by Bethany-Kris
Elena glanced away. “You don’t know anything about—”
“I know enough,” Gian said, hurling the words at her. “I know we haven’t lived in the same space together for two years. We haven’t fucked in three! I know why you agreed to the marriage, because you were scared and you were young. You needed to get away from your father, and you thought to use me to do it.”
Gian scrubbed a hand down his face, ready to be done with the entire conversation. He hadn’t wanted to be there, sharing a conversation with Elena at all, but he didn’t have much of a choice. She was, whether he liked it or not, his wife. And in their world, in Cosa Nostra, that meant something important.
“I gave you that, I let you lie to me, because I was trying to please my grandfather, too,” Gian admitted, his anger rising to the surface all over again. “But the moment you didn’t have to pretend anymore, you stopped. I’ve never asked you for anything—never demanded you act like my wife, unless it’s absolutely needed. I’ve never shared your bed without you wanting me there, and when you couldn’t stand to have me in the same room without throwing something at the back of my fucking head, I left! I’ve never asked you for more than what this has always been, Elena.”
A defiant glimmer lit up her eyes as she stared him down. “You’ve never been so blatant with a whore before, either.”
He’d never hit a woman.
Never had the urge to hurt one.
Until this goddamn moment.
Gian shoved his clenched fists into his pockets, determined to stay on the other side of the room from his wife. Elena was good at these games—too good, really. She was known for her manipulations, something she had picked up from her bastard of a father, and she used them on Gian without blinking a lash about it. He had no doubt that was exactly what she was trying to do here. If she pissed him off enough to react, then it would be to her favor, and not his, when someone came to ask for his behavior toward his wife, and he would need to answer appropriately.
“You say that,” Gian murmured, “like you’ve known for a while that I’ve been seeing someone on more than a casual basis, Elena.”
He saw the tightening of her jaw.
It was her one tell for when she lied.
“And?” she asked.
“If you had such a problem with it, why not call me, or send someone over, write a fucking email, or whatever. Why today, of all days, is it that you have the problem with this? We’re not together, we don’t even fuck when we do have to pretend for an evening, and I am more than happy with letting you drain my bank accounts, as long as you’re content on your side of the city. Why call me and demand answers from me now?”
Elena tipped her chin up, looking away again. “You made me look like a fool, Gian.”
“Excuse me?”
“You had her all over the city, taking her out, dressing her up, and playing pretend with your people and even some of your family. You made me look like a goddamn fool. Does she know about me, when I didn’t even know about her?”
“Now she does,” Gian said, offering little else in that regard.
He would deal with Cara when she arrived that afternoon.
It was none of Elena’s damned business.
“The least you could have done was give me the benefit of knowing,” Elena spat at him, that fire returning to her gaze before she had even blinked. “You couldn’t even do that. My mother called, which means my father knows, too.”
“I had no reason to tell you. Beyond the fact we’re not even together, we haven’t spoken in ten months, and the last time we did talk, it was for you to tell me to get your fucking credit card fixed because it expired and the new card didn’t come to your address. I know you were asked to the funeral for my grandfather, and you didn’t even show face for that, as a wife should do. I didn’t care. I have never cared. We’re not together. We haven’t been together in—”
“Then fucking give me a divorce!”
Gian stilled on the spot, letting each one of those words stab into his skin like little daggers, tearing him apart, piece by piece.
How simple her demand was.
How much he wanted to agree.
He should.
He needed to.
They would both be happier, they could both put the years of shit behind them to rest, and move on to better things—better people.
It wasn’t that easy.
“I can’t,” Gian said quietly.
Dio, he wished that didn’t have to be his answer.
Elena let out a sound that came off broken and frustrated, all at the same time. She threw her hands high, and glared at him as she said, “I don’t want to hear that anymore, not now!”
“You come from the same world as I do. You know there’s no other acceptable answer. Divorce doesn’t exist to made men, or their wives. It never has, it never will, and we won’t be the exception. I won’t give up my life as a sacrifice, simply because three years ago, you tricked me into marrying you.”
“I didn’t trick you.”
“Then what would you call it?” he roared back. “What would you call the things you did and how you lied to me?”
Elena’s eyes watered, but that sight didn’t affect Gian like it once had. “You knew what he was like to me, the things he did to me. Don’t pretend like I had a choice, Gian.”
He believed that, but very little else that came from his wife’s mouth.
“So be it, but here we are, because of it,” Gian replied. “I have an image to maintain, rules that need to be followed, the agreement to uphold between our families, and we can continue on like we have been for the past three years—”
“You mean where it’s fine and great for you to fuck any whore that glances your way, but I have to sit pretty and quiet in the corner, not bringing you any shame, right?”
“Cara is the first and only woman I have ever been in a relationship with beyond sex, not that it’s any of your fucking business. And you know that, or you should, considering this is the first time you’ve ever brought it to my attention that you knew I was involved with another woman. I have always been careful as far as other women were concerned, for your sake, Elena, not mine. My status demands I remain married to the woman I spoke my vows to—‘til death do us part—but it says fuck all about remaining faithful to you. But I would have, had you given a single shit about me. And don’t pretend that you’ve ever held fidelity in high esteem, where I was concerned. What was his name, the last one, Matteo?”
Elena barely blinked. “Cara, that’s her name?”
Gian cleared his throat. “You want me to confirm it, but I think you already know exactly who she is. I’ve never said anything to you about who you’ve been seen out with, or the things I know you have done. I have only asked that you be mindful of your affairs because of your father, certainly not for me. As long as you’re careful about whoever you—”
“Go to hell, Gian.”
He barked out a laugh. “Surprise, sweetheart, I’ve already been living in hell for years. It started with you, and I have a feeling that isn’t about to change anytime soon.”
He hated her for that, too.
Much like she hated him, he knew.
“Early boarding for flight TI457.”
Cara grabbed the carry-on bag at her feet, and readied for the regular boarding call for her flight. Tommas sat in the seat beside hers, yet he didn’t speak. Likely because all someone had to do was look at Cara’s face, and they would know she wasn’t in the mood for any sort of conversation.
Tommas hadn’t needed to do more than escort her to the airport, but he took it a step further, went through security, and decided to wait with Cara at her gate. She wanted to be thankful, at least her brother cared on some level, but she really wanted to be alone.
“You’re always welcome to come home,” Tommas said quietly.
Cara glanced up at the ceiling, and let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I know.”
“But I don’t think that’
s in your plans, is it?”
“Probably not.”
“Even now, with … Gian and all?”
A flash of irritation settled in Cara’s gut, but she pushed it away. It wasn’t Tommas’ fault that Gian had lied to Cara for months. Beyond that, she knew her brother thought that Cara had already known the truth about Gian and his … wife.
“I was getting back into a routine,” Cara said, “before all this happened. I was getting better—finally—after losing Lea. I’m not going to push myself back several steps because of one man.”
She had said the words so flippantly that anyone would believe them. Shit, even she wanted to believe them.
Cara didn’t know if they were true.
“Cara.”
She was lost in her thoughts, barely present as it was, and didn’t hear her brother’s call of her name.
Tommas reached out and placed his hand to her arm. “Cara.”
“What, Tommas?”
“I’ll never tell you what you can and can’t do with your life. You know that, right?”
Cara nodded. “You never have.”
“And I’m not going to start with this. But I do want to tell you one thing, if you’ll hear it.”
“Shoot.”
Tommas smiled, but it was measured, and not entirely genuine. “Be careful, Cara, especially in this situation. You’ve always been careful not to step too deep into the piles of shit left by the family, and right now, I’m worried you’re knee-deep and don’t even realize it.”
“I’m not involved in that side of his life, Tommas.”
Her brother shook his head. “You may not see it that way, but I can assure you that you are.”
“Well, not for much longer.”
“Maybe, maybe not. A day ago—before this came up—you said you loved him. That sort of feeling doesn’t go away because bad things happen. So, today, you want to skin him alive, but maybe in a week, you won’t be so angry, and you might even remember what he was like before you knew about his wife. I won’t tell you what to do, but you do need to be careful. Whether you like it or not, you’ve already put yourself into a position where a label is stuck on your relationship. I get that you didn’t know it was there, but the people around him certainly did. And if you understand what it means to be … that woman—”
Cara scowled. “The other woman. The whore. A goomah. Say it, Tommas.”
He didn’t even flinch at her truth, simply kept staring at her like it didn’t change a thing about how he thought of her or saw her in his eyes. “If you understand what it means to be that woman, and you can handle it, then I’ll never say a word against your choices and wishes. It is your life—live it how you want to, Cara. Live the way that makes you happy with the person who makes you happy. But the very second you find yourself in too deep, and you want to get out, you know where to find me. Okay?”
“Now beginning regular boarding for flight …”
Cara stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
Tommas stood with her. “Okay, Cara? Say the word, that’s all you have to do.”
She smiled, or as much as she could manage. “I won’t need to after today, but thank you.”
“That’s easy to say now, sure.”
“Tommas—”
“Okay, Cara?”
Her brother’s expression hadn’t changed from the moment he’d started talking. Never once had judgement shone in his eyes. He hadn’t shamed her for the things that she had overlooked, or the mess she now found herself in. No, he only cared for her, and her happiness.
Wasn’t that what family was supposed to do?
She forgot what that felt like, to be looked out for, and cared about, by someone who shared her last name and blood.
“Cara?” Tommas pressed again.
“Yeah, Tommas. Okay.”
He nodded, and then waved a hand toward the gate where other passengers had started lining up to hand over their boarding passes. “Have a good flight, Cara. Call me when you get home and have a minute.”
“All right. Thank you, Tommy.”
Tommas shrugged. “It’s what big brothers do, right? Or, what we’re supposed to do.”
Yeah, it was.
She had forgotten that little fact.
Customs was not half as bad coming back through Toronto International Airport as they had been when Cara entered through them in Chicago. The customs officer gave her passport a glance, barely opened her carry-on and purse up fully, and sent her on with a smile.
That was one damn thing to be grateful for.
While the flight from Chicago to Toronto wasn’t a long one, her emotional turbulence meant that Cara wasn’t in a particularly good place. She was exhausted—mentally, and physically. The only thing she wanted to do was get home to her apartment, give her brother the call she promised him, and then lie in her bed for several hours.
She needed sleep.
Cara pushed through customs, and headed toward arrivals where her luggage would be waiting, and a line of taxis outside the exit doors. She had stepped off the escalator when she spotted the guy standing at the very front of a large group of waiting people.
Several held signs with last names scrawled on them, waiting to pick up someone from their arriving flights.
Not this man.
Chris didn’t need to.
Wearing all black, his hair smoothed back, and a flat smile plastered on his face, Cara let out a sigh at the sight of Chris.
She had wanted to go home. She’d hoped for a little bit of time before she would need to have an actual face-to-face meeting with Gian. Some breathing room to get her thoughts and feelings in order, so that when she did see him, her raging emotional vomit didn’t spill all the way out, making a mess of everything it could reach. Surely, she wasn’t asking for a lot.
Apparently, Gian was not going to give Cara that option. Well, he would have nobody to blame but himself when he faced her anger. He could have given her a day or two—anything—to let his lies sink in.
“Miss Rossi?” Chris asked as he came to stand in front of Cara.
She looked him over. “Gian sent you, Chris?”
“Sì, miss.”
“I suppose if I said that I didn’t want to go see Gian, it won’t make much of a difference, huh?”
He smirked a bit. “I’m to deliver you to his penthouse, nowhere else. I only follow orders. It would be best if you didn’t make a scene. Either way, the penthouse is it.”
“Wonderful.” Cara crossed her arms.
“I will take you home once you’re done with the boss.”
The boss.
Cara didn’t miss the man’s choice of words, in regards to Gian. Was that what had happened while she was gone? Was that what he had sent her away for, so that he could take over the new boss’s seat, and get his revenge for his grandfather at the same time?
She wasn’t stupid, of course, and she knew how volatile and dangerous things had started to become before Gian sent her away. Incidents that had come far too close to Cara and Gian. Still, he never talked details. He was always careful, in that sense, and only gave her the barest bones of information. Just enough to tide her over.
For good reason, her mind taunted, you’re not his wife.
Nothing Gian ever told Cara would be safe.
Not in court.
Goomahs didn’t get that sort of closeness with their men.
Whores got nothing.
It only pissed her off even more. Cara had thought she knew everything about Gian that was important, things a man who loved her should tell her. Even a man like him, involved in things that put a constant target on his back.
She thought he cared enough.
He clearly hadn’t cared at all.
“Your brother called ahead of time and let the boss know what time your flight would be arriving this afternoon.”
Cara wanted to be angry at Tommas over that fact, but she couldn’t summon up the emotion. All of her anger was be
ing saved for the one person who deserved it the most, and she knew Tommas had only been doing what was expected of him, as he’d allowed Cara to return to Toronto before Gian gave the okay.
“Am I at least allowed to grab some food on the way?”
“The boss has a lunch waiting, if you’re hungry,” Chris said.
Cara scowled, and walked on past the guy. “Lunch he can choke on.”
“You’ll be heading up alone from here,” her escort said as Cara stepped into the elevator. “The boss said it would be better if no one interrupted you two for the next little while.”
Cara turned to face Chris who was holding the elevator door back from closing.
“If I wasn’t so pissed off, I would thank you, but …” She let her unspoken words hang in the air, unsaid. “You know how it goes.”
The man nodded once. “Given the circumstances, I understand.”
Cara frowned, her embarrassment rising. “Do you know the circumstances?”
“I’ve known since the day he married his wife. I was invited by his grandfather to attend, since I had kept an eye on Gian for a great many years before that day. I have been around for more things that I care to mention at this moment, and you happened to be one of them.”
Ouch.
Just another name to add to her list of people who’d known, while she hadn’t.
“You must have thought I was foolish, then.”
Chris’s expression gave nothing away. “I think you were happy, and you made him happy. So, what business is it of mine, to tell my boss that he shouldn’t be happy, when I’ve watched him simply exist for too long?”
“That’s quite a black and white way of looking at it.”
“Maybe so.”
“Except I have the feeling that neither of us are happy now,” Cara said, “and that’s his fault, too.”
Chris nodded again, stepped back, and let the elevator door close.
Cara grew silent as the elevator began to move upward, and she eyed the security camera in the upper left corner of the tin box, pointed right at her. She wondered if Gian was watching, knowing that the elevator was solely used for entrance and exit from his penthouse, and none of the other suites in the building. Someone had to be watching that camera.