Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(91)

It couldn’t be fixed.

He’d done this.

“I’ve not been in a romantic relationship with my wife from damn near the day we married, though you might not believe it, and I certainly wasn’t with her when I was with you. For what it’s worth, I have only loved you, ever,” Gian said.

“It’s not worth very much now.”

More tears fell, but she didn’t make a sound.

Gian didn’t try to stop Cara as she took those last few steps toward the elevator. She wished that she could say it was only relief in her heart as she did what she knew was right.

It still hurt like hell. Her heart shattered when she stepped inside. She broke apart as the doors closed.

That was her goodbye.

Gian deserved to see every fucking second of it.

He was the entire reason why.

Every single reason.





Entangled



Please note, this is an unedited, and subject to change, excerpt of Entangled, Guzzi Duet, Book Two.





Chapter One


It was possible to be entirely alone in a room full of people.

Gian Guzzi had never had that experience before, but now it was all too common. He had wrongly assumed that taking the highest seat in his Cosa Nostra family would leave him with very little time to consider and wallow about his personal problems, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Already, it was August. A hot, humid summer month that Gian had planned to spend with someone else, ignoring the heat as best he could. Three months had passed since his last encounter with Cara Rossi, but not a single fucking day went by when he wasn’t reminded of her in some way.

Part of that was by his own hand, of course.

Being a boss, on the other hand, forced Gian to keep his personal issues quiet. He certainly couldn’t afford to let the men around him think that he was distracted by his emotions, never mind a woman that he could no longer have. He needed for them to think that at all times, he was on his very best game, no matter what.

Duty first.

Legacy second.

And only then, love.

Gian finally understood what his grandfather, Corrado, had been trying to tell him for years. He assumed that it was a sacrifice all made men needed to make for the sake of la famiglia, but he was wrong.

Only the boss made that sacrifice.

Cosa Nostra had to be his one constant. He had to breathe the business. He had to bleed the life. He was the one who was expected to repeat the rules, and enforce them. He was the only one who was looked to when something needed to be heard. His voice spoke for everyone.

That was what a good boss did. Then, if he did his job well, the boss’s men would never know that he was just like them, affected and ruined by silly things like love and a woman.

Duty. Legacy. Love.

Always in that order.

Always.

Oh, yes.

Gian understood those words perfectly well now.

It was better to listen to the people around him, let them talk, and then form his own opinions and give orders from what he learned. He learned that quickly enough as a boss. It also left him with too much silent time when he was alone with his thoughts.

All he ever did was think.

“Happy birthday, boss!”

Gian tried to smile as a hand clapped his back with enough force to shake him from his inner hell. It brought his attention forefront to the VIP section of the club, and the men, again. Men celebrating his thirtieth birthday.

He should be celebrating, too.

“Here, another drink,” Stephan said.

A whiskey was shoved into Gian’s hand.

He sipped at the strong liquor, as it gave him something to do. “Merci.”

Stephan said something else, but Gian wasn’t listening. He was not a big partier to begin with, and he had only agreed to this night with his men because they had asked for it. Given how quickly tensions could flare in the family, peace-keeping was a constant part of the business. Especially for Gian.

Earlier in the day, he had spent too many hours sitting around a dinner table with the older generation of Capos in the family and their important people. They, too, had wanted to celebrate their boss’s birthday in some way, but not like the younger men did. Which was understandable.

While the divide between the generational lines had closed enough for Gian to consider it comfortable, he still preferred to keep the two groups separate as much as was possible. He allowed everyone their voice, and their chance to express it. As much as was acceptable, anyway.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy …”

Gian was urged forward in the group of men as a server strolled forward, a cake in her hands. It was a two-tier cake, gold in color, with black trim. The Guzzi family colors. His name and the proper birthday greeting had been scrawled across the side. It certainly looked good, but even his appetite was seriously lacking lately.

Happy birthday, boss.

Dirty thirty, Gian.

The platitudes kept coming from everyone. Gian smiled and nodded, laughing when he needed to. He was never shocked anymore that no one seemed to notice his cheer and good-nature was nothing more than a carefully crafted lie.

He had perfected this shit in no time at all.

“Set it down,” someone told the server with the cake.

A table was pulled over, and the cake was set down. Another man passed Gian a knife, while paper plates, napkins, and plastic forks were set out on the table by another one of the girls who worked in Gian’s club.