Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2) (5 page)

It was far too sweet to be true.

What did he want at eight in the morning?

“Let me help,” Affonso said.

Emma let him hook the straps, and ignored the way his
fingers danced up her calves before coming to a stop on her thighs. His hands
were still under the skirt of her summer dress.

“Smile, Emma.”

She did.

“Beautiful,” her husband praised.

It did nothing for her. Just the same way as his hands
stroking her bare thighs did nothing for her. Despite worrying the night before
that Affonso might want something from her, the man hadn’t actually asked for a
lot since she found out she was pregnant a month earlier.

They’d had sex once.

Nothing else.

That was weeks ago.

Instinctively, Emma reached for Affonso’s waist. It was
her go-to trick to sedate and please him if he wanted, something without
actually having to do very much. She much preferred taking him that way than
needing to fake her way through an entire round of sex.

It wasn’t that Affonso wasn’t attractive. At his age,
fifty, he appeared a decade younger. He had the virility of a much younger man,
and the stamina to match.

Emma just … couldn’t.

She tried.

She couldn’t.

Affonso stopped Emma’s wandering hands, and put them
back to her lap with a smile. At least his hands were gone from under her
dress. She took that as a win.

“Don’t you want me to—”

“Not today,” Affonso interrupted with a grin.
“Besides, sweetheart, you’re not exactly up to the task lately. Hmm?”

Emma blinked, surprised he had noticed. “No, I guess
not.”

That wasn’t a total lie.

She was never up for it.

“Hormones. It’s fine.”

Emma smiled back, and it felt honest instead of the
fake one she usually wore. “Maybe. I’m tired and sick a lot. It doesn’t help.”

“You don’t need to worry about it. That was something
I wanted to talk with you about this morning before we met the girls downstairs
for breakfast.”

“Oh?” she asked.

Affonso nodded. “I won’t be coming home tonight. I
don’t think you’ll find yourself bored without me, but I figured you should
know where I am, in case you need something.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “You’ve gone away for the night
before. What’s different about this time?”

He pulled a card from his slacks pocket, and set it
face up on Emma’s lap. A quick glance at the card showcased a woman’s name and
phone number written in Affonso’s neat scrawl.

Sandra, it read.

Emma squeezed her fists tight. “Who is that?”

“A good friend,” Affonso said, offering nothing more.
“Don’t ask anything else, and you’ll be a much happier woman, I assure you.
Ignorance is bliss.”

She could safely assume that the woman was just one of
his mistresses.

“You didn’t have to tell me,” Emma muttered. “Or shove
it in my face, Affonso.”

“I’m not. I’m also not in the business of hiding
things. If I don’t come home on any given night and you need something, you can
call here.”

Her stomach rolled.

“Is that all?” Emma asked.

“For now.”

Affonso stood, patted her head with his palm, and left
their bedroom without another word. Emma took a few cleansing breaths to steel
her nerves before she followed behind him.

She wasn’t surprised at her husband’s actions. Affonso
was a bastard. He simply didn’t hide the kind of bastard he was.

Emma slipped the card into her dress pocket, wondering
if she should be grateful for the woman her husband went to and thank her, or
hate her. It wasn’t actually a choice. Anyone who could distract Affonso from
Emma enough to keep him out of their bed was a friend of hers.

She didn’t care.

What she told Calisto months ago still stood. If her
husband was fucking someone else, then he was leaving her alone.

What more could Emma ask for?

Emma was surprised to find her step-daughters weren’t
milling around the kitchen, waiting for the cook to serve them as she walked in
behind Affonso. Sherry, their cook, was behind the island, prepping and going
from one bowl to the pan on the stove while muttering under her breath.

“A fair spread this morning?” Affonso asked.

“Yes, sir,” Sherry said, never taking her eyes off the
food. “It’s almost finished. I decided to make eggs in a hat the way I used to,
but I had to add it onto the rest of the meal I was cooking.”

Affonso smiled, much to Emma’s confusion. “Is that
so?”

“Someone’s favorite.”

“Someone?” Emma asked.

Her husband’s grin deepened. “As I said last night, I
know the man. I know him much better than he thinks I do.”

Calisto
.

“Cal said he was fine with waiting for when you were
ready to eat,” Sherry added.

“No problem,” Affonso said, waving it off. “Where is
he?”

The cook flicked her wrist in the direction of the
second entrance to the kitchen like that explained it all. “With the girls.”

Affonso tipped his head in the same direction the cook
had waved. “Emma, go find them and let them know it’s time to eat.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Follow the music,” Affonso told her as she was
leaving.

What music?

Emma had no idea what her husband was talking about.
She couldn’t hear any music. The downstairs section of the home was as quiet as
it ever was, but she was pretty sure that was on purpose. Affonso mentioned
once or twice that the home’s walls were doubly thick for business purposes.

Emma didn’t question him more.

She didn’t want to know why.

Toward the back of the house, where the library and
Affonso’s private office was located, Emma began to hear the music. The sweet,
upbeat tune of the piano flooded the back hallway. Soon, she was leaning in the
library doorway, watching Michelle play the piano while Cynthia did a few steps
that Emma immediately recognized as ballet.

She hadn’t known the girl danced.

Calisto rested on the edge of the piano bench, smiling
in a way that Emma hadn’t seen from him before. It was sweet—affectionate,
even. Like he was so damn proud of the girls. Emma hadn’t ever seen Affonso
grace them with even a small fraction of that kind of love and attention.
Calisto wasn’t their father, and he gave them more than Affonso did.

It was terribly sad.

Once Michelle had finished her song, Emma cleared her
throat to gain their attention. She pretended like she didn’t notice Calisto
watching her under his lashes in that way of his that said he’d known she had
been standing there for a while.

“Time to eat,” Emma said.

“Great. I’m fucking starving,” Cynthia mumbled, making
a beeline for the door.

“Watch your mouth,” Calisto barked. “Ladies don’t talk
like that.”

Michelle snickered as she strolled past Emma like she
wasn’t even standing there. The girl didn’t pretend to like her. “Who said
anything about Cynthia being a fucking lady?”

“Oh, my God,” Calisto grumbled.

“They don’t talk like that in front of their father,”
Emma noted.

Calisto’s eyes popped open, and a clearness replaced
his glassy-eyed look from the night before. He pushed off the bench to stand
with a learned grace that Emma appreciated. She just wish her body didn’t
appreciate it, too.

“Better for them that they don’t,” Calisto said.

“I see you sobered up.”

“I’m still a little drunk.”

“And you drove here this morning?” she asked,
disgusted.

Calisto laughed deeply. “No, I have a driver. Worry
not, kitten.”

Emma swallowed hard.

Kitten
.

That was a new one.

She liked it.

In his mouth, she liked it a lot.

“What brought you over here this morning, Cal?” she
asked. “One apology was enough.”

“Business for Affonso, nothing more. It wasn’t about
you.”

Emma hoped he was telling the truth.

Without saying anything else, Calisto crossed the room
in long, smooth strides. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he passed her
by, not giving her a second look. Emma almost wished he would.

Wary, she followed behind Calisto until they were in
the dining room and taking their seats. She filled her plate with different
foods, and watched Calisto approach his uncle out of the corner of her eye.
Calisto bent down, whispered something into Affonso’s ear, and waited.

Affonso’s features blanked, but anger simmered in his
gaze. “What a mess.”

“Yeah,” Calisto agreed vaguely.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

“I’ll handle it,
zio
.”

“Actually,” Affonso drawled, passing Emma a look, “I
think I will handle it this time. I’ll take a trip down and see what they
left.”

“I usually handle that for you,” Calisto said.

“I know, but I want to. I’m bored. What else can I
say?”

Emma didn’t know what her husband was up to, but she
didn’t like it a bit. Especially not when he looked at her again like he was
telling her to eat and stay quiet. She shoved a mouthful of pancake into her
mouth and chewed.

“Tell you what,” Affonso said, smiling. “You take Emma
to her appointment today. I’ll give her enforcer the day off. He can come with
me and learn a bit. I’ll go downtown for you.”

Calisto glanced at Emma, unreadable. “Appointment for
what?”

“Bloodwork. The baby. Standard things,” Affonso said.  

“It’s a quick appointment,” Emma assured.

Calisto sighed, and his jaw clenched. “Sure.”

“Great,” Affonso said, clapping his hands together
once.

Calisto wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t exactly running to
get away, either.

Wonderful
.

“Sit. We’ll eat together. Like a
famiglia
should,” Affonso demanded.

Calisto smirked, never taking his eyes away from Emma.
“Right. Just like a family.” 

Calisto

Emma sat still and quiet in the passenger seat. She
propped her chin in her hand and watched the buildings fly by as Calisto
navigated the tough, thick early morning traffic. She hadn’t said more than a
couple of words to him.

It wasn’t like he blamed her.

After last night, she had every reason to want to
avoid him. He’d been stupid, got stupid-drunk, and then acted stupid all over
her.

Calisto knew better than that.

“Hey, Emmy?” he asked.

She never took her eyes away from the window. “Hmm?”

“About last night.”

“It doesn’t matter, Calisto. Leave it alone. I’m
fine.”

“Yeah, I figured. What I said still stands. I wanted
to say it again.”

Emma slowly rotated in the seat until she was staring
at him. “Which one? The part where you deliberately accused me of keeping
something from you, the part where you accused me of not trying to tell you at
all, or the apology?”

Calisto’s hands squeezed the steering wheel harder.

Good men apologized when they did wrong.

Simple as that.

“The apology,” he said quietly.

“Thank you. Now, can you please drop it? I don’t want
to talk about it.”

“I get that. I just …”

“What?” Emma demanded, blowing out a heavy breath.

“Why are you so irritated?” Calisto asked. “I’m making
small talk. You’re barking at me.”

Emma shook her head, and turned back to the window.
“You don’t get it, Calisto. I don’t want to talk about it. Not the pregnancy,
the baby, or what happened. It hurts.” She pointed to her chest, drawing
Calisto’s attention from the road for a moment. “In here, it hurts me all the
time. I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Drop it.”

“Dropped.”

“Great,” she muttered.

“I am sorry you had to go through it alone,” he added
quickly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Calisto watched as Emma
clenched her hands in her lap until her knuckles turned white from the
pressure. She let out a slow exhale, and her pretty mouth turned down into a
frown.

“I wasn’t entirely alone,” she said. “Affonso was
there for a while.”

“For a while?”

“He left after he took me to the hospital.”

Calisto’s brow furrowed as he slowly took a sharp
corner with the car. “But he must have come back, yes?”

“A day later when I was released, he sent Carter to
come pick me up and bring me home.”

Carter was one of Affonso’s men, and Emma’s full-time
enforcer. Calisto’s rage bubbled up from his stomach at the very idea of Emma
being alone in the hospital while she was suffering, and probably lonely.

“I’m sorry,” Calisto said again.

Emma shrugged. “Don’t be.”

“I can’t help it. Last night wasn’t entirely about
you, either. I was pissed at myself for being a fucking idiot, and for putting
you in that kind of position. I should have taken more care in Vegas. Instead,
I made a mess and you were left to clean it alone.”

Calisto had kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to
chance hitting another vehicle if someone cut in front of them. The last thing
he needed was for Emma to be hurt in her current condition. Affonso wouldn’t be
pleased.

Emma’s hand landed on Calisto’s arm with a gentle
touch. The softness of her palm soaked into his skin immediately, reminding him
of what it felt like to feel every inch of her body, explore all her silky
curves and dips, with his own hands.

Just as fast as her hand was there, it was gone.

But he’d still felt it.

Nonetheless, he was grateful she quickly let him go.

“It takes two people,” he heard her say faintly.

“You’re right, but it only takes one of those people
to be an asshole.”

Emma laughed softly. “You must enjoy punishing
yourself. Is that it?”

Maybe.

Calisto didn’t know anymore.

“How is this pregnancy coming along?” he managed to
ask.

“So far, so good.”

It bothered him in a way he couldn’t explain that Emma
was pregnant with Affonso’s child. She was far too early in the pregnancy to
actually look pregnant, but Calisto knew and that was enough to set his blood
on fire.

Jealousy compounded in his chest. His heart ached. His
fingers itched with the need to wipe all his nonsense away. He couldn’t explain
it, but he felt fucking awful.

Terrible, even.

What was worse, was the fact he still couldn’t look at
Emma without seeing who he knew she was beneath her new last name and status. She
wasn’t just Affonso Donati’s pretty, young wife with no opinion to share and
her fake smiles plastered on. She had fire. She had passion.

Calisto still found that he was ridiculously attracted
to the woman, and that wasn’t okay. She still made his cock hard at night when
he was alone. His memories of her didn’t do her any justice.

The real thing was far better.

Calisto swallowed the lump in his throat, and ignored
the snugness of his slacks. It wasn’t the time. It was never going to be the
time.

Not again.

Then, he glanced at Emma in the passenger seat. She
was watching him under her long lashes in that way of hers. Silent, unmoving,
and sweet.

She knew he was remembering.

She had to know.

“Staying away didn’t help much, huh?” Emma asked.

Calisto cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard what I said.”

He had.

“No, it didn’t help,” Calisto admitted.

“Shame. I hoped we could be friends, at least.”

Calisto didn’t know if that was possible. “Did it help
you when I stayed away?”

Emma laughed, but it was strained and shallow. “Help
what? The difference between you and me, Cal, is that you had a choice in the
end. You were capable of walking away. I was simply moved from one hand to the
next without a single say. There was no
helping
me. Don’t delude
yourself into thinking differently.”

“You’re right.”

And it killed him.

Emma rested back into the seat, and pressed two
fingers into her temples. “I don’t know why, but I am exhausted.”

“I hear pregnancy will do that.”

“I suppose. But I feel like hell and probably look
like it, too.”

Calisto shot her a small smile. “For looking like
hell, as you say, I think you look beautiful.”

Emma’s eyes snapped open and found Calisto
immediately. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That, Cal. I don’t even want to walk that line.”

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

Emma frowned. “That’s exactly my point.”

“Why do you need to be here today, again?” Calisto
asked.

“Bloodwork.” Emma perched herself up on the edge of
the patient bed. She tugged off her cardigan and set it aside. “Nothing too
invasive today.”

“A needle inside your veins is a little invasive.”

Emma snickered. “Scared of needles?”

“Not really.”

“Sure,” she teased.

Calisto had never been a fan of pain, but he found it
provided a certain relief.

It was a high that couldn’t compete with anything else
he experienced. That was why he fought bare-knuckled, why he drove fast,
despite knowing he might crash, and why he still enjoyed looking at Emma
Donati—no matter her current status.

Pain felt good.

He might have been a fool for doing so, but as long as
he got what he wanted from it, he didn’t really care.

When he fought, he was given release. When he drove,
he was given freedom. When he looked at Emma, he was given memories.

All of them brought a certain level of pain. All three
might kill him someday.

Calisto glanced at Emma, taking her in again when she
didn’t know he was looking.

He realized then that only one might actually be worth
dying for.

Craziness
, he told himself.
You’re being crazy again.

Calisto wished it was as easy as simply putting Emma
out of his mind, but he quickly learned that it wasn’t the case. She was always
there in one way or another. His guilt over delivering her to his uncle for
marriage still ate him alive. Calisto still worried that she wasn’t happy, or
that she wasn’t being treated in the way she deserved.

That she wasn’t being cared for, attended to …

That she wasn’t loved.

“Ah, Mrs. Donati,” came a voice from the doorway.

Calisto found an older doctor he recognized
immediately. The man was on Affonso’s payroll for certain things. Curtis Lea
was a good man, if not a little crooked. He didn’t mind taking cash to stitch
someone up, dig out a bullet, or write a few prescriptions and turn his cheek
at the same time.

“And Calisto,” Dr. Curtis said, smiling. “I haven’t
seen you in … a couple of years. How are you?”

“Tired,” Calisto said honestly.

The doctor chuckled. “Life makes us that way. What
brings you here?”

“Carter had other things to do. Calisto is driving me
around,” Emma explained.

“I see,” the doctor said. “You can wait outside,
Calisto. There’s no need for you to be in here.”

Calisto didn’t need to be told a second time. He took
the reprieve the doctor offered, and practically bolted out of the room.

He needed space.

Time, maybe.

If his wayward inner thoughts were any indication,
Calisto was still walking a thin line between stupid and insane where Emma was
concerned. He should be disgusted with himself. The woman was pregnant,
married, and entirely unavailable.

Yet, he still wanted her.

A little.

God, he was a fool.