Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(12)

“You’re lying.”

I stared at the floor so he couldn’t see my eyes. “You don’t know that.”

His frame curved over mine, his dark eyes imprisoning me, and my shoulders slumped. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my earlobe. I squeezed my eyes, hating the equal measures of lust and terror whirling inside my gut like a tornado. “But I can’t promise my associates won’t unless you play along right now.”

Tears swelled in the corners of my eyes. “How? What do you want me to do?”

His thumb brushed over my lower lip, and I struggled to take a breath. “You can start by painting a smile on your face and acting like you’re not afraid of me.”

Every instinct told me to fight. My mind circled through a dozen or more escape plans, all with equally horrific endings. “How do I know I can trust you?” I said softly.

“You don’t have a choice. You don’t have any bargaining power right now.”

“I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Carmela. Let me go, and we’ll never see each other again.”

His mouth flattened. “No.”

The pads of his fingers brushed over my nipples, and pleasure zigzagged through my nerve endings. Damn my body.

“I hate you,” I whispered, glaring daggers at him.

“Get over it.” A click sounded behind us.

“Put down the f*cking gun, Tony. You’re not killing my fiancée tonight,” Gian said.

My eyes widened, and he captured my ear between his teeth. “Follow my lead.” He spun around and enveloped me in a one-armed embrace.

Gian’s friend silently inspected me like a wad of gum on the bottom of his shoe. “This chick is really your fiancée?”

“Yes. Why the f*ck would I lie?”

Whistling, the man slipped his gun back inside his jacket. “Fuck, Gian. When the hell did this happen? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Evangeline is a friend of Carmela’s.” Gian smirked. “You know how she is. She’d kick my ass if she thought I came within a mile of any of her friends.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. Carmela is a firecracker.” With a smoky chuckle, he held out his hand. “I’m Tony.”

I didn’t make a move to shake his hand—then, Gian squeezed my shoulder and gave me a minute shake of his head. I caved.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, my voice as weak as my handshake.

“What the f*ck is going on?” a man shouted behind us. “Who the hell is she?”

The man who propped open the door charged down the hall with his gun drawn. Gian shoved me behind him.

“Carlo,” Gian said through clenched teeth. “Don’t point a gun at my fiancée.”

Carlo’s eyebrows snapped together. “Why is she back here?”

“The door was propped open,” I muttered.

“You left the door open?” Gian’s body vibrated with barely restrained rage.

Carlo shrugged, his heated stare roving down to my thighs and back up. “I didn’t think anyone would be dumb enough to sneak inside.”

“Exactly,” Gian countered, his voice icy. “You didn’t think. Carlo, help Tony and Sal wrap up the body, and get it out of here. I have shit to do.”

“We’re ready to go, and Sal cleaned up your office,” Tony answered.

“Call me when it’s done.” Gian guided me into his office. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the sofa.

I plopped down and buried my head in my hands. “What do we do now?”

“We go to Carmela’s house and pack your bags. You’re moving in with me.”

I lifted my head. “No f*cking way. I don’t know you, and based on what I witnessed a few minutes ago, I don’t want to know you.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He twisted my hair around his finger and I shivered. “Until I know I can trust you, and I can convince everyone else to trust you, you’re going to be living with me as my fiancée. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

Sweetheart? What decade is this? And why do I like him calling me that? What is wrong with me?

I wouldn’t call myself a feminist or anything. I liked a man who opened an occasional door for me and picked up the tab after a nice meal. Lord knew, I wished Kevin had done more of those things when we were together rather than acting like a self-absorbed *.

I lowered my lashes and tugged on the hem of my skirt. My nerves were fraught, and I couldn’t speak, so I stared unblinking for a prolonged beat. “How does pretending I’m your fiancée do anything?”

“That’s the way things work in my world. As long as you’re my fiancée, no one will touch you. When things calm down, we can both get back to our lives, and this will all be forgotten.”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying. “I don’t get it. Why are you doing this? Why do you care what happens to me?”

Exhaling, he scrubbed his hand down his face. His eyes darkened like a storm was brewing inside of him, but the emotion disappeared nearly as quickly as it materialized. “Because you’re important to my sister.”

I picked at tiny threads in my skirt, trying to comprehend everything that had happened. “What are we going to tell Carmela?”