by J. L. Drake
Unlike the place where I lived with Kevin, Gian’s three-story brownstone hadn’t been chopped up into multiple residences. The main floor consisted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, study, and a powder room. The second floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom. The third floor was one large master suite inhabited by Gian, or at least, that was what he told me during my five-minute tour the night I moved into his house. I’d never seen it. He also had a coveted two-car garage on the garden level.
Five monster steps on the striated porcelain tile and I stood in front of the double-hung window. I pried it open, climbed onto the top of the toilet, and stuck one boot-clad foot out the window and then the other. I dangled from the sill for a moment, the pulse in my neck pumping hard, the suede toes of my boots scraping against the weatherworn brick. I closed my eyes, counted to three, and uncurled my fingers. Three feet felt like ten as I whooshed through the air, landing ungracefully on the bluestone patio. A lightning fast jab shot up my weak ankle.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered.
I scrambled to my feet. The wind howled in my ears, and my hair lashed the sides of my face. A red candy bar wrapper tumbled over the tips of my shoes. I scanned the shadows, searching for any witnesses, and listening for footsteps or voices. I didn’t see or hear anyone.
With my back pressed to the building, I crept around the corner, my hair snagging on the roughened brick. The second I reached the tree-lined street, I took off in a full-blown sprint.
One block.
My ankle burned.
Two blocks.
The narrow buildings blurred into a kaleidoscope of brick, surprised faces, and gleaming yellow lights. I collided with elbows, shoulders, purses, and chests, not bothering to make any apologies. I just kept running. Needing space. Needing freedom.
Three blocks.
My feet pounded on a metal sidewalk cellar door, and mini-booms echoed through my ears.
Four blocks.
My lungs burned like I’d swallowed a mouthful of lava. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so out of shape. For as long as I could remember, I spent every waking hour dancing. A year of doing nothing had changed me into a wind-sucking weakling.
Five blocks.
My purse pounded against my back.
Six blocks.
I couldn’t take another step.
I paused, my chest heaving like a faulty life vest with a gaping hole. Screw this. I ripped the phone from the side pocket inside my purse, pulled up my Uber app, and summoned the first available car. In less than a minute, a black town car pulled up to the curb, and I slid inside. My damp shirt mimicked Velcro when I settled into leather back seat.
“Where to?” the driver asked, lowering the volume of his radio.
“Um…” In truth, I didn’t have anywhere to go. Carmela, who’d been my only outlet for escape and commiseration for over year, was no longer an option.
My two conversations with her had been strained. While she hadn’t said or done anything blatantly hurtful, she’d acted distant. Without her, I didn’t have anyone. I had no intention of calling my mother. I refused to sit through another hour of my life listening to her chastise me for making bad decisions. She made it clear she thought I should have moved home after I broke off my engagement with Kevin, and in retrospect, I couldn’t disagree.
The driver swiveled in his seat, his left hand tapping an imaginary beat on the steering wheel. “Well? Where do you want to go?”
I rubbed my temples, my mind wildly grasping for any plausible destination. “What’s the nearest hotel?”
“I don’t know.” His nearly black eyes narrowed, and then he nodded. “I think there’s a Marriott near the Brooklyn Bridge.”
I leaned forward, a small burst of excitement rushing through me. “Perfect. Take me there.”
“You got it.”
Rubbing the frayed hem of my shirt, I stared at the parade of people, all faceless and nameless. A few stared at their phones, some chatted with their companions, and others walked with purpose as though their whole life depended on them making it to their destination.
Meanwhile, I sat in frozen horror while my actions caught up with me. Gian wasn’t Kevin. He wouldn’t accept my defiance with nothing more than a few well-aimed barbs calculated to trash my self-esteem. The dead guy on the floor of his office said enough about his capacity for violence to have me regretting my impulsive actions.
Gian, for some unknown reason, had decided to protect me when he should have put a bullet in my head and dumped me in the nearest body of water. My finger hovered over my phone as I considered calling Carmela for the hundredth time in the past week to spill the truth. I didn’t know if she could protect me from her brother—though, if anyone could, it’d be her. Then again, maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did. She couldn’t have grown up with Gian and remained blind to the reality of who he really was. Who her family really was.
The driver cleared his throat. “We’re here.”
“Right.” Nodding absently, I opened the door. The brisk wind whipped around me, transforming my shirt into a billowing sail. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
I jogged into the two-story lobby and stepped onto the escalator, my heart still beating erratically from both my run and the fear building inside of my chest with every additional inch of distance between Gian’s home and me.
Standing in front of the honey-colored wood check-in desk I typed a text to Gian.
I’m fine. I needed some space. I’ll be back in a few days.
My shaky index finger hovered over the send button, debating the pros and cons of contacting Gian. A woman interrupted my musings, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket without sending the text.
“Can I help you?” she asked, a practiced look of interest on her face.
“Yes.” I dug my driver’s license and credit card out of my wallet and slid them across the speckled solid countertop. “I need a room. Only for a night or two. Anything will work. It’s just me.”
“Let me see,” she answered, her hands flying over the keyboard. A minute later, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “We have a standard room or a suite. Do you have a preference?”
I tapped my chipped pale pink fingernails on the counter and blew out a strangled breath. “The standard room will work fine.”
I pulled out my phone and deleted the unsent text. Gian could wait.
CHAPTER TEN
Gian
“What the fuck do you mean ‘she’s gone’?” I growled, my impatience multiplying with every passing second.
Tony interlaced his fingers and inverted them, the cracking noise booming in the tight hallway of my house. “I don’t know, G. She told me she wanted to go out. Then she got mad that I was going with her, and she went to the bathroom. When she didn’t come out after twenty minutes, I knocked on the door. She didn’t answer, and I kicked it open.” He lifted and dropped one of his gorilla shoulders. “She was gone.”
“Obviously.” I glared at the still open window, the white shade flapping in the breeze. “What time did she go into the bathroom?”
“Around 9:30.”
I glanced at my watch. “That was an hour ago. She could be anywhere by now.”
He frowned. “She’s your fiancée. What’s the big fucking deal? She’ll be back. I think she’s got her panties in a bunch because you’ve been ignoring her.”
I clenched my teeth. “I’m not ignoring her. I’ve been busy. We have a lot of shit going on right now no thanks to you and your trigger happy finger.”
Dominick had lost his mind when Tommy Calvo turned up dead. As I suspected, the whole thing fell on my head despite the fact Tony had pulled the trigger. Of course, Carlo had been whispering in Dominick’s ear for the past three days, feeding him a pile of half-truths meant to take me down a notch.
He smirked. “Yeah, I’ve heard exactly how busy you’ve been with that new bartender at the club. Carlo told me she’s been glued to your dick for day
s.”
I rolled my shoulders, tamping down my anger. Tony needed to back the hell off. “I’m training her.”
“Right,” he scoffed, waggling his eyebrows like a circus clown. “Training her to suck your dick. I heard you took her back to—”
Hooking my fingers into the collar of his shirt, I yanked him closer to me. “What I do or don’t do is none of your business.” I pulled him fractionally closer to me, my nose not quite touching his. “Got it?”
I hadn’t done much of anything with the new bartender, Angela, and not for a lack of trying. She was exactly my type before I met Evangeline. Long blondish hair, curvy as sin, and a bubbly personality that promised straightforward, uncomplicated fun. I even dug the way her cute ass swayed from side to side when she strutted around the bar.
However, every time I tried to seal the deal, I couldn’t do it. My fucking fake fiancée popped in my head, and guilt twisted in my gut. I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to, and I didn’t—especially not to Tony.
Three nights ago, I invited Angela up to the apartment above the club for a drink. After a taking a few shots, she peeled off her dress and sprawled out the kitchen table. On autopilot, I wrapped her legs around my waist and crashed my lips against hers. And all I could think about was Evie.
It stopped me in my tracks for few seconds. Once I mentally shoved her image away, I spent two minutes groping, touching, and all around pretending, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel a thing. Not even a micro-twitch in my dick.
She tasted wrong. She smelled wrong. Her rock-hard hairsprayed hair felt wrong. Everything about her was wrong because she wasn’t Evie—the one woman who would never be mine. Disgusted with her and myself, I asked her to leave, and I’d been avoiding her like a communicable disease ever since.
Without question, the whole thing was stupid, and I hadn’t been thinking clearly. If word trickled back to Carmela that I touched Angela, no matter how fleeting, she’d likely rip my dick off.
The night in my office with Evie haunted me. Her scent. Her strawberry hair that looked like flames when the light hit it. Her long, toned legs. Her pouty lips.
And so much more.
All of it made me desperate to get Evie out of my head. Allowing our relationship to become intimate would be a huge misstep. I had been dodging my parents’ calls for days. They heard I was in a serious relationship, and my mom was over the moon. Generally, she never expressed much interest in my love life, which meant this thing with Evie could quickly spiral out of control, and I’d find myself exchanging vows with a woman I didn’t know anything about solely to keep my parents happy.
Tony raised his hand in surrender. “I’m not passing judgment. You can do whatever you want. I don’t understand why you’re so set on marrying this chick when you’re still playing the field.”
Feeling deflated, I shoved him away from me. “Yeah, well, I have my reasons.”
He looped his thumbs over his leather black belt with a shiny gold buckle. “I gotta admit your relationship doesn’t make sense. You’re still young, and it’s not like your old man is pushing you to get married.” He paused. “Or is he? I heard his treatment isn’t going well.”
I swallowed over the boulder-sized lump in my throat. My dad looked worse every day. He’d lost too much weight, and he spent most of his time in bed. While he claimed it was the chemo, I knew he didn’t have much time left.
I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “My dad doesn’t have anything to do with it. He’s got enough on his plate without worrying about my love life.”
“Yeah, I know.” He glanced to the side and cleared his throat. “I walked the block, and I didn’t see any trace of her.”
“Did you track her phone?”
He blinked. “Her phone?”
What an idiot. “Remember I installed that cell phone tracking app on her phone? As long as she doesn’t shut it off, we can tell where she is.”
He ruffled his hand through his hair. “I didn’t pay attention when you were explaining it. I didn’t get why you’d need to keep tabs on your fiancée. Most women don’t try to evade their soon-to-be husband.”
“Yeah, well, Evangeline isn’t most women, ya’ know?” I mumbled, padding down the hall to the study.
He snickered. “I see that now.”
I logged onto my laptop and pulled up the tracking program. A few taps on the keyboard and I had an address. I typed it into Google.
“She’s at the Marriott.” I pulled my car keys from my pocket. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
“What are you going to do? Break into her room and demand she comes back here with you?”
I shrugged. “If I have to.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “What’s really going on with this chick? You’ve barely given her a second thought all week. She looks like she sucked on a lemon every time I mention your name. You don’t sleep in the same bedroom. And now, she jumps out of the window and flees in the middle of the night. That’s not normal behavior for a couple in love.” He angled his head to the side. “Hell, that’s not normal behavior for a couple in like.”
“It’s complicated.” I scrubbed my hand down the side of my face, inhaling a deep breath through my nose, frustration coursing through me. Evie’s actions made it difficult to keep her safe. Tony’s suspicion didn’t bode well for my charade to keep Evie out of harm’s way. It was only a matter of time before everything blew up in my face.
“Complicated, how?”
My mind raced for a simple explanation for the treacherous game we were playing. The temptation to tell the truth weighed heavy in my thoughts. The minute I opened my mouth to confide in Tony, I stopped. If my father taught me anything over the years, it was that I couldn’t trust anyone, especially with my words and thoughts. According to him, they could become my worst enemy, and right now, I understood exactly what he meant. I made my bed, and I needed to keep my mouth shut and stay the course.
If I confessed to lying about my relationship with Evie, Dominick would lose it. Except now Evie wouldn’t be the only one with her ass on the line. Dominick would consider my lie a betrayal of the family, and in a matter of days, we’d both find ourselves on the Trassato hit list. My position, my dad, Dominick being my uncle—none of it would matter.
“We got in a fight. There’s nothing to tell.”
“A fight about what?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. Since when do I have to answer to you?” I opened the front door. “Fatt’ i cazzi tuoi. Now get out of here. I don’t need you anymore tonight.”
His dark brows snapped together. “I thought you still needed to take care of some stuff at the club.”
“Yeah, well, plans change.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “In fact, it’s the weekend. Go do whatever you need to do for a couple of days. I need some time alone with Evie.”
“Well, you watch yourself, got it? We don’t need any trouble with Carlo breathing down our necks.” He jerked up his chin and slapped my shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything, eh?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Evangeline
My eyes fluttered open, and I blinked a few times, struggling to adjust to the inky darkness of the room. After checking into the hotel, I stripped off my shoes and my jeans and climbed into the bed in a long-sleeve shirt. Worrying had kept me from sleeping soundly for days, so it didn’t surprise me when I feel asleep almost immediately.
I glanced at the clock.
12:58 a.m. and I was fully awake.
Sighing, I moved to switch on the lamp on the nightstand. Mid-reach, the shadows shifted, and I realized what had woken me. A man stood at the side of my bed.
My heart banged against my ribcage with enough force that I was surprised I didn’t hear a bone crack. A scream burst from my lips, but like lightning, a hand covered my mouth. I dug my fingernails into the man’s hands, thrashing, my hair curtaining my face.
“Jesus, Evie. Relax. It’s me.”
I froze, and my vision focused on the man looming over me, his features hidden in the shadows.
“Gian?” I whispered when he lifted his hand. “What are you doing here?”
He flipped on the light next to the bed. “What do you think I’m doing here?” he asked, his quiet response laced with enough displeasure to make my stomach to flip over.
I scrambled to sit up, my back pressed against the wooden headboard, clutching the starched white sheet to my chest. “I…I…” I swallowed over the emotion stuck in my throat. “I don’t know.”
Pacing along the side of the bed, he pointed his finger at me, his eyes heavy-lidded. “You think I should ignore the fact that my fiancée climbed out of my bathroom window and checked into a hotel across town? You think I should go on with my life and pretend you didn’t make me into some fucking joke and put both of us in danger with your half-assed plan to escape? You think that’s reasonable? You think that sounds like something I would do?”
I curled my fingers a little tighter around the sheet. “Fake fiancée,” I said through gritted teeth.
He halted. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.” I tossed the sheet off my legs and jumped out of the bed. I wouldn’t get anywhere, cowering under the covers like a frightened child. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I planted my palm against the center of his chest, ignoring the wall of muscles underneath the pads of my fingers. “Nothing I do is your business. Not where I go. Not who I talk to. Hell, if I wanted to go out and fuck strangers at the bar night after night, you couldn’t say a damn thing because we have a fake relationship. You get that? Fake. Let me spell it for you in case you didn’t catch what I said: F. A. K. E.”
His hand clamped around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. I could see every tiny fleck of green and gold in his volatile eyes. “You’re wrong. As long as you’re under my protection, you will do everything I tell you. If I say jump, you jump. If I ask you to demonstrate a pirouette or whatever the hell you dancers do, you’ll do ten. And if you so much as look at another—”
