by Bethany-Kris
Not when he was in this mood, though.
Alessio came to a stop in front of a Brooklyn restaurant. The gold lettering on the windows spelling out the name, and the satin curtains pulled back to expose the lavish décor let him know he was not dressed appropriately for the place in his black jeans, combat boots, and leather jacket.
He tipped his head to the side, considering.
Fuck it.
When had he ever cared about that?
Never.
That’s when.
Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he tossed it to the sidewalk, and headed for the entrance of the fancy restaurant. Taking the steps three at a time, Alessio yanked open the door, and stepped into the smells of rich sauces, and lingering spices. Something that, on another day, he might have stopped to appreciate.
Not today.
Today, he had other things to do.
The girl dressed in a tight, black dress behind the podium looked up and met his gaze when the bell above the door chimed at his entrance. With a tablet at the ready in her hands, she opened her mouth to greet him.
As she should.
It was her job.
Alessio simply passed her by before she could even ask her question. Her shout of hey at his back fell on deaf ears because he didn’t give a shit. His task was simply to find the man who owned this place, and have a chat. All it took were a couple of carefully placed calls to the right people—everyone in this life had contacts to use, him included—and Alessio knew exactly where he had to go to find Andino Marcello.
He heard the woman’s heels clicking against the floor as she followed him through the bustling restaurant, still hollering at his back like he gave a single fuck about her. He didn’t. Not at all.
His contact said if Andino wasn’t having business in the private dining section of the place, then he would be in the back office at the far end of the kitchen. Passing the private area with a quick glance said Andino was in the office, so that’s exactly where Alessio went.
Cooks in the kitchen yelled at him, too.
Fun.
He ignored them as well.
“Sir, you can’t be back—”
“Who the fuck are you?”
Alessio came face to face with likely one of the biggest men he had ever seen in his life when he turned the corner around a rack in the kitchen. At least four inches taller than Alessio’s nearly six-foot-three height, and probably a good sixty pounds of extra muscle than him, too. He had more of a boxer’s quality. This man looked like he needed to be on the defense line of a fucking football team.
The guy stood in front of the open doorway that led into the office, and directly behind his very wide shoulders, he found the man he wanted to see sitting at his desk.
Beside that desk sat a ruddy-colored pit bull.
More fun.
“Me?” Alessio asked.
The muscle—no doubt, an enforcer for Andino’s crime family who kept him protected while he worked—cocked an eyebrow like he wasn’t here for this shit. Well, surprise, asshole ... neither was Alessio.
“Who else am I looking at?” the enforcer snapped.
“Well, I’m not important,” Alessio said, smiling just enough to piss the man off. If the guy wanted to try to make a move on Les, then he was more than welcome to come right on ahead and do it. All he had to say about that was the bigger one was, the harder they fucking fell when Alessio punched them in the throat. He pointed around the man’s large shoulder, saying, “That man right there is who matters at the moment, and I have a meeting to speak with him.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do, actually.”
The enforcer’s lips flattened into a grim line. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you—”
“Pink, let him in.”
Alessio had all he could do not to laugh. He grinned instead, staring up at the bigger man with all the cockiness he could muster as he said, “Pink, huh, that’s cute.”
“I will fucking kill you.”
“Yeah, you could certainly try.”
“Well, as amusing as this is,” Andino muttered inside the office, “let him in, Pink. Stay nearby, of course.”
“If you’re sure, boss ...”
“I am sure.”
Pink stepped aside, and Alessio winked at the man which only made his brow furrow, before he took a second look at him. Like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of Alessio, and it put him on edge.
Good.
It should.
“Don’t stand out there and continue to taunt him,” Andino said, sounding entirely bored behind his desk, “because then I won’t be responsible for what he does once you’re out of my sight. Like Snaps here,” he added, gesturing down at the mean looking dog next to him, “Pink only minds when he is in my view. I’m sure you understand.”
Noted.
Alessio gave the enforcer a look from the side before he entered the office and closed the door behind him at Andino’s gesture to do so. The man didn’t offer him a chair to sit in, however, but that was fine with him. He would much rather stand for this.
Eyeing the dog next to the desk who looked like he was considering whether or not he wanted to find out what Alessio and his leather jacket might taste like, he asked Andino, “What is your business with Corrado Guzzi?”
“What is your business with him?”
Ah.
That question.
Well, that was not simple.
Part of Alessio and Corrado’s thing of not being public with their relationship dealt with the fact one of them hadn’t truly dealt with his bisexuality. Not that Alessio was naming names, but it wasn’t him. The other part of it came down to this—when they were open and people knew, it gave others the power to hurt Corrado and Alessio by using one against the other.
It was one of the only reasons, next to the fact as long as he had Corrado, then he was happy, that he kept this fucking game up between them for all these years. No one would ever have the control to separate or hurt them. If that happened, it was because they chose to do it, not because someone with a touch too much power decided to put their hands in the pot, too, so to speak.
Alessio took his gaze off the dog and leveled it on the man behind the desk instead. “The League—business, that’s all.”
Andino sucked air through his teeth and rested back in the chair. “What, did The League send out one of their dogs to check up on another one of their dogs, or ...?”
“Step very carefully from here on out with your words,” Alessio warned the man, “because I take insults as a challenge, Marcello, and you don’t want to know how I answer those.”
“He owed us a favor.”
“Us as in—”
“My family—the Marcellos. What else do you need to take back so they’ll let me cash that in, and fuck off while I do it, huh?”
Right to the point.
Alessio would have appreciated that on another day, or about any other topic except his lover. When it came to Corrado, he couldn’t appreciate anything that might put him in danger that would take him from Alessio.
Not that Andino knew that.
“Details,” Alessio said, “that’s what we want, just to make sure it’s not something that will overlap with the rest of our business. I’m sure you understand that could be dangerous for him, and for the rest of us at The League.”
“Right,” Andino drawled, “well, there isn’t much to tell, and if he keeps anyone in New York that would know who Ginevra Calabrese is away from her, then none of us will have to worry about any trouble coming his way. Certainly not The League, regardless of what happens. They arranged my marriage to Ginevra but as I didn’t plan on following through, she needed to go away for a while—hence, Corrado watching her. I doubt anyone in Canada knows that woman I sent him off with. Most people here didn’t know who she was, and her face is a dime a dozen in New York. Canada doesn’t mix very much business with the Marcellos, so I assume she is essentiall
y a ghost there with him. Something pretty on his arm, I would say.”
Alessio blinked.
What?
“Excuse me?” he asked, his voice a murmur.
Andino arched a brow. “Did I not speak slow enough for you?”
“He’s looking after ... a woman.”
It wasn’t even a question.
Just ... a statement.
Why wouldn’t Corrado tell him that?
They had rules for a reason—those rules between them kept the men honest, and their relationship open and safe. Telling each other everything was more than just showing their trust but offering their loyalty.
It didn’t make sense that Corrado wouldn’t explain that detail. He could have simply said there was a woman with him, and at the same time, keep the rest from Alessio if it might mess with this favor he owed to Andino.
Except he didn’t.
He kept her a secret.
Why?
How long would Corrado keep that information from Alessio?
How long would he lie?
Alessio wet the corner of his lip with his tongue. “Ginevra, you said?”
“That’s her. If you wouldn’t mind, I need that info kept quiet because she needs to stay out of sight for the time being. We have a situation here in New York, a little war, nothing big ... and I would prefer if she wasn’t brought back before I kill her useless brothers, and all.”
“That seems like a strong reaction to an almost marriage.”
“No, strong would have been blowing up the church with everyone inside when they thought they could marry me to her without giving me a choice. That’s a strong reaction. Instead, I figured out another way. And all I have gotten for it is grief, and since I don’t know who the fuck you are, or why you give a shit, I won’t be taking any of that grief from you for it, too.”
“Huh.”
Andino nodded at the door and lifted his hand to gesture along with it. “And if that’s all, you can get the fuck out. Do be sure to leave Pink alone on your way out—I can’t stand his attitude when someone pisses him off.”
Right.
Sure.
The last thing Alessio gave a fuck about right now was Andino’s enforcer. He had other things to consider, now.
22.
Ginevra
Thwack.
Ginevra’s eyes flew wide open at the loud sound. It came again less than three seconds later, letting her know that no, she was not dreaming, and someone was making way too much noise at ... she rolled over in the bed, and blinked at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand.
Five-thirty?
In the morning?
What the fuck was wrong with people?
Thwack.
Ginevra jumped in the bed at the noise again. What even was that, and why? Why at five-thirty in the morning was someone—probably Corrado—doing it?
She wasn’t lazy. In fact, she was usually the first one awake and around doing anything in this penthouse in the mornings. A month into living here, and she had quickly learned that, if he could help it, Corrado didn’t roll his ass out of bed before nine. She was usually up around seven, and ready entirely for the day, including breakfast, before he even stepped out of his room.
So, what changed?
Ginevra didn’t know, but she sure as hell planned to find out. If that meant going down the hall where that noise was coming from to tell him to knock it the hell off, then that’s exactly what it meant.
Who said she was pleasant in the mornings?
She wasn’t.
That’s why she woke up earlier than everyone else, so she could get over her shitty morning mood, and be her usual sweet self by the time she had to even think about looking at another person. Seemed simple, right?
So, why was Corrado making it hard right now?
Huffing, Ginevra climbed out of the bed, ignoring the cold hardwood floors pressing against her naked feet as she padded out of the bedroom. She didn’t bother to close her door at night because from the time she was a little girl, she’d been terrified that something in her room would magically appear, and it would be the closed door that stopped her from getting out.
Stupid and silly, sure.
But it carried into her adulthood, too. Not so much the fear, but rather, the habit of sleeping with the door wide open just in case she needed to get out quickly.
Bleary-eyed, she rubbed the back of her hand against her face to wipe away any remnants of sleep as she followed that damn noise. Every couple of seconds, another thwack would make her startle again, pissing her off even more.
Too early. This is way too early.
Finally, she found the noise.
Ginevra had to blink to take in the sight in front of her, and make sure it actually was what she was seeing. Other than running on the treadmill in the gym once a day or so, she really didn’t put the space to use. She was lucky that it took very little effort to keep her body healthy and fit, but she found that running was a huge stress relief.
And she ran at night.
Before bed.
It also acted like a sleeping pill.
Never in the morning, though.
Across the gym, Ginevra found the source of the noise. Corrado, turned to the side so she had a good view of his profile and the hard lines of his body in nothing but gym shorts, flicked his wrist back before he let something fly out of his hand. She only realized it was a knife when he flicked another from his opposite hand into his palm, and let it fly with nothing more than a jerk of his wrist over his shoulder.
Her gaze followed the path of the twisting, spinning knife until it embedded itself right into a wooden block at the other end of the gym about twenty feet away. Along with the other five knives that he had apparently already thrown into the middle of the target.
Nearly perfect shots every time, it seemed.
This one, though, landed a few inches to the right. Corrado tipped his head to the side, his eyes narrowing on the slightly fucked shot as he made a grunt. That disappointment flitting over his features only served to roughen his face up more.
She liked that.
A lot.
Kind of like the way she enjoyed watching the carved-from-stone lines of his body move as he prepped another knife, the last one he held, before he threw it, too. There was something about his focus, that intensity setting his lips into a hard line, as he worked that made her mouth a little dry.
And her body hot.
She’d seen him look like that before—when he thought she wasn’t looking, and he stared at her. He held that same intensity, that same fire.
Huh.
Corrado let his last knife fly, and the weapon quickly embedded itself right into the middle of the target, between two other knives. A perfect shot this time. It was the tilt of his mouth at the corners that gave away his pleasure at having gotten it right that made her realize it wasn’t just her dry mouth or hot body that loved the sight of this man.
She ignored the ache between her thighs, though. It was easier. God knew she wasn’t innocent when it came to men—she’d had fun and experimented. A part of her didn’t think Corrado would be the same at all.
One could simply tell.
All men were different.
He was certainly that.
“Say something, but don’t just stand there and stare.”
Ginevra startled at Corrado’s sudden statement, his tone surly, realizing his blazing dark gaze had turned to the side, and leveled on her. She drew in a quick breath, unsure of how to handle this man when he was in one of those moods.
They came and went, she noticed.
More so in the evenings, though.
Despite being told to stop staring, Ginevra couldn’t help but to continue. All over again, she found her gaze traveling down the length of his body, from the gym shorts hanging loosely around the hard muscles of his hips, to the way his stance didn’t move an inch from his feet being firmly planted at shoulder width apart.
&nbs
p; Like he’d been taught that.
Corrado made a sexy noise, although whether or not that was his intention, Ginevra didn’t know. Part of her felt like she was constantly walking on egg shells around this man. Electricity followed them day in and fucking day out. The closer they became, the more it snapped all around them.
His gaze followed her.
Her attention focused in on him.
It never ended.
She simply didn’t know what—or how—to do anything with it. If he was interested in her, and she was clearly interested in him, then why hadn’t he done something about it? That’s what she wanted to do.
Instead, she was waiting on him.
Ginevra was just about done waiting. If she was going to be stuck here in Toronto with this man until God knew when, then why couldn’t she have a little bit of fun while she was at it? Besides, it wasn’t just the attraction. No, it was more than that.
Something about Corrado danced like a flame.
She was the stupid moth coming a little too close.
What would happen when they met?
Something amazing, she bet.
“I think you like my staring,” she replied.
Corrado’s tongue peeked out to wet the corner of his mouth, showing off rows of white teeth that made her wonder what it would feel like if he used those teeth on her. Okay, wow. She went there quick.
Yeah.
“You don’t know that I like anything you do, actually,” he returned.
No, because he was very careful about that. Quick to put distance between them. Fast to give her space when he thought the two of them were getting too close. He always made sure that they never got too deep when they talked. Not since that morning in the kitchen.
She didn’t like it.
“Right now, I know,” she said.
Corrado arched an eyebrow in challenge. “Oh, tell me how, then.”
“I don’t think you want me to.”
A laugh answered that back. And God, he sounded and looked so fucking good doing it, too. Except in her distraction at enjoying the sight of him carefree and sexy, she didn’t realize he’d crossed the gym floor and came to stand in front of her until he was right there.
