Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(67)

What. The. Fuck.

Gian sincerely hoped this was not another incident like he’d had with Constantino at the hospital, but it was looking worse and worse by the second. “I’m going to give you ten seconds to explain what in the fuck that means before I drag your ass out of this restaurant and beat you fucking senseless.”

Made men didn’t fight.

It was a rule.

Gian no longer cared for that particular rule.

Especially not when Cara was involved.

Stephan cleared his throat, dragging Gian’s attention to him for the moment. The man quickly said goodbye to whoever he was speaking to on his cell phone, hung it up, and put it in his pocket. Standing from the table, Stephan dropped his napkin down and pulled money from his wallet, letting it fall by his glass of water.

“And where are you going?” Gian asked.

Stephan jerked his head in Constantino’s direction. “As much as I like this stupid fuck, sometimes he goes too far.”

“Hey—”

“You do,” Stephan interrupted Constantino. “There are things you need to not talk about, or give your opinion, and a guy’s girl is one of them.”

“Is that where you stand on the line for this?” Constantino asked.

Stephan nodded sharply. “You’re damn right it is. Call me when you get yourself straightened out, Constantino. And make sure you apologize. Even if it is Gian.”

Gian let that barely-hidden insult brush off his shoulders, but only because he had one fucking idiot to deal with for the moment, and he wasn’t in the mood to handle two. Besides, Stephan never made an effort to hide his dislike of Gian, in the grand scheme of things. Constantino, on the other hand, had been doing some pretty underhanded shit that left Gian fucking unsettled.

Like whatever this was.

“My apologies,” Stephan said as he passed Gian by to leave.

Gian let him go, never budging an inch, even when Constantino went back to eating his food again. That only irritated the shit out of Gian more.

“Sit, eat,” Constantino demanded. “We’ll talk this out. I fucked up, big deal. It happens.”

Gian didn’t sit. “How did you fuck up, though?”

“She mentioned running into Frankie.” Constantino waved a hand as if to dismiss what he was about to say next. “I might have mentioned that it doesn’t look good on our family to have her running around with you, doing what she’s doing, like she is. Just like it didn’t look good when Lea was involved with Frankie a while back.”

Gian bristled all over. “And you think this is even remotely the same?”

Constantino, stone-faced and dry-toned, said, “It’s exactly the same.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m not, and I’m within my rights to say so, if I want to. She’s a woman of my family, regardless of where her brother is. So, who gives a shit if her father is dead, and her brother is too busy finishing out a war in Chicago to look after his sister’s business? I’ll speak for them—what you’ve done with my cousin is a fucking shame, Gian.”

“You’re way out of line,” Gian murmured, forcing himself to keep his tone level.

“You know I’m not. Fact is, Cara is now good for what you’ve used her for, and very little fucking else, man. That’s the sad part. Nobody else will ever look at her and think, shit, wife material or anything of the sort. You’ve ruined that, and I don’t even think she knows.”

“Constantino, I warned you once, didn’t I? I warned you—friends or not—I would fucking hurt you, if you spoke badly about Cara again.”

Constantino dropped his fork again, standing from the table and moving to stand toe-to-toe with Gian. Neither man moved a muscle, neither looking away from the other. It took every ounce of willpower Gian had left in his body to keep his hands down at his sides, clenched into tight fists he was ready to throw.

“What’s worse, Gian, is when you are boss at the end of all this, when it’s all said and done, she won’t matter. Not for more than what you’ve already used her for, and maybe even for less. She won’t be allowed to matter. No whore—”

Gian was pretty fucking sure he broke a knuckle on impact of punching Constantino in his ignorant, disrespectful fucking face. He barely felt the pain, and since he felt like one punch wasn’t good enough, he landed another two, back-to-back, sending his friend sprawling to the floor of the restaurant.

Constantino wasn’t knocked out, but he was pretty damn close. Gian figured that had been enough to make his point—he didn’t need to do more, not when the guy was now bleeding and groaning on his back like an idiot.

Gian checked his knuckle.

Not broken.

Dislocated.

He gritted his teeth, and reset the knuckle as he heard a server approach from behind. With a single wave, the server retreated. One of the many benefits of owning the place, he supposed.

Bending down, Gian turned Constantino’s head to make the man look at him. “I warned you, man. I won’t be doing it again. We’re done. You mean less than shit to me at this point. And unless you pull your head out of your fucking ass and work out a damn good apology for this one, you’re going to remain that way. It doesn’t matter to me, one way or the other.”