Thin Lies (Donati Bloodlines #1) (9 page)

Calisto
forced himself to focus on his task, instead of how amazing Emma looked in the
dress. He quickly found the last four pearl buttons on the back, and did them
up. It was a perfect fit. Not an inch too big or too small. The pearls made a
pathway from the middle of Emma’s back to right above the swell of her ass. It
left a peek of her shoulder blades and skin exposed.

Enough
to be tasteful.

Just
a promise of what was below.

It
was both regal and sexy.

“You
look wonderful,” Calisto said, trying to tamper down the huskiness in his
voice.

Get
a grip, man.

Emma
sucked in a hard breath, eyeing the gown in the mirror. “She was right.”

Calisto
found Emma’s stare in the mirror, and held it. “Pardon,
dolcezza
?”

“Marian.
She was right about the dress. It’s perfect. It’s beautiful. It’s very me, I
guess.”

“You
love it,” he said, filling in her obvious blank.

Emma
frowned and wet her lips as her hands rubbed together nervously. “Yes.”

“So
why are there tears in your eyes, Emmy?”

Shouldn’t
it be a good thing that she had found one thing in this awful mess of her
arranged marriage that she could actually love? Even if it was something silly
like a dress, couldn’t she take some sense of happiness from it?

“Why
does it have to be so goddamn perfect?” Emma asked, her voice barely above a
breath.

Calisto
didn’t understand. “I—”

“Why
does this have to be the dress, Cal?”

“You’ve
lost me.”

“
The
dress. The one. Every girl has her one dress. She dreams about it; dreams about
finding it and wearing it as she walks down the aisle to meet her groom. It’s a
focal point for a bride. Why does this have to be
the
dress for me?
Why
?”

He
didn’t have an answer for her.

Calisto
put his hands on her shoulders and turned Emma around. Quickly and quietly, he
wiped away the few tears that had escaped from the corners of her eyes. She
shivered under his hands, but didn’t force him away.

Instead
of letting her go like he knew he should, Calisto kept holding Emma’s face
between his palms. He liked her heat, and the fire in her eyes that was sometimes
hidden. He liked the softness of her skin, and how she seemed to lean into his
touch, curious and hesitant.

It
was dangerous to feed attraction.

It
was stupid to indulge emotion.

Calisto
was smarter than this—he
was
.

But
his mother, Cam, had always taught him to treat women, no matter what kind of
woman she was, with the utmost respect. She had told him never to make a woman
cry, to apologize to a woman he had done wrong, and to wipe a woman’s tears
away—no matter if he was the cause or not.

Calisto
was not a good man. He’d taken lives before it was their time, he’d skipped
church more than he went, and he’d rarely felt guilty over his actions and
choices. He was unapologetic. Sometimes he would lie and cheat his way through
something just to say he could do it, and he liked the smell of dirty money in
his hands far more than clean, hard-earned cash. He had drug dealers on speed
dial, a collection of illegal guns, a rap sheet a foot long and enough
familiarity with police to be on a first name basis each time he got arrested just
for being him.

Good
was not a word to describe Calisto Donati.

But
he wouldn’t let a woman cry.

Good,
no.

Honorable
where it counted, however … yes.

“
Shh
,”
Calisto soothed, sweeping his thumbs over Emma’s high cheekbones again to
remove the remaining tears. “Don’t cry,
ragazza
. You’ve got far too
beautiful of a face for it to be covered in your tears.”

“Don’t
say that, Calisto.”

“I
prefer Cal, you know.”

Emma
batted his hands away, but he held strong. “Stop it, I said.”

“You
like the dress, don’t you?”

“I
said that I did.”

“And
you look great in it,” he pressed.

“That’s
not the point.”

Calisto
frowned. “It’s the dress. Yeah, I got that.”

“I
don’t want to wear the perfect dress, the one that’s perfect for me, on a day
when I have to marry a man I will never love. How is that even okay?”

It
wasn’t.

She
was right.

“I’m
sorry,” Calisto murmured.

His
words didn’t help Emma much, if her fresh round of tears was any indication.
Knowing wiping them away wasn’t going to help that time, Calisto pulled her
into his embrace without a word and wrapped her in a tight hug so that Emma
could hide her pain for as long as she needed.

In
his arms, he hoped he could help her.

Somehow.

It
also felt good to hold her—intimate even.

Too
intimate.

“I
want the dress,” he heard Emma mumble.

“You
can have it.”

“I
don’t want to wear it for him. Someone else, but not him. This isn’t fair.”

Calisto
didn’t know what to say. He’d already crossed a dozen lines where this woman
was concerned.

A
knock on the dressing room door made Emma and Calisto break apart quickly.

“Emma?”
Marian asked.

“Just
a second. Calisto helped me fix the dress.”

Shit.

Calisto’s
mind ran a million miles a minute. It only took one person’s misguided and
half-truths being whispered for word to spread. Just the wrong person talking
would cause him and Emma a hell of a lot of trouble.

It
didn’t matter if nothing was going on.

“I’ll
be outside,” Calisto said.

Outside
of the damn dress shop.

Emma
blinked up at him, confused. “Okay.”

“Get
the dress.”

“But—”

“Get
it. The rest doesn’t matter. This is still going through, whether you want it
to or not, whether you are happy or angry at the world. The least you can do
for yourself is have one thing for you when they force you into it. Get the
dress, Emmy.”

“Okay,”
she whispered.

Without
another word, Calisto left the dressing room. He moved past Marian without so
much as looking at her.

Behind
him, Calisto heard Emma call out his name.

“Yeah?”

“Is
your deal still on for tonight?” she asked. 

No.

No
way.

Nope
.

Calisto
wasn’t an idiot. He knew where to draw the lines.

“Yeah,
Emma, we’re still on.”

But
apparently he was saying fuck all the lines tonight.

Calisto
tossed back another shot of rum, needing the burn in his throat and the
distraction for his overwhelmed mind. The sounds of the club behind him were only
a dull roar to his senses. He barely heard it at all.

Stupidly,
Calisto had thought that coming to a club, having a few drinks, and watching
women dance would be enough to clear his head before he had to meet up with
Emma after she had dinner. He wasn’t supposed to leave her alone at all, but he
figured she was safe enough with her parents.

She
didn’t even know he left.

Turning
slightly, Calisto rested his arm on the bar and surveyed the crowd. Beautiful,
young women moved throughout the people, their hips swaying in their tight,
short dresses. Skin-tight. Short as hell. All a man needed to do was pull their
dresses up a bit, bend them over, and pull their panties to the side.

Easy
fucking access.

Yet,
none of them interested Calisto.

Not
a damn drop.

He
wanted a distraction. Something to take his mind off the experience he’d had
earlier with Emma, or the way he was still thinking about it—her—and her naked
skin under his palms.

“You’re
looking awfully lonely here by yourself,” said a sultry voice from his side.

Calisto
met a brown-eyed girl’s stare, unaffected. She, like most of the other women in
the joint, was dressed for the occasion and looked good. He just wasn’t … there.
Not for her or any other female.

His
dick had apparently settled on someone else.

Someone
impossible.

“I
enjoy my own company,” Calisto said.

Take
the hint.

The
woman didn’t.

“Why
don’t you buy me a drink?” she asked. Calisto pulled a bill from his pocket and
handed it over to the woman. She looked down at the bill, her brow furrowing.
“What—”

“Buy
yourself a drink, sweetheart.”

With
that, he pushed away from the bar and strolled out into the dancing crowd.
Calisto made a beeline for the front of the club, more stressed than he had been
when he entered. He just wanted to get his mind off things, and somehow, he’d
made it worse. He was still thinking about Emma, her body and curves, and his
interest only seemed to climb higher.

Why
did Emma have to catch his attention?

Why
her?

Calisto
walked past the bouncers and out to the street. He made his way toward the lot
where he had parked his car, each step he took was a little rawer than the
last.

His
cock was hard.

It
had been painfully fucking hard since he touched Emma.

This
was ridiculous.

Calisto
was ridiculous.

Once
he was inside the rental Mercedes, Calisto placed his hands on the steering
wheel and leaned over it, letting out a heavy breath of air. He thought about
whatever he could to get his erection down. Nothing worked.

The
zipper of his pants bit into his tender cock through his boxer-briefs,
irritating Calisto further. Readjusting his length did nothing but make his
dick jump in his own hand. More frustrated than ever, he checked the time and
noted it was close to when Emma was supposed to be finishing her dinner with
her parents.

He
couldn’t do this shit.

He
needed to get that girl out of his fucking head.

Biting
hard on his lower lip, Calisto hoped the pain would be enough to distract him
from his thoughts of Emma for long enough to handle his little problem. He
undid his pants and slipped his hands under his boxer-briefs. As long as he
could get the damned hard-on to go away, he’d be fine for the evening.

Surely.

The
very second his hand wrapped around his length and tugged with a firm grip,
relief flooded his bloodstream. Unfortunately, his thoughts shot right back to
Emma. Her pretty lips, inviting, red, and needing to be filled.

He
stroked harder, faster. His cock throbbed in his hand.

Groaning,
Calisto clenched his teeth, letting his thumb roll over the head of his cock
with every pull. He was still focused on her.

Perfect
curves, the kind a man would kill for. The kind that fit perfectly in a man’s
hands—his hands. Silky skin made to bite and taste, or paint with a stream of
his come.

He
bet she felt like fucking satin inside.

Fucking
Emma would be heaven. His fingers digging into her skin, turning it red as he
fisted her hair and listened to all the sounds she would make for him.

Yeah,
perfect.

That
one thought alone was enough to send him over the edge. Calisto came hard, his
semen spilling over his shaking fingers in hot, sticky streams.

Calisto
sucked in a hard breath and rested back against the seat, still holding his
hard cock. At least it wasn’t aching anymore.

As
for him?