Thin Lies (Donati Bloodlines #1) (25 page)

“Another,”
Calisto demanded, waving his finger over the empty tumbler.

The
bartender serving the wedding guests gave the glass a baleful look.

“That’s
your third glass in fifteen minutes, sir.”

Was
Calisto supposed to care?

He
didn’t.

“Another.”

“Same
thing?”

“Yeah.”

The
bartender poured another dirty whiskey and said, “Take it a little slower this
time, or someone will be carrying you out of here tonight.”

Maybe
that’s what Calisto was going for.

“Sure,”
Calisto said instead of voicing his inner thoughts. He picked the glass up, put
it to his lips, and downed the four ounces of burning whiskey in one fast gulp.
Putting the glass back on the bar top, he slid it to the bartender. “Was that
slow enough for you?”

“I’m
not pouring you another.”

Calisto
scoffed. “I don’t want another.”

Facing
the crowd, Calisto leaned against the bar and rapped his fingers against the
ledge. He scanned the crowd of people dancing in the bar. Affonso had decided
to use one of his more upscale bars as the location for the reception. The
place was packed, making Calisto feel more suffocated than ever.

These
were his people.

His
famiglia
.

He
still felt incredibly alone.

Calisto’s
gaze cut through the crowd again, zoning in on the one couple dancing in the
middle. Affonso wore his usual pleased, sly smile with his hand holding Emma’s
and his other at her lower back. Emma had finally replaced her mask of
nothingness for a thinly veiled smile that anyone with two brains cells could
see was fake.

Nonetheless,
she had done her thing. The cake was cut. The dances were had. She allowed
Affonso to show her off, and smiled sweetly each time someone mentioned her new
last name.

Calisto’s
chest started to hurt again. He turned to the bar, leaned over, and grabbed the
bottle of whiskey when the bartender’s back was turned. Pouring himself another
hefty glass, Calisto slammed it back faster than his last one.

It
burned all the way down.

It
felt fucking sublime.

Creating
his own pain was better than feeling the dull ache that just wouldn’t let up.
The sting in his throat from the whiskey was easier to focus on than the guilt
eating away at him slowly.

“Cal?”

Calisto
spun on his heel only to find his sixteen-year-old cousin standing behind him.
Cynthia crossed her arms, and clicked her silver stilettos on the floor in a
fast beat. Her pout and hard, brown eyes—eyes that matched his—said the girl
was annoyed and getting worse by the minute.

God
knew his cousins were spoiled rotten. Affonso treated them like little queens,
but he never gave them the right kind of attention. The kind that would teach
them how a man should properly treat a woman in his life.

Calisto
was left to that job.

“Hey,
Cee,” Calisto said.

“He
made me wear a dress,” Cynthia said, huffing.

Calisto
couldn’t help but laugh. “You look nice.”

“I
hate dresses.”

“You
sound like a brat.”

“You
look like …” Cynthia failed to come up with something and scowled instead.
“Shut up, Cal.”

“I
know you’re not happy, but remember, Emma isn’t here to try and take the place
of your mom. You know that, right?”

Cynthia
shrugged. “I guess.”

“Then
what’s the problem?”

She
glanced over her shoulder. Calisto followed her gaze only to find Affonso
spinning his new wife out from his side, and then bringing her back again with
a charming smile for the clapping people.

Calisto
knew exactly what Cynthia’s problem was.

“Has
he danced with you tonight?” Calisto asked quietly.

Cynthia
shook her head.

“Has
he asked?”

“No,”
the teenager muttered.

“Then
I will,” Calisto said, pushing away from the bar.

He
held his hand out for Cynthia to take, and his cousin’s palm met his before she
flashed him a shy, happy smile.

“Thanks,
Cal.”

“No
problem. Pretty girls should be danced with. Come on.”

Calisto
led his cousin out on the dance floor, just a few feet away from Affonso and
Emma. The slightly faster beat of the new song was more to Cynthia’s tastes, so
Calisto let her lead him into whatever dance she wanted to move to. His
cousin’s small smile turned into a brilliant grin, and he forgot all about the
people and the not-so-happy fucking couple.

Family
was important.

His
mother taught him that first.

Calisto
picked up the slack where his uncle failed with his daughters. If Cynthia
wanted to dance, if she wanted some male attention to make her feel special for
the evening, then Calisto would give it to her.

Better
him than some random man filling a void.

As
the song changed again, to a slow moving beat, Calisto drew his cousin closer
for a waltz. Pink-cheeked and beaming, Cynthia poked Calisto in the chest.

“You
should dance with Michelle, too.”

“I
will,” he promised. “Do me a favor, huh?”

“Anything,
Cal.”

Calisto
sighed. “Don’t blame Emma for your father’s lack of attention, Cee. I know
she’s the easy target for your resentment, and you think she’s yet another
thing for him to shower affection on while he forgets about you and your
sister, but that’s not the case. She is in no better of a situation than you.”

“She’s
only twenty. That’s what I heard people say.”

“Yeah.”

“Dad’s
almost fifty.”

Calisto
coughed. It was better for Cynthia and Michelle to draw their own conclusions
about how Affonso’s marriage to Emma came about. “Yeah.”

“She
seems kind of nice.”

“She
is,” Calisto said quietly. “And I’m sure she would be happy to make friends
with you if you tried a little bit.”

Cynthia
pursed her lips, still moving in the standard four steps of the waltz. “I’ll
try.”

“Thank
you.”

A
few seconds later, a tap on Calisto’s shoulder stopped his dance with Cynthia.
Behind him, Affonso stood with a quiet, stony-faced Emma at his side.

“Would
you trade me for a moment?” Affonso asked.

Calisto
passed a look at Cynthia, wanting to make sure she was okay. The girl just
shrugged.

“You
could have asked her hours ago,
zio
,” Calisto said, stepping away from
his cousin and holding a hand out to Emma. “Fathers are the men who teach their
daughters the most important lessons about love. Keep that in mind.”

Before
Affonso could respond, Calisto took Emma’s hand and moved away from the somber
father and daughter still staring at one another with a few feet between them.
Calisto moved Emma to the middle of the floor, ignoring the softness of her
skin as he spun her around to face him and put his hand on her lower back.

“That
was nice of you,” Emma said as they began to move with the beat. “Dancing with
her, I mean.”

“She’s
a good kid. Michelle is, too.”

“I
know. They’re dying for affection, though. I can see it.”

Calisto
nodded once. “They are.”

“Thank
you for taking the time to give them some. When they’re older, I’m sure they’ll
remember that you were the one who stepped up to care for them when it mattered
the most.”

This
was too personal for Calisto. He wanted the topic to change, and soon.

“Can
we, uh, dance and not talk?”

Emma
frowned. “Sure.”

Apparently,
Calisto couldn’t follow his own advice.

“You
looked beautiful today.”

She
didn’t respond.

Then,
very quietly, Emma asked, “Was it hard for you today?”

Calisto’s
arm instinctively tightened around Emma. He didn’t want to answer her. He
wanted to pretend like there was nothing going on inside of him—that nothing
had gone on between them.

“Was
it hard, Calisto?”

“Incredibly
so.”

Emma
laughed dryly. “Imagine how it felt from where I stood.”

“I
did, and it almost killed me.”

“Hmm.”

She
didn’t sound like she believed him.

Calisto
didn’t blame her.

“And
I thought,” Calisto continued, “for a second that maybe I should have let you
run after I saved you.”

“But
you didn’t.”

“I
didn’t.”

“Now
here I am,” she said.

“Here
we are.”

And
what a fucking place it was.

“We
can do this, right?” Emma asked. “Pretend like nothing happened.”

“Nothing
did, Emmy.”

“Right.
Nothing.”

Calisto’s
mind screamed the truth louder than his words.

Something
had happened.

Good
and bad.

Something
.

Calisto had a
feeling that whatever had happened between him and Emma, it wasn’t over just
yet.

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and
mother to three very young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern
Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With
her boys under her feet, a snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a spouse calling
over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something ... when she can find
the time.

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,

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Donati Bloodlines

Thin Lines – Thin Lives

Calisto Donati & Emma Sorrento

They’re not star-crossed.

They’re impossible.