The Woman in the Trunk

And that was why I liked Gio, why I called him instead of his father to talk about the deal with the cartel and the issue—that was no issue at all—with the Russians. Gio Sr. would have taken offense, would have made a big deal about it. The next thing we'd know, all the families would be involved, and something that could have been handled in ten minutes—as he said—would take months or years. All the while, tensions flared and money was lost. No one wanted that. Gio Jr. and I understood that.

"You tell me the supply chain, leaving out a couple vital details because I respect your right to keep that to yourself, and I will convince my father that there is no conflict of interest," I agreed, nodding.

Five minutes later, we emerged from the gym, making our way into the living space where Giana was brewing a pot of coffee.

"Oh, Gio, hold up. I have a package for you," I told him.

"Yeah, yeah. Take your time. I will be over here saying goodbye to Little Gigi. Maybe trying to convince her to hook me up with some of that coffee to go."

I was gone all of two minutes.

But when I walked back out, the air in the living space felt thick, tense. My gaze went immediately to Giana, finding her shoulders tight, back straight, eyes wide and flighty.

Beside her, Gio seemed calm as ever, holding a mug of coffee in his hands.

Not wanting to start shit with Gio if there was no shit to start, I handed off the package, watched him leave, then turned back to Giana.

"What happened?"

"What? Nothing." She said it too fast. Her words were too choked. Something happened in those two minutes. And I needed to know what.

"Bullshit, Gigi," I told her, moving into the kitchen space, grabbing one of the mugs she had set out, pouring a cup. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing of consequence," she insisted, looking away, busying herself by wiping down the counter.

Nothing of consequence.

There it was again.

A turn of phrase I didn't expect out of someone her age.

I shook off that thought, though, knowing I needed to focus on whatever Gio had said to make her so uncomfortable. Especially because I didn't typically think of Gio as someone who made women—or girls—feel that way.

"Giana, I walked away and you were calm. I came back, you were pale and stiff. He said something. What was it?"

"It doesn't matter what he said. Or didn't say."

"It matters to me."

"I can't imagine why. I'm a prisoner here, remember?" she snapped.

"If for no other reason than this is my home. And if someone is made to feel uncomfortable inside it, that is disrespectful to me."

"Right. Only you get to do that," she told me, brows lifting. "And heaven forbid anyone dares disrespect the Great Lorenzo Costa," she mocked, moving out of the kitchen.

"Giana," I snapped, reaching out, grabbing her arm, turning her back, watching as her eyes flared.

"Oh, right," she said, recovering, ice slipping into her tone. "I am just a lowly inmate here. May I please go back to my cell now, warden?" she asked, actually fluttering her lashes at me while the venom slipped from between her lips. "Or are you not done manhandling me yet?" she added, making my hand drop her arm like it'd caught fire, not liking that insinuation. That I would hurt her.

With that, she glared at me for another second, then stormed off, slamming her door as she went.

My gaze shifted to Chris who had moved back into his position in front of the elevator.

"The fuck did I do?" I asked, shaking my head, at a loss.

To that, he shrugged.

"Kids," he said, shaking his head.

Yeah, maybe that was it.

She was just acting her age.Chapter SixGiana"What's your game, sweetheart?" Gio asked as soon as Lorenzo disappeared down the hall, moving in closer, so we could speak privately.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted, but felt my stomach tightening. Because something about this man said he could see right through me.

"You can flutter your eyes and you can play the innocent card. But you and I know you're no kid, Gigi. You're twenty if you're a day. And I just can't figure out why you would play that hand."

On the one hand, I felt like there wasn't a single person in this world I could trust. On the other, something inside me said that this man would only make things worse for me if I lied to him.

So I gave him the most comfortable truth I could.

"I am trying to make it so they won't kill me," I admitted, expecting those words to have some sort of impact on Gio. But nothing crossed his face at them.

"Alright," he said, nodding.

"Alright?" I repeated, spine straightening.

"Your business is your business, sweetheart. I dunno what you did. I don't need to know. Way I see it, you've got a right to use whatever you got to plead for your life. But can I give you a little tip?"