Read Online Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1) by Lisa Cardiff - Free Book Online
Authors: Lisa Cardiff
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phone and deleted the unsent text. Gian could wait.
CHAPTER TEN
Gian
“What the fuck do you mean ‘she’s gone’?” I growled, my impatience multiplying with every passing second.
Tony interlaced his fingers and inverted them, the cracking noise booming in the tight hallway of my house. “I don’t know, G. She told me she wanted to go out. Then she got mad that I was going with her, and she went to the bathroom. When she didn’t come out after twenty minutes, I knocked on the door. She didn’t answer, and I kicked it open.” He lifted and dropped one of his gorilla shoulders. “She was gone.”
“Obviously.” I glared at the still open window, the white shade flapping in the breeze. “What time did she go into the bathroom?”
“Around 9:30.”
I glanced at my watch. “That was an hour ago. She could be anywhere by now.”
He frowned. “She’s your fiancée. What’s the big fucking deal? She’ll be back. I think she’s got her panties in a bunch because you’ve been ignoring her.”
I clenched my teeth. “I’m not ignoring her. I’ve been busy. We have a lot of shit going on right now no thanks to you and your trigger happy finger.”
Dominick had lost his mind when Tommy Calvo turned up dead. As I suspected, the whole thing fell on my head despite the fact Tony had pulled the trigger. Of course, Carlo had been whispering in Dominick’s ear for the past three days, feeding him a pile of half-truths meant to take me down a notch.
He smirked. “Yeah, I’ve heard exactly how busy you’ve been with that new bartender at the club. Carlo told me she’s been glued to your dick for days.”
I rolled my shoulders, tamping down my anger. Tony needed to back the hell off. “I’m training her.”
“Right,” he scoffed, waggling his eyebrows like a circus clown. “Training her to suck your dick. I heard you took her back to—”
Hooking my fingers into the collar of his shirt, I yanked him closer to me. “What I do or don’t do is none of your business.” I pulled him fractionally closer to me, my nose not quite touching his. “Got it?”
I hadn’t done much of anything with the new bartender, Angela, and not for a lack of trying. She was exactly my type before I met Evangeline. Long blondish hair, curvy as sin, and a bubbly personality that promised straightforward, uncomplicated fun. I even dug the way her cute ass swayed from side to side when she strutted around the bar.
However, every time I tried to seal the deal, I couldn’t do it. My fucking fake fiancée popped in my head, and guilt twisted in my gut. I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to, and I didn’t—especially not to Tony.
Three nights ago, I invited Angela up to the apartment above the club for a drink. After a taking a few shots, she peeled off her dress and sprawled out the kitchen table. On autopilot, I wrapped her legs around my waist and crashed my lips against hers. And all I could think about was Evie.
It stopped me in my tracks for few seconds. Once I mentally shoved her image away, I spent two minutes groping, touching, and all around pretending, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel a thing. Not even a micro-twitch in my dick.
She tasted wrong. She smelled wrong. Her rock-hard hairsprayed hair felt wrong. Everything about her was wrong because she wasn’t Evie—the one woman who would never be mine. Disgusted with her and myself, I asked her to leave, and I’d been avoiding her like a communicable disease ever since.
Without question, the whole thing was stupid, and I hadn’t been thinking clearly. If word trickled back to Carmela that I touched Angela, no matter how fleeting, she’d likely rip my dick off.
The night in my office with Evie haunted me. Her scent. Her strawberry hair that looked like flames when the light hit it. Her long, toned legs. Her pouty lips.
And so much more.
All of it made me desperate to get Evie out of my head.
CHAPTER TEN
Gian
“What the fuck do you mean ‘she’s gone’?” I growled, my impatience multiplying with every passing second.
Tony interlaced his fingers and inverted them, the cracking noise booming in the tight hallway of my house. “I don’t know, G. She told me she wanted to go out. Then she got mad that I was going with her, and she went to the bathroom. When she didn’t come out after twenty minutes, I knocked on the door. She didn’t answer, and I kicked it open.” He lifted and dropped one of his gorilla shoulders. “She was gone.”
“Obviously.” I glared at the still open window, the white shade flapping in the breeze. “What time did she go into the bathroom?”
“Around 9:30.”
I glanced at my watch. “That was an hour ago. She could be anywhere by now.”
He frowned. “She’s your fiancée. What’s the big fucking deal? She’ll be back. I think she’s got her panties in a bunch because you’ve been ignoring her.”
I clenched my teeth. “I’m not ignoring her. I’ve been busy. We have a lot of shit going on right now no thanks to you and your trigger happy finger.”
Dominick had lost his mind when Tommy Calvo turned up dead. As I suspected, the whole thing fell on my head despite the fact Tony had pulled the trigger. Of course, Carlo had been whispering in Dominick’s ear for the past three days, feeding him a pile of half-truths meant to take me down a notch.
He smirked. “Yeah, I’ve heard exactly how busy you’ve been with that new bartender at the club. Carlo told me she’s been glued to your dick for days.”
I rolled my shoulders, tamping down my anger. Tony needed to back the hell off. “I’m training her.”
“Right,” he scoffed, waggling his eyebrows like a circus clown. “Training her to suck your dick. I heard you took her back to—”
Hooking my fingers into the collar of his shirt, I yanked him closer to me. “What I do or don’t do is none of your business.” I pulled him fractionally closer to me, my nose not quite touching his. “Got it?”
I hadn’t done much of anything with the new bartender, Angela, and not for a lack of trying. She was exactly my type before I met Evangeline. Long blondish hair, curvy as sin, and a bubbly personality that promised straightforward, uncomplicated fun. I even dug the way her cute ass swayed from side to side when she strutted around the bar.
However, every time I tried to seal the deal, I couldn’t do it. My fucking fake fiancée popped in my head, and guilt twisted in my gut. I couldn’t explain it if I wanted to, and I didn’t—especially not to Tony.
Three nights ago, I invited Angela up to the apartment above the club for a drink. After a taking a few shots, she peeled off her dress and sprawled out the kitchen table. On autopilot, I wrapped her legs around my waist and crashed my lips against hers. And all I could think about was Evie.
It stopped me in my tracks for few seconds. Once I mentally shoved her image away, I spent two minutes groping, touching, and all around pretending, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel a thing. Not even a micro-twitch in my dick.
She tasted wrong. She smelled wrong. Her rock-hard hairsprayed hair felt wrong. Everything about her was wrong because she wasn’t Evie—the one woman who would never be mine. Disgusted with her and myself, I asked her to leave, and I’d been avoiding her like a communicable disease ever since.
Without question, the whole thing was stupid, and I hadn’t been thinking clearly. If word trickled back to Carmela that I touched Angela, no matter how fleeting, she’d likely rip my dick off.
The night in my office with Evie haunted me. Her scent. Her strawberry hair that looked like flames when the light hit it. Her long, toned legs. Her pouty lips.
And so much more.
All of it made me desperate to get Evie out of my head.
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