CHAPTER FOUR

GIANNA

"G od, you look amazing Mia," I say, kissing both cheeks.

She does.

I'm almost certain she's wearing vintage Chanel, and she has a glow about her I've never seen before. Is that what freedom does to a woman?

" Grazie ." Mia thanks me in Italian, and grins coyly. "I'm in love. What can I say?"

We share a knowing smile, but what the hell do I know? I've never been in love and not sure I ever will. There's a good chance my father will marry me off to some gangster soon.

There's no talk of love, only loyalty.

I wonder if that's even true—it's about power and money. I may not be included in the family business, because god forbid anyone without a penis make any decisions, but I'm not stupid.

And I hear things.

I can't imagine anyone in the crime families here in the United States or Italy being someone I could fall in love with. Or respect.

Unlike Mia, I wasn't given the chance to live outside the family and meet people. My world is small and controlled, so even if I did meet a wonderful man, it would be for nothing.

My destiny will be decided by Frank Baldassare. Don of the Baldassare mafia. My father.

We're led to a table in the high-class Manhattan wine bar, and I place my Gucci purse on the table.

We order wine and it arrives swiftly.

I clasp my hands in front of me on the table and smile at my old friend. "So, how is married life?"

"Amazing. Connor is"—Mia sighs—"everything. Please don't let me gush about him all evening. Tell me about you. How are you, Gianna? God, I'm so glad you weren't able to make it to our wedding."

I shake my head. "Mia. Please. I'm glad you're alive. It was so terrible."

We sit, sipping our wines, taking a moment as the memories of her family being slaughtered fills the space between us.

"I don't remember too much. Thankfully. But the grief will never go away," Mia says, watching the stem of her glass as she spins it.

"I'm so sorry for your loss." I reach out and place my hand over hers. "I wanted to message you but Papa, you know how he is, said it was better not to. There were rumors..."

Stop talking, Gianna.

Mia lifts her eyes. "Rumors?"

"Well, your husband is a powerful man."

"Connor had nothing to do with the family," Mia says firmly.

I wonder if that's true.

But then again, I mostly don't care. Certainly not enough to ruin a good evening.

"Mia, I'm sorry. It must've been completely devastating." I squeeze her hand again. "Forgive me. I've been brought up to mistrust everyone."

She waves my apology away. "As was I. We're not so different, you and I."

I release her hand and sit back in my chair.

We are.

And we aren't.

"Except you've done what nobody else has. You got out," I say, glancing at James, who is standing near the bar and out of hearing distance.

I can't be sure, but I suspect he'd repeat my words to my father if prompted. Who knows, he might do weekly briefings with him to report on what I do and say.

I always assume he does.

Trust no one.

"Yes, but I had to lose every single member of my family to gain that freedom," Mia reminds me. "It's a huge price to pay. Especially having lost my mother when I was younger."

I twirl my glass on the table and nod.

I can't imagine not having my mother. I'm twenty-five and still live with my parents. The Baldassare estate is huge, so it's more like a small city than one house, but still.

"And you are still surrounded by security." I smile at her. "Not everything has changed."

Mia laughs. "Yes. Marrying one of the wealthiest men in America actually takes away more of my daily freedoms. But he is worth it."

Interesting. She is probably more heavily guarded than me. I can only spot two Barrett security, but I am almost certain there are more.

"What are you doing with your father's estate?" I ask.

Mia sips her wine and her eyes wander.

I would love to find a more comfortable topic, but we don't know each other well as adults. I have nothing else to talk about.

Does she sing?

Knit?

Fuck, I don't know.

In the mafia it's all about the families.

She's married. I don't want to ask if the sex is good... well, I do. Connor Barrett is gorgeous. But that would be inappropriate.

"We might refurbish it. Despite everything, it was the home I grew up in with my mother," Mia tells me. "How is your mom?"

I smile. "Angela? She is good. Bossy as always."

"And your brother?"

"Dante is well. Still wiping the drool from his chin whenever he sees Adelina Baldoni." I roll my eyes.

Mia giggles. "He's had a crush on her forever. Why do they not marry?"

"Adie can't stand him."

"No. I was sure she liked him, too. Didn't they get caught kissing in the poolroom?" Mia asks.

I try to recall that, but don't. Anyway, it's not the reason why they aren't together, but I cannot tell her any more than that.

"He should move on. Perhaps you have some friends."

"Oh, all my friends are hooked up...let me think. If he has his heart set on Adie, then they might get together one day."

They won't.

"Perhaps." I lie.

Mia watches me and I think she can see through the lie. Mafia families are complex when it comes to marriage and business. The demands on children are unfair and especially if you are a girl.

"Few would understand the lives we have lived," I say, sipping my wine. "Thank you for reaching out, Mia. I have few friends."

Her smile fades. "Gianna, no. That makes me sad."

I shrug. "Who do you trust when you are a mafia princess?"

When her eyes dart away, I wonder if I see guilt in her eyes or a sad memory returning. I brush it away. Mia has no reason to lie to me. She is probably reflecting back on her life.

"You should have friends. Everyone needs friends." She finally says and I wave out my hand, tossing back the last of my wine and waving to the server for another one.

"A problem for another day. Shall we get the bottle?"

"Yes." Mia grins. "And something to nibble on. I'm starving."

We're on the second bottle and licking our fingers after devouring a plate of baked Camembert and citrus-marinated olives when I see a tall, dark-haired man walk into the bar.

My motions slow, my tongue slowly running over my lip as I take him all in. His tailored black suit hugs his body like he was born in it, and his shoes are designer. A heavy watch peaks out from his cuff as he runs a hand though his short dark curls.

Then silvery blue eyes catch mine as he stops at the bar.

He holds my gaze for a moment, speeding up my pulse, then turns, without a smile or barely a blink, to the bartender.

And yet my panties are soaked.

Holy hell.

I've never reacted to a man so powerfully before.

My eyes slide over his wide shoulders and the way he holds himself with a confidence few men have.

Who is he?

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone to pay for his drink, then rests on the edge of the barstool. The bartender slides a top shelf whisky across the wooden bar, and I watch as he lifts it to his lips.

My heart is pounding as they part and he sips the liquid gold.

How the heck did he just make the simple act of drinking so erotic?

"Gianna?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry." I look back at Mia, blinking.

"Have you been? To Dubai?" she asks.

"No. Never. Is it nice?" I ask, and my eyes drift back to the man.

Who. Is. Staring. At. Me.

I lift my wine and try to swallow it with grace and confidence. I don't. I gulp, and it falls down my throat painfully.

I cough.

He watches me without reaction, sipping his whisky again and then placing it on the bar. Never looking away.

I drag my eyes back to Mia.

"It's man-made. You just wouldn't believe this place. Honestly, you have to go, Gianna. Even Connor was blown away and he's used to luxury. I can give you the information if you'd like."

"Dubai." I nod, trying to pretend I'm fully into the conversation.

"I want to go to Greece next. Or Morocco. I need to get Connor away from work. That's the challenge." She chats away as I smile, then I risk a glance back at the handsome man.

He's talking to a woman who has walked over to him.

Taken.

Figures.

Not that it matters. He's probably a prominent New York businessman and if he's as intelligent as he looks, he wouldn't get involved with the daughter of a mobster.

Then again, we only need to know each other for a few hours. Not a lifetime. I'm under no illusion that the fairy tale Mia is living is one I could achieve.

I glance away, forgetting him.

"Greece is incredible. If you love cats, you will be in heaven."

"I do love cats. Connor is a dog person. So we are at an impasse." She laughs and I envy her carefree life.

If only getting a cat or dog with my wonderful husband was my greatest concern. I know she's grieving, but I am feeling rather green around the collar. That doesn't mean I'm not happy for her. I am.

It can be both.

Someone approaching our table catches my attention.

I almost gasp when I see the man from the bar standing beside us...looking at Mia.

"Mia. Mia Mancini?" his deep timbre voice asks and I almost moan.

"Braxton?" She exclaims and jumps up, opening her arms to greet him. "Mia Barrett now."

"Of course. Silly me. My congratulations on your nuptials." Braxton replies—and, oh my god, even his name is hot.

Then stares down at me and as I wait eagerly for the introduction, his blazing eyes roam down the front of my dress hovering over my decolletage.

I squeeze my legs together and say a prayer, hoping he's single.

"Brax, this is my friend Gianna. Gianna—"

"Nice to meet you." I hold out my hand.

No one needs to be throwing around my surname. Especially if he knew Mia when she was a Mancini. He'd recognize my father if he swings in those circles.

Braxton wraps his large hand around mine and heat sears into my skin. I bite my lip to control my moan as those silver-blue eyes of his lock with mine.

Fucking hell, I swear he could make me orgasm just by staring at me. Am I that sex deprived?

Or does he simply ooze sex?

"A pleasure to meet you," Braxton purrs roughly.

My ovaries do a little dance as he releases my hand and his lips quirk ever so slightly. He knows I'm impacted by him.

My heated cheeks may be a giveaway. Or my dilated eyes. It's a miracle I can see!

"Are you in town for long?" Mia asks.

"Yes. A month or two," Braxton replies. "On and off."

"What do you do, Braxton?" I ask, feeling like I should maybe stand or ask him to sit.

Mia glances around, obviously thinking the same thing. "Are you alone? Would you like to join us? Is that okay?"

I nod in answer, because yes, that's okay.

Very okay.

"I don't want to interrupt." His eyes slide to mine. "I saw two stunningly beautiful women enjoying a drink, then was sure it was you, Mia, and had to say hello."

Mia waves out her hand. "Please. Sit. Even if it's for five minutes. I know you are a busy man in demand."

I'd like to demand a few things of him.

Braxton accepts graciously and pulls out a chair to sit, then lowers his large, well-built frame into it.

I sweep my dark locks onto one shoulder and enjoy the close-up view.

I was right.

He's wearing very expensive designer clothing and, as he rests confidently in his seat and people around us take notice of him, I know without a shadow of a doubt this man can have any woman he wants.

Dare I say it, including me.

"So, what are we celebrating tonight?" Braxton sips the golden liquid and tilts his head.

He's a little cheeky and a lot charming.

"Just two friends catching up," Mia replies as I quietly watch.

I want to know more about him before I make it clear I'm interested. I'm not easy. I've never been easy. Except I have a feeling if he decides he wants me, the choice won't be up to me.

And my god, that's incredibly arousing.