Page 118 of Unraveled

Gian had only needed to mention Edmond as well, and Constantino was hooked, line and sinker.

It was stupid of him to be, yes.

That was what blind affection did to a man.

“Jeans, shirt, no shoes, and a dish towel. Are you playing homemaker today, or what, man?”

Gian laughed, and headed back toward the kitchen while Constantino followed behind. “Taking a break today, that’s all.”

Constantino sniffed the air. “And cooking, apparently.”

“Someone needs to feed me.”

“So hire someone.”

“It clears my head.” Gian gestured at the many chairs around the table. “Take a seat and we’ll chat.”

Constantino took a seat that faced the kitchen, allowing Gian the chance to watch the man as he finished his stir-fry. He would never turn his back on this man again.

The sad thing was, he hadn’t even needed to turn his back the first time. Constantino had simply stabbed Gian in the chest when he wasn’t looking. And when Gian did finally notice and asked what happened? Constantino pointed the finger at someone else.

Like any good coward would do.

“Where’s the girl?” Constantino asked.

“She has a name. You know it.” Gian opened the pan and stirred the contents up. “Cara—use her name.”

“Are you still pissed about what I said at the restaurant? I apologized for that, and I only spoke the truth. Like you should be doing, man.”

He had apologized when Gian called. Although, it had taken some careful prompting on Gian’s part to make it seem as though he felt he overreacted that night.

“It’s the point of the matter, Constantino.”

“Fine. Cara. Where is Cara? The other night when you called, you didn’t want me coming over because she was here.”

Gian checked the clock. “She’s probably watching that show she likes. It would be on at this time in Chicago.”

Constantino perked. “Chicago?”

“Flew in yesterday.”

“She did that herself?”

Gian chose not to answer. He certainly wasn’t about to say that he had sent Cara away, and raise Constantino’s suspicions. He wanted the man thinking that nothing was wrong, like water under the bridge.

Much like the idiot had fooled him.

“That’s where she is, anyway,” Gian said, pulling the pan from the stove. “I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie, either.

Gian didn’t know when he would send for Cara. After he had finished business, the smoke had cleared, and it was safe. A week, maybe two. He couldn’t let his need to have Cara close cloud his judgement about what was best.

“Better she go,” Constantino said.

Gian pulled plates from the cupboard. “Pardon?”

“Cara. It’s better she left. She fucks with the way you do things—how you see shit—but you don’t seem to notice.”