Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1) (16 page)

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

Evangeline

Tendrils of steam floated in the air above my soup. I lifted my spoon and blew across the deep red broth. I poured it into my mouth, and the taste of fresh tomatoes mixed with earthy vegetables exploded on my tongue.

When I came home today, Gian had surprised me with dinner. He’d set the table, complete with flickering candles and placemats. I glanced at Gian across the table. He hadn’t taken a bite of anything.

“The soup is great. Did you cook all this yourself, or did you call your mom for help?”

He lifted the glass of ruby-colored wine to his lips and took a sip. “I might or might not have had Carmela walk me through the steps over the phone.”

“Either way, I’m impressed. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I wanted to cook for you. I couldn’t stand the thought eating takeout again or, worse, eating another can of that soup you have stocked in the pantry like you’re preparing for the end of the world.” He mock shivered.

The past couple of weeks had slipped by with me in a dreamlike state. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy or hopeful. The only way it could improve would be for me to land a part in the production I was auditioning for next week.

In the last week or so, I had buried all the recurrent doubts about my relationship with Gian and convinced myself I was finally on the right path. I told myself it wasn’t too soon to feel this strongly about someone else, and nothing mattered except the way we felt about each other.

Apart from a few minor hiccups, days ran seamlessly from one to the next. I danced and danced until my feet ached, and I practiced lines from the play until I could recite them in my sleep. Even on the nights Gian worked late, he always came home in time to crawl into bed with me.

Sometimes we talked until the early hours of the morning about anything and everything. Our childhood. Dancing. Food. Our families. Our goals. Our dreams. Even though we were still in the early phases of our relationship, I honestly felt as if I knew him better than anyone in the world.

Other times, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We’d stumble to the bed or any horizontal surface, exploring, kissing, moaning, and laughing. While I knew this moment of perfection couldn’t continue indefinitely, I refused to worry about the future. I’d wasted enough of my life worrying, fretting, and planning, and nothing had worked out like I expected. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, or at least that’s what I was starting to believe.

“Hey. It’s not that terrible, and it’s organic.”

“Exactly. Organic and tasteless.”

I took a few more bites of my soup. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”

“I have to work tonight. I won’t be home until late.”

I rested my spoon against the side of my bowl. “What’s late?”

“I don’t know. Three. Maybe four in the morning.”

“Why?”

“There’s a special event at the club, and I need to be there to supervise.”

I lifted my napkin and wiped the corners of my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from doing your job. Are you going to get in trouble?”

“No. My dad and I own the club together.” Gian tensed, and his jaw flexed. “When he got sick, I took over, and as you can imagine, the day-to-day management is not high on his list of priorities anymore.”

My stomach lurched at the mention of his dad. We’d stopped by to visit every morning before Gian dropped me off at the dance studio. I never knew what to do while Gian holed up in his dad’s room for a good hour. I tried to make myself useful by doing any dishes or starting a load of laundry, except domestic things were never my strong suit, and I secretly wondered if his family wished I stayed away.

Admittedly, the tension between Mrs. Trasatto and me had lessened significantly since my confession, and sometimes, it seemed as if she liked me. She hugged me and kissed both of my cheeks every morning like I was really going to be her daughter-in-law someday. Like she would be happy to have me as a member of her family. An ache bloomed inside my gut, and I rubbed my breastbone, pushing away the thought.

Stay in the present.

“I’m so sorry, Gian.”

“No need to apologize.” He sucked in a deep breath, ridding himself of the sorrow visible in the tense set of his shoulders. “You’ve been wonderful to my family and me over the last few weeks. My mom can’t stop singing your praises. By the way, that’s a big deal because she’s normally pretty stingy with her compliments.”

Some of the tautness lessened in my limbs, and I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you sure about that? Because I thought she was going have a heart attack when I tried to reheat some of her marinara sauce in the microwave.”

He laughed, and his golden eyes looked like twin pools of warm honey. My cheeks heated. “She got over it quickly when she saw how perfectly you folded her laundry.”

I snorted. “I guess all those summers slaving away at the local department store weren’t in vain after all.”

He leaned over and kissed me, loitering there for a few beats. “I need to take off. Call me if you need anything. Do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t include the dishes. I’ll clean up when I get home.”

I looped my arms around his neck and inhaled his intoxicating scent. Like every time I touched him, my anxieties melted away like they never existed in the first place. Gian wanted me. I felt safe with him, both physically and mentally.

I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I wanted to be part of his life as long as he’d let me. Sure,
I had tried to keep my feelings for him under wraps—though, I’m pretty sure I lost that battle before I started fighting. As treacherous as it sounded, I liked his arms around me at night. I liked the way my heart doubled in size when he flashed me one of his covert smiles. I liked nearly everything about him.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Gian

I stalked the perimeter of the VIP room of my club. The only way to get in here tonight was if you had over a three-million-dollar net worth, you passed our background check, and you knew the secret password.

Tony and Sal had set up six round tables. One table was dedicated to blackjack, and the remaining five were reserved for high-stakes poker. Piles of red, blue, and white chips sat in front of every player, only because the games started less than an hour ago, and the winner and losers weren’t evident yet. Cigar smoke curled into my nose, burning my lungs. I hated the sickly sweet scent infinitely more than cigarette smoke.

I paused at one table to watch the new dealer. The cards waterfalled through his fingers, his attention remaining fixed on the players at his table. While he was damned good at his job, I still didn’t trust him. You could never be too careful. There were too many people and organizations, both criminal and legitimate, clamoring to infiltrate the Trassato family and take us down.

Angela slid into the lap of the man directly in front of me, rubbing herself against him like a cat. “You look like you need a good luck charm,” she practically purred.

Tony and Sal had staffed the event tonight, and the minute I heard her voice, I regretted my decision to delegate the details. Everything from her blonde hair and overly plump lips grated on my last fucking nerve. I couldn’t remember why I hired her in the first place. She was a gorgeous in an overly groomed way, except nothing about her appealed to me anymore. The entire week she had followed me around like a lost puppy making suggestive comments. By mid-week, I decided to fire her, but I couldn’t pull the trigger until after tonight.

“Angela,” I snapped, “let the man play his fucking game. You’re here to serve drinks, not give lap dances.”

Her red-stained lips hinged open.

“Aw, she’s not bothering me,” the nearly bald man muttered, running his hand up the inside of her bare, overly tanned thigh.

“You’re here to play poker,” I said. “Either do it or get the fuck out.”

“Fine. Fine.” He held up his hands. “I’m playing.”

I pointed at Angela then to the far corner of the room. “Follow me.”

Angela scooted off his lap, her heavily made-up eyes narrowed into slits. She huffed and stomped across the floor on her sky-high heels.

“What was that about?” she hissed.

The pungent smell of alcohol wafted across my face.

Fucking hell.

I didn’t allow my employees to drink during working hours. There was too much at stake, especially tonight.

“You’re here to serve drinks to my guests, not yourself.”

She swayed on her feet, and I knew the alcohol I smelled on her breath wasn’t the result of a few sips. I had invested a lot of money into this game. She’d fuck up the entire night if I didn’t get her out of here. She curled her pointy fingernails around the lapel of my jacket, and I wasn’t sure if she wanted my attention or if she needed help standing.

“I only want to make sure they have a good time.” She pushed out her lower lip into a practiced pout. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Great. Serve them drinks, flirt a little, but stay the hell out of the players’ laps.”

“Wait. I know what this is about.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, a predatory smirk on her face. “You’re jealous. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, pretending you weren’t interested, and now you can’t stand the thought of me touching another man. You still want me.”

“You’re drunk. Do me a favor. Take a thirty-minute break, drink lots of water, and don’t touch another sip of alcohol for the rest of the damn night.”

She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against my chest. “You can have me. All you have to do is say the word. It’ll be our little secret. Nobody has to know. Not Tony, not Sal. And that fiancée you keep hidden away…” She clumsily snapped her fingers a few times. “What’s her name again? I heard the guys talking about her.”

“She’s none of your business. Don’t mention her ever again,” I growled.

She pushed up onto her tiptoes, brushing her lips against my neck. A shiver of disgust rushed down my spine.

“What your fiancée doesn’t know won’t hurt her. We’ll have a good time. Do you want to go somewhere private for a do-over? You won’t regret it. I promise.”

If Angela thought I’d lay a finger on her drunk ass, she was thicker than I suspected. I gritted my teeth and the edges of my vision blurred, pulsing in time with my escalating anger.

Anger at myself for entertaining hooking up with her to get Evie out of my head. Anger at her for misreading every blatant dismissal I tossed in her direction. Anger that I didn’t fire her earlier in the week.

While I would never lay a hand on a woman, right now she was tempting me to do exactly that. “Go into my fucking office. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. We need to talk.”

Grinning like an idiot, she took a few micro-steps backward. “Right now? Are you sure you don’t want me to work?”

I flicked my wrist. “I’ll grab one of the other bartenders. You’re done for the night.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

Evangeline

“Did you get a hold of him?” Carmela’s voice echoed through the speaker of the car I’d borrowed from Gian’s garage.

“No.” I flipped on my blinker. “He’s not answering my phone calls either, but I’m pulling up in front of the club.”

Carmela heaved out a breath. “Thanks so much for doing this. I would’ve gone, but I don’t want to leave his side, and my mom needs me. I can’t leave her alone.”

I turned off the ignition and opened the car door. “I understand, and you don’t have to thank me. What’s happening now?”

“He’s better now. His blood pressure is down, and he’s asking for Gian.” Her voice quivered.

I jumped out of the car, half-walking, half-jogging. “I’ll do what I can to make sure he gets there as soon as possible.”

“Call me as soon as you find him. I need to talk to him, preferably before he meets with my dad.”

“I will. See you soon.” I disconnected the call and cut directly in front of the line curving around the side the building. My head down and my hands shoved deep in the pockets of my long cotton cardigan, I ignored the groans and taunts as I approached the bouncer at the entrance.

“Hi.” I beamed. “I need to get inside to talk to my fiancé for a few minutes.”

The man folded his bulky arms across his chest, his gaze raking over my less than club worthy appearance. “Wait in the line.”

My eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”

“Andy,” he grumbled. He opened the red velvet roped and waved two people inside.

“Well, Andy. I’m Evangeline Jeffers, Gian Trassato’s fiancée, and it’s really important that I speak with him right now. Something happened to his father, Antonio Trassato, and he would want to know about it.”

He scanned through the names on his clipboard. “Sorry, you’re not on the list. I can’t bend the rules for anyone, even Mr. Trassato’s fiancée.”

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have time for this shit. Gian needed to add me to the list so I didn’t have to stand outside like the pathetic spurned fiancée.

“If you don’t trust me, you can use that walkie talkie thing clipped to the back of your belt and check. Call Gian or Tony. Either one of them will clear me to go inside.”

“No can do. They can’t be interrupted tonight.”

“Please.” I knitted my fingers together and pressed them to the center of my chest. “Just call. I promise you Gian won’t be mad. Or better yet, do you know his sister Carmela? I can call her, and she’ll tell you to let me inside.”

“No, don’t bother her.” He groaned. “I’ll call Gian.”

With his dark eyes fixed on me, he held the black walkie-talkie to his lips. “Mr. Trassato, Evangeline Jeffers is here to see you. I told her to wait in the line, but she was insistent.” He paused, his eyes widening fractionally. “Right. Of course.”

He fastened the walkie-talkie to his belt and unclipped the rope. “You can go in. Gian will meet you right inside.”

“Thank you for your help.” I squeezed his arm, ignoring the urge to gloat. He was simply doing his job.

I stepped inside, halting briefly to let my eyes adjust to the flashing lights. The loud bass vibrated my insides. I didn’t understand how Gian could work here every day. One week of working in a club would be more than enough for me.

Gian’s giant strides closed the space between us in a matter of seconds, and he hooked his hands around my upper arms. “Evie, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

“It’s your dad. His blood pressure spiked, and your mom is worried about him. He’s okay now, but he’s asking for you. You weren’t answering anyone’s calls, so I came here.”

Stunned, he stared at me, the torment in his eyes slicing through me. “Dammit,” he muttered. “Do they know why?”

“Not really. Since he’s in home hospice care, they won’t do anything except try to make him comfortable.”

“Yeah.” His hands slipped from my shoulders. “That makes sense.”

“I drove here, so we can leave when you’re ready, unless you’re too busy. I know you planned to work late tonight and everything. We could go tomorrow morning.”

“No. Tony and Sal can take care of everything here.” He brushed a kiss across my lips. “Wait here while I grab a few things from my office.”

As he disappeared from view, I remembered Carmela’s request for him to call her as soon as possible. “Shit,” I mumbled, weaving through the crowd, dodging elbows, drinks, and swaying torsos.

Holding up my phone, I pushed open the door to his office. “Gian, Carmela wanted you to—” The rest of the sentence died on my lips. The sight in front of me hit me like a hard punch to my solar plexus. A very naked woman was draped over the top of his desk like something out of a porn set. Frozen with shock, I covered my mouth to stifle the horribly embarrassing sounds crawling like spiders up my throat.

Not again.

Humiliation burned the corners of my eyes. I clamped my eyes closed, trying to scrub the scene in front of me from my memory.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

I’m okay.

My mind grappled for a response, only my mouth wouldn’t cooperate. I pried open my eyes.

The woman yanked a black dress over her head that looked more like a bunch of ribbons than an actual dress. Her face resembled a red tomato, and her skin clashed with her brassy hair.

“Excuse me,” she muttered her voice so soft I nearly missed it. “I need to use the bathroom.” With her panties and bra balled inside of her fist, she opened a door next to Gian’s desk and ducked inside.

He crossed the room, his footfalls echoing like gunshots in my head. “Calm down, Evie.” He brushed his fingers down the side of my bare neck, and my muscles tensed a little more. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Let’s not talk about this now. Your family is waiting for you.” When I forced my hands between our bodies, trying to escape him, he squeezed me tighter. “You can take the car, and I’ll call a cab.” I fought back the nausea bubbling in my gut like I drank too many shots of tequila.

He pressed his lips to my forehead. “No. You’re not leaving here without an explanation.”

“I can’t do this again, Gian. I just can’t. It’ll kill me.” My voice sounded like I had swallowed a mouthful of gravel.

“Okaaay,” he said, drawing out the word like I’d been hit on the head, and I was incapable of making sense. “Apparently, I’m a little slow on the uptake, so you’re going to have to explain what you mean.”

“What do you know about my ex?”

His eyes burned with fury, and his lips thinned. “Enough to know he’s a spineless piece of crap.”

I rubbed my hands along the sides of my thighs. “Yeah, I caught him with that woman, and I don’t have any delusions she was the first. He only mentored women, and when I witnessed firsthand what that entailed, I realized it would never stop. Those women spent time alone with him, and he had power in the industry they wanted to break into. It was a recipe for cheating. It had the three As to create the perfect storm.”

“The three As? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Availability. Access. Alibi. When the three of those aligned, he cheated with immunity.”

“Yeah, so, what exactly does that have to do with us?”

“You own a nightclub. A lot of the employees are women. I would never know if you cheated, because this is your world. No one would ever tell me.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Don’t ever compare me to him.”

“I’m not. It’s just…” I swallowed, uncertainty ballooning between us.

Angela slipped out of the bathroom door, her clothes now firmly in place. She dipped her head and slipped by me, smelling of booze and cheap perfume. She paused at the door, her hand curled around the doorknob. “Well, yeah, I guess I’ll get to work.”

I studied the tips of my white slip on sneakers. I couldn’t look at her, and I certainly didn’t want to have a conversation with her. Not now. Not ever. The memory of her sprawled out on Gian’s desk was embedded in my head, and it made me more than a little self-conscious. She embodied everything I didn’t.

She was carefree. I was uptight.

She had curves for days. I had long, toned muscles from years of dance.

She had fake breasts that belonged on the cover of some less than honorable magazine. I had a B cup on a good day.

Yuck.

“Don’t bother,” Gian barked. “I asked you in here to terminate your employment. You can pick up your final check and sign the necessary paperwork tomorrow when you’re sober.”

She set her hands on her hips. “Are you serious?”

“What do you think? You showed up to work drunk, you draped yourself over my guests like a prostitute, you sprawled your naked ass on top of my desk. Sounds like a lot of good reasons to fire you. Get the fuck out of here, or I’ll revoke my offer to pay you for the last two weeks.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, slamming the door with a loud thud.

“I’m going to go,” I whispered when the silence became unbearable.

Gian locked a hand around my wrist, his jaw hard and his eyes glinting. “We’re not done talking about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Seriously? You’re going to take off without talking to me?”

Inhale.

Exhale.

“You have more important stuff to do right now, Gian.”

“Nothing is more important than you,” he fired back.

He tugged me hard against him, forcing my hands to circle his neck. He smelled like cigars and whiskey. My legs pressed against his, and damn it, his closeness affected me more than I wanted to admit. He wanted to subdue me and unstitch my resistance. I sensed him willing me to look at him, and somehow, I found the self-respect to rebuff his unspoken command.

Punishing me for my defiance, he slid his hands around my waist and squeezed my ass, rocking his hard length against me. “Why would I want that woman when you do this to me?”

I didn’t want to like his dominant manner, except somewhere in a deep, dark place in the back of my mind, I kind of did. Swallowing the moan on the tip of my tongue, I dug my fingers into the soft weave of his suit jacket. My fingers simultaneously longed to pull him closer and slap him across his too-smug face. I hated that he could arouse me even as betrayal and hurt churned inside of my gut like acid.

“Don’t do this to me,” I whimpered, revolted by the weakness in my voice. In my soul. In my heart.

“I asked her to meet me in here so I could fire her, Evie. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to explain anything. Your father is waiting for you.”

“No.” His hands framed my face. “Not until you believe I didn’t do anything wrong.”

His lips slammed against mine, chased with a hard thrust of his tongue. All of it orchestrated to possess me, claim me, and pacify me. He tasted like a lethal concoction of anger, whiskey, and seduction. I jerked my head to the side, severing the connection.

“Stop.”

He speared his hand into his hair. “Nothing happened. She was here when I got here.”

I backpedaled a few steps until my thighs hit the rounded arm of his sofa. “You obviously sent her signals that you were interested.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His hand trailed down the side of my neck, pausing on the front of my white collared shirt. “You’d like me to be a lying cheater exactly like your ex so you don’t have to deal with what’s going on between us.”

“No.” My voice was barely a whisper.

He tugged on the sides of my shirt and two buttons popped off, skidding across the floor by my feet. He cupped one breast, pinching and teasing my nipple. I gasped.

“Then why don’t you believe me?” He flipped open the button of my baggy boyfriend jeans and shoved them, along with my panties, down my legs. I couldn’t bring myself to stop him.

My fingernails sunk into the arm of the leather sofa on either side of my hips. “I want to, but I’m—”

He plunged his fingers between my thighs, stroking the sensitive flesh and effectively stopping my words mid-sentence. I arched my hips. His touch was Heaven
and
Hell. Heaven because I wanted him. Hell because I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of him. His lips were everywhere, his stubble like sandpaper on my flesh, his tongue licking and exploring. All of it drove me to the brink of insanity.

“I’m scared of what I feel for you,” I confessed more to myself than him.

He crouched down, a hand on each of my knees. “Why?”

“Because it’s too big, and I don’t want to be hurt again.”

He lifted one of my legs over his shoulder. “I’m never going to hurt you, sweetheart.” With his amber gaze burning into me, his tongue licked a devastating path up the inside of my thigh. “You’re mine, and I protect what’s mine.”

His warm breath wafted over my folds, and my eyes drifted shut.