Page 137 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Love was so messed up in that way.

He’d never understood it before.

“Listen, I tried,” Tommas muttered. “She wasn’t willing to stay here another minute. Seriously, don’t call her tonight. Give her the evening and morning to work through some of her mood, and maybe it won’t be as bad tomorrow when you see her.”

“I don’t understand,” Gian admitted.

“She knows your secret, asshole.”

Gian’s hand tightened around the phone. “What?”

Shit.

No.

Gian knew he should have been the one to tell Cara about his estranged wife, a marriage that had taken place under a set of circumstances driven by his grandfather and his wife’s father. He had not loved her, and even now, had very little to do with Elena.

That had always been by her choice.

Gian no longer cared.

“You heard me.” Tommas sighed heavily into the phone. “She deserved to know—from you, though, not like this.”

“I was going to—”

“When?”

“Soon,” Gian admitted.

“Not soon enough.”

Tommas hung up the phone without a goodbye.

Gian didn’t blame the man a bit.

“Who is she? What’s the whore’s name, Gian?”

Ouch.

That one kind of stung.

Especially, to hear it as an insult to Cara, when this woman—his wife—had no business throwing that sort of word around at anyone, given their history.

Gian wasn’t able to hide the rage. “Watch your fucking mouth, Elena.”

His estranged wife stiffened across the room, her arms crossing over her chest as she frowned. “You could at least tell me something, Gian.”

“Why should I?” he asked quietly. “Have I asked you about your lovers? Have I ever expected you to sit back and wait for me, when you clearly didn’t want to?”

Elena glanced away. “You don’t know anything about—”

“I know enough,” Gian said, hurling the words at her. “I know we haven’t lived in the same space together for two years. We haven’t fucked in three! I know why you agreed to the marriage, because you were scared and you were young. You needed to get away from your father, and you thought to use me to do it.”

Gian scrubbed a hand down his face, ready to be done with the entire conversation. He hadn’t wanted to be there, sharing a conversation with Elena at all, but he didn’t have much of a choice. She was, whether he liked it or not, his wife. And in their world, in Cosa Nostra, that meant something important.

“I gave you that, I let you lie to me, because I was trying to please my grandfather, too,” Gian admitted, his anger rising to the surface all over again. “But the moment you didn’t have to pretend anymore, you stopped. I’ve never asked you for anything—never demanded you act like my wife, unless it’s absolutely needed. I’ve never shared your bed without you wanting me there, and when you couldn’t stand to have me in the same room without throwing something at the back of my fucking head, I left! I’ve never asked you for more than what this has always been, Elena.”

A defiant glimmer lit up her eyes as she stared him down. “You’ve never been so blatant with a whore before, either.”