by Bethany-Kris
“This place is …” Ginevra trailed off, unsure of how to describe it.
“A little much, yeah?”
She passed Cara a look.
The other woman only shrugged.
“My husband likes to go over the top,” Cara explained, “and since this restaurant is one of a few he owns, you can always tell when Gian has had his hand in the design. Lots of gold, a spattering of black, the sense of wealth all over … it all screams Guzzi.”
Ginevra hadn’t considered that, but now Cara had said it, she realized the other woman was correct. Like their mansion, or even the aura the couple and their sons gave off, it very much appeared like she was sitting in an excessive show of wealth.
Not that it was uncomfortable.
Just … very there.
Present.
Unashamed, maybe.
Cara waved a hand, and the woman that had been standing at a table nearby, but without staring at them, made her way over with the crystal pitcher of a pinkish liquid. She poured the juice—at least, that’s what Ginevra assumed it was—into the two glasses on the table, and then turned to give Cara her attention.
“The usual, Mrs.?”
Cara nodded. “Yes … gives us a few options.”
“Sure.”
It was only once the server left around the partition wall that Cara turned her attention on Ginevra again, a glimmer in her eye as she asked, “And how are the boys?”
Boys.
As in, both.
Ginevra didn’t miss that.
Cara smirked when Ginevra didn’t answer right away. “I know about them, you know, and about things I am sure Corrado would tell me are none of my business, too.”
Great.
Ginevra’s cheeks heated, but still she answered with, “It’s complicated with the three of us.”
“I imagine.”
“I’m not sure what else to say about this other than that.”
“Nothing,” Cara replied, winking. “Complicated sums it up pretty well.”
Didn’t it?
Conversation turned to a safer topic as they waited for their food. The designer of the dress Ginevra was wearing, one of the many outfits that were delivered to the penthouse from the same boutique that Corrado seemed to favor when she needed something special to wear.
“Why all the gold?” Ginevra asked.
“Oh, that’s just a Guzzi thing.” Cara shifted in her chair, flicking out one napkin to ready it on her lap. “Blood made of dirt and gold, they like to say. It’s been a thing for a few generations, and started before they were … a famiglia,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “the family had made their money in black gold.”
“Oil.”
“Yes.” Cara peered around their private section with a soft fondness in her gaze. “And as much as this restaurant seems like too much, I still love it the most out of all the ones in the city.”
“Why is that?”
“My husband bought it after a date we had here, although back then, it didn’t look like it does now. They had the best poutine I had ever tasted, and Gian took that to heart. As he does with most things.”
Ginevra laughed lightly. “Really?”
“Yes. Have you ever had it—poutine?”
The memory of the one time she had tried the French dish of fries, cheese curds, and dark gravy seemed to come to the forefront of her mind with a heaviness, taking with it all of her happiness.
Cara didn’t miss Ginevra’s change in expression. “Something wrong?”
A typical mother.
Caring.
Concerned.
Loving.
Like hers.
“I had poutine once,” Ginevra said, “with my mother and sisters. Mama made it because Greta saw a recipe on the internet—looked fun, I guess.”
Cara quieted for a moment. “Ah.”
“I liked it.”
“Ginevra.”
She peeked up through her lashes, but Cara’s soft smile faded. Instead, she found sympathy and understanding in the older woman’s gaze. “I’m aware of your current circumstances, and what brought you here.”
“Oh.”
“I’m so very sorry about your mother’s passing. You are too young to be without your mother, and I bet that because you have two younger sisters, you feel you need to fill that role for them now. Except being here makes that impossible, doesn’t it?”
“Entirely.” Ginevra shrugged. “And thank you. I try not to think about it … it’s easier.”
Well, mostly.
“Once,” Cara said, “there was a time when I, too, was a woman who did not want the legacy of the mafia following me, or the life I was just given and told I belonged to. I know what this world can sometimes make you sacrifice for this, and I’m sorry that they took your normalcy from you for the benefit of men who do not care what will happen to you because of their choices.”
Ginevra dragged in a burning breath, surprised at the ache in her chest. “I didn’t ask for what my half-brothers did. But I had no choice—if not me, then my sisters. I was willing to be whatever they needed for me to be so that my sisters didn’t have to.”
“And you worry for them now because you’re not with them to stand in where they might have to,” Cara replied. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“Every single night. I worry for hours. I can’t sleep.”
Cara sighed. “I am not supposed to talk about the things my husband knows, or his contacts with other crime families outside of his own. Not our way, you see.”
“I suppose.”
“But … I will make an exception for you, Ginevra.” Cara smiled, that twinkle back in her eye as she said lowly, “From what I understand, and from what Gian has gathered, New York will be a better place for you and your sisters when this ends … one side is winning, and it’s the one you want to win.”
Ginevra straightened on her chair, taking that statement in, and what it meant.
“And for now,” Cara added, “no one will blame you for focusing on yourself, and your own happiness. Because there is nothing else you can do when these men … they make our choices. We make the best of it and say to hell with them when we can. You didn’t ask for this life, but you can do amazing things with it, Ginevra. I hope you’re aware of that.”
The server came around the table, stopping the two from saying anything more on the topic. Food piled high on a silver platter that the woman balanced on her arm had Ginevra’s stomach rumbling.
She could absorb Cara’s words later.
When she was alone …
“Have you pried as much information from her as you could, Ma, and can I take her home with me now?”
Ginevra and Cara spun around from the piece of artwork they had been admiring behind the restaurant’s bar. Done with their lunch, Cara had called, so Chris could come back around to pick up Ginevra anytime he was ready.
Someone else came instead.
Cara grinned at the sight of Corrado standing behind them with his hands tossed into the pockets of his suit’s slacks. “Is that the only reason you assume I wanted to have lunch with her?”
Corrado’s gaze drifted to Ginevra; his usual intensity colored by a clear affection. “Of course not, Ma. She’s amazing without all the other interesting bits with me and Alessio. She doesn’t need us for that.”
“And you would be right,” Cara said.
Ginevra smiled and stared down at the floor.
“And yes, we’re done,” Cara added, “so you can sneak her back, and hide her away from the world, Corrado.”
“Thank you, Ma.”
Cara pointed a finger at him, her gaze narrowing. “I do, however, want to see more of you, if you will be staying in this city. It’s not acceptable for you to be here for two months, and I see you all but one time. I don’t like that.”
“I will fix that.”
“Make sure. Oh, and Alessio, too. Although, I have seen far more of him than you … pick up the slack, huh?”
Ginevra hid her grin at Cara chastising her son by continuing to stare at the floor. She only looked up when Cara touched her arm with a soft touch.
“Thank you for joining me today,” Cara said, winking, “and we will do it again soon. I promise.”
“I can’t wait.”
It wasn’t a lie, either.
“Your driver is outside, if you’re ready to leave, Ma,” Corrado said. “I chatted with him before I came in.”
Cara nodded. “Good. I have errands. Take care of this woman, Corrado.”
“Will do.”
Corrado leaned down to press a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek when she stopped at his side before passing him by. A simple wave of her delicate hand over her shoulder was all Ginevra saw of his mother before Cara disappeared out the front of the business.
Just like that, her focus was back on Corrado.
And that sly grin of his as he stepped closer to her until she had to walk backward from his closeness. Not that she went far—her back hit the edge of the bar, and she was cornered. Except it didn’t really feel like he cornered her, not when she liked being caught by Corrado.
He stared down at her, his brown eyes darkening before he dropped a quick kiss to Ginevra’s mouth without asking if he could or should. She didn’t mind that, either, taking his kiss and reveling in the way he owned her.
All too soon, he was pulling away.
But he didn’t move away.
Corrado’s thumb stroked her bottom lip, and then drifted over the edge of her jaw as he asked, “Did you enjoy yourself?”
“Very much.”
“Good. My mother loves you.”
“She’s … amazing, too.”
Corrado cocked his head to the side with a curious eye. “She is, and so are you.”
“Do you lay that charm on for every woman that catches your eye, or am I a special case?”
“I never tried.”
She appreciated his frankness.
“And you’re quite special,” he added, winking.
Ginevra laughed. “You came to get me alone?”
“I did. Today has been long … Alessio needed time alone. I’m giving it to him.”
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing that didn’t need to happen.”
Ginevra wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but Corrado also didn’t seem like he would give her the chance to figure it out. Not before he leaned in, and found her lips with his own again in a soft, slow kiss that had her entire body heating as sparks lit up all of her nerve endings.
Damn this man.
“And I wanted to spend time with you,” he murmured against her lips, his forehead touching hers, “because I don’t do that enough.”
“We spend all day together. We’re living in the same place, and we don’t leave it often, if at all.”
“It’s not enough. It’s easy to be with you, Ginevra. Too easy.”
Yeah, she understood the feeling well.
And still when she looked in his eyes, she was sure something else lingered there, too. His need to have someone else with them, too, but that person wasn’t there.
Which was also strange …
Because she felt that, too.
What were these men doing to her?
“I want coffee.”
Alessio didn’t bother to look up from a new set of knives Corrado had laid out across the desk for him to admire. “Then, make one.”
“No, from that place down the street.”
Corrado peeked up at Alessio to smile. “Ah, the café down the block. She thought it was cute when we drove past yesterday.”
“Yeah,” Ginevra said in the doorway, “that place. Can I walk down—”
“No,” Alessio said.
“But … it’s a block away. And no one even knows I’m here.”
Alessio turned away from the knives all at once, done with them now that something better had his attention. Ginevra, that was. “If you want to walk down to the café, then that’s what we’ll do. Let’s find your coat.”
“You’re busy.”
“And Corrado’s middle name is Paul,” Alessio said, because it was as ridiculous as her statement. “What does it matter? Now, I’m not busy. Let’s go.”
He didn’t give her the chance to argue it further before heading past her in the doorway with a wave that demanded for her to follow. He wasn’t so busy that he couldn’t come back to the damn knives another day, no matter how nice they were. If she wanted coffee from the place down the block, then that’s what they would do.
“Pick me up one of those Danishes!” Corrado called after him.
“Diabetes in a paper bag, got it.”
“Fuck off, Les.”
“But not a lie.”
“Wait for me,” Ginevra muttered, jogging to catch up with Alessio in the hallway. “I’m just saying, I could have walked down by myself.”
“And then if something happened—”
“It wouldn’t.”
Alessio shrugged. “Well, it won’t now. Will it?”
She huffed in the front hallway.
He pulled her coat from the hook and handed it to her with a grin.
“Besides,” he added, “I need a walk.”
“What, like a restless puppy?”
His grin turned playful in a blink.
“Exactly like that.”
Mostly.
“Really?” she asked.
Alessio made a noise under his breath. “Listen, if I can’t fuck my issues out, I might as well walk them out, huh?”
Ginevra’s cheeks pinked.
God.
He had no clue how this woman was both innocent and sexy.
“Let’s go,” he said, yanking open the penthouse door.
“Should we get you a leash?”
Her teasing tone had him shaking his head. The sassiness, though? Definitely his favorite.
“Les?”
“Hmm?”
The sky, a bright blue for the second of September, stayed clear overhead. He hadn’t been spending enough time outside.
When Ginevra didn’t respond to his prompt, Alessio gave her all of his attention. He didn’t miss how she tried to avoid his gaze by using her to-go cup of coffee as a shield in front of her face when she sipped from it.
“Ginevra, what is it?”
She peeked over at him. “Well …”
“Say whatever, woman.”
“Why haven’t you kissed me since the day in the library?”
Alessio blinked, surprised at the question. “I’m … not sure.”
“Oh.”
Her dimmed tone made a tightness clench in his chest. Mostly because, to him, the sound echoed with rejection. She had to realize that was the furthest thing from the case with him and her, and Corrado.
“Is that what you want?” he asked.
Ginevra laughed and glanced away. “I asked why, if you might have a reason.”
“And that’s not an answer to my question, Ginny.”
“Because I don’t know, either.”
Alessio chuckled, stepping closer to her side as they continued their walk down the street. Close enough to wrap an arm around her side, hold tight to her waist, and pull her into his body. Like this, he was able to press a quick kiss to her temple, which he did to have the softness of her skin and her scent against his lips.
Only a tease.
A promise.
A hint of what he wanted to do.
“I’ve been busy unpacking my shit,” Alessio murmured against her skin, tightening his hold on her waist, “and it had nothing to do with you on a personal level. Your presence, yes, but not you. But yes, I think about you, and what I would like from you, often.”
“Do you?”
“More than I should—feelings make things dangerous, Ginevra.”
“It always comes back to that for you, right?”
“Pardon?”
“How you feel, or what feeling something might do to you.”
He stiffened.
She wasn’t wrong.
“Yes,” he said, “and I needed to make sure what happened here, with you, had nothing to do with him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t want to have you only because he does, Ginny. And I wasn’t sure if that’s what was happening here, or not.”
She stopped their walk, turning, so both faced each other. He didn’t mind because now he saw her eyes, and she had all his attention. His truths were always in his stare.
He wanted her to know.
All of it.
“Maybe I lied,” she whispered.
Alessio arched a brow. “Oh? Hard to believe.”
“I want you to kiss me, and more, but this is overwhelming, and confusing for me. It’s easier for me to do the simple thing because I don’t have to overthink, or worry about the consequences of what this all means. And—”
Quite enough of that.
Her rambling.
He only needed I want you to kiss me, and would happily give her what she wanted. Right fucking now, honestly. Alessio liked to give everyone their space, but especially this woman and Corrado because shit was easier.
He was tired of easy.
The only way the three of them might figure this out was if they closed all the distance and opened every single door. Wide open, right?
Yeah.
Alessio leaned down and grazed his lips against Ginevra’s with a gentle kiss. At first. Enough to taste her, and the lingering bitter sweet coffee she’d been sipping on during their walk. And that’s all it took for her to inch closer, for her hand to snake up against his stomach before her palm laid flat to his chest, pressing hard.
Not to move him back, no.
To keep him right there.
The russet stare of hers locked on his as his tongue snaked out to strike against the seam of her lips, testing and promising. Give me a little more, he wanted to say, and let’s see what might happen here, Ginevra.
Instead of talking, he let the kiss say what he needed to, and what she wanted to. God knew he found more than what he expected in the way she stood there on the sidewalk, tight to him, her tongue slashing against his as their lips worked a familiar beat together.
Somehow, the kiss seemed familiar. Like it should be, as though it had always been.
