Even if he was a killer, below all that.
“I suppose you’ll find out.” The Don looked at me then and frowned deeply. “Your family is going to be a problem for me.”
“I don’t think so,” I said quickly. “I spoke with them, and they’re cutting me off. I think I’m going to bear the punishment.”
The Don shook his head. “Once they learn you’re staying with one of my men, you’re going to be a problem for me. Which is why I called you in here today.”
“Don,” Gian said, suddenly tense. “I can take care of her and her family. You don’t have to worry.”
“I want the girl to go home,” the Don said, staring up at Gian.
A heavy silence fell. I thought I might fall into the nearby chair. I was hungry and tired and alone, god, so alone, surrounded by strange men. I couldn’t go home, not now, and yet the Don was going to force me. If that happened, I didn’t know what I’d do. My family would destroy me. They’d lock me in a closet and force me to marry Stuart, who’d spend the rest of his life taking his anger out on me.
I couldn’t go home. There was no future back home.
“Sir,” Gian said. “That’s not going to happen, with all due respect.”
The Don laughed once, sharp and harsh. “All due respect,” he said. “If you respected me, you’d do as I say.”
“She’s carrying my baby and her family won’t support her,” Gian said. “They’ll make her marry some scumbag—”
“Stuart Plight,” the Don said, and I thought I might puke. He knew Stuart already. He knew too much. “Another rich family I do not want to get involved with.”
“I’ll handle him,” Gian said. “Sir, she’s staying with me. Her and the baby.”
The don looked at me. “Is that what you want?” he asked. “You want to give up all the privilege you know to be with this man?” He gestured at Gian like pointing toward garbage.
I nodded once. “Yes, Don Valentino. I don’t have anywhere else to go, and Gian’s been good to me.”
The Don sat back in his chair and sighed. “I can’t force you to go. I will make myself clear though. You are Gian’s problem, and if you interfere with his work, I will take matters into my hands. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Thank you, Don,” Gian said. “I won’t let you down.”
“You already have,” the Don said. “For fuck’s sake, Gian. An Adamson girl?” The Don shook his head and I felt dizzy. I clutched at Gian’s arm and he pulled me against him, which only made the Don sneer.
“I’ll handle it,” Gian said firmly.
“See that you do.” The Don waved a hand and dismissed us.
Gian tugged me along and headed toward the door. I stopped suddenly and looked back. The Don’s eyes burrowed into mine.
“I can be useful,” I said suddenly.
The Don tilted his head. “How?” he asked, drawing the word out.
“I know people,” I said. “And they know me. Maybe I can open doors for you.”
The Don frowned deeply but nodded once. “I’ll keep that in mind. Go now, before I change my mind.”
I turned and hurried after Gian. We left through the front, and the smell of baking cookies wafted through the halls after us. I couldn’t imagine that house, with that horrible man, smelling so good. Bea must’ve been cooking.
In the truck, Gian put a hand on my knee. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think so,” I said, my hand trembling. “He hates me, doesn’t he?”
“He doesn’t like when things get in the way of business,” Gian said. “It’s not personal.”
“Feels personal.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. “What the hell do we do now? I feel like everyone’s coming for us, and I have nowhere to run.”
“Now we go shopping,” Gian said. “There’s a mall not far from here. We’ll get you a whole new wardrobe, and don’t complain about money.”
I let out a long breath. “All right,” I said. “But this doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”
He laughed darkly, pulled the truck out, and took me to the mall.
8
Gian
The girl filled her closet with clothes and spent the rest of the day organizing them. I took calls from my soldiers while she gently unwrapped lavish dresses she’d likely never wear, cream-colored cardigans in cashmere and lace, underwear that cost more than my truck, tight jeans and tight tights and yoga pants and over-the-shoulder sweaters like an ‘80s workout video and jeans in all different shades of blue with various rips and tears, and delicate button-downs, and piles and piles of things I didn’t recognized.
I spent a small fortune. It didn’t seem to make her any happier, but at least she’d look good.
Stefano sounded annoyed when he finally picked up his phone. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked. “I feel like I’m running this crew alone.”