by Bethany-Kris
“But you don’t want to.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Emma cocked a brow like she was taking him in for a second time. “Your words imply that on a personal level, you have little to no respect or admiration for your uncle. On a professional level, you give him what he deserves because of his title and nothing more. To me, that says you don’t actually want to do any of it, but you do it because you have to.”
Smart girl.
Calisto went for a deflection. “Didn’t your father ever teach you to stay out of the affairs of men?”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I always listen. Plus, I came from George Sorrento. He had to know I was going to be a little bit like him in some way. Where do you think my curiosity comes from?”
“Curiosity kills.”
“That line is old, Calisto. Get a new one.”
Calisto laughed loudly, unable to hold it in. “Nice.”
Emma smiled sweetly, but it managed to look entirely evil at the same time. “I try.”
“Fine, I’ll give you that. You’re mostly right. I respect my uncle in business and famiglia only because I have to, not because I want to or think he actually deserves it.”
“Would you tell me something else?”
“That depends on what you ask, Emma.”
Emma tightened the blanket around her frame again.
“You do know that I won’t rip the blanket off and defile you, right?” Calisto asked. “I have a bit of control left in me, despite the rumors.”
“What rumors are those?”
“There’s a few.”
“Indulge me,” Emma said.
Indulging her was the entire issue wrapped up with a sexy little bow. The more Calisto fed into conversation that opened his personal life up to Emma, the more she would know about him, and the closer they might feel.
Those were dangerous waters.
Calisto maintained a healthy distance from everyone in his life—from his family, to those he considered friends, to even his doctor, for Christ’s sake. Keeping people at arm’s length allowed him objectivity to their lives. He didn’t get attached. There were very little, if any, emotions involved. That way, he wouldn’t have to fight with moral dilemmas or personal bias, should something happen. And keeping people away allowed Calisto the peace of mind that no one could hurt him.
Affonso did that—made Calisto like that.
It was easier.
Deflect her, his mind demanded.
“I thought you had a question to ask,” Calisto said.
Emma nodded. “I do. I’ll get to it in a second. Indulge me on the rumors about you first, Cal. I bet they’re far more interesting.”
Calisto ran his fingers through his hair, trying to soothe some of the tension creeping over his shoulders. “People like to talk when they don’t know much about a person.”
“Like they’re trying to fill in the blanks.”
“Just like that,” he confirmed.
“And what do people say about you?”
“Nothing unusual. I’m good-looking, so I must have a handful of women on the side. Normal nonsense.”
Emma picked at her fingernails. “Do you date a lot?”
“No.”
“Let me rephrase. Do you have a lot of women you run around with?”
“I don’t fuck anything with a pussy,” Calisto said, knowing damn well how crude he sounded. “I’m not a saint, and I certainly like a good lay when I find a woman worthy enough to make the effort, but I don’t make a game out of it. I don’t have a list of names I like to add to.”
“But people talk about you like it is a game for you.”
Calisto hummed noncommittedly. “You could say that. They see me out with a woman, dancing with someone at a club, or—heaven forbid—I bring someone to dinner, and suddenly the rumors flare to life all over again. I don’t have the time or give a damn enough to correct people. If they want to talk about me, they can go to it. I have better things to amuse myself with.”
Emma frowned. “You’re twenty-seven.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re saying that you have had no serious relationships at all with any women?”
Calisto blew out a heavy breath. “You’re awfully nosy for a quiet girl, Emmy.”
“The word you used was ‘curious,’ actually.”
“Same difference.” Calisto reached for his beer on the end-table and took a drink. Then he put it back and said, “I’ve had five relationships over the last decade. None that were anything important or would go anywhere. Mostly the relationships came about in my younger twenties, and then I decided that it wasn’t the right time to look for something like a wife.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was being pressured by someone else’s wants, not my own.”
Emma leaned forward, letting the blanket pool to her waist. “So … you’ve never been in love?”
Calisto barked out a laugh. “I’m not even sure that exists. But no. I was close to marrying someone once, but it went nowhere fast.”
“Do tell.”
“This is starting to feel like a therapy session.”
“We’re getting to know each other, Calisto. Nothing more.”
“Right,” he muttered heavily. “Last year, a few months before my mother died, I was introduced to the niece of a boss from a fellow family in New York. She was nice enough—pretty, knew how to behave, and she was exactly what Affonso thought would be good for me where a wife was concerned. That’s probably why he brought her to my attention. I didn’t really love her, I probably never would have, but I trusted her enough to think she would be an appropriate partner for what I needed. I wasn’t even attracted to her, really, but I didn’t need any of that to have a wife. I simply needed an Italian woman in good standing with la famiglia and the church.”
Emma chewed on her inner cheek before asking, “So what happened?”
“My mother died. I learned some things. I decided to take a different path from that point forward. One that didn’t include a woman that my uncle had handpicked for me, never mind one that couldn’t even get my blood hot enough to want to fuck her. I think she was okay with it all, but then again, I never gave her a ring, a promise, or anything else. We just were.”
“And then you weren’t.”
Calisto lifted a single shoulder in response because honestly, he didn’t give a damn. “Anyway, she was the only person that I considered marrying. We had never even had sex, I wouldn’t really call it a relationship, and my affection for her was limited to what she could provide me with in the future.”
“I don’t understand.”
“A boss needs a wife. She would have given me the right standing for my family and Cosa Nostra when Affonso was ready to step down. But as I said, things happened and I decided to change direction accordingly. The marriage wouldn’t have been about what I wanted, but rather, what someone else wanted for me.”
“Someone like Affonso,” Emma said quietly.
It wasn’t even a question.
Calisto swallowed audibly. He could have lied, but he chose not to for reasons he couldn’t explain. “Yeah, for someone like Affonso.”
“So, that’s what he meant.”
“Hmm?”
“Affonso,” Emma said. “He told me that if you would just do what he wanted, then he wouldn’t need me at all. The boss, right? That’s what he meant, wasn’t it? If you would just give him the guarantee that you would take the seat, he wouldn’t need to worry about his legacy carrying on in the mafia because someone from his family would take over.”
“You answered your own question, Emma.”
“In more ways than you know,” she mumbled.
“What does that mean?”
Emma’s lips pursed before she said, “My other question that I didn’t ask. I was going to ask what it was that Affonso wanted you to do that you wouldn’t do for him. I can safely say I know the answe
r to that now.”
Calisto smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I won’t do for him.”
“Why not? It’s a family thing, isn’t it? Maximo’s father was the boss before him. Affonso’s father had been the boss, and it was your father afterward. Don’t you want to carry on that legacy?”
“No,” Calisto said honestly.
“Why—”
“You’re making a lot of noise and making me miss the movie, Emma.”
Her mouth snapped shut with an audible crack. Calisto could practically feel her glare burning into him, but he pretended like he didn’t notice a thing was different. As quickly as their conversation had started, it was over. Calisto needed it to be this way.
He had to stop her before she got too far; before she dug too deep. Those scars needed to stay covered.
“Can I ask one more thing?” Emma asked in a whisper.
Calisto sighed. “Shoot.”
“Why won’t you give Affonso what he wants?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No.”
Calisto glanced to the side, meeting Emma’s gaze head-on and unabashed. “Because it’s what the bastard wants, Emmy. I’ve already given him far more than he deserves. I won’t give him any more.”
Emma settled back into the couch without saying another thing. Calisto was grateful that she had dropped the subject and seemed content to finish out the movie. A few minutes passed them by in silence. Calisto rotated between his beer and the bag of popcorn between him and Emma.
Then, quieter than her earlier whisper, Emma said, “I don’t know what it is about you, but you make me curious, Calisto. I’m not actually like this all the time.”
Funny.
She made him curious, too.
Calisto woke to bright light, his back aching, and the shriek of the suite’s phone ringing in the background. Groaning, he shielded his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the windows. On the end-table, he counted the six bottles of beer he’d downed during the two movies he’d watched with Emma before he realized she had fallen asleep on the other end of the couch.
Her cute little snores had been enough for him not to wake her. He must have fallen asleep, too, considering the television was flashing a blue screen to show the movie was over. Glancing to the side, Calisto found the couch empty and the blanket that Emma had been using was tossed over the arm.
“Shit,” he muttered.
Pushing up from the couch, Calisto went in search of the goddamn ringing phone. He checked his watch as he strolled into the kitchen with bleary eyes. Six in the morning.
Jesus.
In the last three weeks that Calisto had been watching Emma, he hadn’t known her to wake up earlier than eight. Maybe he should have woken her up the night before and gotten her back to her penthouse and into her bed.
Calisto found the cordless phone under a dish towel on the kitchen island. That confused him more than anything. He was ninety-nine percent sure that he had brought the phone into the living room the night before after talking to security, getting the popcorn set up, and turning the movie on. It shouldn’t have been in the kitchen, and it definitely shouldn’t have been covered by a dish towel.
He didn’t get a chance to answer the call before the ringing stopped. Calisto cursed under his breath again, noting it had been security calling. Quickly, Calisto hit the three digits for the fools downstairs and waited for someone to pick up.
“Good morning, Mr. Donati.”
“Morning,” Calisto grumbled.
It wasn’t a good morning. He was still tired, he probably shouldn’t have chugged six beers in a matter of a couple of hours, and his back still hurt from sleeping in an upright position on an uncomfortable couch.
Fuck the good morning.
“Someone called two seconds ago,” Calisto said. “What did they want?”
“Actually, we’ve called three times. Someone was just getting ready to come up and wake you.”
Calisto blinked and then rubbed at his eyes. “Sleeping off a rough night. Sorry about that. Is she up and around?”
“That’s part of the reason we were calling. We noticed about a half hour ago that your sensors were activating from room to room before Miss Sorrento entered the elevator and went into her own suite. Approximately ten minutes later, the emergency door exit in her pantry was activated. We assumed you were awake as well because of the sensors in your suite, sir.”
It took Calisto far too long to realize what the man was saying.
“Wait one goddamn second,” Calisto muttered. “Are you telling me that you didn’t begin calling me the moment she stepped into the elevator and then entered her penthouse, like you’re supposed to?”
“Well, sir … You see, after last night, the morning shift was left a note that we weren’t to bother you with seemingly unnecessary calls. And again, we assumed you were also awake and knew that she was, too.”
“It’s morning! She entered her place alone! Yes, that is a necessary call.” Calisto’s agitation bubbled just below the surface. He was two seconds away from telling the fool right where he could shove his fucking note. “The exit door, you said?”
“Um, yes, sir. About ten minutes ago. We started calling you the moment it was opened.”
Calisto didn’t berate the man on that issue. It was his own damn fault for drinking before sleeping.
“Thank you,” Calisto said.
He hung up the phone, tossed it to the kitchen table, and made a beeline for the only bedroom in the suite. The moved phone and dish towel suddenly made sense to Calisto as he searched for his suddenly missing car keys. His suit jacket was hanging off the chair where he left it, along with his dress pants. The keys should have been in the inside pocket, but they weren’t.
Cristo.
Affonso would have a fit.
Calisto would be responsible.
Emma must have moved the phone. She likely tried to muffle the sound with a towel so that when it rang, it wouldn’t be loud enough to wake Calisto. She probably took his keys as well.
Sneaky.
Damn, he had to admit it was a good play.
Emmy, you crazy girl … What are you doing?
Calisto
Balancing the phone on his shoulder, Calisto hastily buttoned up his suit jacket. “Allow me entrance into Emma Sorrento’s penthouse, now.”
“Yes, sir,” said the security.
Calisto stepped into the opened elevator, pressed Emma’s room number, and waited for the fools downstairs to approve his request for entry. Finally, the doors on the other side of the elevator opened after his side closed.
“Thank you,” Calisto said into the phone. “And one more thing.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Should Affonso Donati or Miss Sorrento’s family call today wanting updates on her arrivals and departures, please make sure to keep this little incident under wraps. There’s no need to go worrying them over nothing. I will handle it.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Good.”
Calisto hung up the phone and stepped into Emma’s quiet penthouse. His reasons for wanting to keep Emma’s disappearing act a secret was obvious—she probably panicked and ran when she thought there was an opening, and Calisto was not going to be the fool who put his head on the block for her foolishness.
He got the girl, as far as that went. He didn’t blame her for wanting to get away, or wanting to be free of what her future held, but he couldn’t help her there.
Letting her run meant sacrificing his life.
Calisto wasn’t quite ready to die yet.
He had to give Emma credit where it was due. This escape plan of hers had to have been a spur of the moment thing, considering she couldn’t have known he would invite her over the night before. For a quick getaway, she had done okay so far.
Running was one thing.
Hiding was quite another.
Calisto put his cell phone inside his pocket as he strolled into the
main area of Emma’s penthouse. The clean, bright atmosphere of the place was magnified in the morning light. White marble floors and eggshell-toned walls lit up under the sunlight filtering in through the large floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Emma, Emma, Emma,” Calisto murmured under his breath as he took a look around. “Tell me where you’ve gone, sweet girl, and make this easier on both of us.”
He made a beeline for the bedroom that he knew belonged to Emma. After having spent the better part of the past few weeks packing things in her apartment with the help of a moving company, Calisto felt comfortable enough to know which rooms had been designated for what purpose.
In the bedroom, he found a mess. Clothes, what little Emma had kept for the duration of her stay in Vegas, had been tossed on the floor and discarded. The closet door was opened far enough for Calisto to see that Emma had taken one of the four designer suitcases out and left the other three behind. She’d taken the smallest one.
Just enough to pack a couple of things, he realized.
That explained the mess.
Even the small jewelry box on top of the dresser looked like someone had been rifling through it.
In the attached bathroom, the countertop looked like it had exploded products over the top. Calisto recognized a few obvious things that were missing from the mess. A toothbrush, hairbrush, and a small toiletry kit that Emma had asked him to tell the movers to leave alone so she could keep using it.
The scattered products didn’t bother Calisto as much as the writing on the bathroom mirror did. In red lipstick, Emma had written one word with hard strokes.
Sorry.
Calisto rubbed at his forehead, sighing. “Cristo. You’re going to make me do this, huh, Emma?”
Irritation churned in Calisto’s gut. He hated to admit it, but he was bothered by the fact that Emma had tricked him like she had. After the night before, he thought that maybe the two could be friends, and he would be able to ignore the strange attraction. At least to the point where he could be appropriate and respectful to his uncle’s soon-to-be bride.
Emma played him.
Hard.
It pissed Calisto off like nothing else.