Cara & Gian: The Complete Guzzi Duet

by Bethany-Kris

  “I’m not trying to hover,” he whispered against her skin, “but I can’t help it. Let me do things, Cara, even if you’re capable and I’m driving you crazy. Let me help, because I love you, and I need you to be okay. I need to make sure you’re okay.”

  Her fingers drifted through his hair with soothing strokes. “I am fine.”

  “Now, Cara.”

  “And the baby is fine.”

  “Again, now.” Gian kissed her stomach again, though the baby was quite still. He figured that the boy didn’t have much room to move around in anymore. “You don’t allow me to do a lot for you as it is. And I understand why, though I want to do more.”

  “You do enough,” she replied.

  Gian shook his head. “No, I really don’t. I shouldn’t be living separate from you, or worried I might miss the call when he finally decides to make his way into the world. You shouldn’t have two nurseries in two different places. I shouldn’t have to keep a fucking wedding ring tucked away in my car or wear it on my hand, depending on what I’m doing or where I am that day. None of that is what I should be doing. None of it, Cara. And it kills me—it’s killing me. So if that’s how I feel, then I can only imagine what it’s like for you.”

  “Gian—”

  “Please just let me help, amore. Let me do something.”

  Cara ran her fingers through his hair again. “Something comfy, then. And a glass of water would be nice.”

  “All right.”

  “And you,” she added quieter. “You and a blanket would be perfect.”

  “Get one of those ugly Rom-Com things you like on, too.”

  Cara smiled beautifully. “You always call them ugly, but you laugh when you watch them. I think secretly, you like them.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t say that too loudly.”

  “Mmhmm. Blanket, water, comfy clothes, and you. Hurry, Gian.”

  Standing, he kissed her mouth, soft and sweet. He had to keep it short and pull away fast, because the longer he kissed Cara, the more he wanted to stay right there and keep doing exactly that. Between them, kissing always led into something more—fucking was not resting, Gian was forced to tell himself.

  Even if he could think of a dozen ways to have Cara be resting while he fucked her. This was more difficult than he thought it would be.

  Gian gathered all the things Cara wanted, including the large, fluffy comforter from her bed. He let her change out of her clothes and into the clean, comfy things he had brought her as he went for the water. By the time he got back to the couch with a glass in hand, Cara had draped herself in the blanket with only her head peeking out from a small hooded bit.

  “You look like a human burrito,” Gian said.

  “Don’t judge. Also, the movie is starting, so be quiet.”

  Chuckling, Gian settled into the couch. Cara crawled, in her blanket burrito, closer, and then snuggled into his chest. He was far more interested in her than the movie, but that was okay, too.

  “Why Marcus, again?” Cara asked randomly. “That’s the name you like for the baby, isn’t it?”

  “It is. A family name.”

  “But all the men I know about in your family don’t have that name.”

  “All the first-born men have it somewhere,” he replied. “Usually middle names, like me, and my grandfather. My great-grandfather, and my uncle who died, their first names were Marcus, too.”

  “Is that why you got the family name, then? Because he died, and you were a first-born boy.”

  “He died when I was a toddler, actually.”

  “Why did you get the name being born to a second son?” she asked.

  “My uncle didn’t have children, and he wasn’t married. The name had to pass on to someone, and my parents agreed to give it to me, on the stipulation they chose my given name. Gian Marcus it was.”

  Cara glanced up at him, her brow puckered in that way of hers. It told him she was overthinking something, which wasn’t unusual for her.

  “What?” he murmured.

  “It seems like it’s an important thing to your family—the name, I mean.”

  “It is. It’s very important to us. It’s as important as our last name. This is a legacy, Cara. All the men carry it on in one way or another, and it begins with a name.”

  “But …”

  “Just ask, love. Whatever it is, ask.”

  “He’s not going to be … legitimate, Gian.”

  He stiffened, hating how she said that word a little quieter than the rest. The last thing she should be, or that he wanted her to be, was ashamed. Not of innocent life or love.

  “He’s still mine,” Gian said firmly, “and he’s still a first-born Guzzi boy, which means it’s my legacy to pass on, like it was given to me once. It’s my choice to make for my son, not someone else’s. It may seem silly to others, something insignificant, but I know what this name means. I know what comes of it and what’s expected of the man who is given it. He’s my boy. He’s my boy, with a woman I chose and love, not one that was forced upon me. Whether he’s legitimate or not is fucking nonsense; it means nothing to me. He was made because he was meant to be and because I love you. I want to give him my names because he deserves them.”

  Cara glanced away. “All of them, even the surname?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Your wife, for one.”

  “It’s not a card I want to pull, Cara, but she is well aware that to keep her place and her respect in it, she can say nothing about what I do, so long as she is treated well and is held up as the wife I married. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “But isn’t a baby with your mistress the utmost disrespect, Gian?”

  “For some. Not for others. It depends on the man, and at the moment, I am the most powerful man at the table. I am the only one with the voice that matters. I speak, they listen. Her included. This—the baby, his name, all of it—is no different.”

  “I don’t know what to think about that,” Cara admitted.

  “You don’t have to think anything.”

  “Marcus Gian, then? I like the sound.”

  “Marcus Gian Guzzi,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

  “Marcus Gian Guzzi.”

  The enforcer standing in front of the old barber’s shop nodded to Gian in greeting as his boss approached. Sure enough, through the window, Gian could see inside the business, and the man waiting that he had been called in for.

  Gabriel.

  It was a meeting that, for all purposes, had been meant for Gian and his Capos. Somehow, Gabriel must have gotten word and decided to crash it.

  “Has he been here long?” Gian asked.

  “Since we called, boss,” the enforcer replied.

  Gian scowled.

  That was long enough.

  “Merci. Keep an eye on the road.”

  The enforcer agreed. Gian stepped inside the barber shop, noting the tension had already settled thickly in the air. His men, those he had called for the meet, had shoved themselves to one side of the business, while Gabriel and his men had stayed on the other side.

  Resting back in the barber’s chair, Gabriel looked to be in his glory. His forehead and thick neck were covered with hot, wet towels, while his cheeks and jaw had been slathered with a foaming cream. The careful hands of the barber—one who had cut his hair and shaved Gian from the time he was fifteen—made clean lines with a blade over Gabriel’s face.

  “Gian,” Gabriel greeted without so much as looking at him. “You don’t mind me joining your meeting today, do you?”

  “You know I do,” Gian replied, “and more so, that you’re in my seat.”

  “Well, here I am.”

  Yes, there he fucking was.

  Quietly, Dom and Stephan entered the barber shop. Better late than never, Gian supposed. Truthfully, he had been closer to the spot when the call came in, so he wasn’t about to throw a fit at his consigliere and underboss.

  “What do you want?” Gian demand
ed.

  “Right now, a shave.”

  “No, being here.”

  The barber’s hands stilled and he shot Gian a look. Gian could tell the man wanted him to relax, and not cause any problems for his business. As it was, the barber shop was well-known for the Mafioso that came and went daily, most notably, Gian at least once a week.

  Carmen had always been able to shave Gian far better than any razor ever had.

  Gabriel looked over to Gian, though only his eyes moved. It was disconcerting to have this man stare at him, Gian thought. He knew the things Gabriel was capable of and he purposely tried not to poke the man’s beast. That was just good business.

  “I want an update on our little situation,” Gabriel said, “and to talk.”

  “The situation is being handled.”

  “Good, then you’ve found the rat amongst your men. And disposed of it, I assume.”

  Gian felt the coldness and distrust that automatically came from saying that word waft from his men. A few murmured between one another, but most stayed quiet. “No, I haven’t found him.”

  Gabriel tsked under his breath. “Wasting time, you foolish boy.”

  “That’s your one insult, Gabriel. Any after that, and I’ll begin taking a payment for it. A pound of your choice.”

  “Touchy,” his father-in-law muttered.

  “No more than you.” Gian stayed standing, although he waved to Dom and Stephan to find seats closer to him. Then, he turned back to Gabriel. “We’re still working on that issue. It’s not as simple as it seems, and whoever it is, they’re not obvious.”

  “Or you’re distracted.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your whore, Gian.” Gabriel smirked as Gian went cold all over. “Cara Rossi, that’s her name, isn’t it? Quite pregnant. While I certainly wasn’t faithful to my wife, I would have never taken you for the type, too.”

  Gian’s molars ached from clenching so fiercely.

  He would not talk about Cara with this man.

  He would not give Gabriel that ammo.

  Gabriel said nothing more, letting the barber finish his shave and wipe his face down with the hot towels before he stood. Then, he faced Gian, as hard-assed and as big of a bastard as ever.

  “You are distracted,” Gabriel said, “and it shows. Otherwise, you would have found your rat by now. I gave you time to do it, but since you’re too busy making a fucking spectacle of that whore of yours all over the city, time has now run out. I’m not going to jail again, Gian. For every week that passes without you delivering the rat to me, I’ll take one of yours. And just so we’re clear …”

  Gabriel looked over Gian’s shoulder, and waved a fat finger at the line of men who had come to speak with Gian only. “Just so it’s clear to them, every minute you spend with your whore is a minute you could have been working to spare one of their lives. Make the choices wisely, Gian.”

  Apparently, Gabriel intended to start his plan immediately. He had only just left the barber shop along with his men and gotten inside a waiting vehicle, when a black van pulled up. The enforcer outside the barber shop was grabbed and gone before anyone had blinked. Gabriel watched from the backseat of his car with a smile.

  Gian was going to kill that bastard someday. Somehow.

  At first, Cara didn’t notice the police cruisers and unmarked vehicles parked along the front of her apartment building. She was too busy reading the letter from her university, inviting her to take part in the autumn graduation ceremony for late graduates of her class. While she wasn’t a late graduate, she had passed on attending the main event.

  When Cara did finally notice the police attendance, she was halfway up the walk. The early July air was hot and humid, as the majority of the entire summer had already been. She cradled her thirty-seven-week pregnancy swell overtop the flimsy summer dress that helped to keep her cool.

  “Cara Rossi?”

  She turned to see an officer in full uniform approaching. Her nerves picked up another notch.

  “Yes, that’s me,” Cara said.

  “I’ll escort you to your apartment.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  The officer smiled thinly. “Normal procedure, that’s all.”

  “Normal procedure for what?”

  “Follow me, miss.”

  “What is going on?” Cara demanded.

  The officer answered nothing, simply urged her toward the front doors of the building. Cara wondered if maybe her place had been broken into, though that seemed unlikely. She lived in a good part of the city, and the cost of her rent proved that little fact. Her building—in all the years she lived there—never once had a crime taken place inside or on the outside property.

  It was possible that the cops were there because of her accident weeks ago. Her rib was healed and no longer sore, as was the gash on her hairline. Thankfully, that had healed with a scar that wasn’t noticeable, due to skilled stitching by a doctor.

  “Is this about the accident?” Cara asked. “I answered all the questions I could at the hospital the next day, and then another round the next week when detectives came with pictures of vehicles for me to look at. I don’t know what more to tell you.”

  The officer still didn’t answer.

  Now, Cara was just getting peeved.

  She didn’t have to wonder for long, as the door to her floor was pushed open. From her spot way down the hall, she could plainly see evidence boxes and bags resting along the wall outside of her apartment door. Inside a few of the clear, plastic bags with red tape sealing the tops, rested items that belonged to Gian.

  A shirt of his.

  A book.

  An empty bullet clip for his favorite Berretta.

  Wait, where in the hell had he put that damn thing?

  “You’re raiding my place?” Cara shrieked, heading down the hall fast. “What fucking reason do you have to justify a search warrant on my apartment?”

  She dropped her bag and the papers from her university, uncaring about the items. Inside her apartment, it looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. An officer identified her and Cara confirmed it, before another paper was shoved into her hands. She barely glanced at it, seeing what it was and only getting more irritated.

  A search warrant.

  Signed by a judge.

  “Nice to see you again, Miss Rossi,” said a familiar detective. The man walked toward Cara with a small stuffed animal in his hands. A tiny elephant that had managed to survive the accident weeks before and Cara had put on the baby’s dresser as a decoration. “Cute little thing, this is.”

  Her baby’s nursery?

  Cara’s rage spiraled out of control, and she pushed past the detective, heading for Marcus’s room. Sure enough, even it had not gone untouched by the search. Each and every one of the baby’s dresser drawers had been pulled open. Carefully folded, tiny clothes spilled across the room in piles, while cute knickknacks and decoration items had been upended in a messy search.

  The closet, a space Cara had kept a few boxes of Lea’s remaining things, was open. The boxes of her twin’s belongings had also been ransacked and searched through.

  “We have reason to believe you or your apartment, is a regular stop for Gian Guzzi,” the detective said behind Cara, “and so, here we are to check for any information related to recent investigations into his business.”

  Disbelief swept through Cara.

  “And what did you hope to find in an unborn baby’s nursery?” she asked.

  “Oh, we didn’t expect to find much in this apartment at all.”

  “Then why?”

  She had been the victim just weeks ago. She had been the one nearly killed by a hit and run driver. And now it was her that needed to be treated like a criminal?

  Why?

  “Gian will understand exactly why,” the detective said smugly.

  Cara’s hands balled into tight fists, her fingernails cutting into her palms. “Where is my purse and cell
phone? I want to call Gian and my lawyer, now.”

  “As soon as we’re done taking a look through the bag, Cara.”

  Fuck him.

  “Cara, just consider—”

  “Gian, it’s fine. I’ve almost got the apartment back to normal. The baby’s room is all organized and ready again. There’s really no need.”

  “Well, no need is kind of wrong. There is a need, mon ange. Thirty-seven weeks pregnant with my son is a very good reason to move into the penthouse now, while you have a bit of time left to settle in.”

  Cara sighed, and shifted the bag of heavy text books on her shoulder. “Okay, I know I was pissed off about the search on my place, but it’s still not a good reason for me to upend everything right now to move into the penthouse. We’re a little late into this pregnancy to be doing such a big move, Gian.”

  “Except I would like for you to, Cara.”

  “Listen, we’ll talk more when I get out of the university’s library.”

  “Don’t hang up on me because you don’t want to discuss this.”

  “I’m not. I’m at the entrance doors right now. I want to get these books out of my place. I will call you back.”

  “When you’re out, right? I want to talk about this, even if you don’t.”

  “I have to head over to the shelter, too,” Cara reminded him.

  Gian grumbled under his breath. “Isn’t your time off supposed to start soon for the shelter?”

  “Next week, yes.”

  “Don’t work too hard, Cara.”

  She smiled. “Why not? You happen to be very good at massages. It gives me an excuse to ask for one.”

  “You don’t need an excuse, pretty girl.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Do so.”

  Thankfully, Gian dropped the prickly topic of Cara moving into the penthouse. With a quick “I love you” and another demand for her to call him back when she could, the call ended. Cara headed into the university’s library, ready to get rid of her textbooks she had needed for the year.