by Lisa Cardiff
I paused at the entrance to the back room of Kevin’s studio. It resembled a small single-room apartment with a mini kitchen on the right side and a futon on the left side. A long rectangular table that could seat six to eight people divided the room in half.
“I ordered your favorites,” Kevin said, his back to me.
I leaned against the doorframe and jammed my hands in my pockets. Every cell inside of me buzzed with the urge to slam his face into the food on the table. “How thoughtful of you. I didn’t realize you knew what I liked to eat.”
Kevin whirled around. “What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Evie?”
I closed the door and flipped the lock, not wanting any interruptions. “Evie sends her regards.” I strode forward until I stood within punching distance of him. “She won’t be meeting you today or any other day.”
“So you’re the infamous Gianluca Trassato.” His eyes narrowed, raking up and down me. “I recognize you from the club a month or so ago. She wanted to get back at me, so she left with you, only I didn’t think it’d go anywhere.”
“I guess you were wrong, but it’s probably not the first time…or the last.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Say what you came here to say, and leave.”
“Stop contacting my girl.”
“She’s not your girl. She’s mine. She’s going to marry me.” He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his pretty boy face. “It might not happen tomorrow, but it will happen.”
I grabbed the collar of his pansy-ass tight t-shirt and jerked him within a few inches of my face. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm the feral pounding of bloodlust inside of me. “Listen, jackass, if I hear you tried to contact my fiancée again, I’ll cut your dick off and shove it down your throat. She’s mine, and I’m not the kind of man to turn the other cheek when another man comes sniffing around his property. Got it?”
“Get your fucking hands off me, you lunatic. You’re not the only one with connections. I know people who’d be happy to make you disappear.”
Rage coiled inside of me, and I smashed my fist into his nose. A sickening crack echoed through the room. He dropped to his knees, cupping his face. Blood oozed between his fingers, and he howled like a fucking baby.
“Get up.” I flashed the gun strapped to the holster inside of my suit jacket. “Get the fuck up before I end you.”
He crab-walked backward, stopping only when his head hit the wall. He scrambled to his feet. “Get out of here, or I’ll call the cops.”
I pulled a chair to the center of the room. “Sit. You’re not calling anyone until we’re finished talking, and I have a hunch you won’t be so keyed up to contact the police when we’re done here.”
His eyes darted around the room, finally landing on the exit door. I ripped my gun from my holster and aimed it at him and then at the chair. “Sit.”
“No fucking way.”
I pulled a silencer from my pocket and screwed it on the end of my gun. “We can do this the easy way or—” I pulled the trigger, and the drywall exploded, showering his sissy man bun with white powder “—the hard way. It’s up to you. Keep in mind that I’m not opposed to carving a few parting gifts into your face.”
His eyes widened, and he shook his head. I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy pissed his pants. I stomped forward, grabbing his hair.
“What the hell?” he screamed.
I dragged his ass across the room and practically threw him in the chair, pulled a plastic cable tie out of my pocket, and secured it around his wrists. “Are you ready to talk?”
“Talk about what? I get it. You don’t want me to contact Evie. What more do we have to discuss?”
This fucking prick wouldn’t quit. I whipped the butt of my gun across his face. “I want to know everything about Ana Ivanka.”
He blinked. “Ana?”
“Yes. How did you meet her?”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with Evie.”
“Answer the fucking question,” I growled through clenched teeth. Despite my earlier threat, I didn’t have all day to toy with this piece of shit. “You don’t need to understand.”
He swallowed. “Ana and I were introduced by a mutual friend. She wanted to raise her profile in the art community.”
“Who’s the mutual friend?” He started to shake his head. “Stop right there before you piss me off even more. If you want me to leave you in one piece, I need to know everything, including Ana’s ties to the Russian mob.”
Kevin sagged against slats of the blond wood chair, quietly fuming as he realized his chance to avoid coming clean had slipped through his fingers. A vicious satisfaction surged through me.
“About six months ago, an acquaintance invited me to a high-stakes poker tournament. I played. I won around a hundred grand, and I was hooked. Three months later, my luck turned, and I lost a shit ton of money.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred grand.”
I whistled. What a dumbass. This was how it always happened. It was the oldest trick in the book. You roped in a pretentious asshole who recently started making good money. You propped up his ego with a few wins. You showed him your power and made him think he was part of something important. Then you went in for the sucker punch. Bam, he was in debt up to his greedy eyeballs, and you took him for a ride.
“Let me guess. You didn’t have the money to repay the debt.”
“No. I wholesaled a bunch of my paintings. I raised two hundred grand, and I tossed him another hundred grand from my savings. Needless to say, he wasn’t satisfied.”
I frowned. “Who?”
His faced paled, and he cleared his throat. “Alimzhan Trincher.”
“Alix? You went to a poker game organized by Alix Trincher?”
Alix was a sociopath. On the street, they called him Bloody Alix, partly because of his red hair and partly because he’d left a sizeable path of blood and death in his wake when he rose to power.
“I didn’t realize who he was at the time. If I did…” his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, “I would have stayed far away from the whole thing.”
“So Alix asked you to help Ana Ivanka.”
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes briefly and jerked his head up and down. “He showed up here one day with Ana, wanting me to teach her everything I knew and get her a couple of gallery showings featuring her work. If I succeeded, he agreed to forgive the rest of my debt.”
I snorted.
His shoulders tensed. “What?”
“There had to be more.”
“No. He hasn’t been back. He hasn’t asked for anything else.”
“So that’s it. You started mentoring her, which led to fucking her, and Evie caught you in the act.”
“Pretty much.” His voice sounded strangled. “I didn’t mean to hurt Evie, but Ana…” his gaze went distant, “she screwed with my head. She was always touching me and brushing against me. She’d show up here wearing next to nothing. It was like Alix sent her to me to make me cheat on Evie and ruin my life. I mean, there’s only so much a man can take. Right?”
My spine stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” he whined like the man-child he was. I had no clue what Evie saw in him. “I never cheated on Evie with anyone else.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Do I have sucker written across my forehead?”
“No. You’re right. I wasn’t a choirboy by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve had protégées hit on me. Granted, I’ve crossed the line a time or two, but it never went too far if you know what I mean. Ana was different, though. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d strip naked and ask me to demonstrate a painting technique on her body. She’d drag me into closets at parties and stick her hand down my pants while Evie was in the other room. She was everywhere, and I couldn’t get away from her. Every time it happened, I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again—only, she was like a shot of heroin. I was hooked, and I couldn’t stop
.”
“Where’s Ana now?”
“I don’t know. She disappeared after that night we ran into you guys at that club. She disconnected her phone and vacated her apartment.”
“Did you ask Alix?”
He groaned. “Yeah, and he won’t tell me shit. He said we both did our jobs, and my debt was forgiven.”
“That’s it?”
“He said he’d end me if I ever turned up at one of his poker tournaments, again.”
“Has Ana’s artwork showed up in another gallery, or is she working with another artist?”
“No.” He shifted in the seat. “That’s the strange part. The day after we ran into you and Evie in the bar, she went radio silent. A few days later, someone broke into my studio. They took all her work and stuffed it into the dumpster out back.”
I frowned. That didn’t make sense unless Ana’s appearance didn’t have anything to do with being mentored. “Was Ana talented?”
He grinned. “In bed, yes. As an artist, not so much. Don’t get me wrong; she wasn’t awful, but under different circumstances, I would’ve never agreed to mentor her. It was clear she’d taken some painting lessons, and with the right exposure, she could’ve made some money. That’s it.”
Impatience stirring in my gut, I pressed the gun to the side of his head. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”
“No. I swear.” His voice quivered. I flipped open the pocket knife on my keychain and cut the cable tie around his wrists. He scrambled to his feet. “Is that it?”
“Yeah.” I stuffed my gun in the holster. “Unless you contact Evie or tell someone I paid you a visit.”
His shoulders slumped with defeat. “I won’t tell anyone.”
His ripped jeans and white t-shirt were crumpled and blood stained. The bun at the back his head had come undone. One of his eyes had swelled shut, and I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. He made his own bed, and he’d never win Evie back. He had his chance, and he pissed it away by getting involved with the soul-sucking Russians.
“Good, because if you fuck with Evie or me or even whisper either of our names, I won’t hesitate to kill ya.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Gian
Evie kicked, dipped, and twirled, or whatever a dancer did, and wisps of sunset red hair floated around her face. She didn’t have on any makeup. Her eyes were dreamy. A soft melody poured from her lips. It was hauntingly beautiful, and I couldn’t look away.
She was like a cold beer on a sweltering day. I never thought I’d find myself so wrapped up in one woman, yet it was true. I didn’t want anyone else, and I was pretty damn sure my feelings wouldn’t change anytime soon, if ever.
After a long, drawn-out note, she froze in place.
I clapped my hands together, showing my appreciation. I may have confessed that musicals bored me to death, but if Evie was on stage, I was positive my opinion would do a one-eighty.
She whirled around, her hand pressed to the center of her chest. “Oh my God, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
“I missed you.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You missed me?”
“Yeah, do you have a problem with that?”
“No. I’m surprised. That’s all.”
I closed the door to the dance studio and moved through the tiny room. With every step, her dark eyes drank in my soul, and with it, every coherent thought in my brain fled.
“You’re going to nail this audition. You know that, right?”
A rose-colored blush spread up her neck to her cheeks. “You don’t know that. You hate the theater, remember?”
I trailed my hand down the side of her face. “A blind person could see how good you are.”
Frowning, she caught my hand and held it up between us. “What’s this?”
The knuckles of my right hand were red, swollen, and cracked. I shrugged. “Kevin and I had a little bit of a disagreement. He thought you were two were going to get back together, and I persuaded him otherwise.”
Her face paled. “What happened?”
“Don’t worry about it. We’re on the same page now. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“Gian…” She studied my face, her eyebrows drawn together. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing permanent. He’ll be okay in a couple of days.” I pressed my lips against hers. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Being alone with her anywhere was like lighting the fuse on a stick of dynamite. Her smell, her soft voice, her skin, they all made my self-control vanish like it had never existed in the first place.
“Then what do you want to talk about?” she mumbled against my lips.
“I don’t want to talk.” My voice sounded rough as I traced her lips with the tip of my tongue. Her body trembled against mine, and I snapped.
I attacked her mouth, drinking her in and devouring her. Our kiss was so much more than a kiss. Her fingers dove into my hair, pulling me closer, demanding more. I backed her into the mirrored wall, mapping her with my hands.
Her ass, her thighs, her breasts—nothing was off limits.
I groaned into her neck. “This little black leotard will be the death of me. It’s like a chastity belt.”
She chuckled and locked one leg around my waist, pressing her slight curves into me. I was hard and so fucking ready to explode. She made me feel like a fifteen-year-old kid groping my girlfriend under the gym bleachers.
Tugging a fistful of her hair, I pulled her head to the side. I kissed, bit, sucked, and licked every square inch of visible skin. Need and desire vibrated from her pores. I inhaled the sweet scent of her sweat, and I wanted more. I yanked on the elastic scooped neck of her top and pulled her nipple into my mouth. Goose bumps erupted on her arms, and a whimper slipped from her damp and swollen lips.
A knock on the door echoed through the room “Evangeline, your time is up. The next session starts in five minutes.”
“Talk about bad timing.” I buried my face in the curve her neck, my heart booming beneath my ribcage. It was becoming pretty damn clear I’d never get enough of Evie. She was under my skin, in my blood and well on the way to burrowing a permanent home in my heart. “Do you want to go to lunch or find a more private place to finish what we were doing?”
She pushed her hair out her eyes, a dazed look on her flushed face, her chest rising and falling. “I vote for a more private place. Do you have to go back to work soon?”
“You know what? I think I can spare enough time to do both.”
She picked up her bag. “Then what are we waiting for?”
I draped my arm around her shoulder and tugged her against my side. “Have I ever told you how much I love a girl who knows what she wants?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Evangeline
Tendrils of steam floated in the air above my soup. I lifted my spoon and blew across the deep red broth. I poured it into my mouth, and the taste of fresh tomatoes mixed with earthy vegetables exploded on my tongue.
When I came home today, Gian had surprised me with dinner. He’d set the table, complete with flickering candles and placemats. I glanced at Gian across the table. He hadn’t taken a bite of anything.
“The soup is great. Did you cook all this yourself, or did you call your mom for help?”
He lifted the glass of ruby-colored wine to his lips and took a sip. “I might or might not have had Carmela walk me through the steps over the phone.”
“Either way, I’m impressed. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. I wanted to cook for you. I couldn’t stand the thought eating takeout again or, worse, eating another can of that soup you have stocked in the pantry like you’re preparing for the end of the world.” He mock shivered.
The past couple of weeks had slipped by with me in a dreamlike state. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy or hopeful. The only way it cou
ld improve would be for me to land a part in the production I was auditioning for next week.
In the last week or so, I had buried all the recurrent doubts about my relationship with Gian and convinced myself I was finally on the right path. I told myself it wasn’t too soon to feel this strongly about someone else, and nothing mattered except the way we felt about each other.
Apart from a few minor hiccups, days ran seamlessly from one to the next. I danced and danced until my feet ached, and I practiced lines from the play until I could recite them in my sleep. Even on the nights Gian worked late, he always came home in time to crawl into bed with me.
Sometimes we talked until the early hours of the morning about anything and everything. Our childhood. Dancing. Food. Our families. Our goals. Our dreams. Even though we were still in the early phases of our relationship, I honestly felt as if I knew him better than anyone in the world.
Other times, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We’d stumble to the bed or any horizontal surface, exploring, kissing, moaning, and laughing. While I knew this moment of perfection couldn’t continue indefinitely, I refused to worry about the future. I’d wasted enough of my life worrying, fretting, and planning, and nothing had worked out like I expected. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, or at least that’s what I was starting to believe.
“Hey. It’s not that terrible, and it’s organic.”
“Exactly. Organic and tasteless.”
I took a few more bites of my soup. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”
“I have to work tonight. I won’t be home until late.”
I rested my spoon against the side of my bowl. “What’s late?”
“I don’t know. Three. Maybe four in the morning.”
“Why?”
“There’s a special event at the club, and I need to be there to supervise.”
I lifted my napkin and wiped the corners of my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from doing your job. Are you going to get in trouble?”
“No. My dad and I own the club together.” Gian tensed, and his jaw flexed. “When he got sick, I took over, and as you can imagine, the day-to-day management is not high on his list of priorities anymore.”