Читать книгу Dangerous... - Tori Carrington - Страница 9

2

LUCAS HAD BEEN WAITING for over an hour for Gia to finish with her meeting. He supposed that was part of the price he paid for expecting to see Gia— now referred to as Miss Gia by family members— without an appointment. But every time he’d called over the past month to book a time when he might talk to her, she’d avoided him at every turn.

So he’d had to push his luck by confronting her when she wasn’t expecting it.

“Luca,” she said on what might have been a sigh, using the Italian pronunciation of his name rather than Lucas.

“Gia. You look well.”

She took his hands and kissed him on both cheeks, but the movement was perfunctory, with no warmth behind the action. At least not the kind of warmth he may have wanted. Despite the way she seemed to linger after the second kiss, as if reluctant to move away from him.

But she did, stepping back so that he could look into her wide, dark eyes.

“Sorry to have to resort to subterfuge to see you,” Lucas said, following her to Giovanni’s office without waiting to be invited. “But I have several important matters to discuss with the head of the family. And since I understand that title has been bestowed on you, then you’re the one I need to discuss them with.”

The first time he’d seen her after so many years, he’d felt like someone had hit him in the chest with a two-by-four. While she’d been pretty when he’d known her before, there had been a girl-child innocence about her. Now…well, now she was one hundred percent smoky Mediterranean beauty, whose dark eyes spoke of a mystery and wisdom that surpassed her years.

He’d seen countless pictures of her in the paper in recent weeks. Whether the shots focused on her in a black veil weeping over her father’s and brother’s caskets, or getting out of a family limousine, she always seemed to be looking elsewhere, her features set in dark determination. An elusive beauty always dressed in black.

And today was no exception. She wore a stylish clingy black top and skinny black pants, the flats she wore making her six inches shorter than him, but still tall by female standards at around five-nine.

Over the years, he’d followed her career from afar and knew that many questioned why she would choose a role behind the fashion scene instead of up front and center. She easily equaled, if not eclipsed, many of the models she used for her shows and print ads.

But the media didn’t know what he did about Gia: namely that after her mother died when she was seven, she’d escaped into a world of her own making. A cerebral world of books and art and fashion. And, aside from his few carefree months with her, that’s where she remained.

He remembered saying that when he grew up, he wanted to be attorney to the mob, and that she had wanted to be the next Donatella Versace.

He supposed they both got what they’d wanted.

He could tell her she looked good but knew that would have little impact on her. In fact, it might hurt his cause, because she’d likely shut him out. He’d heard the stories about her having seen to the Claudio Lancione hit on her own. Some said that they’d even been having sex at the time. But he couldn’t think about that in order to do what he had to.

“What can I do for you, Luca?” she asked, as if she hadn’t spent the past month avoiding him.

But he knew she had been avoiding him. Not because she was grieving, although he knew she was. He saw it in the faint circles under her eyes. In the extra paleness of her skin.

But because he had left her without explanation seven years ago.

“There are some legal matters you need to attend to immediately unless you want everything to come crashing down around your ears.”

She raised a black brow. “I’m sure Vito can help you with whatever you need.”

Lucas shook his head. “No. Only the person in charge can see to these matters.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, as if trying to read beyond his actions. He wondered when she’d become so guarded. No, he didn’t have to wonder. He knew. And he knew he’d played a role in one of her first understandings that life wasn’t all sunshine and daisies and good intentions. Oh, she’d certainly been aware of danger—after all, she’d been born and raised under the Trainello roof. But he’d been among the first to wrong her.

And now she’d been wronged again.

“I’m in charge only until my brother Lorenzo can take over.” She finally broke their gaze and walked toward her father’s old desk. He caught the way she ran her fingertips across the top before sitting down in the chair and looking at him again. He took the seat opposite her.

“I understand he’s doing better,” Lucas said, even though he knew that that wasn’t the case at all. Her older brother was little more than a functioning vegetable by choice.

Still, Gia nodded, giving away nothing with her expression as she folded her hands on top of the desk. “What do you need, Luca? I don’t have much time.”

He opened his briefcase and took out a series of documents. “These are the Trainello estate papers. I assume that you’d like to be named power of attorney. You know, until Lorenzo can take over.”

She nodded.

“Well, you have to do that legally. There have already been several claims made against the estate having to deal with outstanding debt and the like that you’ll have to see to. And, of course, there’s probate that you’ll have to go through.”

He put the papers in front of her.

“Can’t someone else do all this?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lucas said. “Me. But you’d have to sign that power over to me.”

Finally, a show of emotion via a spark in her dark eyes. “I’m not signing any power over to anyone.”

Lucas sat back, mildly amused. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Which means you need to sign where I’ve indicated. You won’t have to do much. I’ll take care of overseeing what needs to be done…with your supervision, of course.”

She finally appeared to give the papers in front of her the attention they deserved.

Lucas fought the urge to tug at his collar. In all his imaginings, he would never have thought that being in Gia’s company again after so long would bring back a few memories of his own. Or inspire in him a desire to relive a great many of them.

Despite what his actions might have left her to believe, she’d touched a place inside him no one else had been able to reach. And even now that spot ached in a way he was helpless to stop.

At least not in her presence.

He cleared his throat and started to get up. “Why don’t I just leave the documents with you and come back for them.”

She blinked at him, apparently surprised by his abrupt change in behavior. Hadn’t he been the one to insist on the meeting? Why, then, was he in a hurry to get out of there?

She sighed. “Fine.”

She put the papers aside and then rose to lead him to the door.

Lucas followed. “How about dinner?”

She looked at him so quickly a strand of her shiny, long black hair stuck to her red lips. “What?”

“Dinnertime,” Lucas explained, watching as she put the strand back into place.

One simple move. One tiny blip in time. One undeniable distraction that switched his mind from the matter at hand to the woman who was close enough to touch.

He breathed in the smell of her perfume. A subtle mixture of lemon and vanilla. It was all he could do not to lean in closer so he might get a better sense of how the scent mingled with her own personal aroma.

He quietly cleared his throat, but the act did little to return his voice to normal. “Why don’t I come back around dinnertime. Surely you take time out to eat, don’t you? I can collect the papers then and talk to you about other matters at hand.”

Gia apparently caught on to his attentive state and his preoccupation with the pulse at the base of her neck where he imagined she’d applied her perfume this morning. She swallowed thickly even as her pupils grew large.

Lucas was powerless to stop his mouth from moving toward where hers loomed temptingly within reach.

“Miss Gia?” one of the Trainello goons that had been hiding in the shadows emerged, wearing an earpiece he was apparently listening to. “Your next appointment has arrived.”

The connection snapped.

Lucas squared his shoulders and Gia took a physical step away.

“Very good, Tony,” she said, louder than necessary. “Um, escort Mr. Tamburo into the library until I call for him.”

She turned back toward Lucas, looking mystified by him, bewildered by her own emotions.

And—he hoped—perhaps on a level she was loath to admit, still anticipating his kiss.

“How’s six o’clock?” he asked.

She looked toward where Tony had been a moment before and then back at him. He fully expected her to refuse the dinner meeting.

Instead, she met his gaze head-on and said, “Make it seven.”

Lucas watched her make her way back down the hall, appearing more self-conscious of her movements than she had been before.

Then he turned, opening the front door at the same time as Vincenzo Tamburo, the head of the Peluso crime family, climbed the last step, two of his henchman in tow.

Whatever lingering emotions might have remained after nearly kissing Gia vanished instantly, yanking him soundly back to the reality of the here and now.

Lucas gave the other man a nod and the mafia don nodded back.

Christ.

Vincenzo Tamburo headed the second most powerful crime family in the city and was not a man to be taken lightly even when he was smiling, as he was doing now. He was ruthless and deadly, known to go to any and all lengths to keep his power intact. It was said that last year he’d had his own son-in-law whacked, the man’s body found at a Queens dump site, while his severed head had never been recovered. It was rumored that Tamburo had it preserved in a jar in his safe to remind himself that he could trust no one.

The son-in-law’s crime? Taking some initiative in his new role in the family and making his father-in-law a fortune from a Brinks-truck robbery that Tamburo hadn’t authorized.

Lucas stared at the older man’s wide back. Jesus, he hoped Gia knew what in the hell she was getting herself into.

And he hoped that when all was said and done, he would be able to protect her from the worst of it.