there was a side to take.”
“Then you are stupid and naive. There is always a side, even when there isn’t a war to be won.”
“A good boss would want harmony in his family, for the sake of business.”
“I don’t give a shit about harmony, I want compliant men.”
“I don’t think I can help you with that,” Gian said honestly. “They have their own mind. The fact you believe they’ll follow along with me, simply because I am me, speaks to your naivety, Edmond. And considering someone recently tried to blow me up—I haven’t put you out of the running for that one quite yet—you can’t expect me to jump at the chance to help you, now.”
“Well, that’s too bad, isn’t it?”
The car began to slow, and then pulled off the road altogether. It was only then that Gian realized where they were, and he barely contained his surprise at the apartment building staring back at him.
Cara’s apartment building.
“Consider this your final warning, Gian,” Edmond said. “Get in line, and help the rest of the men follow along, or I will remove you altogether. It might cause me a bit of trouble after I remove you, a few years’ worth of feuding or nonsense, but those dissenters too will learn to shut up, fall in line, or dig their own grave.”
Edmond smiled. “I don’t mind doing it like that, though I would rather do it the easier way and make it quick. And then, you also get to live and keep your place. It’s very simple.”
Gian didn’t care.
He was still staring at Cara’s apartment building.
Why would the boss bring him here?
What point was there to be made with this?
“Do we understand one another, Gian?” Edmond asked.
Gian forced his features to remain cool and calm. “I certainly hear you.”
“Consider my words, but I won’t give you much time.” Edmond waved at the building. “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with a young woman who lives here, so I figured this would be a good place to end our little chat. Have a good day, Gian.”
“She’s not even home.”
It was mid-week.
Cara was at school.
Edmond shrugged. “Walk back, I suppose. The fresh air will do you good, and the time alone will allow you to think. You need both, clearly.”
Nathan leaned over, opened the door, and jerked the gun from Gian to the outside.
Fucking great.
Gian waited patiently as the town car’s back door was opened by the driver, and Cara was helped from the vehicle. His grin grew at the sight of her wild, red curls and the annoyed expression she sported. His gaze traveled down the maroon dress she wore beneath her opened trench coat; a tight number that stopped a few inches above her knees, made her legs look fucking fantastic, not to mention the heels.
God, the heels.
Gian loved heels.
Cara’s stare landed on him, and she shook her head. “Do you often send cars to pick people up without any warning and with no indication of what they are going to be doing?”
“Chris told you to wear something nice, didn’t he?”
“You’re missing the point and the question.”
“You would be surprised at how many people I call on to do whatever fits my fancy.” Gian winked. “But not women, if that’s what you meant.”
Her iciness bled away a little. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“A man is only as good as his word.”
Cara surveyed the restaurant behind him. “Dinner?”
“You’re simplifying it, Tesoro. It’s a date. You and I, having a date.”
“Why?”
Because he thought she might like it.
Because he didn’t want to only fuck Cara.
He wanted to know her, too. He wanted to do normal things with her, like taking her to dinner, listening to her talk, and whatever else she wanted to do. He knew very well this woman was worth far more than how well she could take his cock, and he needed her to know it, too.
Gian stepped up to Cara, close enough that he could smell the hauntingly-sweet perfume lingering on her skin. Only a few inches shorter than him, she stared up at him, waiting for what he would do next.
A simple, quick kiss was all he offered before he straightened again with a smile. But it wasn’t so quick that he didn’t feel the gentle grin of hers form against his kiss before he had pulled away.
“Because it’s been a week since I last saw you, and it didn’t end well,” Gian settled on saying.
Cara looked away. “Well—”
“And you haven’t contacted me, either, so don’t try to say it’s fine. I don’t fall for that bullshit.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Gian was pleased about that. “Dinner, then?”
“I thought it was a date?”
“Dinner is one part of the date, Cara.”
Her painted-red lips curved at the edges. “All right, then. Most men actually think to ask for a date, though.”
“Seems when I ask for things, we end up in a bed, and we don’t do much else.” Gian chuckled at the sight of Cara’s cheeks turning pink at his words. “Not that I mind, but change is always good, too. I tried a different approach this time, let’s see how it works out for us.”
“Let’s be honest here, probably still in a bed.”
“At least we’ll do something first.”
Cara nodded. “Good enough.”
Gian’s hand found Cara’s lower back as they walked into the restaurant. There was no waiting for a table, as he owned the restaurant, and had the private dining area reserved for the evening until his dinner was finished. Once he had Cara seated at the table, the server made his way in with a smile and menus in hand.
“I don’t know what I want to order,” Cara admitted after the server had offered the specials and what he would recommend. She looked to Gian. “Surprise me?”
“Believe it or not, but if I order for us, it won’t be something fancy and pretty.”
Cara laughed, gesturing at the silk table cloths and then to the extravagant crystal lighting above their heads. “Even in a place like this?”
“They know what I like,” Gian replied with a shrug. “And it’s not always spectacular, but something to enjoy. Sometimes, the chef likes to make something that isn’t an affair in his kitchen, too.”
“I stand by what I said, then.”
Surprise her.
Gian only had to nod at the server, and the man was gone from the private dining space. He didn’t even need to tell the man what he did or didn’t want—the employees knew the owner well enough, and Gian made a point to dine often at this particular restaurant. He did like the food, after all.
“How was your week?” Gian asked.
It was a safe topic of conversation. Something he could move into what he really wanted to ask.
Cara made a face. “Busy at school. Quiet all the rest of the time. Dull.”
“Why dull?”
Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “I get bored when I’m alone.”
“You sound surprised at that.”
“I never used to mind being alone.”
“I’m not very good company for myself, either.”
Cara stared beyond Gian, at the artwork behind him. “I find it hard to believe that you spend much time alone.”
“Cara.”
She didn’t look at him.
“Cara.”
“Yes?”
Gian reached across the table, and slid his fingers under her chin so that he could make her look at him. “If you have something to ask, then do so.”
“We’re casual, not exclusive. I said that, Gian. I don’t need to know anything.”
“You can still ask, donna.”
Cara’s lips pursed. “That would suggest more than—”
“My God, ask.”
“I don’t need to, Gian. That’s the point. I was thinking too much this week—overthinking like I do—because of my sister and that guy. She had online journals she used to keep, you know? I went through some because I have her passwords and her laptop. I never did that before. And her phone, too. I still have that. I charged it and read the messages she hadn’t deleted.”
Gian frowned. “And what did you learn?”
“That it didn’t end between them when everyone thought it did. She still saw him occasionally, after he was married. She knew, too, about the other girl before the pregnancy thing came up. Why didn’t she ever say anything to me? Why didn’t she tell me? I’m her twin.”
Cara sighed, her manicured nails rapping against the table cloth as she added, “But then, I know why she didn’t say anything, because she knows me, too. She knows I wouldn’t have been happy—that I would not have agreed with what she was doing. So, I’m stuck in this headspace of being angry that she left me out of a private thing, and being grateful that she did at the same time. I feel like I didn’t know her, or this part of her. It’s messed up.”
“And this made you overthink because …?”
“Because I don’t want to be one of several woman, Gian. I want to be one woman to one man. Except that wasn’t what I told you before, so—”
“You are one woman to one man,” he interrupted smoothly. “I’m not with anyone else, and I haven’t been for a long time. I didn’t even do a casual thing with women, I did the random thing for an evening and that was it. Things are simpler in my life that way. I have … well, expectations of me, and it’s easier when I don’t have to bring others into that mess, too.”
Cara’s fingers stopped their dancing instantly. “Yet, you’re bringing me into it.”
“Not really. You’ve made it clear that I am not your type of man because of the business side of my life, Cara. You have no interest in being there. It makes it easy to keep you the hell out of it, when you don’t want to be a part of it at all.”
“Oh.”
“It’s an unnecessary fucking complication,” Gian said, knowing damn well he sounded crass and harsh. “And I like that we have this way of just enjoying each other, our time together, talking in bed, you thinking you’re sneaking up on me in the mornings when I know damn well you are there. Me reading in bed and you wearing my shirts. I like those things. They are uncomplicated, easy things for me to do, Cara. You don’t ask for more, so I don’t offer. But if you did ask, if you did want more, then I would try to give you that, too.”
“And you’re not doing that with someone else,” she said.
“No.”
“Or anything else, either.”
Gian chuckled lowly. “No, again.”
“Okay.” Cara gave him one of her brilliant smiles that lit up her pretty, delicate features. “I was also kind of irrationally pissed off at you this week, too.”
“For what?”
“Knowing something about my twin that I didn’t.”
Gian scowled. “That’s unfair.”
“I told you it was irrational.”
True.
“Fair enough,” he uttered. “Are you still angry about that? Even irrationally.”
Cara laughed a tinkling, musical sound. “Lucky for you, no. I’m not mad, or I wouldn’t have come tonight.”
“You would have come.”
“You don’t know that.”
Gian’s grin deepened. “You came tonight, not even knowing what this was. You came with a tight-as-hell dress on, even though I know my man only told you to dress appropriately for an upscale evening. You came with fuck-me-heels on and your hair loose and wild the way I like. You put the red lipstick on that I like to see stained on my sheets. You would have come, Cara, whether you were pissed off or not.”
Her cheeks reddened. “So you’re a good fuck—I never denied that, Gian.”
“Try again.”
She blew out a slow breath. “God, you’re insufferable.”
“Try again, mon ange.”
“I know that means you’re calling me your angel. I know how to use the internet, Gian.”
“Try again.”
“Could you try to be a little less arrogant?” she asked.
“I don’t give an inch, because everyone thinks they can take a mile. Try again.”
Cara’s eyes blazed as she turned them on him. “I came because I like you, and you make it hard to say no, even when you’re not asking.”
He’d take that.
Fucking right he would.
“Except right now, you’re making me want to—”
“Make a trip to the closet private space to get me between your legs?” he asked with a smirk. “Because I only actually need to move my chair closer, Cara, to get that job done with one hand. The tablecloth hides what goes on beneath.”
“You are—”
“Are we ready for drinks?”
The sudden appearance of the server made Cara sit straight in her chair while Gian only winked at his companion. “Red wine, and bring it with the food, please.”
“Five minutes, Sir.”
“Wonderful.”
Gian didn’t take his gaze off Cara, but he listened to the footsteps of the receding server.
“What did you order us, anyway?” she asked.
“Poutine.”
Cara repeated the word, and butchered it the way most Americans and Western Canadians did whenever they said it.
“No, not poo-teen,” Gian said with a laugh. “Pou-tin. Or, pu-tsin if you’re French.”
“Isn’t that, like, fries and gravy?”
“It’s a delicacy, invented by the French. Homemade fries, cheese curds, and a dark gravy, piled into one giant mess on a plate. Everybody has their own way of making it, some add different nonsense to it, which frankly, ruins what it’s supposed to be in the end. It’s not pretty, but it is delicious.”
“And what about after the food and wine?”
Gian shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever you want, Cara. I can take you home, and drop you off. I know you probably have classes tomorrow. Or we can go see a movie, maybe a show if you want. It’s up to you.”
“So, a real date, huh?”
“One that ends however and wherever you want it to, bella.”
She smiled a wicked sight.
Gian knew exactly where their date was going to end.
He didn’t mind a bit.