Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(23)
I took in her black yoga pants and loose white cropped top that had wreaked havoc on my senses since the minute I found her curled up on my sofa. It’d been damn hard to ignore the game of peak-a-boo her shirt played with her belly button while we were talking. “Anything you want.”
“That’s helpful.”
“It’s the truth. You look good in everything.” I paused, enjoying the way a pink blush spread up her pale cheeks. “I’d probably avoid sweats, swimwear, and ball gowns just to be safe.”
“Ugh. You’re such a jerk.”
She punched my shoulder, and I laughed. I f*cking laughed, and not the hollow laughter elicited by a dumb joke. It was the kind you felt deep in the pit of your gut. What was this woman doing to me? Where had the hard-as-nails Gian gone? I’d been an immovable brick with singular focus since my dad introduced me to dark side of Trassato family at age thirteen. All that changed the moment I laid eyes on Evangeline. I’d caved and caved and then caved some more.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Evangeline
As the sun slipped below the horizon, Gian and I climbed the front steps of his childhood home. A two-story brick house with a black lacquered door loomed in front of us. The more I tried to convince myself meeting his family and representing we were engaged meant nothing, the more slippery the thought became.
I backpedaled a few steps, intuitively sensing if I breached the threshold of the Trassatos’ home, there was no going back.
Gian wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Do your best to look excited, make small talk, and we’ll be free to leave in two or three hours.”
I rubbed my lips together, probably hopelessly smearing my peach-hued lipstick. “That’s a long time to act like we’re madly in love and engaged.”
He pressed the doorbell. “We’re not on a stage or anything. There will be plenty going on other than the two of us. Use those acting skills Carmela raved about, and it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Acting seemed like a cakewalk in comparison. Nobody got hurt. I wasn’t lying; I was working. Telling a story. Sharing my love of the theater with the world. Right now, I was about to strut into someone’s home and lie to everyone, including my best friend. The thought made my stomach flip. I didn’t like lying, and I didn’t like playing games. Yet somehow, I had managed to put myself in a situation that necessitated doing both.
“I thought you’d never show up,” said a dark-haired woman with eyes so similar to Gian’s I knew she had to be his mother. She wore an elegant light blue suit that did little to tame her abundant curves that wavered somewhere between sultry and matronly.
“Mom, you said to be here at five.” Gian glanced at his wristwatch. “And it’s five.”
“Hmm. I thought I said four-thirty. Everyone is already here. How’s my bambino?” She pulled him into a one-armed hug and kissed both of his cheeks, leaving smudges of red.
Gian mumbled something under his breath that I couldn’t understand.
“And you must be Evangeline. I’m Helena.” She took both of my hands, her eyes crinkling at the corners, a broad smile on her face. “Look at that hair, your dimples, and that skin…it’s so pale. No wonder Gianluca is so taken with you. You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I grinned so hard I thought my cheeks would crack. For some stupid reason, I imagined the action would somehow magically tame the disquiet circling in my gut like a swarm of bees. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”
She nodded and clasped her hands in front of her chest. “I’ll have to show her how to cook your favorites. I’m sure she doesn’t know how to make to real Italian food. She’ll probably open a jar of canned sauce and pour it over plastic noodles.”
My mouth hinged open, and Gian slotted his fingers through mine. Granted, I didn’t cook much. Raw vegetables and canned soup were what I lived off when I moved to New York, which meant I only needed a refrigerator and a microwave to stay alive. My eating habits hadn’t changed when I moved in with Kevin either. He worked late most nights, and when he came home at a normal hour, we went out to eat or ordered delivery. Gian’s mom would probably freak if she knew how limited my skills really were.
“I don’t know, Mom.” He pulled me inside the house, his mouth tight. “Evangeline is really busy for the next month with her job. Maybe after things slow down.”
Helena nodded. “Of course, of course. After the wedding, things will probably calm down. She’ll have plenty of time then. I’m sure you’ll both want to start having babies real soon.”
My stomach knotted. I didn’t know how to respond. I never thought about having kids. I’d spent most of my life singularly focused on my career. When I got hurt, I threw everything I had into planning a wedding I didn’t care about. At the time, I would never have admitted it, but I didn’t think I would’ve made it down the aisle with my ex even if I hadn’t barged in on him and his current protégé in flagrante delicto.
“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see. That’s a long way down the road,” Gian answered, his voice as deflated as I felt.
A two-story foyer with a sweeping staircase greeted us. Laughter, shouting, and the hum of steady conversation echoed off the white and black marbled floor. Shit. This was a full-blown party, not an intimate gathering of a few family members. My insides quivered like jelly, and I stopped walking.