Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(10)

She liked the way he said her name. His interesting inflection to his words—likely caused by his ability to speak Italian and French—made her name sound far more interesting than it actually was.

Like him, she thought, one of a kind.

“One of a kind” fit Gian, given what he seemed like, in those moments with her. A man who was more interested in talking and being near her, than getting her to the closest flat surface simply because he liked the way she looked. She assumed that, if given the chance, he would probably take an offer to fuck, but she didn’t think for even a second that it was first on his mind.

Then, he glanced to the side, his gaze narrowing at the sight of a couple returning to the VIP section and heading toward their table.

“That,” Gian murmured, “is my goodbye for now, unfortunately.”

Cara tried to hide her frown, but failed.

Bambi and Stephan were returning, it seemed.

She didn’t know where in the hell Constantino had gone to.

“Here, your drink.” Stephan set the whiskey glass down forcefully, spilling a good tablespoon of the spirit on the table. Gian offered Cara another brilliant smile. “I’ve decided I’m not in the mood for it, now.”

“You asked for—”

“Cara,” Gian said, “I know that it’s a no on the drink, but my other offer is still open, if you’re interested. My interest here, however, is fading fast.”

It took Cara a minute, long enough for Gian to stand and leave the booth, before she realized what offer he meant. She watched him disappear into the crowd, trying to decide if she wanted to take him up on it.

“What offer was that?” Bambi asked.

Stephan grunted something under his breath as he sat down at the booth again.

Cara ignored them both, and decided to go for it.

What would it hurt?

Maybe Gian had a point.

Maybe being out of control—or even refusing to be swallowed whole by her grief for a short while—was actually meant to be a good thing.

“Cara?” Bambi asked. “Are you leaving, or …?”

“A dance,” Cara replied, grabbing her coat. Gian had been far more interesting than what she was leaving behind. “I think I’d like to dance.”

That had been Gian’s offer, after all. A drink or a dance. Whatever came of those things—or after—had not been talked about really. She only needed to find him.

Cara figured the rest might be worth it.

The club was far bigger than Cara first realized when she’d come in with Bambi, and she was starting to think, after ten minutes of walking around, that she wouldn’t be able to find Gian.

“You look lost, mon ange.”

Cara had gotten lost in the swell of people in her effort to find Gian. It seemed she hadn’t needed to look hard, because he had found her.

“What does that mean?” Cara asked, spinning around to face a grinning Gian. “My French is non-existent, and my Italian can be a bit rusty.”

“It sounded good, didn’t it?”

Cara cocked a brow. “That isn’t what I asked.”

“No, but it is what matters. Do you want that dance, Cara?”

“I came to find you, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

And just like that, Cara found herself pulled closer into Gian’s body and at the same time the loud, fast music changed to something slower. Not quite slow enough that it required a waltz of any sort, but rather, a grinding, deep bass that vibrated the floors under her heels.

Gian led them into the dance, his hands slipping under Cara’s jaw to tilt her head up while her body moved instinctively closer to his. She wasn’t much of a dancer, but she knew how to move her body, and it wasn’t all that hard to match the rhythm of his dancing. With her face in his hands, she was forced to stare at him, taking in all of those lines and gorgeous features, under flashing lights as he kept watching her.

Cara hadn’t drunk a drop, but she still felt light on her feet.

Dazed, even.

It was strange and wonderful at the same time.

She had never been quite so attracted—never so fast or easily—as she found herself to be with Gian, for whatever reason. He made it easy. She forgot about the people.

Cara only saw Gian.

He didn’t look away from her, either.

“I want you to leave,” Gian said, “and spend the night with me.”

He didn’t even ask.

Cara liked that he was of the type to simply state his desires, not dance around them until the truth spilled out. He clearly didn’t play games. Maybe he was the kind of man who always won, no matter what.

“Cara,” he pressed.

“I don’t usually do that sort of thing.”

She had before; she didn’t make it a habit, though.

“But will you, Cara? If you really want to know what it feels like to be out of control, you’ve met the right man to get you there, but you have to say yes.”

Let go for a night, her mind demanded.

“Yes,” she said before thinking better of it. “I will.”





“Just so we’re clear on something, before we get to my place,” Gian said from the driver’s seat.

Cara hadn’t entirely heard him, as she was too busy watching the street pass her by.