Page 13 of Unraveled

Confident.

As his brown gaze had turned on her, the rest of the club had ceased to exist to Gian. He talked to her. He looked at her. He interested her.

Cara wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

She had been so stuck in her own head for four months, that for the first time when she decided to pop back out of it and say hello to the world, it happened to be Gian Guzzi waiting there to greet her.

Gian with his fucking suit.

Gian with his goddamn grins.

Gian looking at only her in a club full of beautiful women.

Cara wouldn’t deny that it was something she liked.

There was something she liked about Gian. She didn’t know what to make of it all.

Cara was not stupid. She recognized the surname Gian sported—Guzzi—and knew exactly what it meant, even if she didn’t know him personally.

She knew enough, like the fact that having that last name meant Gian was no doubt involved in things she avoided. In her efforts to stay away from the mafia, she could blame her success for the reason why she didn’t know anything about Gian.

She didn’t know what to blame for her attraction.

“You’re staring,” Gian said.

Cara’s gaze moved up from the slight scruff on Gian’s throat to the pleased curve of his lips, and then to his eyes. “So are you, apparently.”

His grin only widened. “I’m not trying to hide mine, though.”

“Fair enough.”

“Still can’t interest you in a drink, can I?”

“I try not to drink socially, and only on very special occasions. I do like a good beer or glass of wine, occasionally, but I don’t indulge often.”

Gian lifted a brow high. “Why’s that?”

“Alcoholic parents.”

She usually wouldn’t offer too much information about her history or childhood under the feet of her drunken, neglectful parents, but she found it easy to say to Gian.

Gian took the information in stride, saying, “That’s a good reason, then.”

“I thought so.”

“I could order something … virgin,” Gian suggested.

“Kind of a waste, isn’t it?”

Gian laughed, leaning into the booth and tossing an arm over the back, behind Cara. Normally, she would have moved, seeing the gesture for what it was—a move to get closer to her, nothing more—and that would have shut down any further advances.

Cara didn’t do that.

She rather liked how relaxed and confident Gian looked at her side, his arm resting behind her, and his gaze never leaving her.

“I’m not the only woman in this club, Gian,” Cara said.

“I’m aware.”