Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1) Page 8

  “Sure.” She flashed a close-lipped smile. “Don’t be too long. Your dad is tired today. He had a bad night. I don’t think he’ll stay awake much longer.” With that parting shot, she plodded down the hall, her low nude-colored heels clicking over the tiled floors.

  “What the hell, Gian?” I stabbed my finger in the center of his chest. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “Relax, sweetheart. We’ve got this under control.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his black trousers, the corner of his lips twitching like I amused him. Like this whole thing amused him. “This is about doing what we have to do. I want both of us to have a long life, and that means doing whatever it takes to walk away from this without raising anyone’s hackles.”

  I closed my eyes for a splintered second, fear and sadness creating a toxic brew in my gut. I sucked in a deep breath and dragged my fingers over the emerald necklace my brother gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I wore it everywhere. It reminded me of who I was and where I came from, and that I had family who cared about me no matter how far we drifted apart.

  “I know. I get it.” I flung my arm toward the flurry of noise filtering from the back half of the house. “Lead the way, but do us both a favor and tell the truth next time. I don’t like being blindsided.”

  “I love it when you’re reasonable, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of my head. I curled into him, inhaling his scent and running my hands up and down the tight weave of his suit jacket. His hand slid under the fall of my hair, and a thread of longing wove around me, which proved absolutely nothing except that chemistry between two people could defy logic. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

  With that thought, I shifted away from him, but I didn’t get far. His hand rounded my waist like an iron shackle, keeping me glued to him with little effort. Heat crackled from the roughened pads of his fingers, and the skin beneath my thin silk dress tingled, rendering my clothing nearly worthless.

  The minute we entered the great room, loud applause mixed with a few whistles thundered through the air. I relied on my acting skills and channeled the feelings I’d be experiencing if this moment were real.

  Carmela kissed Gian and then me. She was the first of a long line of people congratulating us with hugs and kisses—so many kisses, my cheeks were probably a kaleidoscope of reds, pinks, and peaches. Tony was there, along with a few other faces I recognized from the night my life imploded in the back of Gian’s club.

  When the crowd of people showering us with well wishes finally dissipated, the distinct pop of champagne bottles opening reverberated through the room like a gong announcing the beginning of the ceremonies. Carmela and Helena filled glasses with pale yellow, bubbly liquid. My stomach sunk like I swallowed a boulder. Blood pumped through my veins loud enough to drown out the roar of celebration.

  “Smile,” Gian whispered next to my ear. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

  “I feel like I’m going to be sick,” I muttered.

  Carmela held up two flutes with our names etched into the glass. “Gian. Evie.”

  I accepted the glass from her, and yeah, it was awkward. I did my best to avoid direct eye contact with her and anyone else in the room. Unfortunately, a man with his forearm resting on the fireplace mantel had a different agenda. His cold, dark, glittering eyes zeroed in on me like a bird of prey, calculating my weaknesses and extracting my secrets. The heat of his stare burned through me like the fire of a thousand suns. Goose bumps spiraled down my arms.

  He cleared his throat. “As the head of this family, I’d like to make a toast.”

  Almost as if this man were Moses parting the Red Sea, a hush fell over the room, and everyone lined up like good little toy soldiers.

  I leaned into Gian. “Is that your dad?”

  “No. My uncle, Dominick. Why?”

  “Just wondering, because that man sure as hell doesn’t look sick.” His arms and shoulders, although bulky, didn’t disguise the muscles straining and pulling against the seams of his custom-tailored suit. He had the right amount of gray to achieve a distinguished salt and pepper look. While he was shorter than Gian, he didn’t need height to make an impression. His eyes alone would scare the shit out of anyone—maybe even Lucifer.

  “Gianluca, I’ve told you this many times, and I’ll repeat it again now. I am proud to call you my nephew and my godson. You know I’d do anything for you. Anything. Now that you’re taking the next step in your life, I have every faith that you’ve chosen well. I have a few words of counsel for you and the lovely Evangeline.” He rotated his square chin to the side, his lips flat and lifeless. “You earn respect from your spouse with actions, not words. Always respect and listen to her because a real man takes care of his family. Be careful of lines crossed that can never be uncrossed. Every betrayal starts with trust. Every enemy starts as a friend. Every lie has a grain of truth. Behind every sin is a sinner.” He lifted his glass, and the entire room followed like minions eager to implement their evil leader’s plan. “May your days be numerous and your troubles trivial. Famigila per cent’anni!”

  Dominick’s stare never wavered from mine as his rubbery lips engulfed the rim of his glass. Then he laughed—though, he hadn’t said anything funny. I forced myself to meet his deadened gaze, trying to bury my fear. Like a snake preparing to strike, his lips curled upward, and he made a slashing motion with his hand across his neck. The air went from festive to heavy with tension. I couldn’t get enough oxygen in my lungs.

  Oh my God.

  Oh my God.

  What the hell am I doing? This is insane. These people are certifiably crazy.

  Gian kissed my temple and tapped his glass against mine. “Drink, sweetheart, or you’ll insult my uncle.”

  With more than a little tremor in my hand, I raised the glass to my lips and took a giant sip of the champagne, craving immediate anesthetization. I didn’t taste anything. It could have been a glass of arsenic, and I wouldn’t have noticed.

  The sugary bubbles clung to the walls of my throat, suffocating me. My eyes flared, and for a second, I seriously thought the drink would make a less than graceful reappearance on the spotless ivory Aubusson rug beneath my feet.

  My emotions seesawed from breakdown to out of control laughter and back again with alarming frequency. Frost coated the walls of my veins, only to be replaced with scalding heat a few seconds later. My vision muddied. Fleetingly, I remembered I hadn’t eaten all day. Voices became garbled like someone had shoved my face under water. My body swayed, and I clawed at the sleeve of Gian’s suit jacket.

  “Gian,” I rasped, and everything went black.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Gian

  I paced back and forth at the foot of the bed in my childhood home. The plush tan carpet swallowed the sound of my black wingtips. This was a disaster. Evie fucking fainted in front of the entire family. She really knew how to clear out a party. Unfortunately, my mom now had it in her head that Evie was pregnant.

  “I really am sorry, Gian. I didn’t do it intentionally.” Evie sat with her back to the headboard and her knees curled against her chest. “I don’t know what happened. Your uncle’s speech freaked me out, and I didn’t eat all day. Then, I don’t know…” She swallowed. “Did I screw everything up? I feel like a total loser.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into my arms without saying anything. I wanted to make sure she was really okay. When she swayed forward, my heart nearly burst through my fucking ribcage. I rocked her, comforting her and myself. It never failed. Every time something happened to her, a weird feeling bubbled up in my chest, compelling me to protect her from everything bad in the world. The urge was preposterous because by anyone’s definition I was the big black wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  “What’s your definition of screwed up?” I asked after a few moments.

  Her shoulders slumped, and she rested her forehead against the top of my shoulder. “I heard what your mom said. She thinks you’re marr
ying me because I’m pregnant.”

  “I told her it wasn’t true.”

  She lifted her head. Her eyes were glassy like she wanted to cry, but she had some color in her cheeks again, which was better than nothing. “Does she believe you?”

  “She will eventually.” I wiped my hand over my lips. “She won’t have any choice when our engagement ends and you’re not showing.”

  She stared at me for a second, and then the corner of her lips started twitching.

  “What?”

  Laughter burst from her lips, her back shaking beneath my fingers. “This is really funny if you think about it.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “She. Thinks. I’m. Pregnant,” she said between bouts of laughter.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Of all the secrets we’re hiding, she comes up with a pregnancy to explain my behavior and our sudden engagement. It couldn’t be further from the truth. You’ve never touched me. Hell, you don’t even like me.”

  “Oh, Evie, that’s where you’re wrong.” I traced a line from her mid-calf to her upper thigh. Her legs would be the death of me. When she came out of her room wearing this little shift dress that stopped mid-thigh, I wanted to send her back to her room to change. “I like you enough to make this situation dangerous for both of us.”

  Her eyes flared. “What? I thought—”

  A knock on the door interrupted her, and I fleetingly wondered whether it would be a bad thing to lock the bedroom door and rip that dress over her head. What I wouldn’t give to feel her melt beneath my fingertips and drink in her moans like a glass of Chianti Classico. I climbed off the bed, removing myself from the temptation to do exactly that.

  “Come in,” I said, looking at anything other than the beautiful woman sitting on my childhood bed.

  Carmela cracked open the door. “I wanted to check on Evie. How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Thanks for asking.” Evie stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t eat much today, and I’ve been training really hard. I’m so embarrassed. Your family probably thinks I’m crazy.”

  “Pregnant, not crazy.” Carmela laughed. “You don’t have anything you want to tell me, do you?”

  “Oh my God, no.” Evie waved her hands in the air. “Please tell me you don’t believe that.”

  Carmela’s lips thinned. “I don’t think you’re pregnant, but I do think you two are hiding something.”

  “Carmela, don’t start with that again,” I warned.

  Carmela held up her hand. “I have no intention of getting into that right now. I know neither of you will tell me anything. And besides, Dominick is waiting for you. He wants to talk to you before he takes off.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I nodded. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  I exited the room without looking back.

  When I got downstairs, I said, “Hey, Dominick. What’s going on?” I patted him on the shoulder with one hand and shook his hand with the other.

  “I have some stuff to take care of. I trust everything is okay with your girl?”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Yeah. I think she was a little overwhelmed.”

  “She seems like a nice girl. But let’s be frank here: she’s not one of us. She’ll never be one of us. If today showed us anything, it’s that she’ll never fit in. She’ll be a liability from today until the day she dies.”

  I forced my face to remain a blank mask despite the anger surging through me. Losing my temper or lashing out at Dominick wouldn’t help Evie or me. “When have I ever done anything to jeopardize the family or you? I wouldn’t bring someone into this family who I didn’t trust. Who I didn’t think would be an asset.”

  “I know, I know, but have you thought this through? From what I heard, she wants to be an actress on Broadway. With any luck, she’ll reach some level of notoriety. Then you know what happens?” He lifted his hands, his ruby ring glinting off the overhead light of the chandelier. “People will start looking at you. That will inevitability lead people back to the family and me. I know you don’t want that, and I sure as hell don’t need any light shining on us. We’re finally gaining some ground now that the FBI and those jackoffs at the Department of Homeland Security are focused on terrorism instead of us.”

  Staring at the floor, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What are you saying? You want me to end the engagement?”

  “Gianluca, I promoted you because you have a knack for making difficult decisions, not because your dad wanted it. You’ll figure out what to do.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I heard she’s seen some stuff.”

  My head snapped up. “Who told you that?”

  He scratched the side of his face. “It doesn’t matter who told me. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t mention it.”

  Fucking Carlo. I knew I couldn’t trust him. With soldiers like him, I didn’t need enemies. I had to convince Dominick to assign him to some other unsuspecting capo. “Since when have you wanted to micromanage every detail? You don’t need to worry about Evangeline. Ya’ gotta know, I have this under control.”

  Dominick pinned me with his dark stare. Then, he lifted his chin. “All right. I’ll let you take care of this for now, but know that the day might come when you need to make a tough call. Until then, I need to know you’ll make the right choice. You’ll protect this thing of ours.”

  I bowed my head. “Yeah, you know I will.”

  He slapped me on the shoulder. “Good. You’re better than some of those other young turks.”

  I flinched. Young turks was what he called the younger, less traditional generation of Mafiosi. The older guys looked down on us. They believed we were more inclined to break the old rules. In my mind, it was a direct slight.

  “Yeah. Yeah. I need to get back to Evie.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Evangeline

  I stared at Gian from the corner of my eye as he navigated the Sunday evening traffic. He hadn’t said much of anything since he spoke with his uncle. At dinner, he answered every inquiry with as little information as possible, and he pushed us out the door the minute I finished my dessert.

  “Dinner was wonderful. Your mom’s a good cook. I can’t believe how much food she made. She could’ve fed the entire neighborhood.” I toyed the folds of my dress. “I kind of feel guilty that she did all that when we’re just…you know.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She likes to entertain,” he answered, glancing in the rearview mirror.

  “Yeah, I guess. What did your uncle want?”

  He frowned, his fingers tapping impatiently against the center console. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “He probably thinks I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I fainted.” I squared my shoulders. “For the record, tonight was the first time that happened, so you don’t need to worry about bringing me in public.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Uh-huh.”

  “Gian, what’s the matter? Are you mad at me? Did I ruin everything?” I cataloged my conversations at dinner. “Did I say something stupid? Your family hated me, didn’t they?”

  My shoulders drooped under the weight of the self-created disasters infecting my life. Gian’s dad had said exactly five words to me all night—“It’s nice to meet you.”

  Dinner conversation wasn’t much better. His uncle’s early departure set the tone of the celebration. Clearly, he found me wanting, and everyone else agreed with his assessment. Everyone bowed and scraped around him like he was some sort of king. The instant that thought floated through my mind, the pieces of the puzzle clicked together, refusing to be buried under layers of excuses any longer.

  Dominick wasn’t merely Gian’s uncle—he was the head of the Trassato crime family. The same one people whispered about in hushed murmurs with an equal measure of awe and disgust. While Gian and Carmela had never confirmed or denied anything, the writing was on the wall.

  Panic wra
pped around my ribcage like a tourniquet. A gust of air whooshed out of my lungs. Needles of fear pricked at my skin like thousands of poison-tipped arrows. The thudding of my heart drowned out the sound of the radio.

  Holy shit.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  This isn’t real.

  Trembling, I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “Evie, are you listening to me?” Gian’s voice snapped me out of the ocean of tragedy I’d been drowning in.

  “What?” I rotated toward him. One hand white-knuckled the steering wheel while the other clawed at his hair. His eyes glittered with menace. His lips were pinched. “What’s wrong?”

  “Open the fucking glove box and hand me the gun.”

  My stomach twisted into a knot. “The gun? What do you need a—”

  His body bristling with violence, he slammed his hand against the dash, and I flinched. “Dammit! Don’t question me. Just do what I ask for once.”

  Unable to get my hands to cooperate, I fumbled with the latch on the glove box.

  “Make this stop,” I pleaded to no one in particular.

  A car hit our bumper. A loud crash echoed through my ears, and my neck whipped forward, then backward, slamming against the headrest.

  Gian shoved my head down and flipped open the glove box. The shiny metal of the gun blurred through the air like a shooting star. I pinched my eyes shut. My muscles tensed, anticipating. Dreading. Fearing.

  Bang.

  The rear driver’s side window shattered. Glass showered the top of my head.

  Bang.

  Engines revved, and my heart escalated right along with it.

  Bang.

  Tires squealed.

  A loud, piercing noise echoed through the car, and it took me a second to realize I was screaming. I slapped a hand over my mouth, not wanting to call attention to myself. With my head braced against my thighs, I stared blankly out the window, peering at the smattering of stars playing peek-a-boo with the heavily clouded night sky.