Thin Lies (Donati Bloodlines #1) (4 page)

The
young woman’s eyes widened and her teeth cut into her bottom lip.

The
offer was made.

Calisto
watched this scene a dozen times before.

Give
me a few hours
,
his uncle would say.
Whatever I want, however I want it, wherever I want it.
Give it, and I’ll fill a blank check with whatever number fits your fancy.

“When
are you off?” Affonso asked.

The
girl swallowed hard and glanced at the wall.

She
was the typical victim for his uncle’s amusement. A young woman, likely a little
naive. Financial stability was welcome to anyone, and wanted desperately.

Self-worth
or money? Calisto was never surprised at how easily people would decide between
the two.

“Ten
minutes, actually,” the woman said. “I have a couple of weekend classes and the
restaurant works around my school, thankfully.”

Affonso
nodded. “Four hours. Forty-thousand. I think that’s worth missing a couple of
classes, don’t you?”

Indecision
flickered over the woman’s features, but only for a quick second.

“Yes,”
she said.

Affonso
smiled. It was nothing like his earlier grins. This one was far more predatory.
“Wonderful. I have the black Benz in the parking lot with a driver. Be there in
twelve minutes, no later, or I drive away.”

“Yes,
sir.”

Calisto
shook his head as the waitress spun on her heel and made a beeline for the back
of the restaurant.

“Like
flies and honey,” Affonso said to himself.

“You
know, a hired escort or a prostitute will do the exact same thing, uncle,”
Calisto said. “You don’t have to make that girl question her choices and her
self-worth for the rest of her life, just for the sake of a quick fuck in the
back of a Benz while Arthur watches.”

Affonso
flashed his teeth in a wicked sneer as he stood from the table. “How do you
know I want a quick fuck this time, Cal? Her ass caught my eye first. And I
plan on filling it.”

Cristo
.

Calisto’s
expression never wavered. “And the other one? What about her?”

“Which
one?”

“Emma,”
Calisto clarified. “The one you brought here. The one you’re marrying. What am
I to do with her while you’re fucking some new girl in the car you drove Emma
here in?”

“You
have the rental Mercedes. Amuse her for the rest of the day.”

Calisto’s
jaw tightened. “Amuse her?”

“I
didn’t stutter.”

“And
what about your absence? How do you want me to explain that away?”

Affonso
shrugged. “Why bother? Don’t lie to the girl. She might as well start learning
now.”

Nope.

Calisto
still wasn’t surprised.

Calisto
leaned against the wall, propping his foot behind him. An unlit cigarette
dangled from his lips, demanding to be lit and enjoyed. He planned on doing
exactly that once he got out of the damned restaurant.

Emma
had been hiding in the bathroom for quite a while. Calisto wasn’t exactly sure
what she was doing in there, but the last woman who left the space assured him
a dark-haired, green-eyed girl was still inside.

Two
more minutes passed.

No
Emma.

Calisto’s
patience withered away. His job was to keep an eye on the woman, but it sure as
fuck didn’t include feeding to her emotional waves. She could handle her
tantrum at another time. One where
his
time wasn’t being wasted waiting
on her.

Knowing
there were no other women inside the bathroom—as none had gone in since the
last entered and left—Calisto pushed off the wall and opened the swinging door.
He didn’t make it two steps inside before he turned into a statue.

Emma
had perched herself up on the bathroom counter. Maybe he expected to find her
crying her little eyes out and having a hissy fit of epic proportions, seeing
as how her life wasn’t working out the way she wanted.

Instead,
he found her puffing on a cigarette, her creamy, smooth legs crossed, and her
heels tapping a beat to the tiled counter. Not a lick of her makeup was smudged
to say she’d been crying. Her hands remained steady as she fluffed out the
waves of her hair with her fingers. And she seemed calmer than she had earlier.

Calisto
pulled the cigarette from his lips with two fingers. “Christ, if you wanted a
cigarette, you could have just gone outside.”

Emma
didn’t even look up from her lap. “What, did he send you in to find me,
Calisto?”

His
name rolled off her tongue in the most interesting way. She’d said it with an
almost disinterested flair, except for the ring of sensuality following close
behind.

He’d
noticed that about her, too. When she spoke, her voice held a sexual quality.
She probably didn’t even realize it.

If
Affonso thought he was getting a virgin for a bride, he was highly fucking
mistaken. Calisto could tell that Emma wasn’t pure, just by the way she spoke
and watched him under her dark, long lashes.

Women
who were unaware of their sexuality didn’t watch men like this one was watching
him.

“Affonso
didn’t send me in for you. He’s gone.”

Emma
arched a single brow high. “Oh?”

“
Sì
.”

“Good.”

Calisto
couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Your resentment is showing.”

“It’s
not a resentment. You can’t force yourself to like a person. He reminds me of a
pig.”

More
than she knew.

“Or
maybe a snake,” Emma added quieter.

“Both
could work,” Calisto said before he could stop himself.

Emma
dropped her still burning cigarette down the drain of the sink. Uncrossing her
legs, she pushed off the counter and dropped onto the floor with a click of her
heels to the tile. Just the action alone gave a flash of more skin and black
lace.

Calisto’s
mouth went dry and his cock perked. Squeezing his hands into tight fists, his nails
bit into his skin. He reminded himself of exactly who this girl was and why his
attraction was entirely inappropriate. He then reminded himself that he
wouldn’t like the taste of bullets when a gun was shoved down his goddamn
throat.

His
inner thoughts didn’t help much when Emma turned to the mirror, leaned over the
sink a little, and dabbed at her pink lips with her fingertips. The slight pout
of her upper lip, showcasing a hint of those two white front teeth, looked
downright sinful.

What
man wouldn’t notice that?

You’re
going to get yourself killed, like your father
, his mind
taunted.

“I
like red lipstick more than this pink garbage,” Emma said absentmindedly.

It
didn’t sound like it was meant for him.

Nonetheless,
Calisto still heard it.

He
thought red would look better, too.

It
might make her mouth look even more fuckable. It would leave little red stains
around the base of his cock when he fucked her mouth hard enough to reach her
throat.

Jesus
.

What
in the fuck was wrong with him?

Emma
grabbed her coat and clutch. “Where did Affonso go?”

Calisto
hesitated briefly. Earlier, the girl seemed ready to cut tail and run. Like she
was out of her fucking league and knew it all too well.

Now,
he was looking at someone entirely different.

He’d
done his research.

He
knew a bit about her.

Calisto
didn’t think Affonso knew nearly enough.

“He
picked up a waitress,” Calisto said, settling on the truth. “She’s probably in
the back of his Benz right about now.”

Emma
sneered into the mirror. “Likely wishing she wasn’t.”

“You’re
not angry?”

She
glanced over at him. “Why would I be? As long as he’s fucking someone else,
then he’s leaving me alone.”

Calisto

“So
you’re my appointed babysitter, huh?” Emma asked from the passenger seat.

Calisto
didn’t answer right away. He focused on the unfamiliar highway, and the bastard
trying to cut in front of him to drive a little faster.

“Don’t
you talk at all … Calisto, is it?”

“Cal,”
he said, gruffer than he intended. “I mostly go by Cal.”

From
the corner of his eye, he watched her purse her lips.

“Cal
isn’t as attention drawing as Calisto, I guess.”

“There
aren’t a lot of us around, if that’s what you mean.”

Emma
smiled. “It was.”

“It’s
a surname, mostly. Comes from my grandmother’s side of the family on my
mother’s side. She liked the ring of it, and passed it onto me.”

“Huh.”

Her
simple response made Calisto pause. Without realizing it, he’d easily blurted
out private information about himself and his family that he rarely shared with
anyone. Nearly every new person he met questioned him on his name, and he never
offered clarification as to how it came about. This girl barely said a thing
and he spilled every bit.

“Is
your mother artsy? That kind of name makes me think she would be artsy.”

Calisto’s
hands tightened around the wheel, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
Emma didn’t miss his automatic reaction.

“Did
I say something wrong?” she asked.

“Not
intentionally. My mother died last year. But yes, she liked to paint, draw, and
make things. Sitting outside for hours in front of an easel was her favorite
thing.”

Again
with the oversharing
,
he thought.

“I’m
sorry she passed,” Emma said softly.

Calisto
did his best to ignore the compassion and sadness in Emma’s tone. The young
woman didn’t know him from a goddamn hole in the ground. Her feelings couldn’t
be very honest or true, but rather, a useless platitude said to make herself
feel better.

Just
like everyone else.

“What
about your father? Was he artsy, too?”

“You
ask a lot of questions,” Calisto said instead of answering.

His
father was almost always off-limits for him. That was mostly because the people
who could talk to him about his father were men who did nothing to help
Richard, and the others were men who had killed him.

“Sorry
for being curious,” Emma said, looking away from him. “I was just trying to
learn a bit about you, Cal, seeing as how you’ll be spending the next month
making sure I wipe the right way.”

Her
crude statement took him off guard. He couldn’t remember a time when a
well-dressed, beautiful, and by all appearances, intelligent woman had spoken
so crassly in his presence. The women he had heard speak like that were of
neither class nor status.

Calisto
barked out a laugh, unable to hold it back. His one laugh led to another, and
then another until his hands had loosened from their tight, angry grip and his
shoulders were shaking. The stress at the idea of having to discuss his father
drifted away almost instantly, and shit …  

How
long had it been since he laughed?

Calisto
didn’t have an answer for that.

Sobering
quickly, he sat a little stiffer in the driver’s seat as he came up behind an
eighteen-wheeler going ten over the limit and being what Calisto liked to call
bait. He liked speed, loved a fast-moving car and having all the control of it
under his hands.

“Slow
down,” Emma said.

“Why?”
Calisto said. “I can fucking drive, thank you.”

“Because
police are thick around here, and hand out speeding tickets like Tic Tacs.”

Calisto
nodded at the eighteen-wheeler in front of them. “Bait,
ragazza
.”

“What?”

“Bait.
They’ll catch his speed on radar, not mine. By the time they flick their
lights, I’m either going past him or slowing down. Chill out.”

She
didn’t look entirely convinced. “Do you always drive this fast?”

“Mostly.”

“Why?”

“Speed
is a form of freedom, maybe.”

Emma
snorted. “Okay, then.”

“You
asked, Emmy. I answered. Truthfully, for that matter. I like the way a fast car
feels under my hands and feet. That kind of power is rarely controllable, but
when I hold the wheel, and press the pedal down, I have all the say.”

“Until
the roof of your car meets the pavement.”

Calisto
chuckled. “Well, that’s the thing, right? You don’t know if that will happen.
You just keep pushing the limit, thinking you’re in control, and walking on
thin lines. Like I said, freedom—it’s a thrill like anything else. Like sex,
even. Fucking hard, fucking fast, and being insane about it in a way that could
get you killed. Makes the relief of it even more intense. Nobody says it has to
be worth it, Emmy, it just has to feel really goddamn good.”

Emma
bit down on her bottom lip. Calisto barely noticed, but ignored it all the
same. He didn’t need that image in his fucking mind, too. The ones he already
had were inappropriate enough without adding to them.

He
pushed down on the pedal, making the car lurch forward.

Emma
sucked in a quiet breath. “You can’t get your thrills elsewhere without playing
Russian Roulette on the highway?”

“Sure
I can. And quite regularly, I do.”

Emma
eyed him from the side. “Like how?”

She
probably didn’t want to know.

“Ways,”
he answered vaguely.

“I
don’t know what that’s like.”

Calisto
drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You sure about that?”

“What’s
that supposed to mean?”

“It
means I think you know more about chasing thrills than you let on. Two years
ago, you skipped out of Vegas right under your father’s and uncle’s eye and
jumped on a flight to Germany. Maximo sent his son and three enforcers to bring
you back. You were expelled from two private schools for fighting before you
ended up at your final boarding school where you graduated. You’ve been
pictured in the socialite magazines coming out of clubs at all hours of the
night when you’re not even legal to be inside one of those joints. I would say
you know something about looking for fun and trouble in whatever way you can
find it. That, Emmy, is a thrill.”

Emma’s
mouth popped open. “You … you did a search on me?”

Calisto
made a dismissive noise under his breath. “I was curious. Affonso was dead set
on this marriage plan of his, and as his consigliere, I wanted to know more.
I’m not judging you. I’m simply stating facts I know about you.”

“Does
he know?”

“Probably.
It doesn’t matter to him what you did here. What matters to him is what he can
make you do in New York. Big difference, believe me.”

“Oh,
my God,” she mumbled.

The
look on her face was horror churned with embarrassment.

Calisto
found it mildly amusing. “Got nothing to say now, Emmy?”

“Stop
it with that name. You don’t know me, Calisto. Don’t use it.”

“You
prefer it, don’t you?”

“So?”

“So,”
he drawled, giving her as much attitude as she showed him, “… maybe when you’re
in New York, Emmy Sorrento won’t exist anymore,
dolcezza
. It’ll be Emma
Donati all the way. Wouldn’t you like for at least one person to remind you of
who you are beneath Affonso Donati’s name?”

Emma
blinked back at him, hurt settling over her pretty features. “Why do you care?”

“Honestly,
I don’t. But I also don’t like Affonso, and if calling you Emmy pisses him off
and makes you happy at the same time, I don’t see the harm. I look it at like
killing two birds with one stone.”

“He’s
your uncle, but you don’t like him.”

“Do
you like your
zio
?” Calisto asked.

Emma
stilled in the seat before saying, “Point taken.”

“I
thought so.”

“You’re
awfully arrogant.”

Calisto
smirked, kept his eyes on the road, and his hands on the wheel. “You haven’t
seen anything yet.”

Calisto
took in the penthouse suite apartment with wall-to-wall windows overlooking the
busy Vegas Strip. The major casino had one hell of a view from up this high.

“I
wasn’t aware that the casinos rented out their penthouses as apartments,”
Calisto said.

He’d
heard the quiet clack of Emma’s heels hitting against marble floors as she
walked up behind him. He didn’t turn to face her, but instead, continued his
surveying of the view.

“You
know Maximo owns this, don’t you?” she asked.

“This
casino specifically?”

“Yes,
but he’s got major stakes in a few others. The penthouses can be rented, like
any other penthouse apartment. You have to pay a little more for it.”

“But
everything is right at your fingertips,” he said. “Service. Laundry.
Qualunque
cosa ti serva
.”

“Essentially.”

“How
big is this penthouse?”

“I
don’t know. Maybe four-thousand square feet. It’s two levels.”

Yes,
he’d noticed that.

“Is
your uncle going to let you keep it?” Calisto asked.

“Ask
him. Ask Affonso. I don’t know anything. I simply get told what to do,
Calisto.”

“I
told you, it’s Cal.”

And
he wished she would start using it more.

He
liked his full name in her mouth far too much.

“Do
you want to see the rest of the place?” Emma asked, ignoring his comment.

Calisto
shook his head. “No. I’m sure I’ll see it when you have to pack it up.”

“Thanks
for the reminder.”

“Sorry
you have to grow up, but that’s life.”

Emma
scoffed. “No, that’s the mafia life. And that has nothing to do with growing
up, thank you very much. It has to do with the fact that I own a vagina instead
of a cock, so that makes me even more useless to my father and uncle. Instead,
they’ve found another way to put me to good use. By marrying me off to a man
thirty years my senior.”

Calisto
flinched at the truth in her words. Spinning slowly, he faced her. Somehow, he managed
to keep the shock off his face at the change in her attire and makeup. She
hadn’t said much when she mentioned wanting to stop at her casino penthouse,
other than to say she needed a minute to grab some things.

Apparently,
those things included a much shorter, tighter dress, a wool trench coat, fire-red
lipstick, and suede boots with sky-high heels.

The
innocent, young-looking woman from earlier was gone. Her Sunday dress, pink
lipstick, and give-a-damn were forgotten. While her morning attire had given
off a taste of her sensuality, her current wardrobe, dark makeup, and ruby
smile spoke entirely of her sexuality.