“Yeah, you’re right about that. Carmela is a firecracker.” With a smoky chuckle, he held out his hand. “I’m Tony.”
I didn’t make a move to shake his hand—then, Gian squeezed my shoulder and gave me a minute shake of his head. I caved.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, my voice as weak as my handshake.
“What the fuck is going on?” a man shouted behind us. “Who the hell is she?”
The man who propped open the door charged down the hall with his gun drawn. Gian shoved me behind him.
“Carlo,” Gian said through clenched teeth. “Don’t point a gun at my fiancée.”
Carlo’s eyebrows snapped together. “Why is she back here?”
“The door was propped open,” I muttered.
“You left the door open?” Gian’s body vibrated with barely restrained rage.
Carlo shrugged, his heated stare roving down to my thighs and back up. “I didn’t think anyone would be dumb enough to sneak inside.”
“Exactly,” Gian countered, his voice icy. “You didn’t think. Carlo, help Tony and Sal wrap up the body, and get it out of here. I have shit to do.”
“We’re ready to go, and Sal cleaned up your office,” Tony answered.
“Call me when it’s done.” Gian guided me into his office. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the sofa.
I plopped down and buried my head in my hands. “What do we do now?”
“We go to Carmela’s house and pack your bags. You’re moving in with me.”
I lifted my head. “No fucking way. I don’t know you, and based on what I witnessed a few minutes ago, I don’t want to know you.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.” He twisted my hair around his finger and I shivered. “Until I know I can trust you, and I can convince everyone else to trust you, you’re going to be living with me as my fiancée. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”
Sweetheart? What decade is this? And why do I like him calling me that? What is wrong with me?
I wouldn’t call myself a feminist or anything. I liked a man who opened an occasional door for me and picked up the tab after a nice meal. Lord knew, I wished Kevin had done more of those things when we were together rather than acting like a self-absorbed asshole.
I lowered my lashes and tugged on the hem of my skirt. My nerves were fraught, and I couldn’t speak, so I stared unblinking for a prolonged beat. “How does pretending I’m your fiancée do anything?”
“That’s the way things work in my world. As long as you’re my fiancée, no one will touch you. When things calm down, we can both get back to our lives, and this will all be forgotten.”
I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying. “I don’t get it. Why are you doing this? Why do you care what happens to me?”
Exhaling, he scrubbed his hand down his face. His eyes darkened like a storm was brewing inside of him, but the emotion disappeared nearly as quickly as it materialized. “Because you’re important to my sister.”
I picked at tiny threads in my skirt, trying to comprehend everything that had happened. “What are we going to tell Carmela?”
He loosened his tie and opened the top two buttons on his shirt. Reaching out, he gently brushed his fingertips along my cheek. “That it was love at first sight or that we’ve been seeing each other secretly for a while.”
My face heated. “She won’t believe us.”
He managed a faint smile that failed to reach his eyes. I couldn’t get a good read on this man. “It’s your job to make her believe, sweetheart.”
“Fine. I’ll do my best.” I squared my shoulders, desperately trying to suppress the dread and hopelessness raging through me. I needed to find a way out of this mess.
He tossed my purse in my lap. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll be lucky to catch Carmela while she’s still awake if we wait much longer.”
I rose to my feet, fleetingly wishing I had the power to transport myself back in time to the moment before I injured my ankle. I would have marched off the stage before I jumped, I would have broken up with Kevin, and I would have stayed far away from Gianluca Trassato. Too bad wishing and hoping were useless.
I followed Gian out of the building, feeling more alone than ever.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gian
Evie stared at the door to the apartment she shared with my sister, her eyes shuttered and her mouth pinched.
I threaded my fingers between hers and tilted my head toward the door. “Do you have keys?”
She dropped her head and swayed into me. For a split second, I thought her knees would buckle under the weight of what we needed to do. I coiled my arm around her waist, drinking in the sweet scent of her strawberry-colored hair. Having her in my life and home would be a disaster, but I had made my choice, and I wouldn’t back down after I gave my word. She needed my protection.