Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1) (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

Gian

“No way, Carmela. I won’t consider it.” I picked up a towel, wrapped it around the back of my neck, and I walked out of the home gym and into my adjacent bedroom. “Stop asking.”

“Gian, you need a personal assistant, someone to stock your kitchen, water your plants, go to the dry cleaners, and stop by the house when you’re out of town,” she called after me. Her four-inch red heels clicked against the wood floors with every step. “You’re rarely home between running the nightclub and your social life. What’s the big deal? You’ll barely see her.”

I halted mid-stride and swung around, glaring at my twin sister. “The big deal is that I don’t want a fucking assistant. I don’t need anyone nosing around in my business, especially someone who’s not family. I can’t have random people in my space. You know that. Besides, I don’t need anyone else when I have you.”

Carmela folded her arms across her chest. “Evie isn’t random. She’s my friend, and I don’t have time to do any of that stuff for you. I have a life too, you know.”

“I don’t want a stranger in my home.”

Carmela huffed. “Fine. Can you find a position for her at the club? She could do inventory or bartend.”

“Does she have any experience?”

She shrugged. “What’s so hard about counting bottles or pouring a drink?”

“It’s a lot harder than it looks.” I rubbed the towel down the side of my face.

She smiled and batted her eyelashes. “Please, Gianluca. I need you,” she said, drawing out my full name. I hated that name. Nobody called me Gianluca except our dad and strangers.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No, and you’re going to help me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re my favorite brother, and you’re always there when I need you. Right now, my really good friend needs you, which by extension, means me.”

“I don’t have any openings.”

She clipped the back of my head with her open palm like my mom had when I was a kid. I fucking hated it. “Well then, make one.”

“Easy, Carmela. No need to get violent. I’ll find something.” I leaned my hip against the wall, placing myself out of striking distance. “Tell me about this friend.”

“What do you want to know?”

“For starters, what’s her name?”

“Evie Jeffers.”

“Am I supposed to know the name or something?”

Carmela shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Great.” I rolled my eyes. “Tell me what makes Evie Jeffers so special.”

“Like I said, she’s a close friend of mine, and she’s had a string of bad luck. She needs a break.”

“What kind of bad luck?”

“She’s an actress and—”

I held up a hand. I didn’t need to hear one more word. I’d dated an aspiring actress last year for three months. She’d tried to sell a sex tape of us to a few websites, thinking it would give her the exposure she needed to land a breakout role. I shoved my foot so far up the website owner’s ass as soon as I got wind of it. Luckily, it never saw the light of day, and I learned my lesson. I’d had enough of fame whores to last me a lifetime. Besides, I needed to keep a low profile.

I’d been promoted from soldier to capo six months ago when our dad’s health had deteriorated to the point where he couldn’t work. At twenty-seven, I became the youngest capo in the Trassato crime family. If everything went my way, I’d be promoted to underboss or consigliere by the time I reached thirty-five. As for Dominick, the boss and my uncle, I wanted to position myself so I was on the short list to be his replacement when the time came.

Without question, my promotion had pissed off a few people, and I couldn’t risk adding fuel to the fire. My dad only agreed to step down if I succeeded him. Some of the older soldiers didn’t like it, especially Carlo, but he could go fuck himself. Everyone knew he had the tendency to disappear when it came time to do the “heavy lifting.” He’d always make up some pathetic excuse about being sick or not knowing how to find the person.

While I may not have been around as long as Carlo, I’d earned the promotion. I’d been doing my dad’s job plus mine for a solid year after my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Dominick didn’t fight my dad, which didn’t surprise me. He encouraged made men to nominate their sons for membership, believing it incentivized the members to keep the omertà or the oath of silence.

However, Dominick didn’t play games. If he thought someone had been taking unnecessary risks and endangering the family, or by extension him, he considered it a direct show of disrespect, and there’d be severe consequences.

I sliced my hand through the air. “You can stop right there. I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t heard her story, Gian. How do you know?”

“I can’t have a personal assistant or someone working in my bar who will call attention to me or my business.”

Carmela shook her head. “Evie isn’t like Becca. She wouldn’t do that. She’s not looking for instant fame. She’s a hard worker. She’s landed a few big roles on Broadway, and her prospects were really promising until she hurt her ankle last year. She needs a steady income for a couple of months while she gets back in shape. When she’s not working for you, she’ll be at rehab and in the dance studio. She doesn’t have time for anything else.”

“She hurt her ankle a year ago?”

“Yeah? So?”

“Why is she still in rehab?” I’d fractured my wrist in a bar fight when I was twenty-one. I had a cast for six weeks, and I had to do a shit load of physical therapy for the next few months, but it sure as hell didn’t interfere with my life for an entire year.

Carmela fiddled with the cuffs of the white shirt peeking out of the sleeves of her bright red power suit. “She had some other things going on that diverted her attention.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Like what?”

“She got engaged and moved in with her fiancé. She put off her rehabilitation to plan the wedding.”

I raised one eyebrow. “Uh-huh, and where’s the fiancé now?”

“She broke off the engagement.”

“Why?”

“It’s none of your business.” Carmela lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. I knew that look. I had seen it countless times when she faced off with our mom. I wouldn’t get much else out of her. Her stubbornness drove our parents crazy.

“Is the ex going to be a problem?”

“No,” she answered without hesitation.

“Will I be dealing with a blubbering mess every day?”

“Absolutely not. Evie is a strong person with a good head on her shoulders, and she’s really talented. She just needs a little help right now.”

“So let her stay with you until she’s back on her feet.”

“She has been. She doesn’t want to be dependent on me financially until she starts making money. She wants a job, but if she finds a normal job, she won’t have enough time to train or go to auditions. If you hire her, she’ll have flexibility and a place to stay.”

My brows snapped together. “A place to stay?”

She shifted on her feet. “Well, yeah. I thought she could stay where you take your…your whatever.” She waved her hand. “You know what I’m talking about. The apartment above your club.”

I chuckled. “What are you, in kindergarten? You can’t say it.”

She cocked her hip to the side. “Screw you, Gian. The last thing I want to talk about is my twin brother hooking up with all those random…” She shivered. “You know.”

“You’ve got a point.” I chuckled. “I’m not sure I’m the person to help your friend.”

“Interview her, and if you like her, offer her a two-week trial period. That’s all I’m asking.”

Though my mind scrambled for a way to sidestep her request, in the end, I caved. I’d hire her for a trial period and terminate her when it was over. It’d be easy enough to scare her away.

“Bring her by the club tonight, and I’ll interview her. That’s all I can promise you.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I knew you’d help.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” I grumbled. “Now get out of here. I need to shower.”

She held up her hand. “One more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t hit on my friend. She doesn’t need another asshole in her life.”

“Got it. I’ll keep my hands and mouth far away from her.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And every other body part.”

“Have a little faith in me. I’m not that bad.”

“No, you’re worse, and we both know it.”

CHAPTER THREE

Evangeline

After crashing on Carmela’s couch for a week and submitting job applications everywhere and anywhere, I didn’t have a single viable job prospect. Well, I had one. Carmela’s twin brother had agreed to interview me for a position at his club tonight. My stomach churned at the thought of working for Gianluca Trassato. I hadn’t met him. I didn’t know much about him except the little gossip I overheard from some of my actor friends when I introduced them to Carmela. Basically, they said he was a man-whore with connections to the mafia.

Common sense told me to stay far away from him. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any other options except going home or running back to Kevin, neither of which I wanted to consider. Kevin had asked me to give him back the engagement ring, which I planned to pawn to fund my life. I hadn’t decided what I should do.

I climbed out of the taxi and stood on the street with my hands parked on the waistline of my skirt, watching the scene in front of me. Laughter floated through the air, and bits and pieces of conversations filtered into my ears. The line to the club snaked around the block.

Nightclubs weren’t my scene. I’d successfully avoided them since I moved to New York City a couple of years ago. Initially, I worked too much to do anything other than meet friends for dinner. After I met Kevin, we went to art galleries and charity fundraisers.

Though Carmela had told me my name would be on the bouncer’s VIP list, I fleetingly considered abandoning this whole adventure and going back to her apartment.

I can do this.

I need this.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and marched forward, weaving through the throngs of people to the front of the line. Holding my head high, I ignored every groan and unflattering comment aimed at me.

After giving the bouncer my name, I stepped through the open doors, pausing for a second to allow my eyes to adjust. The club was dimly lit with flashing lights. Music pounded from the speakers, vibrating my bones and muddling my thoughts. Writhing bodies moved on the dance floor, on the balcony, and in front of the bar. Thousands of teardrop-shaped crystals hung from the ceiling, reflecting the light and swaying with the music. It felt like I was underwater or in a cave.

I pushed, elbowed, and shoved my way to the bar, ignoring three inappropriate touches in the process. Scanning the shadows, I didn’t see Carmela anywhere. Just my luck, she was late.

“Excuse me!” I shouted, fighting to get the bartender’s attention. Technically, I shouldn’t order a drink. I was here for an interview, not a night of debauchery, but I needed something to settle my nerves. I made the mistake of answering a call from Kevin today, and he’d done his best to convince me to give him another shot. To my disgust, I briefly considered meeting him for dinner—then, I heard Ana’s voice in the background, and I lost my shit.

Waving my hand, I leaned forward, resting one elbow on the counter. “Hello?”

“Hey, beautiful. Let me help you out. What are you drinking tonight?” a deep voice rumbled next to my ear.

Eyes narrowed, I glanced to the side, ready to shoot down the offer. Then, I froze when my gaze landed on Michelangelo’s David in the flesh. Wavy dark hair neatly styled. A long, angular nose. Heavy-lidded, almond-shaped eyes. Sinful lips curled upward at the corners in a perpetual smirk. Expensive suit. Broad shoulders nearly twice the width of mine. Narrow waist. Thighs that…
oh shit
.

I lifted my head, meeting his topaz-colored eyes. The lopsided grin on his face told me my not so subtle perusal hadn’t escaped his attention. Jittering my ankle in circles, I licked my lips. His eyes locked on the motion like a predator zeroing in on his prey.

“No, thanks. I’m good,” I blurted out, desperate to end the encounter. Accepting a drink from him wouldn’t kill me—though after the fallout with Kevin, I’d sworn off men for the foreseeable future. I needed to get my career back on track and concentrate on my goals, and only then could I consider inviting another man into my life, even for one night.

“It’s only a drink. One drink.” He grinned, his eyes somehow managing to look like fire and ice at the same time. “Unless you want it to be more.”

My stomach jumped, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. “I’m sure you’re busy with whatever guys like you do in places like this.”

“No, I’m really not.” He chuckled, and the sound went straight to my heart like someone injected me with a shot of adrenaline.

“Maybe later.” I glanced over my shoulder, desperately looking for Carmela. “I’m waiting for someone.”

My phone buzzed in my purse. I flipped open the flap of my clutch and read the text.

Carmela: Something came up. I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t you dare leave before I get there.

I groaned.

“Did you change your mind about the drink?” the man pressed.

My shoulders slouched, and I sighed. “I’d love one.”

He rapped his knuckles on the counter, and the bartender magically appeared in front of us. “Marc, I’d like a Maker’s Mark on the rocks, and lady would like…?” He directed the full force of his attention to me, looking at me questioningly.

“The same,” I said weakly.

His eyebrows lifted. “A whiskey drinker, huh?”

“No.” I exhaled shakily. “But I could use something to take the edge off.”

He cocked one eyebrow. “Bad day?”

“More like a bad year.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He bent to the side and said something to the man sitting next to me, who immediately vacated his seat.

“No.” I laughed. “And you don’t need to pretend you want to hear my sob story either.”

The bartender placed two lowball glasses on the bar top filled with a golden-tan liquid. I tossed back half of it in one giant gulp. Fire spread through my stomach, and the hair on my arms stood on end.

“Come on. I’m a good listener,” the man prodded. He swirled the brown liquid in his glass, revealing two tiny red buttons on the cuff of his white dress shirt.

“Are you serious?” I said, studying the sharp, yet appealing, angles of his face and the strong column of this throat. His dark hair nearly brushed the collar of his shirt. I folded my arms across my waist, battling the urge to reach out and touch it. This was not good. I couldn’t remember the last time a guy affected me like this. Despite all his practiced charm, Kevin never caused my heart to riot in my chest.

“Absolutely. That’s what strangers are for.” He slid his forearm along the counter and pitched his torso closer to mine, ignoring his drink.

Ignoring the bodies brushing against us.

Ignoring strobe lights flashing on the dance floor.

Ignoring everything aside from me.

Unwanted desire hummed through me so powerfully—I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I was intensely aware of every pesky inch separating us.

“Fine.” Crinkling my nose, I tossed back the rest of my whiskey and puckered my lips. “I’ll give you the quick version. I caught my fiancé cheating on me one month before our wedding. I broke off our engagement.”

“Ahh,” he said, his grin widening. “This calls for a celebration.” He raised his hand, summoning the bartender again. The soft weave of his dark suit brushed against my arm, and a shiver darted down my spine. “A refill for…?”

“Evangeline.”

He edged closer to me. “Another drink for Evangeline,” he said to the bartender, without breaking eye contact with me.

Electricity zipped through my nerve endings, and my stomach fluttered with anticipation. I blinked, unable to comprehend how such an insignificant touch could do so many crazy things to me. “And you are?” I asked, mentally cursing the throaty sound of my voice.

“Gian.” He lifted his glass. “To a fresh start, new friends, and new adventures.”

I clinked my glass against his and took a sip, mindful of the fact that I had an interview in an hour or so.

“You’re rather innocent looking. You don’t come to places like this often, do you?”

Nervous laughter bubbled from my lips. “Just because I don’t like clubs doesn’t mean I’m innocent.”

The corners of his lips twitched. “Then why are you here?”

I raised and then dropped one shoulder lazily, the whiskey warming me from the inside out. “Like I said earlier, I’m meeting someone here.” I brought the glass to my lips again.

“Is that your way of telling me you’re not leaving here with me tonight?”

“Um…” I choked mid-swallow.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, training my gaze anywhere other than on him, and that’s when I spotted Kevin. He pushed Ana’s white-blonde hair away from her face, leaned in, and kissed her. My stomach plummeted to the floor, and my vision blurred at the edges. While I didn’t want him back, I couldn’t pretend seeing them together didn’t hurt. He had texted and called me every day this week trying to get back together. What a piece of shit.

“Hey, look at me,” Gian coaxed, his warm breath tickling my ear.

Hostility and remorse clogged my throat, nearly suffocating me. I couldn’t believe I pushed my career to the back burner while I wasted a year of my life on him. Kevin caught me staring, and he flashed me a condescending smirk. I wanted to throw my drink at his head. Rather than cause a scene, I swirled around, facing my back to Kevin and Ana, and mentally kicked him in the balls.

“I’m sorry. I need to get out of here,” I rasped, iciness seeping through my veins.

With the pad of his thumb and forefinger, he angled my head toward him. “What’s wrong?”

I opened my mouth, fully intending to lie, only it didn’t happen that way. “My ex is here.”

“Where?” he asked softly without releasing his hold on my chin.

“Behind us. Two tables to the right.”

He dropped his hand and quickly glanced to the side. “The man sitting across from the blonde-haired woman wearing the red dress?” he asked, flashing me a heart-warming smile that was a little bit playful and a whole lot wicked.

I nodded, smoothing my hands over the folds of my short A-line skirt that suddenly seemed hopelessly frumpy in comparison to Ana’s flamboyant red dress with symmetrical waist cutouts.

“That’s good,” he murmured. He clamped his hands around my hips and scooted me closer to him. So close, I saw every inky spike of his eyelashes. He smelled of soap and a faint hint of spicy aftershave, and my eyes fluttered in response.

“Why’s that?”

“Because he’s watching us right now.”

Alarm shot down my spine. “Are you serious?” When I twisted to catch a glimpse of Kevin, Gian’s hand framed one side of my face, forcing all of my attention on him.

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, and the air buzzed with tension. “Shh,” he whispered, bringing his lips within striking distance of mine. Butterflies exploded inside of my stomach. I begged my body to move away. It wouldn’t listen.

I sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?”

“This,” he answered, feathering his perfect lips across mine. “And this.” He tugged me flush against him. “Put your arms around me, and give your ex a good show,” he uttered against my lips.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then a rush of memories flooded my brain.

All the nights I had waited for Kevin and eaten dinner by myself.

How I put my life on hold to build a future with him.

The sounds echoing through his art studio when I caught him fucking Ana.

The countless times I suspected Kevin of cheating and I looked the other way.

I couldn’t help wanting to hurt Kevin and show him I wasn’t some pathetic clinger without options. I curled my fingers around Gian’s neck and pulled him closer to me. His hand slid up my thigh, not far from the hem of my skirt.

“Is this good?” I whispered. His golden eyes held me hostage, and my pulse skyrocketed.

“Close.” His lips crashed against mine. They were smooth and firm, and he tasted like whiskey—sweet with a hint of caramel and vanilla. I opened my mouth and let him inside. His tongue stroked mine, deep and unrelenting, devouring me until sparks of desire fired in me. Within seconds, I didn’t care why he was kissing me. I wanted to wrap myself around him and lick every inch of his olive skin. My hand slid down to his chest and snuck between the buttons of his starched white shirt. My fingers toyed with the contours of his chest.

A moan rumbled from his mouth, and just like that, I was insanely turned on. Warm goose bumps showered my arms, and I buried one of my hands in his raven hair. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so needy for a man. I clung to this stranger like I needed him more than my next breath. Maybe I did. Maybe he’d help me forget. Maybe he was the key to starting over.

He leaned back, severing contact, his lips swollen and his pupils dilated. “Not here.”

“What?” I said, breathlessly unable to think clearly.