by J. L. Drake
She was like a cold beer on a sweltering day. I never thought I’d find myself so wrapped up in one woman, yet it was true. I didn’t want anyone else, and I was pretty damn sure my feelings wouldn’t change anytime soon, if ever.
After a long, drawn-out note, she froze in place.
I clapped my hands together, showing my appreciation. I may have confessed that musicals bored me to death, but if Evie was on stage, I was positive my opinion would do a one-eighty.
She whirled around, her hand pressed to the center of her chest. “Oh my God, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
“I missed you.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You missed me?”
“Yeah, do you have a problem with that?”
“No. I’m surprised. That’s all.”
I closed the door to the dance studio and moved through the tiny room. With every step, her dark eyes drank in my soul, and with it, every coherent thought in my brain fled.
“You’re going to nail this audition. You know that, right?”
A rose-colored blush spread up her neck to her cheeks. “You don’t know that. You hate the theater, remember?”
I trailed my hand down the side of her face. “A blind person could see how good you are.”
Frowning, she caught my hand and held it up between us. “What’s this?”
The knuckles of my right hand were red, swollen, and cracked. I shrugged. “Kevin and I had a little bit of a disagreement. He thought you were two were going to get back together, and I persuaded him otherwise.”
Her face paled. “What happened?”
“Don’t worry about it. We’re on the same page now. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“Gian…” She studied my face, her eyebrows drawn together. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing permanent. He’ll be okay in a couple of days.” I pressed my lips against hers. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Being alone with her anywhere was like lighting the fuse on a stick of dynamite. Her smell, her soft voice, her skin, they all made my self-control vanish like it had never existed in the first place.
“Then what do you want to talk about?” she mumbled against my lips.
“I don’t want to talk.” My voice sounded rough as I traced her lips with the tip of my tongue. Her body trembled against mine, and I snapped.
I attacked her mouth, drinking her in and devouring her. Our kiss was so much more than a kiss. Her fingers dove into my hair, pulling me closer, demanding more. I backed her into the mirrored wall, mapping her with my hands.
Her ass, her thighs, her breasts—nothing was off limits.
I groaned into her neck. “This little black leotard will be the death of me. It’s like a chastity belt.”
She chuckled and locked one leg around my waist, pressing her slight curves into me. I was hard and so fucking ready to explode. She made me feel like a fifteen-year-old kid groping my girlfriend under the gym bleachers.
Tugging a fistful of her hair, I pulled her head to the side. I kissed, bit, sucked, and licked every square inch of visible skin. Need and desire vibrated from her pores. I inhaled the sweet scent of her sweat, and I wanted more. I yanked on the elastic scooped neck of her top and pulled her nipple into my mouth. Goose bumps erupted on her arms, and a whimper slipped from her damp and swollen lips.
A knock on the door echoed through the room “Evangeline, your time is up. The next session starts in five minutes.”
“Talk about bad timing.” I buried my face in the curve her neck, my heart booming beneath my ribcage. It was becoming pretty damn clear I’d never get enough of Evie. She was under my skin, in my blood and well on the way to burrowing a permanent home in my heart. “Do you want to go to lunch or find a more private place to finish what we were doing?”
She pushed her hair out her eyes, a dazed look on her flushed face, her chest rising and falling. “I vote for a more private place. Do you have to go back to work soon?”
“You know what? I think I can spare enough time to do both.”
She picked up her bag. “Then what are we waiting for?”
I draped my arm around her shoulder and tugged her against my side. “Have I ever told you how much I love a girl who knows what she wants?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Evangeline
Tendrils of steam floated in the air above my soup. I lifted my spoon and blew across the deep red broth. I poured it into my mouth, and the taste of fresh tomatoes mixed with earthy vegetables exploded on my tongue.
When I came home today, Gian had surprised me with dinner. He’d set the table, complete with flickering candles and placemats. I glanced at Gian across the table. He hadn’t taken a bite of anything.
“The soup is great. Did you cook all this yourself, or did you call your mom for help?”
He lifted the glass of ruby-colored wine to his lips and took a sip. “I might or might not have had Carmela walk me through the steps over the phone.”
“Either way, I’m impressed. You didn’t have to do all this.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. I wanted to cook for you. I couldn’t stand the thought eating takeout again or, worse, eating another can of that soup you have stocked in the pantry like you’re preparing for the end of the world.” He mock shivered.
The past couple of weeks had slipped by with me in a dreamlike state. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy or hopeful. The only way it could improve would be for me to land a part in the production I was auditioning for next week.
In the last week or so, I had buried all the recurrent doubts about my relationship with Gian and convinced myself I was finally on the right path. I told myself it wasn’t too soon to feel this strongly about someone else, and nothing mattered except the way we felt about each other.
Apart from a few minor hiccups, days ran seamlessly from one to the next. I danced and danced until my feet ached, and I practiced lines from the play until I could recite them in my sleep. Even on the nights Gian worked late, he always came home in time to crawl into bed with me.
Sometimes we talked until the early hours of the morning about anything and everything. Our childhood. Dancing. Food. Our families. Our goals. Our dreams. Even though we were still in the early phases of our relationship, I honestly felt as if I knew him better than anyone in the world.
Other times, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We’d stumble to the bed or any horizontal surface, exploring, kissing, moaning, and laughing. While I knew this moment of perfection couldn’t continue indefinitely, I refused to worry about the future. I’d wasted enough of my life worrying, fretting, and planning, and nothing had worked out like I expected. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, or at least that’s what I was starting to believe.
“Hey. It’s not that terrible, and it’s organic.”
“Exactly. Organic and tasteless.”
I took a few more bites of my soup. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”
“I have to work tonight. I won’t be home until late.”
I rested my spoon against the side of my bowl. “What’s late?”
“I don’t know. Three. Maybe four in the morning.”
“Why?”
“There’s a special event at the club, and I need to be there to supervise.”
I lifted my napkin and wiped the corners of my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you from doing your job. Are you going to get in trouble?”
“No. My dad and I own the club together.” Gian tensed, and his jaw flexed. “When he got sick, I took over, and as you can imagine, the day-to-day management is not high on his list of priorities anymore.”
My stomach lurched at the mention of his dad. We’d stopped by to visit every morning before Gian dropped me off at the dance studio. I never knew what to do while Gian holed up in his dad’s room for a good hour. I tried to make myself useful by doing any dishes or starting
a load of laundry, except domestic things were never my strong suit, and I secretly wondered if his family wished I stayed away.
Admittedly, the tension between Mrs. Trasatto and me had lessened significantly since my confession, and sometimes, it seemed as if she liked me. She hugged me and kissed both of my cheeks every morning like I was really going to be her daughter-in-law someday. Like she would be happy to have me as a member of her family. An ache bloomed inside my gut, and I rubbed my breastbone, pushing away the thought.
Stay in the present.
“I’m so sorry, Gian.”
“No need to apologize.” He sucked in a deep breath, ridding himself of the sorrow visible in the tense set of his shoulders. “You’ve been wonderful to my family and me over the last few weeks. My mom can’t stop singing your praises. By the way, that’s a big deal because she’s normally pretty stingy with her compliments.”
Some of the tautness lessened in my limbs, and I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you sure about that? Because I thought she was going have a heart attack when I tried to reheat some of her marinara sauce in the microwave.”
He laughed, and his golden eyes looked like twin pools of warm honey. My cheeks heated. “She got over it quickly when she saw how perfectly you folded her laundry.”
I snorted. “I guess all those summers slaving away at the local department store weren’t in vain after all.”
He leaned over and kissed me, loitering there for a few beats. “I need to take off. Call me if you need anything. Do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t include the dishes. I’ll clean up when I get home.”
I looped my arms around his neck and inhaled his intoxicating scent. Like every time I touched him, my anxieties melted away like they never existed in the first place. Gian wanted me. I felt safe with him, both physically and mentally.
I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I wanted to be part of his life as long as he’d let me. Sure, I had tried to keep my feelings for him under wraps—though, I’m pretty sure I lost that battle before I started fighting. As treacherous as it sounded, I liked his arms around me at night. I liked the way my heart doubled in size when he flashed me one of his covert smiles. I liked nearly everything about him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Gian
I stalked the perimeter of the VIP room of my club. The only way to get in here tonight was if you had over a three-million-dollar net worth, you passed our background check, and you knew the secret password.
Tony and Sal had set up six round tables. One table was dedicated to blackjack, and the remaining five were reserved for high-stakes poker. Piles of red, blue, and white chips sat in front of every player, only because the games started less than an hour ago, and the winner and losers weren’t evident yet. Cigar smoke curled into my nose, burning my lungs. I hated the sickly sweet scent infinitely more than cigarette smoke.
I paused at one table to watch the new dealer. The cards waterfalled through his fingers, his attention remaining fixed on the players at his table. While he was damned good at his job, I still didn’t trust him. You could never be too careful. There were too many people and organizations, both criminal and legitimate, clamoring to infiltrate the Trassato family and take us down.
Angela slid into the lap of the man directly in front of me, rubbing herself against him like a cat. “You look like you need a good luck charm,” she practically purred.
Tony and Sal had staffed the event tonight, and the minute I heard her voice, I regretted my decision to delegate the details. Everything from her blonde hair and overly plump lips grated on my last fucking nerve. I couldn’t remember why I hired her in the first place. She was a gorgeous in an overly groomed way, except nothing about her appealed to me anymore. The entire week she had followed me around like a lost puppy making suggestive comments. By mid-week, I decided to fire her, but I couldn’t pull the trigger until after tonight.
“Angela,” I snapped, “let the man play his fucking game. You’re here to serve drinks, not give lap dances.”
Her red-stained lips hinged open.
“Aw, she’s not bothering me,” the nearly bald man muttered, running his hand up the inside of her bare, overly tanned thigh.
“You’re here to play poker,” I said. “Either do it or get the fuck out.”
“Fine. Fine.” He held up his hands. “I’m playing.”
I pointed at Angela then to the far corner of the room. “Follow me.”
Angela scooted off his lap, her heavily made-up eyes narrowed into slits. She huffed and stomped across the floor on her sky-high heels.
“What was that about?” she hissed.
The pungent smell of alcohol wafted across my face.
Fucking hell.
I didn’t allow my employees to drink during working hours. There was too much at stake, especially tonight.
“You’re here to serve drinks to my guests, not yourself.”
She swayed on her feet, and I knew the alcohol I smelled on her breath wasn’t the result of a few sips. I had invested a lot of money into this game. She’d fuck up the entire night if I didn’t get her out of here. She curled her pointy fingernails around the lapel of my jacket, and I wasn’t sure if she wanted my attention or if she needed help standing.
“I only want to make sure they have a good time.” She pushed out her lower lip into a practiced pout. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“Great. Serve them drinks, flirt a little, but stay the hell out of the players’ laps.”
“Wait. I know what this is about.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, a predatory smirk on her face. “You’re jealous. You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, pretending you weren’t interested, and now you can’t stand the thought of me touching another man. You still want me.”
“You’re drunk. Do me a favor. Take a thirty-minute break, drink lots of water, and don’t touch another sip of alcohol for the rest of the damn night.”
She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against my chest. “You can have me. All you have to do is say the word. It’ll be our little secret. Nobody has to know. Not Tony, not Sal. And that fiancée you keep hidden away…” She clumsily snapped her fingers a few times. “What’s her name again? I heard the guys talking about her.”
“She’s none of your business. Don’t mention her ever again,” I growled.
She pushed up onto her tiptoes, brushing her lips against my neck. A shiver of disgust rushed down my spine.
“What your fiancée doesn’t know won’t hurt her. We’ll have a good time. Do you want to go somewhere private for a do-over? You won’t regret it. I promise.”
If Angela thought I’d lay a finger on her drunk ass, she was thicker than I suspected. I gritted my teeth and the edges of my vision blurred, pulsing in time with my escalating anger.
Anger at myself for entertaining hooking up with her to get Evie out of my head. Anger at her for misreading every blatant dismissal I tossed in her direction. Anger that I didn’t fire her earlier in the week.
While I would never lay a hand on a woman, right now she was tempting me to do exactly that. “Go into my fucking office. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. We need to talk.”
Grinning like an idiot, she took a few micro-steps backward. “Right now? Are you sure you don’t want me to work?”
I flicked my wrist. “I’ll grab one of the other bartenders. You’re done for the night.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
Evangeline
“Did you get a hold of him?” Carmela’s voice echoed through the speaker of the car I’d borrowed from Gian’s garage.
“No.” I flipped on my blinker. “He’s not answering my phone calls either, but I’m pulling up in front of the club.”
Carmela heaved out a breath. “Thanks so much for doing this. I would’ve gone, but I don’t want to leave his side, and my mom needs me. I can’t leave her alone.”
I turned off the ignition and opened the ca
r door. “I understand, and you don’t have to thank me. What’s happening now?”
“He’s better now. His blood pressure is down, and he’s asking for Gian.” Her voice quivered.
I jumped out of the car, half-walking, half-jogging. “I’ll do what I can to make sure he gets there as soon as possible.”
“Call me as soon as you find him. I need to talk to him, preferably before he meets with my dad.”
“I will. See you soon.” I disconnected the call and cut directly in front of the line curving around the side the building. My head down and my hands shoved deep in the pockets of my long cotton cardigan, I ignored the groans and taunts as I approached the bouncer at the entrance.
“Hi.” I beamed. “I need to get inside to talk to my fiancé for a few minutes.”
The man folded his bulky arms across his chest, his gaze raking over my less than club worthy appearance. “Wait in the line.”
My eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”
“Andy,” he grumbled. He opened the red velvet roped and waved two people inside.
“Well, Andy. I’m Evangeline Jeffers, Gian Trassato’s fiancée, and it’s really important that I speak with him right now. Something happened to his father, Antonio Trassato, and he would want to know about it.”
He scanned through the names on his clipboard. “Sorry, you’re not on the list. I can’t bend the rules for anyone, even Mr. Trassato’s fiancée.”
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have time for this shit. Gian needed to add me to the list so I didn’t have to stand outside like the pathetic spurned fiancée.
“If you don’t trust me, you can use that walkie talkie thing clipped to the back of your belt and check. Call Gian or Tony. Either one of them will clear me to go inside.”
