Cara & Gian: The Complete Guzzi Duet

by Bethany-Kris

  Cara shot Gian a look that she hoped kept him quiet from discussing his little hobby with her and cameras. In his spot in the corner, now sitting back in the corner chair and watching the session, he seemed content and pleased. In his suit and shined leather shoes, his dark gaze staying pinned on her, he had never quite looked more handsome. He barely reacted at all to Cara’s unspoken warning.

  “I certainly have an eye for someone,” he murmured.

  “I hope you put it to use.”

  “Oh, I do. I most certainly do.”

  “Gian,” Cara said quietly.

  His husky laughter filled the penthouse’s living room. The photographer had chosen it amongst the many others, because of all the floor-to-ceiling windows and natural light. Cara wouldn’t have minded going in to the woman’s studio, but Gian said it wasn’t necessary. She wanted photos, Gian had the woman come to her. It worked.

  “I think we’re just about—”

  Gian’s cell phone started ringing. “Done.”

  The photographer smiled. “Yep. Just let me pack up. Cara, you can keep the muslin wrap for Marcus, as I don’t reuse items like those for other newborns. I have to say, he was one of the easier babies to photograph this week.”

  “That’s because he spent an hour and a half on my boob before you got here,” Cara half-joked. “Milk-drunk.”

  It wasn’t a lie.

  It was kind of funny.

  The truth was, Marcus happened to be a wonderful baby. Sure, he clusterfed at night before bed, and he liked to have his spaces quiet and dimly lit, but Cara figured that was just his way of transitioning into the world at a slower pace. Marcus rarely cried, he barely fussed. And then there was Gian … She swore the baby just knew his father was in the room, even when he couldn’t see Gian.

  Marcus was attached to Cara, yes.

  Gian was entirely different.

  “Here, let me take him, mon ange,” Gian said, coming to stand at Cara’s side again while the photographer packed up her things. “Go get in that new dress I brought back for you from Ottawa yesterday. He’ll be okay with me.”

  Already, Marcus’s hazy brown eyes fluttered open at the sound of his father’s voice. He tried peering around, but was only satisfied in his knowledge that his father was near when Gian scooped him from Cara’s embrace. Then, the baby blinked up at his father and promptly fell back asleep.

  “Gian, that’s not an at-home kind of dress.”

  He smiled, and kissed her cheek. “Maybe not, but it is fit for a queen in her castle. Go put it on. I’ll get him into a diaper and clothes, too.”

  Cara thought about Gian’s ringing phone that had interrupted the end of the session, even though he hadn’t picked up the call, and wondered … “Is someone coming over?”

  “A couple of people, actually.”

  “Who?”

  “Family.” His stare dropped down to Marcus. “Mostly for him, though.”

  Oh.

  “I’ll go change,” Cara said.

  The nervousness in her tone must have been clear to Gian because he reached out and stroked her cheek with two fingers. “All you have to do is smile, beautiful girl. The world is so much better when you’re smiling.”

  He always says the right things …

  Cara still couldn’t shake the nerves as she slipped out of the flowy white dress that she had used for the photo session, and into the form-fitted coral Dolce & Gabbana number hanging in the closet. She figured the dress had been a silent apology of sorts from Gian, as something had come up in the week, and he’d rushed off to Ottawa to take care of it.

  For the most part, he had spent the first couple of days after Marcus’s birth with her, then one night at the penthouse, before heading back to the mansion. He had promised to come right back the very next night, but the Ottawa thing came up, and ruined those plans.

  Quickly, Cara checked herself in the mirror as she slipped on a pair of black pumps and a diamond choker. Another expensive gift that she had woken up to the morning after Marcus’s birth. Gian had only shrugged and smiled slyly when Cara asked where it came from.

  Thankfully, her fit and slim form was bouncing back rather fast. She thanked breastfeeding, good genetics, and the fact she had been in decent shape before and throughout the pregnancy for that little gift from God. Of course, things were different.

  Her body was still different. Slightly wider in the hips. Her breasts were bigger. And her stomach had softened slightly, even as it flattened back down.

  She had worried about the changes, both selfishly and vainly. She wished now that she hadn’t spent time on that nonsense at all.

  Cara came out of the bedroom and into the main section of the penthouse to find the photographer had left, but the new guests had arrived. Her presence wasn’t noticed as she hung back in the entryway, and watched the newcomers ooh and awe over her son in his father’s arms.

  Gian’s mother and father, and his siblings, each took their turns giving little Marcus their time and attention.

  “Oh, look at his little fingers,” Crystal said softly.

  “Guzzi eyes,” Domenic noted.

  “Not just the eyes,” Celeste said of her grandson. “Look at the boy—he’s Gian’s spitting image, my God.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Gian asked, his pride shining through.

  “Oui, he looks just like you did when you were brand new. Doux bébé,” Celeste cooed, running her fingers through the wisps of Marcus’s dark hair.

  “And her,” said the quiet, tall man standing just a few feet back from the others. “He looks like her, too. You can’t miss that.”

  Cara shifted as the man’s gaze fell on her in the entryway. It seemed she had not gone as unnoticed as she previously thought. She knew who he was—Gian’s father, Frederic. She didn’t know a lot about the man, as Gian didn’t offer, but she had heard things in passing.

  He did not approve.

  Not of her.

  Not of her child.

  Not of Gian’s choices.

  Just the way Frederic’s cold gaze passed over her, and darted back to the baby boy in Celeste’s arms, Cara knew all of those things were true.

  “He does take after Cara quite a bit, too,” Gian said, losing the happier tone from earlier. He turned to Cara, extending an arm and opening his hand wide for her to step forward and take. She did, still unsure and unsettled in her heart. “Remember what I said about today, Dad.”

  “I came, didn’t I?” Frederic asked.

  “Sì, but remember, too. This is not your home. Your rules do not apply here. Mine do. Hers do.”

  Dom cleared his throat, and quickly diverted the attention back to the baby. While it helped a bit, Cara still couldn’t shake the coldness she had found waiting for her in Frederic’s gaze, or how he all but dismissed her presence, even when he was standing directly beside her.

  It was difficult.

  A shameful feeling burned in her throat.

  She couldn’t expect anything different.

  Cara only relaxed when Gian’s lips pressed to her temple, unbothered by the people watching them. His lips moved with his words, whispering over her skin with assurance and love.

  “You are never the lesser, not in your own home, mia cara bella. Demand respect in your space because it is yours, and do not let someone take it from you. You are the queen, and this is your castle. This is your home, and those who are lucky enough to be allowed inside should understand what that means. Smile. Always smile here.”

  He was right.

  He always was.

  It seemed like Cara had blinked—just once—and Marcus was turning one month old. Everyone had told her again and again that she needed to enjoy the time she had with her baby while he was a newborn, because before she knew it, he wouldn’t be so tiny and new. Sure, Marcus was still a newborn, but just the fact that the first month had passed them by so quickly, in a haze of long nights, dirty diapers and so much more, was surreal.

  And swe
et.

  The ding of the elevator brought Cara from her thoughts. She lifted her stare from her sleeping son in her arms, just in time to see Tommas enter through the penthouse’s elevator with a wide smile and already opened arms.

  “Cara.”

  “Tommy,” Cara replied in kind, unable to stop her growing smile.

  “Come here.”

  Before she knew what happened, her brother had wrapped her up in a tight hug that damn near squeezed the life out of her. She wasn’t about to complain, though. It had been too long since she last seen her brother, though they did try to talk at least once a week.

  “My God, look at this bambino,” Tommas said, stepping back to give Marcus a good one-over. “He’s going to be a heartbreaker.”

  Cara swatted her brother on his arm, laughing. “Don’t start with that yet. He’s just a baby.”

  “Prepare for it, Cara. Prepare.”

  She rolled her eyes, and turned to walk them in further. “Do you want a coffee? How was your flight?”

  “Coffee would be great. And it was shit, but it always is when I’m not flying privately.”

  “How’s Abriella?” Cara asked.

  “Wonderful and beautiful,” Tommas said of his wife. “Next time, she’ll come, too. It’s just not the right time with the little one.”

  Tommas, too, was a new parent. His son, Tommaso, was only a couple of months older than Marcus. Cara had seen picture after picture of her one and only nephew, as Tommas was like every proud father with a camera in his hands, but she had yet to meet the baby.

  “I get it, no worries,” Cara assured. “You didn’t have to rush up here, either, by the way. I would have understood, Tommas.”

  Her brother shrugged, setting his bag to the side as they entered the kitchen. “Who else is going to come here and see this baby of yours, huh? I’m the only family you’ve got left—I need to be here for him. And you, too.”

  “Sit down. I’ll get your coffee.”

  Tommas shrugged off his suit jacket and took a seat at the large kitchen table. Cara didn’t miss how her brother peered around the penthouse, or the bit of it that he could see. She hadn’t been the least bit surprised when he mentioned wanting to come down for a weekend to visit, but she had been a little shocked that he actually made time to do so.

  Her brother had a busy life in Chicago, especially now that he was married with a child of his own, not to mention the fact that he was the boss of the Outfit. She suspected that her brother’s time was already pulled thin in every single direction, and yet he made time for her.

  Time for Marcus.

  Cara appreciated that more than Tommas could possibly know.

  “So, this is a nice place,” Tommas said quietly.

  Cara side-eyed her brother as she set a cup of coffee down in front of him. “Say what you’re thinking, don’t dance around it.”

  “When did you move out of the apartment?”

  “A couple of weeks before the baby was born.”

  “Wasn’t that when the issue happened at the shelter?” Tommas asked.

  Cara made a face. “Yeah, around that time.”

  Tommas scowled, but hid it quickly enough by taking a drink of his coffee.

  “That wasn’t Gian’s fault,” Cara said, shifting Marcus to sleep over her shoulder as she took a seat beside her brother. “That was completely unrelated to Gian, Tommy.”

  “So you said before. A domestic abuse victim’s husband, right?”

  “Right.” Cara rubbed a hand over her son’s lower back. “And Gian just happened to … get himself in the middle of it, which was mostly what ended up on the news.”

  “And you, too. You ended up on the news, Cara.”

  “Not by our choice.”

  Tommas sighed, and looked around the penthouse again. “I guess he moved you in after that, huh?”

  “Actually, I kind of did that by myself. He didn’t really say a thing either way, because it was what he had been asking for the whole pregnancy. It was a few days later that he finally did something about me moving in.”

  “And what was that?”

  Cara’s gaze darted away from her brother as she admitted, “Signed the deed for the place over to me. This place isn’t his, now. It’s mine. No one can take it from me, no one can force me out of it. It’s all mine.”

  Tommas let out an appreciative sound, surprising Cara further. “Well, then.”

  “I do like the penthouse.”

  “It’s very high up.”

  “I feel safer here, Tommy. It feels right to be here.”

  “Are you happier here, too?”

  Cara looked back to her brother to find he was searching her face for any sign of a lie or maybe even discontent. “I’m happy with him.”

  “Even knowing what you do—even after everything?”

  “I don’t excuse Gian. I only choose to love him. The rest is details. Those don’t matter.”

  “They never should.” Tommas nodded, and then reached for Marcus. “Now, give me my nephew. It’s time for him to wake up and meet me properly. Where is Gian, by the way?”

  Cara handed the sleeping baby over. “He thought I might like to spend some time alone with you first before inserting his presence, too.”

  “That’s fine and great,” Tommas replied just as fast, “but it doesn’t answer my question.”

  “At the mansion.”

  Tommas’ gaze cut to Cara just as Marcus woke up. “Is that where she lives?”

  “Her name is Elena. His wife. You can say her name to me, Tommy.”

  “Again, not my question.”

  “It is.”

  “I see,” her brother said softly.

  “It’s not always easy or pretty. I never thought it would be, though.”

  “But love, right?”

  Cara smiled. “Yeah, love, Tommy.”

  “I haven’t decided if I like you yet or not,” Cara heard her brother say from down the hall.

  She carefully closed the door to Marcus’s nursery, not wanting to wake the baby up after his before-bed feed. It was like the baby thought he suddenly needed another round of milk before he could go back to sleep. Cara’s well was dry for the moment.

  “I don’t think it’s required for you to like me, honestly,” Gian replied with a chuckle.

  Cara kept her steps light and quiet as she walked down the hall, heading toward the office where Gian had disappeared to with Tommas when she went to feed Marcus after supper. Just a foot from the opened doorway, she held back from going further where she could be seen, and listened to the conversation happening beyond the doors.

  She knew better than to eavesdrop.

  She couldn’t help it.

  All evening, from the time Gian had arrived back at the penthouse, the two men had engaged in very safe conversation with one another. They almost seemed to be circling around one another, too, as though they were being careful about their words and actions, lest one offend the other.

  Cara was not sure if that was because of their respective positions in their organized crime families, or for her.

  “I like that you love her,” Tommas said, “and that counts for a lot.”

  “I love her entirely.”

  “And your son, too. That much is obvious.”

  “He’s my greatest pride and joy, and she gave him to me.”

  “But I don’t like the rest,” Tommas admitted. “I don’t like that she is pushed aside in the eyes of others, or given labels and names that she doesn’t deserve. I don’t like that it must hurt her to spend half of her week with you, and wonder the other half. I don’t like that there are nights she is alone, caring for your child, because you have distractions elsewhere.”

  “Responsibilities—duties,” Gian corrected fast and sharp. “Distractions implies something that is not and has not ever been there. Use the right word, Tommas. It’s the least you can do if you’re going to insult me to my face.”

  “I’m not trying to
insult you, Gian. I only want to understand.”

  “You’re like me, aren’t you? You sit in my spot, too. You know these rules, this life, and those people. Divorce would mean ruining my family’s legacy, at the very least. At the most, my life would be given up as a sacrifice. So here I am, doing what I need to do.”

  “Certainly not what you want to do.”

  “No,” Gian murmured.

  “I heard you were having some issues on the streets, and with the police.”

  “The police are expected, given what happened last year and before that. The streets, on the other hand … well, that’s just my bastard father-in-law trying to force my hand with my family and men. He’s been quiet the last month or so, surprisingly. And after everything he did, the issues he started, men he killed, and the threats … it’s concerning. He’s gone under the radar, too, making it harder to watch him. Even his men are out of sight for the moment. He wanted to make a point to me, or rather, make a point out of me. He didn’t succeed, but that does not mean he’s finished.”

  “Why is that surprising? Maybe he finally came to the realization that you’re not going to give him what he wants.”

  “You would have to know the man,” Gian said with a sigh. “Everyone always gives him what he wants, even if it takes a while. He simply has to find the right button to push with a man to get him to hand it over.”

  “And so, the quietness and the disappearing act is a bad thing.”

  “It is always bad when a man cannot see Gabriel coming, Tommas.”

  Silence hung heavily between the two before Tommas spoke again.

  “And all of this for what? Why is he causing these issues?”

  “He believes I have a rat in my family, and he thinks forcing my hand to cull through my men indiscriminately will fix the issue,” Gian answered.

  “Do you have a rat?”

  “A big, fat one.”

  Tommas grunted disgustedly. “But you’re not as concerned about the rat as you are—”

  “Gabriel. Exactly.”

  “And why is that, now?”

  “He’s pushed every other button he thinks I have, Tommas,” Gian said, “and it earned him nothing. I only have one thing left for him to come after, to make his point loud and clear.”