Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(3)

When Kevin had to work late, I convinced myself he had to finish a few commissioned paintings. When I saw a red lipstick stain on his collar, I attributed it to paint. When he spent an entire party introducing his protégée to all of his friends and ignoring me, I called him a good mentor.

“Don’t you think I should give it back?”

Carmela’s eyebrows shot up. “No. You caught him screwing another woman in his art studio. Consider it your severance package.”

“Yuck.”

“Which part?” she questioned.

“Both.” I took off the ring and stuffed it into my pocket. It didn’t mean anything, and all things considered, it never had. “I feel so dumb,” I mumbled.

“Why? He took advantage of you. He should feel dumb. You, on the other hand, should feel lucky you found out before you married him.”

I shoved my tangled strawberry blonde hair away from my face. “Not about the cheating—although, that is embarrassing enough. After we’d been dating for a month, I asked him what color my eyes were.”

“And?” she said, planting her hands on the sides of her hips.

“He said blue. Can you imagine? My eyes aren’t even close to blue. What a f*cking loser. He could have said brown or hazel. He said blue. Even though I knew better, I stayed with him because I wanted the fairytale.” I tipped my head to the ceiling. “Now look at me.”

“You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

I scoffed. “Broken, depressed, and unemployable?”

“No, you’re smarter and more worldly. Every girl needs a reality check now and then, and now that you’ve had yours, you’ll be smarter next time.”

My phone vibrated on the coffee table again. “He’s getting impatient,” I commented, watching the phone skip across the slick, dust-free surface.

“Then let’s move.”





CHAPTER TWO




Gian



“No way, Carmela. I won’t consider it.” I picked up a towel, wrapped it around the back of my neck, and I walked out of the home gym and into my adjacent bedroom. “Stop asking.”

“Gian, you need a personal assistant, someone to stock your kitchen, water your plants, go to the dry cleaners, and stop by the house when you’re out of town,” she called after me. Her four-inch red heels clicked against the wood floors with every step. “You’re rarely home between running the nightclub and your social life. What’s the big deal? You’ll barely see her.”

I halted mid-stride and swung around, glaring at my twin sister. “The big deal is that I don’t want a f*cking assistant. I don’t need anyone nosing around in my business, especially someone who’s not family. I can’t have random people in my space. You know that. Besides, I don’t need anyone else when I have you.”

Carmela folded her arms across her chest. “Evie isn’t random. She’s my friend, and I don’t have time to do any of that stuff for you. I have a life too, you know.”

“I don’t want a stranger in my home.”

Carmela huffed. “Fine. Can you find a position for her at the club? She could do inventory or bartend.”

“Does she have any experience?”

She shrugged. “What’s so hard about counting bottles or pouring a drink?”

“It’s a lot harder than it looks.” I rubbed the towel down the side of my face.

She smiled and batted her eyelashes. “Please, Gianluca. I need you,” she said, drawing out my full name. I hated that name. Nobody called me Gianluca except our dad and strangers.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No, and you’re going to help me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re my favorite brother, and you’re always there when I need you. Right now, my really good friend needs you, which by extension, means me.”

“I don’t have any openings.”

She clipped the back of my head with her open palm like my mom had when I was a kid. I f*cking hated it. “Well then, make one.”

“Easy, Carmela. No need to get violent. I’ll find something.” I leaned my hip against the wall, placing myself out of striking distance. “Tell me about this friend.”

“What do you want to know?”

“For starters, what’s her name?”

“Evie Jeffers.”

“Am I supposed to know the name or something?”

Carmela shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Great.” I rolled my eyes. “Tell me what makes Evie Jeffers so special.”

“Like I said, she’s a close friend of mine, and she’s had a string of bad luck. She needs a break.”

“What kind of bad luck?”

“She’s an actress and—”

I held up a hand. I didn’t need to hear one more word. I’d dated an aspiring actress last year for three months. She’d tried to sell a sex tape of us to a few websites, thinking it would give her the exposure she needed to land a breakout role. I shoved my foot so far up the website owner’s ass as soon as I got wind of it. Luckily, it never saw the light of day, and I learned my lesson. I’d had enough of fame whores to last me a lifetime. Besides, I needed to keep a low profile.