Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2) (11 page)

“Being angry with Affonso is pointless, Emmy. He feeds
on that shit—sucks it in like cigarette smoke. I would have told you not to
waste your efforts, but at least you were doing something other than staring at
the walls and lying in bed.”

“After I got married …”

Calisto’s throat tightened, but he pushed it back and
forced himself to speak. “Keep going.”

“I thought you kept disappearing because you didn’t
want to be near me. Like maybe I was a disgrace to you because of what happened
in Vegas. And then I thought that you were staying away because you were
selfish.”

“I am,” he interjected quietly.

“Selfish in the way that you didn’t want to tempt
yourself, you didn’t want to hurt yourself, and it had nothing to do with me. I
figured it was all about you.”

Calisto quickly glanced away when Emma stared up at
him. “What are you doing here?”

He shouldn’t keep asking her that. He should just make
her go.

Surprise … he didn’t.

“I wasn’t angry when I woke up today, and it was nice.
And I also realized, the more I thought about you and these last few months,
the more it made sense. It’s the same reason why you stayed with me at the
hospital, Cal, and why you kept coming to the house to check on me. It’s the
same reason why you tried to talk to me every time you did come over, even when
I outright ignored you.”

“Emma—”

“You stayed away because you care about me, just the
same way that you couldn’t stay away over the last month and half because you
knew I needed someone. I have no one, and you knew that, so you filled the
void.”

She stepped closer to him, out of the doorway and
directly inside his office.

Calisto clenched his hands at his sides. “It doesn’t
matter, Emmy. I’m happy to see you’re out and about; moving forward.”

“Don’t do that,” she whispered.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You are. You’re trying to shove me off because I’m
too close. Because I came here, because it’s stupid, and because you don’t want
to turn me away. Right, Cal?”

‘Of course I care.”

“A lot more than you should,” she pressed.

Calisto’s chest constricted with pain. He’d convinced
himself long ago that it was only imaginary where Emma was concerned. He
couldn’t possibly feel something for someone that didn’t belong to him and that
he could never have. He just couldn’t.

“Thank you, Calisto.”

Those three, seemingly innocent words struck him straight
in his blackened, worn heart. She’d spoken them so quietly, but surely.
Confident, even, like she knew exactly what they would do to him.

It hurt.

God
.

But he liked it.

Calisto liked that she acknowledged him and what he
did. He had needed it, and while every part of him screamed how wrong it was,
it made him feel like a fucking king.

Before Calisto could think better of his actions, he
stepped forward and grabbed the door, shutting it without even looking out to
see who might be watching. Emma’s enforcer must have been around somewhere, but
was he close enough to see?

Calisto was close enough to Emma that the silk of her
dress brushed against his arms. He could smell the hauntingly sweet perfume she
wore, and he took another breath, wanting to have more of it soaking into his
lungs. 

“Where is your driver?”

“Carter is at a table,” Emma told him softly. “He’s
ordering for us. I told him I would invite you out to eat with us.”

Calisto watched her mouth move, and the way her two
front teeth peeked out through her upper lip. It was still a goddamn tease. He
still hadn’t gotten this woman on her knees below him like he’d wanted to.

Jesus.

Why was he walking on this tightrope again with her?

“We can’t do this,” Calisto murmured.

Emma’s bottom lip disappeared beneath her teeth.
“We’re not doing anything, Cal.”

“We are.”

It didn’t have to be labeled to be something.

It still was.

“Thank you for reminding me that I wasn’t alone,” she
said.

“You’re not, Emmy.”

“Not when I have someone who cares watching out for
me, right?”

Calisto knew better, but he snagged Emma’s wrist in
his palm and held tight. The heat of her smooth skin siphoned straight into his
bloodstream, like a shot of adrenaline right to his heart.

It was bad, but it was right.

It was good, but it was wrong.

“Right?” she asked again.

Her green gaze, jaded with pain and seeking something,
watched him with an understanding that he didn’t know how she had gotten. He’d
been careful with her, not wanting to bring her too close but never keeping her
too far away.

Clearly, Calisto hadn’t been careful enough.

“Right,” he finally said.

Emma took a tiny step closer, her heels clicking on
the tile floor. Her warm breath washed over his jaw when she tilted her head
upwards so that she could stare at him again.

“We’re not doing anything,” Emma said so quietly that
he strained to hear. “Someone has to know we’re doing something for there to be
anything, Cal.”

“I’m not sure if I want to walk that line, Emmy.”

“Liar.”

Calisto’s jaw ticked. “I—”

“Liar, you do. Because you care.”

He didn’t even get the chance to blink before Emma
lifted up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth to his. For a quick second,
Calisto was stunned. All he could feel were her silken lips covering his, and
her hand fisting into his jacket. He couldn’t think beyond the sweet-smelling
perfume that reminded him of candied cherries, or the emerald eyes watching
him, demanding he deny her what she was asking for.

How could he deny her?

After everything, how was he supposed to do that?

Calisto was far too selfish to stop Emma or to push
her away. He cared too much.

When she grabbed his jacket tighter and pulled, making
him stumble into her warm body, Calisto was gone. His one hand landed to her
waist while his other tangled into the chignon at the nape of her neck. He
pushed her backward until they came to stop against the door.

Emma laughed—breathy and low—against his cheek.

It made him fucking ache.

Calisto kissed a path over her high cheekbone to her
ear, feeling all the little tremors rocking through her frame. He blindly
smacked at the door until he found the latch and locked it. He drove his hand
down her side and over her stomach. It was smooth again—toned like the rest of
her tight body.

His cock hardened under his jeans, demanding he do
something to satisfy it. The only thing he could do was drive his pelvis into
Emma’s when she opened her legs wider to let him press against her until it was
just them and the fucking door.

“Kiss me again,” she said, her lips wet and red.

Calisto let out a shaky sigh. “I shouldn’t.”

“You already did it once. I want you to do it again.
Kiss me, Calisto.”

He wanted to.

Fuck, did he ever want to.

“Your driver is waiting,” he muttered, still watching
her red lips. “We’re supposed to be having lunch, or you’re supposed to be
coming to get me for lunch. Remember?”

“I’ll take it from you again,” she warned. “And you
won’t say no—you can’t tell me no.”

Calisto didn’t refuse her when she said it like that.

She was right, after all.

She’d figured out his secret.

Pinned against the door with her right leg wrapped
around his to keep him against her, Emma tipped her head back and bared her
teeth. She was sexy as hell, and she didn’t even realize how dangerous it was
for him.

For her, too.

Calisto kissed her again, harder the second time.
Deeper when his tongue swept her lips in a silent order for her to open for
him. She did, shaking when his tongue dove into her mouth, and struck hard
against hers. She pulled him closer; Calisto responded by weaving his fingers
even tighter into her hair.

If she felt the sting, he’d be happy.

She’d still feel it later, too.

Damn.

He wanted her to feel it.

When he wasn’t there, she needed to
feel
it.

Emma

“How was your day, sweetheart?”

Emma looked up from her plate to find Affonso watching
her at the other end of the table. His cold eyes bore into hers, asking a
million and one questions without even saying a word. She could easily become
trapped in Affonso’s schemes. He pretended like he cared, like he wanted her to
be better and happier, but he didn’t really give a shit at all.

What Affonso really wanted was for Emma to put her
mask back on. He wanted his stupid, simple wife back. The one who didn’t
question him and woke up on time in the mornings. He needed his wife to paint
her face pretty, hide the stains from her tears with smiles, and cover the
puffiness with wide-framed sunglasses.

He just wanted his doll back.

She liked his anger better than his fake concern.

At least when Affonso was angry, Emma could deal with
him. She could give it back tenfold. Her argumentative side could come out to
play, and her husband never backed down from a good challenge. But when he
pretended like he cared, it just pissed her off.

Yet she couldn’t say a thing then.

Affonso wasn’t looking to fight, after all.

“It was good,” Emma said as she cut her steak into
small bites.

“Carter said you went out for lunch.”

“I did.”

“Where?” her husband asked.

“I suspect you already know, Affonso.”

He smiled. “I do. Calisto has a good restaurant.”

“It had good food,” Emma agreed.

And the owner was to die for.

Literally.

Emma dropped her husband’s gaze, hoping he wouldn’t
see the truths she was hiding in her vague words. She had a hard time pushing
aside the memory of Calisto’s mouth on hers as he pushed her harder into the
office door while his hands drove up the skirt of her dress. They hadn’t had
the time for much—the kissing and his quick, hot touches hadn’t been enough.

She still couldn’t forget it.

“I’m surprised he made time to eat,” Affonso said.
“All Calisto ever does is work.”

“He made time,” she said simply, offering nothing
else.

Certainly not how Calisto’s hand had found her bare
thigh under the table as he discussed some issue with her enforcer just two
feet away. She wouldn’t dream of telling Affonso how she’d let Calisto feel her
up while she downed a glass of wine.

“But he got called away,” Emma said. “So it didn’t
last very long.”

Somehow, she managed to keep the heat out of her tone.
It was a goddamn miracle.

Affonso raised a brow. “That may have been my fault.
Something came up and he was the best man to handle it. How about tomorrow
night?”

Emma looked up from her plate again. “What about
tomorrow night?”

“I have Ray coming over for dinner with his wife. I’ll
invite Calisto, too. Make up for interrupting your lunch today.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, confused.

Affonso had no reason to suspect that there was
anything going on between her and his nephew. Emma surely hadn’t given the man
a reason to believe something of the sort, and as far as she knew, neither had
Calisto.

Yet, there Affonso was, offering to bring a man into
their home. Family, sure, but a man.

Emma’s husband was terribly jealous. Affonso had no
issue with telling men to back off his wife if he thought they were getting too
close. He certainly didn’t mind reprimanding Emma if he believed she had done
something wrong, even if it was as innocent as talking to a stranger.

“Why?” Emma asked quietly.

Affonso shrugged. “Why not?”

That wasn’t a real answer.

Emma didn’t trust her husband. Not with a fucking
inch.

“I didn’t know we were having people over for dinner
tomorrow. Isn’t the Thanksgiving dinner in two weeks going to be busy enough
for us?” she asked.

Affonso waved a hand like it didn’t matter. “I have
Ray over all the time. You’ve only met his wife twice since we married. You
should make a friend.”

Emma didn’t think so. She wasn’t fond of her husband’s
underboss, or the man’s wife. Lola Missotti was spoiled rotten to her core, and
plastic all over. And for every implant and injection the woman sported, Lola’s
personality rang just as fake.

“You didn’t ask me,” Emma said. “What if I don’t want
to have dinner tomorrow with Ray and Calisto?”

“It’s isn’t about what you want, sweetheart. It’s
never been about you.”

She should have known that.

Right at that moment, Emma believed she knew exactly
why her husband didn’t mind that she had spent time with Calisto without
Affonso being present. It was the same reason why she had sought Calisto out
earlier in the day.

Calisto cared about her.

Affonso knew it, too.

Calisto was the only person who had helped Emma when
she lost her second child. It was Calisto who had continued to come around time
and time again to make sure she was okay. No doubt, he probably asked after her
when she wasn’t around.

It was innocent enough.

Family worrying over family.

Affonso likely thought that his nephew’s closeness to
Emma was yet another way to reel Calisto in again so that he could manipulate
him. The same way Affonso had tried to bring Calisto closer when Emma’s second
pregnancy was first announced.

Only that time, it hadn’t worked.

Emma stared at the knife in her hands, unsure in her
heart. She didn’t want to question Affonso on her thoughts and draw his
suspicion or jealousies out.

“I’m sure Calisto won’t mind dropping whatever it is
he has to do tomorrow night,” Affonso said, spinning the wine in his glass.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Affonso smiled, but it came off cold. “I would. That’s
the thing about being the boss, Emma. I get the say on who does what. Besides,
I don’t think he’ll mind. Seems you’ve turned into another one of my children
for him.”

Emma dropped the knife in her hand. “What?”

“He concerns himself with your welfare. It’s the same
thing he does with my children. Somehow, you’ve gotten on his radar. I don’t mind.
That’s just one more person keeping an eye on you.”

Affonso essentially confirmed Emma’s beliefs without
her even needing to ask a thing. She wasn’t the least bit surprised.

“And since he’s family, I can trust Cal,” Affonso
added. “He might hate me, but the man wouldn’t betray me. It’s hard to find
people I can trust lately, if you know what I mean.”

Jesus Christ.

Emma let out a slow breath, willing her inner war to
calm. “Whatever you say, Affonso.”

Her husband smiled again. She returned it, but it
wasn’t real.

Affonso had no idea what he was doing by putting
Calisto in Emma’s path like he was. She certainly wasn’t going to be the one
who explained it.

She still remembered the hands under her dress from
earlier. She couldn’t forget the kiss that took her breath away or the taste of
vodka on Calisto’s tongue.

No, she wouldn’t explain it to her husband.

She would just take advantage.

What was the difference?

Affonso had certainly used her.

“Again.”

A trickle of heat slid down Emma’s spine at Calisto’s
dark, heady words whispering in her ear. Her fingers ached all of the sudden,
and she had to stop herself from reaching behind and grabbing Calisto to bring
him closer. To get away from those dangerous thoughts, Emma put her fingers
back on the ivory keys at the right position and bent them as she had been
taught, and then played another round of scales.

“Quicker next time,” Calisto murmured.

Emma shook her head, amused at his teaching. She did
as he asked.

“I’m not nearly as good as you, Cal,” Emma said. “You
play.”

“No. I try not to play for Affonso.”

Emma shot a cautious look in her husband’s direction.
Affonso was thoroughly engrossed in the drink in his hand and the man at his
side. Ray and Affonso bent their heads together before laughter erupted from
the other side of the room. Ray’s wife had gone in search of another bottle of
wine. Emma had somehow managed to make it through the dinner with her smile
plastered on, but barely.

“They’re drunk,” Calisto said as he sat down beside
her on the piano bench. “Move over a little.”

“My ass isn’t that big. You’ve got lots of room.”

“I know exactly the size of your ass,
bella
.
That’s not why I asked you to move over.”

Emma’s cheeks pinked, but she moved all the same.
“There.”

“Good, now …”

Calisto grabbed her left hand and moved it under his
right arm. His left hand was just a few keys beyond hers, while her right hand
was just beyond his. Like this, she could plainly see the new ink he had gotten
done on his forearm, wrist, and palm. The rosary was intricate in detail, and
each little black bead had swirls inside the middle, drawing her gaze in every
direction it could. She had noticed a piece of the tattoo yesterday when they
ate, but he had been wearing his suit jacket. Now, he had his jacket off and
the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows.

“When did you have that done?” Emma asked.

“Shortly after I gave you the rosary I had,” he
answered. 

Emma flipped over Calisto’s hand, wanting to see what
the length of rosary beads led to. A woven cross had been tattooed inside his
palm. “It’s very pretty.”

“I wasn’t exactly going for pretty,
dolcezza
.”

“What were you going for?”

Calisto smiled gently. “A memorial of sorts for
myself. Maybe I’ll explain it better someday. Now, we’re supposed to be
practicing the piano together. Play it again, and I’ll do the same but on a
different key.”

“I thought you didn’t play for Affonso,” she teased.

“He hates the scales.”

Emma muffled her laughter into Calisto’s shoulder.
“Okay, then.”

“We’ll do this like a round robin,” Calisto told her.
“You start.”

She did as he asked, and a few seconds into her
scales, he began to play, too. It was still the same old boring notes, but it
was better with two. It made it less routine in a way.

“Play something for me,” Emma said when they finished.

Calisto chewed on his inner cheek. “Don’t make a habit
of asking, huh?”

Emma shrugged.

She would try.

“I’m not promising anything,” she said.

Calisto chuckled. The sound rocked Emma straight to
her core. She had been careful around him all night. She didn’t cross any lines
like the day before. Calisto barely acted like anything had happened, and he
didn’t bring a single thing up to her about it all. He was polite and
well-mannered, as always.