Page 92 of For Your Eyes Only
“Nothing.” I shake my head, my tone grim.Nothing anymore.
His eyes narrow, and he sits back in his chair, sliding his fingers down the sides of his mouth. He thinks he has me figured out, but he doesn’t know shit about me. Nobody does.
Pushing out of my chair, I only sway a bit. “I’m calling it. Good luck with the honeypot, whatever the fuck that means.”
Grish is on his feet, gripping my shoulder. “I’m going to let this pass because of your friend—”
“My friend… You mean yourgirlfriend?” I don’t know why I’m picking a fight with him.
I’m miserable, and he is clueless as to why. I should be glad—it means Gia’s safe.
“Fuck you, Trip.” Grish growls. “You know how it was with Debbie. I’m letting this pass, but you get your shit together. I need you.”
“You need me.” My tone is sardonic.
His jaw tightens, and he can fuck right off. Only, I can’t walk away from this group of gangsters. I’ve lost control of my level of involvement, thanks to this prick. If I separate from them now, I won’t know what’s coming, and I can’t let that happen. I have to know if she’s in danger because I carried her off that stage. Who’s the fucking amateur now?
Clearing my throat, I get it together. “Give me a night. I’ll be better tomorrow.”
The tension in his body eases, and he nods. “You’re not going anywhere?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Fuck that pain trying to come back. I wish I had another drink. “I’m not going anywhere.”
CHAPTER26
GIA
Imade it through the car ride.
I made it through the flight.
I made it all the way to Santa Croce, but when my aunt met me at the door of her house, when the door opened, my shoulders broke. Confronting this woman who’d lived to remind me of my shortcomings added the last bit of weight to the load of failure.
“So, you’re back.” Her tone is as harsh as her black eyes and unsmiling face.
It’s too heavy. The breath I’ve been holding whooshes out of my lungs, and I almost fall to my knees.
Instead, she catches me up in strong arms, holding me against her firm chest in an embrace I don’t see coming.
“Come inside. Family takes care of family.” She speaks to me in Italian, and her words give me a modicum of hope.
A sob jerks my chest, but I struggle for control. This isn’t the relationship I have with my aunt.
“I’m sorry.” I wipe my eyes, also speaking in Italian. “I don’t mean to impose on you or take advantage of our relationship. If you would only let me spend the night, I’ll find my own place tomorrow—I have money.”
“You’ll stay here with your family.” Aunt Graziella grips my arm and drags me into her small house. “Those Americans lied to you. You should not have been treated that way.”
My validated truth unleashes a torrent of tears, and I shudder, holding her arms and crying all the pain I’ve held in my chest for fourteen hours. They did lie to me, and I believed them so much.I believed him.
Her husband, my uncle Pietro, quietly rolls the suitcase in after us.In all the years I lived here, I’ve never heard him speak more than five words at a time. My aunt has him firmly under her thumb.
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“I won’t have you out on the street like a beggar, shaming our family.”
There it is. This generous display is so I won’t embarrass her.
I hate being under obligation to this woman, but I don’t have a choice. “Thank you.”