Page 143 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

“Except I have the feeling that neither of us are happy now,” Cara said, “and that’s his fault, too.”

Chris nodded again, stepped back, and let the elevator door close.

Cara grew silent as the elevator began to move upward, and she eyed the security camera in the upper left corner of the tin box, pointed right at her. She wondered if Gian was watching, knowing that the elevator was solely used for entrance and exit from his penthouse, and none of the other suites in the building. Someone had to be watching that camera.

She shot it the middle finger for good measure.

Just in case.

Childish, maybe.

Who cared?

As the elevator came to a slow stop at the top, Cara was surprised to find her inner turmoil had almost calmed completely. She didn’t know what to expect from herself—more nerves, perhaps, but definitely well-deserved anger.

None of those feelings came immediately as the door opened.

White walls, a vaulted ceiling, and the huge brass and crystal chandelier caught her eye first. She stared upward, soaking in the familiarity of the penthouse, and remembering how the first time she had seen it, it had damn near taken her breath away. She almost wished that Gian had given her the decency of choosing somewhere else to have this fucking meeting. He had to know how the penthouse would affect her, how the memories would sting her.

Cara shook the heavy sensation off her shoulders, and walked further into the penthouse, down the entryway, and toward the main floor of the place. She didn’t have to be told to know that’s where Gian would be waiting for her. Not close to the elevator, where she could make a quick exit if she needed to, but deeper into the penthouse, where he might have a chance to convince her to stay.

She had news for him.

Cara wouldn’t be staying.

Ever.

Gian stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out over the busy city streets as Cara entered the dining room. As Chris had said there would be, a lunch spread was waiting on the large table. It looked as though it hadn’t been touched. Cara didn’t make a move to go near the food, or Gian as he finally looked over his shoulder to acknowledge her presence.

A wariness settled in his eyes as he looked her over, and his usual grin—that sexy, confident smirk that was always in place—had vanished. He seemed older standing there staring at her, like the weight of the world had come along and sat itself down on his shoulders for the moment. His hair, the longer strands at the top, were messier than normal. A clear sign he had been running his fingers through the dark strands, speaking of his hidden stresses.

“Cara,” he murmured.

She still didn’t move.

Not when he spoke, or when he turned completely to face her, and certainly not when her heart ached to go to him.

She didn’t realize how hard this was going to be.

Not being angry, or even knowing what she had to do, but actually doing it. Saying this would be final—the end of them, whatever they were. That was the hard part.

“I’m sorry,” Gian said.

“I wish that made a difference, Gian.”

“I know that I should have told you, dolcezza, there’s no reason why I didn’t, except that I was being selfish.”

“You’re right, you should have told me, and you are selfish.” Cara shifted from one foot to the other, restlessness settling into her heart. “Aren’t you going to ask how I found out?”

“It doesn’t matter, really. You know, and that’s the important part.”

She was going to tell him anyway.

“Pictures,” Cara said quietly, “of your wedding. She looked beautiful, like a proper bride should.”

“Can I explain a few things about Elena and the marriage? Her and I, we’re not together in that sort of way. We haven’t been for years, we don’t even speak on a regular basis. Just let me—”

Cara shook her head, cutting him off with a quick, “No.”