Page 52 of Immoral

He sniffs hard, and rage passes in his eyes. Disgust fills his voice. "Too long. Every moment that passed was a test of my patience. You don't know what went through my mind and how I had to restrain myself from acting on my thoughts."

One thing I've always known is Gianni isn't a patient man. He has a temper and tends to do things how he sees fit. If anyone gets in his way, he removes them from the situation.

"What did you want to do?"

He takes a deep breath, and moments pass while he counts in his head. I don't know how I always know when he is doing it, but I get to twenty before he states, "Rush in there and blow up the place. But you could have gotten killed if I did that, so I forced myself to be patient."

"Who is the man who bought me?"

He leans closer, hesitates, then says, "If I tell you who he is, you can't ever repeat it."

Curiosity fills me. I'm surprised Gianni is telling me since it relates to his business. He always keeps those details away from me. I reply, "Who is he?"

"Promise me you won't disclose what I'm about to tell you, Cara."

"I won't. I promise."

We're still the only people in the room, but Gianni glances at the door. He turns back to me. "His name is Luca. He's my cousin, but no one besides my brothers and Papà know his relation to us."

"Why don't people know he's related to you?"

Gianni stares at me for several moments.

I shift on his lap. "What? Did I ask the wrong question?"

He arches his eyebrows. "You know who I am, my tesoro. While you aren't from a family like mine, you've been around my world a long time. There are advantages one has to having men in your pocket who are able to slide into certain situations and get the job done."

I ponder his revelation. "So…that's how he was able to get into the auction?"

Gianni nods. "I would never have gotten in there. And if the Abruzzos found out who Luca is, he, nor I, would have made it out of that parking lot."

My chest tightens. I put my hand on his cheek. No matter how much I don't trust Gianni in certain areas of our relationship, I know he risked a lot to save me. But I also need to be assured he didn't know ahead of time what Uberto planned. I want to believe all of this wasn't a calculated move on Gianni's part to force me to marry him. But I admit, "I need to know this wasn't part of your plan."

His eyes turn to slits. "Part of my plan?"

I tilt my head and soften my tone. "Can we not pretend I don't know you? For decades, I've watched you get whatever you want, even when in order to get it, you had to cross ethical boundaries. I want the truth. I need to know how long you knew about Uberto's plan and how it was possible for you to fill our room with designer clothes and toiletries."

Gianni's face hardens. His nostrils flare, and his chest balloons with air. I count to fifty before he replies, "I have told you the truth. I would never let that thug do what he did to you. And money can make anything happen. You're a smart woman, Cara. This is not the first time I've had material possessions appear from nowhere."

Years of memories flash in my mind. Gianni surprised me with last-minute trips and hotel closets full of designer clothes similar to this trip, too many times to count. Yet, instead of giving me comfort, it pains me to think about those times. I was always naive and happy. I would trust in his new promises. During all those moments, I believed it was going to be us forever.

He sighs and mutters, "Jesus, tesoro. Are you ever going to trust me again?"

I open my mouth to speak, but the door opening stops me. Two dark-haired men who speak Italian step inside. They're both wearing robes. One has abstract tattoos on his hands and shin. The other man has a claw curling around his neck. They pin their eyes on me, and I shudder as a chill runs down my spine.

Gianni's body stiffens. He moves me off his lap and stares at them then barks, "You want to remove your eyes from my wife?"

The man with the abstract tattoos continues to assess me. The one with the claw tattoo locks eyes with Gianni. His thick accent fills the air. "Quite the body on that one."

"What did you say?" Gianni seethes.

A sinister smile curls on the man's lips. "I think you heard me."

"You better watch your mouth and move your eyes elsewhere," Gianni warns, tugging me closer.

"Last time I looked, Canada was a free country," the man still staring at me states then licks his lips.

Gianni jumps up, pulls me with him, and before I know it, I'm outside of the room.

---