Page 108 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

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.”

Constantino laughed hoarsely. “Just tell her the truth, Gian. See what she says.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Gian knocked on Cara’s apartment door, ignoring the pain that bloomed in his swollen, bruised knuckle. She hadn’t answered his calls as he’d left the restaurant, or the ones that he’d made on the drive over. A quick check with Chris, who had been designated to follow Cara for safety reasons again, had confirmed that she was at home.

Chris didn’t have more information to offer, though.

“Cara, open the door,” Gian said quietly. “I know you’re here, mon ange.”

Silence answered him back. He understood why. It still hurt like hell. He’d take ten dislocated knuckles over her rejection. Funny, how love worked that way.

Gian knocked again. “Cara.”

“Did you know that in Italian, cara means dear?”

Her quiet question filled him with a sense of relief. She hadn’t opened the door, but it was a start. Gian would take it.

“Of course, I know,” Gian said. “Mia bella cara, amore.”

He heard the lock unlatch on the door a second before Cara slowly pulled it open. She stood on the other side, the apartment’s darkness shadowing her in the hallway light. She had lost the dress from earlier, and the heels, too. Clean-faced, any makeup had been removed, and she’d tossed her wild hair up into a messy bun. An over-sized T-shirt fell at her mid-thigh, and she looked ready for bed.

“I’m sorry I left without at least waiting for you,” she said, crossing her arms under her breasts and staring off to the side. “I got angry and I only wanted to leave. So I did.”

“It’s fine.”

Or, it was now.

Gian understood why. He had simply reacted in a different way than Cara had, perhaps a less than proper way, considering his status. Even Cara had walked away when she was offended, Gian had definitely not.