Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(53)

I frowned. That didn’t make sense unless Ana’s appearance didn’t have anything to do with being mentored. “Was Ana talented?”

He grinned. “In bed, yes. As an artist, not so much. Don’t get me wrong; she wasn’t awful, but under different circumstances, I would’ve never agreed to mentor her. It was clear she’d taken some painting lessons, and with the right exposure, she could’ve made some money. That’s it.”

Impatience stirring in my gut, I pressed the gun to the side of his head. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

“No. I swear.” His voice quivered. I flipped open the pocket knife on my keychain and cut the cable tie around his wrists. He scrambled to his feet. “Is that it?”

“Yeah.” I stuffed my gun in the holster. “Unless you contact Evie or tell someone I paid you a visit.”

His shoulders slumped with defeat. “I won’t tell anyone.”

His ripped jeans and white t-shirt were crumpled and blood stained. The bun at the back his head had come undone. One of his eyes had swelled shut, and I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. He made his own bed, and he’d never win Evie back. He had his chance, and he pissed it away by getting involved with the soul-sucking Russians.

“Good, because if you f*ck with Evie or me or even whisper either of our names, I won’t hesitate to kill ya.”





CHAPTER





TWENTY-EIGHT


Gian



Evie kicked, dipped, and twirled, or whatever a dancer did, and wisps of sunset red hair floated around her face. She didn’t have on any makeup. Her eyes were dreamy. A soft melody poured from her lips. It was hauntingly beautiful, and I couldn’t look away.

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 f*cking 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?”