Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)

by Bethany-Kris

  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.

  Gian was terribly careful with his phone. No one touched it but him, and not one single person knew his passcodes to get inside. He wouldn’t share the images or videos with a soul, because that wasn’t why he’d taken them.

  He took them for him.

  Because it made him hot and it got him off.

  Because he liked reliving those moments.

  Because his memory didn’t do Cara Rossi any sort of justice.

  He shot off a couple of the images, and one of the videos he’d shortened to a few seconds. All had been changed to a black and white, and he’d stripped the sound from the short clip, too.

  He really liked that app.

  Not a minute later, his phone buzzed on the desk as he were going over orders for the restaurant. Gian picked it up, gave the message a look, and laughed hard.

  Are those even me?!

  Every single one of them, he typed back.

  He’d cropped some of the images, zoomed in to keep Cara’s body and face from being entirely identifiable. But he wanted her to see what he saw, too.

  Beauty.

  Sex.

  Lust.

  The sweetest temptation that had ever crossed his path.

  She would certainly be the cause of his eventual unraveling.

  Gian didn’t think he would mind.

  That’s porn, Gian, Cara’s next message said.

  Beautiful porn, he corrected. Then, he sent another right after. I can do it again, oui?

  Cara’s reply had him grinning. Hell yes.

  He stuffed his phone away, and went back to work.

  His mind was definitely not on the orders, though.

  “They don’t see it like you’re just doing what you’re supposed to do, though, Gian,” Constantino argued. “The younger Capos—guys like us—see it like you’re standing on Edmond’s side of things, here. That you approve of what he did and how he did it.”

  Gian’s jaw clenched, his one and only show of irritation at his best friend’s statement. “You, of all people, know I don’t approve. But what exactly could I do? I was put in a position where I couldn’t do or say anything. He called the vote without telling me that’s what it was, and he made the calls on who would be there for it. There’s nothing I can do now.”

  “Not saying anything now certainly isn’t helping your fucking case, either.”

  “Don’t forget, it’s my grandfather’s legacy here, too. And I have to consider—”

  “Your last name won’t mean shit, with Edmond as the current boss,” Constantino cut in fast.

  Stephan nodded his agreement. “Everybody—especially the younger guys—knew it was going to be you next in that seat, Gian. It’s what Corrado was working towards for years, slowly getting everybody ready for a change. He’d sped it up a bit recently, because obviously, there were some issues between the generational lines, and he probably thought putting you in the seat would help smooth that over.”

  “Corrado didn’t talk about those things with me.”

  “He didn’t have to,” Constantino pointed out quietly. “It was expected. Edmond took advantage of a situation you weren’t ready for and it makes you look weak as shit.”

  Gian bristled at that comment. “Say that again, cafone.”

  Constantino scowled. “I’m only saying it now for your benefit.”

  “You weren’t ready for it because of Corrado’s death,” Stephan jumped in again. “Because someone—probably fucking Edmond—put a bullet between his eyes, or ordered it done.”

  “We don’t know that he did it,” Gian said quietly.

  But he certainly had reason to suspect the new boss.

  Every goddamn reason.

  “And they were old friends,” Gian added. “He’s given me reason to think it was him, but that’s circumstance, and nothing more. It’s not likely that he did kill my grandfather.”

  Gian absolutely planned on finding out, though.

  God save Edmond’s soul.

  “Friendships mean shit in Cosa Nostra,” Stephan muttered. “Not when power is right there in front of you, ready for the taking.”

  Gian passed Constantino a look, not ready to agree to that statement. He’d known Constantino since he was ten years old—unless he had to, unless given no other option, Gian couldn’t imagine putting a bullet in his oldest and best friend. They had too much history, too much time watching each other’s backs.

  Friendship did mean something.

  At least, to Gian.

  “You need to, at the very least, make a statement against what Edmond did to put your own image and respect back in place for the younger Capos,” Constantino said. “Don’t bite the fucking hand that feeds you, Gian, not with this. Those men would have wanted you, and every time they see you running for the boss, or standing at his side, is another day that they feel like it was you that betrayed them, not him.”

  Gian considered those words carefully. “And then what if I do, what after that? Then I have a pissed off boss to contend with, and an older generation of men who wouldn’t think twice about killing me to get me out of the way. I’m walking a very thin line here.”

  Constantino shrugged. “So, do it carefully.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one sticking the target on your own back.”

  “You sure about that, man? Because the way I see it, anyone on your side is not on theirs. And that’s a pretty big fucking target, Gian.”

  Fair enough.

  Gian headed out the back entrance of the restaurant, entering into the alley where he had parked his Lexus. After the meeting he’d had with Constantino and Stephan, Gian needed five minutes to himself. He needed to get his thoughts together and figure out whether or not the Capos’ warnings had any real merit for him to consider.

  Then, his phone buzzed.

  Gian pulled the device out of his pocket, ignoring the chill in the air. Cara’s name popped up on the screen, but the message surprised him the most. An image file, it seemed. He didn’t even hesitate in opening it, his grin growing the very second it loaded.

  Tanned skin.

  Black thigh-high stockings with lace trim at the top.

  Red curls framing delicate shoulders and naked breasts.

  And that fucking choker …

  She had taken the image in front of a mirror, from her painted-red smile down, but it was perfect. He was instantly hard and no longer giving any shits about his problems.

  Took you long enough, he texted back instantly. Then adding, But so worth the wait.

  He got a wink in response, but that wasn’t enough for Gian.

  I’m coming over, he messaged, don’t take any of that off.

  Gian didn’t even wait for Cara’s response before he grabbed the key fob from his pocket, and pointed it at his car thirty feet away. He hit the unlock button, felt his phone buzz, and then the blast came.

  Hot.

  Loud.

  Dead.

  Gian was sure he was dead.

  Except, dead people couldn’t feel pain, and he was in a hell of a lot of pain.

  I’m coming over, don’t take any of that off.

  Cara stared at Gian’s final text message, and then the one she had sent to him right after. I’m not home right now, at dinner with my aunt.

  The reason it had taken her so long to send him the picture that he wanted—as he was quick to point out when she had finally sent it—was because she was in a rush. Her aunt had called last minute to invite her over for dinner, and as much as she wanted to say no, Cara wasn’t very good at doing it.

  She’d
taken the picture for Gian before she’d thrown on a suitable black dress to match the stockings and heels. Then, she forgot to actually send it until the taxi dropped her off at her aunt’s home.

  Nonetheless, Gian hadn’t answered her reply back.

  That wasn’t like him.

  Cara didn’t actually spend a lot of time on the phone with him, as far as that went, but when she did, Gian never wasted time on replying. His texts were always an instant response to hers, never leaving her waiting.

  It left her with an odd feeling.

  Cara shot off another text when her aunt’s back was turned, asking Gian what in the hell was up. She stuffed the phone into her clutch before her aunt could see her with it when she turned back around.

  Daniele gave Cara another once-over, her gaze lingering on the very short length of the black dress. It fell high on her thighs, enough so that the lace at the top of the thigh-high stockings were visible.

  “Were you going out tonight?” her aunt asked.

  Cara shrugged. “Nope.”

  It wasn’t a total lie.

  She hadn’t expected to be leaving a bed, after all.

  “You wear outfits like that on regular nights at home?”

  “I grabbed the first black dress I saw—it was a bit short. It still worked.”

  “A bit short,” her aunt echoed.

  Cara held back the urge to roll her eyes. At twenty-five, she was not about to go explaining her attire, or the reasons for it, to anyone. And certainly not her aunt. “Anyway, what’s for supper?”

  Maybe if she got the hell out of there as soon as possible, she could salvage some of her night. With Gian, preferably. If she could get a hold of him.

  “Food,” her aunt replied with a wink. “Food you will eat and enjoy.”

  Well, that was that.

  Thirty minutes later, a rigatoni dish soaked in thick, rich sauce was shoved in front of Cara’s face. Across the table, her uncle stuffed a cloth napkin into the collar of his shirt as he waited for Daniele to give him a plate, too.

  “It’s good to see you around more,” Claud said.

  Cara wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “It’s been a rough few months.”

  “Yes, but it’s better not to wallow. When things can’t be changed, you move on. Capisce?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  She didn’t agree.

  But that was an argument for another day.

  It was only after Daniele had served her husband, and then herself, did she sit down at the other end of the long table. Her aunt said the usual dinner prayer, giving thanks and asking for a blessing from above, before they could even touch the food. It was one of the few things Cara had a hard time with—the blessing, not the actual act of praying. Even through her parents’ drunken stupors when she was younger, they never forgot to go to church, make Cara and Lea, and Tommas say their prayers at night, or ask for a blessing when her mother managed to remember to cook food.

  Maybe that was it; maybe it was that God had been the thing her parents chose to hold onto, even through their years of addiction, and not the three people they had brought into the world.

  Cara really didn’t like to think about it.

  “All right, let’s eat,” her uncle demanded.

  His booming voice brought Cara from her depressing thoughts. For once, she was grateful for Claud’s loud demeanor.

  Cara was a quarter of the way through her aunt’s pasta dish when the home’s landline started ringing. Claud waved at his wife to go pick it up, clearly not wanting to be taken away from his food. Daniele shot him a dirty look as she tossed her napkin to the table and headed for the sound of the ringing phone.

  Thirty seconds later, Daniele shouted. “Claud!”

  Cara stood from the table at the same time her uncle did. Panic had laced her aunt’s yell. She quickly followed behind her uncle, watching as Daniele passed the phone over with wide eyes and worry setting her lips into a hard frown.

  “What is it?” Cara asked her aunt.

  Daniele acted as though she hadn’t heard the question.

  Claud spoke fast—and in Italian—into the phone. As it were, Cara’s Italian was a bit too rough around the edges, and she had an even harder time keeping up when someone was speaking quickly.

  But she did manage to catch a few words she knew mixed in.

  Gian.

  Autobomba.

  Ospedale.

  The name of the hospital was repeated, too.

  Claud hung up the phone before Cara had even realized what happened. He waved a hand wildly at his wife. “My keys, get me my damn keys, donna.”

  Cara didn’t move as her aunt rushed by her. “Gian is at a hospital?”

  “What?” Claud’s gaze snapped to Cara, but just as quickly, he dropped the stare and headed for the front of the house. Cara followed right behind. “It’s none of your concern, Cara. Enjoy dinner with Daniele; keep her company for tonight.”

  No.

  She refused to relent, her heart beating hard in her chest. “Is that why he didn’t message me back earlier? A car bomb, that’s what I heard you say.”

  Claud froze as he tried to put on his jacket. “Why are you even conversing with Gian Guzzi?”

  “Because I’m a grown woman and I want to. Why won’t you answer my questions?”

  “Because I’m not required to,” her uncle growled.

  Cara straightened like a rod had been shoved up her spine, the familiar sense of being a woman in a man’s world creeping into her mind again. This was how it always was for the women in this life—told to turn cheek, shut up, and behave when it counted. She hated that the very most.

  “Let me give you a piece of advice, Cara,” Claud said, finally slipping his jacket on properly. “You’re right, it isn’t my place to tell you who you can and can’t be running around with, now that your father is dead and your brother has the say over you, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still listen when you are told. My brother—your father—would tell you the same damn thing. Stay the hell away from Gian Guzzi, before you end up in a world of trouble that you don’t want and can’t handle.”

  “Aren’t you a part of that world, too?” Cara shot back.

  “You have no idea, do you?” Claud’s eyes blazed. “Stay the hell away from the man, Cara.”

  “I want to go to the hospital.”

  “No. Not with me, anyhow.”

  Her uncle didn’t even give her a second look before he went in search of his wife and his keys. Cara had already called a cab before Claud slammed the front door on his way out.

  Fuck him.

  She would do what she wanted.

  Cara stepped out of the taxi after getting her credit card back from the driver, and stared up at the bright lights of the emergency room of one of Toronto’s largest hospitals. She tried to stay away from hospitals—and this one in particular—as it reminded her a lot of Lea. Her twin had wanted to be a general surgeon, and had been a year away from starting her residency, when she died. Another dream cut far too short.

  Letting out a slow breath, Cara shook off the unease and headed toward the emergency entrance. Her uncle had about ten minutes on her, so she assumed Claud would already be inside and doing his own thing by the time she figured out exactly where Gian was situated. Maybe he would even be gone by then, and that would be even better for her. Claud would be less likely to make a scene with others around, if he happened upon Cara.

  She didn’t even make it inside.

  “Cara?”

  Constantino stepped out of the shadows, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingertips. The cherry-red tip glowed as he came closer. “What are you doing here?”

  Why couldn’t anything be easy for her?

  “Did your dad get here already?” she asked her cousin.

  “Five minutes, or so, ago. He left right after. Now, answer me.”

  Cara tightened the belt on her tweed coat, willing away the cold. “Take a guess.”


  Constantino cocked a brow. “You probably shouldn’t be here.”

  “Someone already tried to tell me that tonight. Try something new.”

  “How did you hear about the bomb?”

  So it was a bomb.

  Cara tried not to let that word frighten her too much, but it was hard. “I overheard Claud’s phone call. Gian was supposed to come over, but I was already heading out. He hadn’t answered my message, telling him I was already gone.”

  Constantino blew out a hard breath. “Don’t go around saying that too loud.”

  “Saying what?”

  “Nothing,” her cousin muttered. “It’s been a long night. Gian’s already discharged, anyway. He’s not even here, and he’s chilling out where he can’t be bothered.”

  Cara stood firm. “I want to see him.”

  “Yeah—”

  “And why isn’t he answering his phone?”

  “Kinda got smashed on the way down to the pavement, and yeah,” Constantino said. “Why don’t you head home, and I’ll let him know you were here.”

  Nope.

  “I want to see him,” she repeated.

  Constantino scowled. “Since when did you become so fucking irritating and stubborn? Weren’t you supposed to be the quiet twin?”

  Cara couldn’t quite let those comments roll off her shoulders. “You don’t know shit about me. Don’t pretend like you do, Constantino.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Take me to Gian.”

  Her cousin shook his head. “Fine. Whatever.”

  The very moment Cara laid eyes on Gian from across the club’s floor, a swift relief coursed through her system. It was a feeling she hadn’t quite experienced before, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She hadn’t realized that from the second she heard bomb uttered alongside Gian’s name, fear had put her back in robot mode.

  She’d gone back to that black space in her mind. Things moved around her, she did what was needed, and went through the motions of life amongst the living, but Cara wasn’t really there. Not entirely. Not like she should be.

  You’re catching feelings for someone you shouldn’t, her mind taunted. And for no good fucking reason.