by Bethany-Kris
“I want to—”
Gian’s hand landed where the curve of Cara’s ass met her thigh, and it fucking stung. But that quick bloom of heat quickly melted into something delicious as he rubbed the same spot. “I’m aware, but you can wait.”
“Why?”
And why was she so damn whiney?
“Because I like how you sound when you’re like this, and you deserve it after what you did to my book.” His fingertips danced up her spine before tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck with a firm tug, pulling her head higher. “Just feel me for a bit, Cara. Christ, all I can feel is you.”
It was the dip in his tone, the way it roughened and edged, that made Cara shiver. She knew he liked that—enjoyed seeing it—and so she didn’t even try to hide it.
His thrusts came deep, but slow, at first. Measured with every flex, and quick on the pull, like he wanted to dive right back in again. Each one brought her higher, right back to the peak of bliss where he’d stop, tease her with his hands and his words, and then start all over again.
And then his thrusts came harder, faster, and even deeper. He tossed his phone to the pillows, so he had another hand free. Cara’s gaze caught sight of the video playing on the screen of the device, her senses caught between watching and feeling. His fingertips dug into her ass, pulling her back with every flex of his hips. The trembling in her legs had spread to every other part of her fucking body, and she couldn’t breathe again, not when all she could think about was release, and when she could finally get it.
Gian’s hand slid from her hair to her throat, his fingers curving around the delicate line there as he pulled her up from the bed. Her back fitted against his chest as his fingers tightened, and there it was … enough pressure on her throat to make her impending orgasm continue on for what felt like forever.
That little trick of his made her crazy.
“Now you can come,” she heard him say, his words a husky murmur in her ear. “And then you can beg me for another and another, Cara.”
She would.
He was a drug to her system.
And she did beg for him to tease her and fuck her all over again—again and again and again.
Gian had moved the chaise in the sitting room to the old windows that could be opened. Despite the time of year, a warm breeze came in from the windows. Cara found it was a nice place to sit, with her feet propped up in on the windowsill, and her head tucked against Gian’s chest.
“So, a therapist, huh?” he asked above her.
She shrugged. “That’s the goal. I want to have a main focus, though. Addiction. Recovery. Maybe some child-work.”
“Is that because you feel you owe something for your raising, or because it’s something you want to personally do?”
“A bit of both.”
“As long as you know,” he murmured. “When you do something because you feel you owe it, or you have to, you’ll never be as satisfied as you want to be.”
Gian’s fingers roved through her hair as they chatted.
“I know you wanted a break from … everything that happened,” Cara started to say.
“I did, yes.”
“But you can’t only talk about me, Gian. It’s not fair.”
He laughed, rocking them both on the chaise. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”
“Well, anything.”
“Like what?”
“Your grandfather, maybe. You seemed like you were close, especially if you needed to take a break after burying him. That sounds like someone who needed to get away from their feelings.”
Gian cleared his throat. “Interesting way to put it.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No. You’re very right, actually.” He sighed, shifting beneath her a bit. “I don’t have time to grieve, in a way, because there’s much more happening, now that he’s gone. And that feels terribly shitty of me, that my focus can’t be on a man who practically raised me for a bit, because responsibility and duty wait on no one.”
Cara frowned. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Believe it or not, but this break, is not entirely a break. I’ve thought a lot more about my grandfather this weekend than I would have been able to, had I stayed in Toronto. Less bullshit—less noise in my head and from other people.”
“I get that.”
“Now, your turn,” he said.
“For what?”
“A question that isn’t entirely safe.”
Cara stiffened. “Depends on what it is.”
“Too bad—I answered yours.” His hand landed on her bare hip under the afghan blanket, holding firm as if to keep her there. “Tell me about your sister. Not the kinds of things you tell other people. How you’re feeling. Certainly, not something to placate me. I’ll know if you do, bella donna. I am not a dumb man.”
No, he certainly wasn’t.
Cara barely had to think about her response, though. “She was not like me. Lea was the complete opposite of me. And maybe, sometimes, that left me feeling a bit left out when she could so easily fit in and I couldn’t, but I always had her, regardless. It took me a bit to realize after she had died that I depended on her for a lot more than being my sister and roommate. I didn’t know how to be Cara without Lea.”
“Oh?”
“I’m still not sure that I know.”
Gian’s lips pressed to the top of her head. “I only know you—what you let me know, of course—and I think you do Cara very well.”
She smiled. “I think you would have liked Lea, though.”
“I like you, love. And that’s the important bit.”
“Is it?”
“Sure.”
Cara fell silent, lost in the sensations of Gian stroking her skin under the blanket and the comfortable breeze coming in through the window. She hadn’t known how much she needed the quiet and a break from life and a city that never stopped moving. Sure, below them, another city was moving like the end was near, but she barely heard a thing.
It was only Gian’s speaking again that broke her from the daze.
“We should do this again soon,” he said.
“That might make it seem like we’re dating, Gian. We hooked up, ran away for the weekend, and now you’re planning the next one. I don’t get involved with your type of man—I told you that once.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
Cara bit her bottom lip. “Maybe.”
“We’re doing this again.”
It wasn’t even a suggestion that time.
“Are we?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Gian.”
He almost missed the call of his name by the familiar voice, as he started his ascent of the church steps. It was unusual for his closest enforcer—Chris—to call him by his name, as it was usually “boss” only to the man, but Gian understood why the sudden change.
Edmond clapped Gian on the shoulder as he continued climbing the church steps to a waiting Mass. When the boss was around, Gian could not be “boss” to his own men, as anyone in a higher position than him took precedence.
It hadn’t much mattered with his grandfather, but Edmond was not Corrado.
That was obvious to everyone.
“I messaged you this morning,” Gian said, turning to face the enforcer standing on the bottom step. “It’s not like you to be late, Chris.”
The barrel-chested man shrugged his wide shoulders. “Sundays are my off day—that’s what you always say, anyway. No business on Sundays. I put the phone away.”
“All right, I’ll take that.”
Only because it was true.
“You needed me for something?” Chris asked.
Gian ignored the passing people—many he recognized—as he reached for the velvet case inside his jacket pocket. Pulling the item out, he rested it on his palm. It was as long as his hand, and about as wide. “I need you to run this across town for me.”
“Seriously?”
“
Yes. I don’t make you run errands very fucking often, so don’t start complaining now.”
Chris held his hands up, a silent apology. “No worries. Where’s it going to?”
Gian didn’t answer right away, instead, opening the velvet case to check the item inside for a fifth time since he had picked it up earlier in the week. He’d wanted to give it to Cara himself. He hadn’t seen her since the weekend before, but it looked like it was going to be another couple of days before he could drag himself away from the nonsense that had become his life. He figured the gift would be a nice way to tell her to look forward to a visit, and that he hadn’t forgotten about her.
In a way …
Inside the case, a black lace, Victorian-styled choker rested on crushed velvet. A small, oval diamond hung from the middle, giving it a bit of regal beauty to go along with the classic. He’d found the item by chance, when he had gone into his jeweller’s to pick up one of his Rolexes that needed to be fixed.
There was something about the choker—and the way he thought it might look on a delicate throat—that made him purchase the item without even hesitating.
“A woman, then,” Chris assumed as he glanced down at the choker.
Gian quickly snapped the case shut. “A woman.”
“You don’t usually give gifts to women.”
He didn’t.
It wasn’t appropriate, really.
“She’s worth the step out from my usual,” Gian replied vaguely. He handed the case over, and rattled off Cara’s address. “Redhead, tall, beautiful. You won’t miss her, and you might even recognize her. You’re not to leave until this is in her hands, and you’re not to allow her to refuse it. Understood?”
Chris nodded. “Got it.”
“Tell her to text me if she wants someone to argue with about it,” Gian added with a chuckle.
He’d plugged his number into Cara’s phone the weekend before, and occasionally sent her messages throughout the week, but no actual phone call. He wondered how she would react to the gift, but he would have to settle with the aftermath.
“Go,” Gian ordered, pointing in the direction Chris had come.
“Later, boss.”
Gian didn’t correct Chris’s slip that time, but only because the steps had mostly cleared of people. No one was close enough to hear the man’s casual use of a title that technically didn’t belong to Gian.
Not wanting to be late for Mass, Gian headed inside the church, taking the steps two at a time. He’d missed it last weekend, and two in a row would never be overlooked by his devout Catholic mother.
Not to mention, Gian wanted to be seen.
Especially by the men of la famiglia.
With so many younger Capos and foot soldiers upset by the change in power—a change that Edmond had made without their input—Gian wanted to bring some sense of peace. Before any fighting within the ranks could begin, he wanted to stop it. He hoped, though he didn’t know how well it would work, that his presence alongside the new boss might keep those men closer to his own age under control of sorts.
Even if Gian didn’t entirely trust the new boss.
Gian found his usual seat in the third pew from the front of the church. He rested into the pew beside his younger brother. Domenic—though Dom to his family and friends—passed Gian a curious look.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re having Chris run gifts around for you now?”
Gian stiffened a bit in the pew. “Saw that, did you?”
“A few people did. You know, they’re talking too, right? You disappeared last weekend, but someone knew where you went, and didn’t keep it quiet. Add the gift thing to it, and the gossip will fly, Gian. You’re not the kind to stir the pot. So, Cara Rossi, is it?”
Fuck nosy people.
And those that couldn’t keep their mouths shut.
“Mind your business,” Gian told his brother.
Dom rolled his eyes upward. “Not on this, man.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, so leave it. What I do privately is my own concern, and not for you or anyone else to worry about.”
“But you took her away for a weekend.”
“So?”
“And you bought her a gift—I saw it, too, it’s not a little trinket, Gian,” his brother added quieter.
“Again, so?” Gian asked, his irritation rising.
“According to Dad, it’s one thing for you to hook-up with somebody and go your way. It’s quite another for you to be … getting cozy. It makes a statement that you might not want, or the family, if you get what I mean.”
“And Dad should mind his own business, too,” Gian said.
“Ma—”
“You know, out of everyone, I bet she’ll be the least likely to open her mouth and bitch about all of this. And do you know why? Because she knows I haven’t been happy on that side of my life in a long fucking time. You know that, too, Dom.”
Dom met Gian’s gaze, nodding once. “Yeah, I do know.”
“Then fuck off about it.”
“I don’t give a shit how it makes us look, as far as that goes,” Dom said, “but I worry about you, man. And how it might make a target out of you, given some of the rumblings and the recent changes.”
With that statement made, Dom nodded toward the new boss, an aisle over and two pews ahead of theirs. As he looked at the boss, Gian wondered how many eyes were watching him and his brother in that moment.
“Might he make a show out of you, to control those who favor you?” Dom asked.
“He’s got bigger worries,” Gian replied, “like keeping his older sheep happy and compliant. He’s not even looking at the younger men right now.”
Dom scoffed. “All he’s done is piss off a lot of made men.”
Yeah, that too.
Still …
“Don’t worry about me, or this, or my business, all right?”
Dom shrugged. “You say that like it’s easy, Gian. Grandpapa is dead—nobody’s looking out for you like he would have done, so I’m trying to. That’s all.”
“You’re not a made man yet, Dom. There isn’t a whole lot of looking out you can do at the moment.”
“I do what I can.”
That, too, was true.
Gian appreciated it.
But still … “Stop talking about all of this in church. No business on Sundays, Dom. It’s a rule.”
“But—”
“You’ll never get your button until you learn to listen more than you talk.”
Dom finally shut up.
Gian was grateful for that, too.
I got your gift, read the text message.
Gian smiled, typing back, Oh? Did you like it?
He knew what her answer would be—yes, Cara liked the choker. It wasn’t the choker itself that she probably struggled with, but the idea of accepting a gift from him. After all, it had been a whole day since Chris delivered the choker, and Gian got nothing but radio silence in return. He hadn’t been particularly surprised about that, either.
When Cara didn’t immediately reply, Gian hit dial on his phone’s screen, and put it up to his ear as he headed into the restaurant. A business he owned, liked to use as an office of sorts, and had a meeting at later with Constantino and the asshole, Stephan.
They wanted to talk about what had happened with Edmond.
Gian wanted to placate the younger Capos for a bit.
“I was replying,” Cara said as soon as she picked up Gian’s call.
“You were taking too long. Probably overthinking. As I suspect you’ve been doing for the last day, bella. It’s a necklace, one that suits your style, and I wanted to see you wear it, nothing more.”
“Gian.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re being …”
“What, charming, again?” he suggested.
Cara sighed. “I’m agreeable to casual here with you—”
Yes, because apparently casual did not mean dating to Cara Rossi.<
br />
Gian didn’t give a shit.
“And that means if I want to buy you something, I can and will. You should expect it,” Gian interrupted before Cara could say more.
He swore she muttered, “You’re fucking impossible.”
“Drop the casual bit, and you’ll see how impossible I can get,” Gian urged with a smirk.
“That doesn’t exactly make me want to jump in with both feet, Gian.”
“Liar. You know it does.”
Cara didn’t reply.
Gian didn’t need her to.
She’d already told him once …
You make it hard to say no.
“I do like the choker … a lot,” Cara finally said, softly.
“Send me a picture with it on, show me.”
“You’re serious?”
“Would you like to see some of the pictures I already have of you, Cara?”
He didn’t even need to see her face to know it was red, like her hair.
Gian laughed darkly, weaving through the restaurant and ignoring the patrons as he headed to his back office. “They’re beautiful, by the way.”
Cara made a noise under her breath. “Pretty sure that was videos.”
“I took some stills of them. I have an app.”
“Oh, my God. I have an app, he says. Like it’s not a big fucking deal or something.”
“Send me a picture,” he demanded again. “Show me how much you like it, sweetheart.”
Gian said a quick goodbye, as he had to get some work done before the guys showed up for dinner and the meet. He hated doing it to Cara, as he didn’t get to talk to her much as it were, but he didn’t have a choice.
To make up for it, as soon as he hung up the phone, he scrolled through the gallery images and videos. He hadn’t lied—the video he had took, and the subsequent stills, were beautiful. Hot, sexy, and sin.
Pure fucking sin.
Porn, at the very least to some.
Art, to him.
He’d gotten a shot of his fingers buried deep into her pussy while she was on her knees, her sex pink and wet, her arousal smeared across his hand. Another of his cock stretching her open, and a quick peek at the handprint he’d left on her thigh. Then, later in the day, he’d pulled the phone out again to catch the way his cum looked, painted down Cara’s toned stomach in white, ropey streams.
