Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1)

by Lisa Cardiff

  “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right,” I agreed despite the anxiety clawing at my chest. What other choice did I have? “Do you have any idea what happened? Was it random or…?” I didn’t know how to finish my sentence.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Okay.”

  I didn’t understand Gian’s world. He never talked to me about the risks of what he did. I assumed he and his family were into some bad stuff and somehow connected to the mafia, and other than that, I didn’t know shit. I was running blind, and I couldn’t exactly use mafia movies or books to give me the down low on what not to do. As much as it irked me to rely on another man after Kevin, I had to trust Gian.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, I stood in the dance studio in a pair of black capri leggings and a cotton cropped black top that hung off one shoulder. I moved from leg holds to lunges and every other stretch in my warmup routine, doing my best to ignore Gian’s presence. It seemed nearly impossible. My gaze tangled with his every time his feet shuffled over the hardwood floor or his finger pressed against the screen of his phone. Every movement, breath, or shared glance reminded me of last night, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  Sighing, I stuffed my earbuds into my ears and started moving through a dance I had choreographed last week.

  Pas de bourrée.

  Grand jeté.

  Fouetté

  Every noise, thought, and twinge of pain faded away. I loved dancing. It was a part of me. I loved flowing from one move to the other, my body straining, muscles flexing and merging with the music. I loved the way the bass rumbled through me, making me feel alive. Even if I couldn’t do it professionally, I knew I could never stop dancing. It was imprinted on my soul. Without it, I’d be lost.

  Two hours passed like twenty minutes. Sweat misted my forehead. While my legs felt a little too much like jelly for my liking, my ankle didn’t hurt nearly as much as last week. In fact, I hardly noticed it once I got into the routine.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Gian

  I punched out text after text, calling in favors, threatening people if necessary, because I needed to figure out who was behind the attempt on my life last night. The car that rammed us was a black Cadillac Escalade with dark tinted windows. Unfortunately, it didn’t have a front license plate, and I never got a look at the back.

  I had Tony making inquiries about a car in the shop with similar characteristics. Unless the car was stolen or the owner was a stunade, I didn’t expect him to find anything. Sal was spending the day poking around Brighton Beach to see what the Russians were up to, and I’d been avoiding Dominick’s underboss, Nico DeAngelo, like the plague. Apparently, the attempt on my life had wormed its way up to Dominick, and Nico had demanded to see me sometime today.

  Right now, Nico or “Crazy Nico” as everyone called him, was the crown prince in the Trassato family. Dominick loved the bastard, but by most accounts, everyone else considered him a loose cannon with an unhealthy penchant for murder and torture. Before Dominick promoted him to underboss at the age of thirty-four, Nico had carried out more than three dozen mob hits, and all of them involved systematically dismembering the targets like a seasoned meat butcher.

  I gripped the phone tightly in my hand, and I reread the coded messages for the third time. Since so much of our day-to-day activities skirted the law, we had our own vernacular. The consequence of someone reading plainly worded texts would be catastrophic.

  Nico: The country club has a steak special. Do you want to meet for dinner?

  The country club was code for Carmine’s, a restaurant owned by another capo. We used the back room of the restaurant for meetings because Dominick had it swept for listening devices on a daily basis.

  Me: Can’t today.

  Nico: I heard what the dogs did to your car. I want to talk to you about cleaning it.

  We used dogs as a general term to discuss an enemy.

  Me: Did Red tell you?

  Nico: Doesn’t matter.

  Fucking Tony. I was going to rip his fucking head off and shit down his throat. I had serious doubts about whether I should trust him anymore. I thought Carlo wanted to take me down, but now I saw enemies everywhere.

  Me: I’m busy today.

  Nico: Don’t eat alone.

  Eating alone meant being greedy. What a miserable cocksucker. No one accused me of being greedy. I bent over backward for Dominick. He got a taste of all my business, including the legit shit. He was my fucking uncle. I wouldn’t screw him over despite the fact that he was an asshole.

  Me: Fuck off.

  Nico: You need to report your latest scores today to finalize your handicap for the tournament.

  Reporting my latest scores meant reporting shit to Nico and Dominick. Essentially, he pulled the trump card. I couldn’t deny Dominick’s direct orders without serious ramifications.

  Dread curling around my chest, my options circled through my mind like a record player stuck on repeat. A little over a week ago, I was on top of the world. How fast things changed. Now every part of my life was on the verge of imploding.

  After a few minutes of deliberation, I sent Nico a quick text.

  Me: I’ll meet you at the country club for dinner tonight.

  I didn’t have a choice. He mentioned him, and all bets were off. As much as his speech and our conversation last night pissed me the fuck off, I couldn’t defy Dominick.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a blur of black in the wall of mirrors. My irritation faded the second my gaze landed on Evie. Her body dipped to the side, and she spun in a circle with one leg raised high in the air. Marone, the way her long, toned legs moved seamlessly from one move to the next made my cock twitch.

  I remembered the way her skin felt like silk under my fingers. The way her long legs hugged my waist when I moved inside of her. The not so quiet moans she made as she came undone.

  My phone beeped repeatedly—only, I no longer gave a shit. I silenced it and stuffed it in my pocket. When ten minutes became an hour, I slid down the wall to get comfortable. Engrossed didn’t begin to describe what I felt while I watched her float from one move to the other. I wished the music flowed from the overhead speakers, not her earbuds. I wanted to hear what she heard, feel what she felt, and somehow be part of her secret world.

  Finally, she stopped moving, and as selfish as it sounded, I hated that she didn’t acknowledge me. She’d managed to forget I was here with her, and it stung because I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  She yanked her earbuds from her ears and draped the wire around her shoulders. Chest heaving, she closed her eyes and moved her head in a circle, first one direction and then the other.

  I cleared my throat, and she froze, keeping her eyes squeezed shut for a fraction longer than necessary.

  She turned her back to me and snagged her sweater from the barre mounted to the wall. “You didn’t have to stick around. I’m sure you were bored out of your mind.”

  “Far from it.” Needing to touch her, I crossed the room, wrapped my hands around her waist, and pulled her back flush against my chest. I drew circles on the exposed skin of her belly, loving the way her muscles jumped under my fingers. “You’re incredibly talented. I can see why you don’t want to give up your dream. There’s no way you won’t get another role soon.”

  “Hah.” A forced laugh burst from her lips, and she twisted out of my hold. “It’s not that easy. It’s been a year, and people in the industry have already forgotten about me, and in the unlikely event that they haven’t, my injury and lengthy absence will linger in the back of their minds.”

  “I don’t know.” I rubbed my fingers across my lips. “You might be surprised.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” She pulled her sweater over her head and grabbed her dance bag from the hardwood floor. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  I followed her out of the room. “Why’s that?”

  “There’s an audition I’m going to at the en
d of next month.” She paused mid-step. “That is, if you’re okay with it.”

  My shoulders tensed. “Of course you can go to an audition. Why do you think I’d stop you?”

  “I had my doubts.” She shrugged. “You gotta admit you have me on a pretty short leash.”

  I ground my teeth together, biting back the response on the tip of my tongue.

  “Wait, Miss Jeffers,” called a woman with caramel colored skin, high cheekbones, and nearly black hair.

  Evie lifted a hand in greeting. “Oh. Hi, Jenna. I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”

  “I tried to run the credit card number you called in last week, and it didn’t work.”

  “Really?” Evie twisted the hem of her sweater and a blush stained her cheeks. “I don’t understand why that happened. Maybe you could try to run it again?” She shoved her hand into her open bag and pulled out a black wallet. “What were the last four digits of the card I gave you?”

  Jenna’s fingers rapped over the keyboard. “Nine. Eight. Eight. Three.”

  Evie unzipped her wallet and pulled out a silver credit card. “Huh.” She tipped her head to the ceiling, and then her eyes flared. “Shit. I forgot to pay the bill,” she mumbled under her breath.

  I pulled out my wallet and tossed a credit card on the counter. “Put it on here.”

  “No.” Evie slapped her hand on top of mine, waving her head. “You can’t pay for my stuff. I won’t let you.”

  Grinning at Jenna, I dislodged Evie’s hand from mine. “Isn’t my fiancée cute? She hates it when I pay for things; however, I insist. By the way, you can keep my card on file and charge me weekly for all her studio time.”

  “Perfect.” Jenna snatched the credit card from my hand. “Thank you,” she held up the card and squinted at the name, “Mr. Trassato.” Her voice hitched, and her hand trembled like she recognized the name.

  “Why are you doing this?” Evie hissed.

  “Don’t make it into a big deal.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “It’s fifty dollars an hour.”

  “So?” I raised my brows. “What’s your point?”

  “That’s two hundred and fifty dollars for last week and another hundred for today.”

  “I’m not worried. I can afford it.”

  Her gaze flitted to the side, and her teeth grazed her plump lower lip. My breath stuttered inside my chest…just a little. If I didn’t think she’d slap me across the face, I wouldn’t hesitate to steal another kiss right now. She looked so damn sexy, and I hadn’t gotten nearly enough of her last night. There were so many things I’d been dreaming about doing to her, and now that I’d crossed the line, I didn’t give a fuck about the consequences. Provided that we both understood that it wouldn’t become permanent, no one would get hurt.

  “I’ll pay you back as soon as I get back on my feet. I swear.”

  I tucked a wayward strand of her fiery hair behind her ear and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s not happening, sweetheart. I take care of what’s mine. Get used to it.”

  “I can’t accept this. I’m paying you back as soon as I have the money, with interest.”

  Jenna slid the credit card across the shiny black counter, and I stuffed it back into my wallet.

  “Someone booked your usual time for tomorrow, but this time is open the following day.”

  “What?” Evie said. “I reserved that time for the entire month.”

  “I let them have the time because your credit card didn’t go through—”

  “Unbook it,” I barked.

  “I can give her an hour later in the evening after the last dance class. Maybe 9 to 10. That’s the best I can do. How does that sound?”

  “No. That won’t work.”

  Evie tugged on my sleeve. “It’s not a big deal, Gian. I’ll take the later time. If you can’t take me, I’m sure Tony will or I can take a cab.”

  “No, Evie, it is a big deal.” I pulled a couple of hundreds out of my wallet and slapped them on the counter. “My fiancée booked that hour, and you’re going to honor her appointment. I’d hate for this to negatively impact your business. Do you understand what I’m saying, or do I need to spell it out for you?”

  Jenna eyed the money for a few seconds, and her shoulders drooped. “I assume you’ll be here at the same time tomorrow, Miss Jeffers?”

  “Yes.”

  I hooked my arm around Evie’s waist and ushered her out of the studio and into my car. Thank God, I had more than one, or I’d have had to get a rental.

  “By the way,” I said, pulling away from the curb and merging into steady stream of yellow cabs. “I won’t accept your money.” I cranked up the volume on the radio, signaling the end of the conversation.

  “You don’t have a choice.” Lowering the volume, she giggled with such an enchanting combination of sassiness and vulnerability I was relatively certain something inside of me had splintered wide open.

  “No, Evangeline,” I growled. I unclipped my sunglasses from my shirt and slid them on my face. “You’re not.”

  “We’ll see.” She tugged on her ponytail on top of her head, and her long flame-colored hair spilled over her shoulders. Rays of sunlight danced across her face and around her head, accentuating the golden highlights in her messy locks and the ivory perfection of her skin. I had to forcibly train my gaze back on the road. Shit. This woman tugged on all of my heartstrings without trying.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked, purposely changing the subject.

  “A little. Although, it has to be something low-calorie and carb-free. Your mom’s meal killed my diet last night.” She waved her hand in a tight circle. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved every bite, but I can’t eat like that every day. Not if I want to get back in shape and get a real shot in another musical.”

  “You sing?”

  She chuckled. “I sing. I dance. I can even act. I wouldn’t think about auditioning for a Broadway musical if I didn’t.”

  “Huh?” I tilted my head to the side. “I thought you danced and recited a couple of lines here and there.”

  “When’s the last time you went to a Broadway musical?”

  I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “Five or six years ago. It’s…” I cleared my throat. “It’s not my thing. I tend to fall asleep.” To avoid stabbing myself in the eyes, I silently added.

  Her eyes widened, and she punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. I’d much rather watch an action movie than a live production with people singing and dancing. Honestly, it gave me a big fat headache. I left at intermission the last time I went, swearing I’d never go back. “Don’t think about dragging me to one to prove me wrong.”

  “What happens if I get the part I’m auditioning for? You’ll have to go if only to play the doting fiancé.”

  “If you get a part in that play, how many months do you practice before the opening night?”

  “A month. Maybe two depending on the budget.”

  “Our arrangement will probably be over by then.” The second the words left my mouth, my insides wrenched painfully.

  Evie stilled, looking at me like I had wounded her, and then she smiled, except it looked brittle. “Okay, then, I guess you’re safe from being tortured by me.”

  “Lucky me.”

  For some reason, I didn’t feel lucky at all. I felt vacant. I wanted to be there to see her debut. I wanted to fill her dressing room with so many flowers you could smell them from down the hall. I forced the image out of my head. “So lunch? What do you feel like?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Evangeline

  I didn’t know what to do with myself. For the first time in over a week, I was blessedly by myself. No Tony. No Gian. No one. Gian met a friend of his for dinner. He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask any questions. On his way out the door, he handed me a stack of takeout menus and told me he’d be home late and not to wait up.

 
I had roamed the floors of his home, peeking in rooms, opening cabinets, looking for nothing in particular. Maybe I wanted to know more about Gian. Maybe it soothed the anxiety building in my chest. For days, I had wanted time to decompress without anyone looking at me and judging me. Now that I had time alone, I hated it. I couldn’t stop thinking about last night and this afternoon. What they meant. What I wanted them to mean, if anything.

  Lunch and every moment afterward felt too good to be true. He opened my car door. He entertained me with stories of Carmela and him when they were kids. He held my hand while we strolled aimlessly through his neighborhood in search of the perfect dessert. We ended up in a cute Italian deli, and he ordered so many confections they blanketed the tiny bistro table.

  When I finally got around to bringing up what happened between us last night, he brushed my concerns aside, claiming we didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. He warned me not to complicate things. He told me we had plenty of time to figure it out. I ignored all of my doubts and continued pretending.

  Pretending Gian cared for me. Pretending we were happily engaged. Pretending Gian didn’t have ties to the criminal world. Pretending everything would be fine.

  Except now that he had left me alone for the first time in days, I couldn’t stop the tidal wave of thoughts from circling like vultures. Could I continue to crawl into his bed and pretend it didn’t matter? Could I handle being with him when we didn’t have a future?

  Sadly, my current circumstance bore an eerie resemblance to what happened with Kevin. He swooped into my life and took over every detail, all the while chasing his dreams even as I forgot about mine. As much as I wanted to believe I wouldn’t put Gian first and let my prospects crumble, my fortitude wavered in the past, and it could again.