Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(24)
Gian squeezed my hand. “You’ll be fine.”
“You lied,” I said, dropping my voice an octave.
He glanced at me, the ruthless determination in his eyes making them darker. Harder. “I know. I didn’t have a choice. You wouldn’t have agreed if I told you the truth, and when my mom says a few people, it could mean anywhere from two to fifty.”
I wrenched my hand out of his, my heart rate increasing with every passing second. “Gian, I’m really freaking our right now. I don’t think I can do this.”
He pushed my hair away from my face, and a shiver danced down my spine. “I won’t leave you alone. We’re a team.”
“Is it too late to feign sickness? I’m pretty sure I could enact a catastrophic fall or projectile vomit on demand or some combination thereof if I concentrated really hard.” I pointed at my four-inch putty-colored heels. “A fall would be convincing with these stupid shoes.”
“Is something wrong?” Helena whirled around, her gaze swinging between Gian and me.
“Go ahead, Mom,” Gian said. “Evangeline is nervous about meeting the whole family. You know how that goes. She’s worried about making a good impression. Give us a minute.”
“Sure.” She flashed a close-lipped smile. “Don’t be too long. Your dad is tired today. He had a bad night. I don’t think he’ll stay awake much longer.” With that parting shot, she plodded down the hall, her low nude-colored heels clicking over the tiled floors.
“What the hell, Gian?” I stabbed my finger in the center of his chest. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Relax, sweetheart. We’ve got this under control.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his black trousers, the corner of his lips twitching like I amused him. Like this whole thing amused him. “This is about doing what we have to do. I want both of us to have a long life, and that means doing whatever it takes to walk away from this without raising anyone’s hackles.”
I closed my eyes for a splintered second, fear and sadness creating a toxic brew in my gut. I sucked in a deep breath and dragged my fingers over the emerald necklace my brother gave me for my sixteenth birthday. I wore it everywhere. It reminded me of who I was and where I came from, and that I had family who cared about me no matter how far we drifted apart.
“I know. I get it.” I flung my arm toward the flurry of noise filtering from the back half of the house. “Lead the way, but do us both a favor and tell the truth next time. I don’t like being blindsided.”
“I love it when you’re reasonable, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of my head. I curled into him, inhaling his scent and running my hands up and down the tight weave of his suit jacket. His hand slid under the fall of my hair, and a thread of longing wove around me, which proved absolutely nothing except that chemistry between two people could defy logic. Or at least, that’s what I told myself.
With that thought, I shifted away from him, but I didn’t get far. His hand rounded my waist like an iron shackle, keeping me glued to him with little effort. Heat crackled from the roughened pads of his fingers, and the skin beneath my thin silk dress tingled, rendering my clothing nearly worthless.
The minute we entered the great room, loud applause mixed with a few whistles thundered through the air. I relied on my acting skills and channeled the feelings I’d be experiencing if this moment were real.
Carmela kissed Gian and then me. She was the first of a long line of people congratulating us with hugs and kisses—so many kisses, my cheeks were probably a kaleidoscope of reds, pinks, and peaches. Tony was there, along with a few other faces I recognized from the night my life imploded in the back of Gian’s club.
When the crowd of people showering us with well wishes finally dissipated, the distinct pop of champagne bottles opening reverberated through the room like a gong announcing the beginning of the ceremonies. Carmela and Helena filled glasses with pale yellow, bubbly liquid. My stomach sunk like I swallowed a boulder. Blood pumped through my veins loud enough to drown out the roar of celebration.
“Smile,” Gian whispered next to my ear. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” I muttered.
Carmela held up two flutes with our names etched into the glass. “Gian. Evie.”
I accepted the glass from her, and yeah, it was awkward. I did my best to avoid direct eye contact with her and anyone else in the room. Unfortunately, a man with his forearm resting on the fireplace mantel had a different agenda. His cold, dark, glittering eyes zeroed in on me like a bird of prey, calculating my weaknesses and extracting my secrets. The heat of his stare burned through me like the fire of a thousand suns. Goose bumps spiraled down my arms.
He cleared his throat. “As the head of this family, I’d like to make a toast.”
Almost as if this man were Moses parting the Red Sea, a hush fell over the room, and everyone lined up like good little toy soldiers.
I leaned into Gian. “Is that your dad?”
“No. My uncle, Dominick. Why?”
“Just wondering, because that man sure as hell doesn’t look sick.” His arms and shoulders, although bulky, didn’t disguise the muscles straining and pulling against the seams of his custom-tailored suit. He had the right amount of gray to achieve a distinguished salt and pepper look. While he was shorter than Gian, he didn’t need height to make an impression. His eyes alone would scare the shit out of anyone—maybe even Lucifer.