Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(70)

“A hired man.”

Gian’s chest tightened painfully at what he was hearing. He didn’t want to believe it, but certain things—his old friend’s behaviors over the last few months—had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“That’s not all, though,” Edmond said. “After Corrado, I was having a lot of the men watched, because everybody knew that kill came from the inside. I wanted to know who. I owed it to Corrado because, like him, I didn’t see it coming until it was too late.”

Claud shifted on his chair. “And what did you find, boss?”

“He had the bomb planted on Gian’s car. I got photos of the meets and the payment exchanging hands. It speaks for itself.”

“Gian is his friend.”

“Gian is his way to the top,” Edmond corrected with a shrug. “Gian was not making the moves that perhaps Constantino felt he should be after Corrado’s murder, and so, I believe he thought to simply push Gian in the direction he wanted.”

“As in, he didn’t mean to kill him, only knock him down for a bit.”

“So he would get up swinging.” Edmond chuckled. “Frankly, no one knows Gian better than Constantino, if you think about it. Maybe he knew exactly how to push to get what he wanted.”

Edmond had a good point, as much as Gian hated to admit it. Constantino had, on more than one occasion, made comments about Gian’s habits. Like always using his car starter to start his vehicle in the winter, even though it was hard on the engines to do so in the freezing cold weather.

“And if he had fucked up?” Edmond considered out loud. “Well, then I suppose Constantino probably thought of Gian as fodder. He would still get what he wanted, in a way. A war between the younger and older generations that would open up seats all the way across the board.”

“What do I do now?” Claud asked. “He’s my son.”

“He’s a made man,” Edmond replied just as fast. “And because of that, you’ll let him answer as one, no matter who demands their retribution. That’s how made men have always done this—it’s how we always will.”

Gian shut off the tablet.

He had never agreed more with something Edmond said.

He never would again.





“Something smells fantastic,” Gian said as he came up behind Cara at the stove.

She leaned into his touch, grinning when his kiss landed softly on the pulse point of her throat. His hand rubbed her back as he peered over her shoulder.

“What are you making?”

“A steak and potato mess,” Cara replied, “fit for a king.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever cooked for me.”

“You always order in.”

“Not always, but it is faster.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “You’ve never cooked for me.”

“I’ll rectify that soon.”

“Can you even cook, or will you grab a bunch of takeout and set it up on dishes to make it look good?”

Gian swept her hair further behind her ear and nipped playfully on the lobe. “How little you think of me, pretty girl.”

Cara tried damn hard to hide her shiver, and failed miserably. “So you can cook?”

“I have a French mother who had an Italian mother and a very Italian grandmother from my father’s side. Yes, I can cook. I learned with bruised knuckles from my grandmama’s favorite wooden spoon. My mother, on the other hand, preferred the French dishes, and I found those easier to make, really.”

“Why was that?”

“Different teaching methods,” Gian said with a chuckle. “Of course, the only reason they thought to teach my brother and I to cook was because my sister absolutely refused to do anything in the kitchen, and they needed to pass something on.”

“Ah. Well, then you owe me something Italian and French.”

“I will see what I can do.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Cara said sweetly.

She went back to attending her steaks, slathering them in a special homemade sauce that very few people had the recipe to. She preferred to cook her steaks in the oven, rather than on a frying pan. The meat always came out a bit more tender.

Gian moved around her in his penthouse, grabbing items out of the fridge and setting them up on the counter for Cara when she asked. He also pulled out a beer, popping the top off and taking a hearty swig from the amber-colored bottle. Just the way he stared at her, told Cara something was on his mind.

What, exactly, she didn’t know.

She could just see it.

Their ruined date a few nights earlier had mostly been brushed under the rug. Cara hadn’t seen her cousin since, and she didn’t plan to seek the asshole out. Gian, on the other hand, kept Cara closer than ever since that evening and the morning after. In fact, he’d packed a bag for her to bring to his penthouse, and he hadn’t let her leave since, only for school.

Cara didn’t mind, really.

She liked being there with him.

“Everything okay?” Cara asked.

Gian shrugged. “It could be better, but I’ll get there.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s not for you to worry about, bella. Just nonsense making noise in my head, like it sometimes does. It’ll all go away soon.”