Page 50 of Unraveled

“Gian.”

“But this one matches those stockings you’re wearing, anyway,” he said, never missing a beat.

Cara rolled her eyes. “So, hey, if you’re good here with … your friends, then I’ll head out. I don’t need to be here, and you’ve got my number.”

“I am good,” he said, “and so are they, so how about—”

“Lea?”

Cara froze in Gian’s warm hands like ice water had been poured down her spine. Gian, too, stiffened, his hands tightening to her neck at the quiet call of a name Cara rarely heard spoken anymore. She didn’t think it was random, not with the way the man posed the question over Gian’s shoulder, or the way Gian’s gaze turned cold and hard in an instant.

A beat of time passed, and then another.

Cara’s breath felt painful in those moments.

Gian moved to her side, his arm snaking around her waist. Cara faced the well-dressed man, who looked to be around the same age as Gian. Clean-cut, fresh-faced, and good-looking. He certainly wasn’t anything to scoff at, and whoever he was, he looked like he recognized her.

“Frankie,” Gian said, his smile belying the coolness in his voice. “I don’t think you’ve met Cara Rossi, have you?”

The man—Frankie—suddenly appeared as though he had taken a punch to the gut.

“My bad,” Frankie said, offering Cara a fleeting smile. “Constantino wanted to know if you were going to head out, Gian.”

“Sì, I think I am.”

Frankie nodded. “All right, have a good—”

“Why did you call me Lea?” Cara asked.

“You’re mistaken,” Frankie murmured. Then, he gave another nod to Gian. “Later, boss.”

He was gone before Cara could question him again, but Gian wasn’t.

“Come on, let’s go,” Gian said, turning them both and directing them toward the front of the club. “My place is closer, if that’s okay.”

“Whatever,” Cara replied. “Why did he call me Lea?”

“I don’t know.”

Gian was lying.

Cara could hear it in his voice.

“Gian.”

“Some people in my circles knew Lea from being around, so maybe—”

“No, he sounded like he was in pain when he said it,” Cara argued. “That’s not a passing friend, Gian.”

“Just drop it, bella. It’s not important.”

She didn’t think so.

“Why are you lying?”

“I’m not,” Gian said.

“I think you—”