Page 94 of Unraveled

“No—”

“Yes.”

“He wouldn’t be the first to die by the hands of a hired gun,” the Capo muttered under his breath.

“You’re right, he certainly wouldn’t be.”

The Capo also had a good point. Killing Edmond by way of a hired man, someone he didn’t know and was not expecting, would end everything. Strangely, Gian did not feel okay with making that call, regardless of the positives that could come out of the situation. He felt—in a way—that it would make him no better than Edmond, killing his rival and not giving the man even a chance to properly defend himself.

Had Corrado been given the chance to see his death coming, might it have ended differently? Would his grandfather have made the choice the Capo was suggesting?

Gian didn’t have the answers for those questions.

And he wasn’t Corrado Guzzi.

He was only himself.

“But the answer is no,” Gian said firmly, “so drop it.”

The Capo’s confirmative reply was enough for Gian to move on, satisfied his point was made.

“This will all be over soon enough,” he assured. “Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Clearly, someone wanted a war, and now they’ve got one. Maybe once they realize that they’ve gotten what they wanted, it won’t be as nice, after all.”

Despite wanting to get the hell out of the meeting with the men, and get on with his day, Gian ordered lunch and readied himself for more conversation. As an underboss, he had simply needed to check in on the Capos and their dealings to make sure everything was on the up and up. His responsibilities kept him on the move, going from one man to the next, without stopping for very long. As a boss, he was learning it was not quite the same.

He had to talk.

A lot.

He had to listen, too.

It almost made him miss the years before he was a made man, when all he had to do was slam his fist into someone’s face to get what he wanted.

Life was not that easy, now.

Frankly, it was better he had learned to tamper his temper. Bosses—good ones—didn’t need to use violence as a first resort to get business done. That simply wasn’t how Cosa Nostra men behaved. Gian had been lucky enough to get all of the roughness out of his system before he earned his button, and it made the transition of becoming a made man easier.

To an extent …

His phone buzzed in his pocket as the men droned on around him. He almost didn’t pick up the call, as all the people who would usually be calling him at that time of day were sitting around the restaurant, waiting on their meals. Cara, the only one who might call him, should have been at university.

When the buzzing persisted, Gian pulled the cell out and checked the screen. The sexy image of Cara shooting him the peace sign and winking lit up the phone. Gian answered the call instantly. He put the phone to his ear as he stood from the table, turning his back to the men and walking away so his conversation couldn’t be overheard.

“Ciao, bonjour.”

“I saw it again.”

Gian tensed. “Saw what, mon ange?”

“The car. The car, Gian. I saw it again!”

He didn’t have a damn clue what she was talking about, but the frantic pitch her tone took on was enough to make him turn back and head for his table again. He grabbed the jacket hanging off the back of the chair, waved Constantino off when the man stood with questioning eyes, and headed for the front of the restaurant.

“Okay, you saw a car, Cara. What car?”

She made a desperate noise that cut him deep, her panic searing through the phone like she was standing right in front of him. She was across the city, but damn it, Gian swore he could feel her fucking fear radiating all the way to him.

He was already out of the restaurant and moving toward his car and waiting enforcer by the time she gained enough of a breath to answer him.