Page 13 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

Cara wasn’t entirely sure how she had gotten tucked into a booth at a club with a man that she had no business talking to.

It wasn’t that Gian Guzzi was off-putting. In fact, he was the exact opposite. Cara was sure the man knew exactly how he came across to those around him, and had no qualms about using it to his advantage.

Charming.

Gorgeous.

Sharp lines, dark eyes, a chiseled jaw, carefully styled hair, and that was only the surface. That was what he greeted a person with at first glance. It was the second glance, and then the third, that Cara was sure won a woman over. He brought out the Italian pet names, and then murmured a quick line in French with such perfect precision that it was simply shocking. Tan skinned, a three-piece, fitted suit that showcased his athletic form, a smile that surely made most women weep, and an attitude that begged for attention.

Cocky, even, with his smirks and fast replies that took Cara off guard.

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.