by Bethany-Kris
“Why?”
“There’s a guest from New York scoping out a deal Dad and I got Franco in on. I need to be in on that, or at least a part of the discussions.”
Kim heaved a sigh. “Where’s your car?”
“In the shop. Somebody’s fucking dog didn’t get out of the way in time and took out the radiator yesterday.”
Great.
“Seriously, he’s got guests from New York over there today?” Kim asked quietly, giving her brother a look that she hoped voiced her displeasure.
Cody shrugged. “A guest, from what I heard. Just keep out of it. Turn cheek, you know.”
Kim scowled up at the ceiling.
Franco couldn’t keep business out of his house to save his life. Men came and went like they owned the place. Kim rarely felt safe in Franco’s home and like hell would she stay there alone though she tried to never stay there at all.
She sure as shit didn’t share his bedroom. Kim shuddered at the thought. How long would she be able to keep that at bay, too?
Nunz hung up his call. “Kimberlynn, what brings you home?”
“I need you to yank Franco back a bit,” she replied, getting straight to the point. “He might as well have his hands around my fucking throat here, Dad. I can’t breathe beside him and I’m doing something wrong.”
Nunz sat back in his chair, arms folding over his chest. “Have you talked to Franco about it?”
Kim knew she was bordering on a thin line of having control over her emotions and losing her shit completely. She took a breath, hoping it would settle the round of anxiety, but it didn’t. Nothing did anymore.
“What good is talking to him going to do me, Dad?” Kim asked.
“What good would me talking to him do, Kimberlynn?”
Kim’s hand on her messenger bag tightened, her fingernails cutting into her palm. The pain relieved her inner turmoil for a brief moment. “You know I can’t stand him.”
“You made your choice.”
What choice?
Kim knew the moment she decided to talk to Nunz it would be pointless. The complete lack of empathy or concern from Nunz spoke volumes. It had been this way her entire life, but since the death of her mother, it only got worse.
“Did you love Mom?” Kim asked.
Nunz brow lifted to his receding hairline. “Pardon?”
“You heard me. Did you love my mother?”
“Of course I did, Kimberlynn.”
“Your entire marriage, or just a part of it?”
“Hey, now watch your goddamn—”
“I’m just wondering because the total disregard you wave over me is disgusting. I came from you, Nunz. You helped to make me. I’m a part of you.”
“I didn’t ask for you,” Nunz responded coolly. “Your mother wanted more children, not me.”
This man was ice. A block of it. No feelings. Nothing. Dead.
Cody stood from his chair, clearing his throat. “Come on, Kimberlynn. Let’s go.”
“No, not yet,” Kim said, sidestepping her brother’s outstretched hand. “You threw me to the fucking wolves here, Nunz. In a decade, when I’ve got bruises on my body and kids terrified of their own father, you still won’t care, will you?”
Nunz didn’t answer and Kim didn’t wait around to see if he ever would.
In the car, Kim cranked the stereo up as loud as it would go. Her brother slid into the passenger seat silently. Reversing the car out of the driveway, Kim let the tires peel across pavement. She needed to get away from that man and his awfulness as quickly as she possibly could.
Cody reached over and turned the volume down. “Kim—”
“Don’t talk to me right now,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Okay, but I need you to know something.”
“Please don’t defend that man.”
“I won’t.”
“What is it, then?”
“Franco,” Cody said quietly. “I know you think I don’t care, but that’s not true. I have a lot of shit to consider, especially where I need to go. That’s up, Kimberlynn. I want to go up. But Franco … If he ever lays a hand on you, I’ll kill him.”
Strangely, despite how distant the siblings were, Kim believed him.
• • •
Cody didn’t stay by Kim’s side once they arrived at Franco’s. He followed the voices coming from the upstairs while Kim pulled off her sneakers and hung up her coat. The two men who always followed behind walked into the house right after Kim and Cody.
Ben and Lucas, the two men Franco appointed to keep an eye on Kim, passed by her in the foyer without a word. Not that she minded, really. The less attention either of those men paid to her, the happier she was.
The kitchen was the one place in Franco’s home where Kim felt comfortable. Franco couldn’t cook at all. He would rather shoot his foot than attempt to make a meal. Kim, on the other hand, found cooking to be lethargic.
Franco allowed Kim some breathing room from his constant badgering and control in the kitchen. There, he found no faults in the things she did. Complaints were suddenly non-existent. When she cooked, he gladly shut up and ate the food.
Kim wasn’t entirely sure if the fact that she could cook helped her case with Franco or hindered it. Considering when she did make a meal large enough to feed every person in the house, she was doing exactly what he wanted. Being the perfect little housewife, pretty and quiet on his arm, and never questioning his authority.
Even so, it got Franco off her back. Kim was willing to use that to her advantage. Setting her messenger bag to the island countertop, Kim pulled out her laptop and turned it on. Music rolled through the space. It kept the possibility of her overhearing something upstairs away.
Kim collected things from the cupboards, pantry, and fridge to get a start on an old favorite of her family’s. It was a casserole dish made up of spaghetti pasta, freshly cut tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, and celery, some tomato paste, a can or two of sauce, ground hamburger mixed with spices, and shredded cheese spread over the top. It would feed whoever was around for the night, anyway. Nobody said it had to be particularly healthy.
Ground hamburger browned in a pan on the stove while Kim went to work chopping and dicing the other ingredients. She didn’t notice the time passing until the oven beeped to signal it was preheated. She shoved the readied casserole dish inside, shut the oven door, and leaned back to the counter with a sigh.
There were some worksheets for one of her classes in her messenger bag, but Kim knew better than to drag schoolwork out while she was at Franco’s. It would likely lead them to another argument about college. Kim didn’t want to go there tonight. She just wanted to eat, find out if Franco needed her for the weekend, and then get the hell back to her dorm.
Lost in her thoughts, Kim didn’t hear the set of voices getting closer to the kitchen until they were outside in the hallway.
“Something smells good,” Franco said. “I take it your sister brought you over, then.”
“Yeah. You should have called me for this,” Cody replied.
“Why? He’s just checking out a few photos and looking at figures. There’s no business going down. You weren’t needed. Isn’t that right, Skip?”
“Just about.”
Those two words sent a mixture of panic and desire rushing through Kim like a flash flood. Months had passed since she heard that dark tenor—a little over three months, to be exact. His voice still had the same crazy effect on her insides as it did when she first heard him speak at the Blackjack table.
Like an instant burn to her nerves.
Giovanni Marcello.
Oh, God.
She was in so much trouble.
Kim’s hands on the countertop gripped so tight that her knuckles turned white from the pressure. There was no place for her to hide to keep him from seeing her. Her acting skills sucked the big one, so chances were, Franco was going to see something was off. Not to mention Cody had seen her speaking with Giovanni at
the wedding.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Footsteps padded down the hallway further, turning faint until Kim couldn’t hear them at all.
“Why’s he call you Skip, Marcello?”
“The Skip,” Giovanni corrected. “In New York, it’s a street term for capo. There might be many capos in a family, but there’s only one that rakes in the most, runs the biggest crew and whatever else. That’d be me and my brother. That and Franco’s trying out this new thing where he has to act like he wants me within five feet of him to save face for his father while we work out this business deal. Respect, you know.”
“Ah,” Cody drawled.
This was bad. Kim had been so sure they wouldn’t meet up again after their one-time encounter. She lived in Las Vegas and he was situated in New York for Christ’s sake. What were the odds?
“Food ready?”
Kim’s head jerked up at Franco’s question, knocking her out of her stupor. When had he come back down the hall? At least her brother and Giovanni were still talking in hushed murmurs where they couldn’t see her. She reached over and turned the music off on her laptop.
“Uh …”
“Well?” Franco asked again.
“Almost.”
“There enough to feed seven including you?”
Kim shot him a look. “Yes, Franco. I made lots.”
“Just asking. Set the table, Kimberlynn.”
Kim was frozen in place as Franco disappeared back out the entranceway. She couldn’t even force herself to think let alone grab the dinnerware out of the cupboards.
“Stay for dinner, Skip,” she heard Franco say.
“Nah, I’ve got things to catch up on,” Giovanni replied.
For a brief moment, Kim felt relieved that the two of them might just pass each other by with Giovanni being none the wiser. It didn’t last long. Franco’s next statement felt laced with something she couldn’t quite place.
“Surely it’s not important enough for you to refuse to eat at my table, is it?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Good. Come meet my fiancée before we eat.”
Kim’s heart stopped when the three men stepped inside the kitchen. She couldn’t turn her head and see the expression Giovanni wore for fear the rolling sickness threatening to make an appearance would force its way out.
“Giovanni, this is my fiancée Kimberlynn Abella.”
Kim was pretty sure her lungs stopped working when she met Giovanni’s gaze from across the room. Surprise and anger registered in his green irises as he stared her up and down, taking her in as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Oh, they already met,” Cody said passingly, flipping through a file in his hands. “Meant to mention it.”
Franco’s head whipped around so he could pierce Kim with a glare. “Pardon?”
The annoyance seeping into Franco’s tone chilled Kim. The man couldn’t hide his jealousies at all. If there was anything he hated more, it was men coming too close to Kim.
“Kimberlynn?” Franco asked.
Kim couldn’t speak. If there was ever a time she needed to, now would be it.
“Kim,” Giovanni said quietly, his jaw tight. “Yeah, we met at my brother’s wedding.”
Franco’s gaze narrowed. “Oh?”
Kim released a slow breath and offered a smile she hoped didn’t scream fake. “Sorry, I’m just off today. Yeah, we met while I was in New York with Dad and Cody.”
“And?”
“And what?” Kim asked Franco.
“You didn’t tell me about meeting any of the Marcello family while you were there.”
“Was I supposed to?” Kim hoped feigning ignorance would work. That was her piss poor plan, anyway. “They had the whole Casino Royale theme and I happened to play him out of his money at the Blackjack table.”
“The entire table, not just me, and it was only one hand,” Giovanni rectified, a brow raising.
“Exactly.” Kim gave Franco another smile, shrugging. “I didn’t beat him too badly.”
That seemed to please Franco enough to get his uncomfortable scrutiny off of Kim. However, it didn’t stop him from adding, “Didn’t the last time you got caught counting cards teach you anything, Kimberlynn? I certainly would have thought so.”
Kim hid her shaking hands below the countertop. With Franco’s back turned to her, Kim met Giovanni’s stare head on again. There was no doubt about it—the man was pissed off. Kim clearly put him in an awkward position. If the odd exchange from the hallway was any indication, Franco and Giovanni didn’t like one another.
Kim couldn’t help but drop her gaze from Giovanni’s. Watching him brought up memories of teasing fingers at her breasts, a heated mouth to her flesh, and a strong body pressing her smaller form into a mattress beneath him. His voice alone sent ribbons of sensations tickling through her bloodstream. She did not need to be thinking of those things when Franco was less than ten feet away.
Still, the memories wouldn’t leave. The leather jacket Giovanni had on was open, exposing the V-neck shirt he wore underneath that was tight to his chest, reminding Kim of the tattoos hidden beneath the fabric. The dark wash jeans he wore hugged his muscled hips, drawing Kim’s stare down to his groin.
Oh, God … this was so very bad.
Air lodged in Kim’s chest. While no one else in the room seemed to notice her slip, Giovanni had. His entire frame went still, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Kim bit the inside of her cheek, needing the distraction. She was grateful Franco’s attention was diverted by a question Cody was asking about something in the file he still held.
That didn’t last long.
“Kimberlynn, are you setting the table?”
Kim blinked out of her haze, moving to put away her laptop and messenger bag. “Give me ten minutes to get the food ready.”
It didn’t make a damned difference if Giovanni was there or not. It didn’t matter that the effect he had on her in New York was the same as how he made her feel standing only feet away. What happened between them happened and now it was over. Kim had a role to fill. She ignored the intense jade gaze observing her every move and making her heart beat on overtime as she worked.
Time to play pretend again.
Chapter Six
Kim wasn’t a good actress. She grimaced every time Franco directed even a glance her way. She turned as cold as ice if he did touch her. And when Franco did touch Kim, Gio burned red hot inside.
Sweet Jesus, what did I do this time?
Betrayal rested heavily in his gut, leaving behind a bad aftertaste. Kim lied to him in New York. Or rather, hid something incredibly important in regards to her relationship status.
It wasn’t like Gio was a goddamn saint. He certainly didn’t mess with women who were spoken for by made men. Gio was in so much shit he could practically feel his eyeballs turning brown. There were only so many rules La Cosa Nostra held in esteem, after all. Sleeping around with a guy’s girl was one—a big one.
Kimberlynn fucking Abella.
Gio still couldn’t wrap his head around it. His dick, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about it. Being in the same room with Kim brought up that night all over again. From her back to the wall with shapely legs around his waist, to her body bent over the bed with his hand buried in her hair.
Cristo, he could still hear the way his name in her mouth sounded. The crazy intense high feeling he experienced whenever she was near hadn’t faded a bit. Gio couldn’t help but look down the table. Kim was looking at him, but she glanced away just as quickly.
The plate of spaghetti casserole in front of him was nearly gone. Kim could cook, if that earned her any brownie points to make up for the stunt she pulled him.
It kind of does, his mind whispered.
He was far too sober to deal with this nonsense today.
Quiet conversations flowed between the men. Too much talk, in Gio’s opinion. It was a shame to hear some of the discussions going on
around him. Business at the dinner table was a no-go. Gio didn’t bother to join in. He did keep an eye on Kim. It was like he had to constantly remind his brain and body she was still there.
She. Her. Kim.
The girl who plagued his dreams and thoughts for three months. Gio couldn’t remember when a one-night stand had left him so thoroughly scrambled in the head before.
Gio tried—God knows he fucking tried—to bleed that girl out of his system. No narcotic matched the high. No opiate, pill, or smoke in his system fit the bill. No drink could daze him quite the same; it only left him hung-over in the morning and not the way she had. As far as women … Gio tried them, too, only to find he couldn’t get it done.
It was useless or he was.
The tip of Kim’s thumbnail was between her teeth and her elbow was on the table as she stared blankly at the wall. Unease wrote lines on her face. It bothered the hell out of Gio for reasons he couldn’t explain.
Franco noticed Kim’s distraction from the guests at the table. Too low for anyone else to hear, Franco whispered something to Kim that had her back straightening and a faint nod answering his words. Her attention was back on the people at the table, but a blankness took hold as she stared right past Gio to the wall behind him.
That wasn’t the girl from New York Gio met and couldn’t shake. Something was off. How in the hell had she gotten herself mixed up with Franco Sorrento? Gio didn’t give two flying shits if the girl was Nunz Abella’s daughter. Kim was way out of Franco’s league. From the short amount of time he spent with her, Gio gathered she was free-spirited and a little wild under the pretty keeping her wrapped up tight. Hell, the girl was only twenty-one. Why was she marrying herself off before she even finished college?
Gio was reminded of the stories he heard about Franco and women. Disgust and worry compounded hard in his chest as he thought about Kim falling into that mess. Was that what happened; had she assumed the guy was one thing only to be blindsided by the asshole he really was?
Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Gio pushed the empty plate away and turned to Kim’s brother beside him. “How long has Franco been with your sister?”