that her own death would take place here. And that it should happen in such a way that she should bear witness to it seemed especially disheartening. She tried to penetrate the mask of the man holding her, catch a glimpse of his eyes, the shape of his jaw, even though the attempt was futile at best. She knew that within a matter of seconds she’d begin to lose consciousness, and soon after that her heart would stop beating due to lack of oxygen.
Still, she searched for a way to fend off her attacker.
It was then she grew aware that when he’d jerked her back from the doors, he’d moved her closer to a side table where a brass lamp sat. She shifted her free hand from around her neck and reached for the light, coughing when he pulled harder on the cord and then reaching again. Her fingertips slid against the cold metal but she couldn’t seem to get a grip around the wide base.
The room began to blacken. She slowly blinked, her arm falling to her side.
That was when she caught another reflection in the doors. That of a man coming up behind her attacker.
Luca…
LONG MINUTES LATER, Gia sat against the sofa cushions of the library, her fingers at her raw throat, staring at the man who had appeared out of nowhere and had seen to her attacker with the efficiency of a paramilitary trooper. At least until the last minute when the masked man had landed a punch that set Luca back on his heels and gotten away despite the armed guards who were supposed to be protecting the house and its inhabitants.
Finally, Luca finished talking to the head of the guard detail, who apologized over and over again, and then he closed the library doors,
turning to face Gia.
“What are you doing here?”
For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why she was being openly antagonistic toward the man who had just saved her life. Actually, she’d been rude to him pretty much since she’d returned to Long Island. It probably had something to do with the fact that when it came to Luca, it was better to avoid the past than to confront it head- on.
He crossed to a concealed bar, pushed the door to spring it open and poured two glasses of whiskey. He walked toward the couch and handed her one.
He considered her over the rim of his glass as he drank. “I should think your first words to me would be ‘thank you.’”
Gia dropped her gaze, the contents of her own glass blazing a trail down her throat. “For all I know, you could have been in on it with him.”
His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “Is that what you think?”
She shrugged and then put her glass down on the end table nearest her. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Facts speak louder than words. And the fact is that I said good-night to you over an hour ago.”
Luca stood staring at her for a long moment, then retrieved something lying on the floor near the door. She realized it was the file of papers he’d had her sign earlier. “I got all the way back to my place before realizing I’d forgotten these.”
Gia looked from his hands to his face. “So I should count myself lucky then, shouldn’t I?”
He didn’t appear to know how to respond so he said nothing. Instead, he moved to sit on the couch next to her.
“Did you get a look at him?” he asked.
“He was wearing a mask.”
“That doesn’t mean you might not have recognized him.”
“I didn’t.” Her gaze was steady. “Did you recognize him?”
“No,” he said easily. “Did he say anything?”
“What was there to say? Beyond ‘see you in hell’?”
But he had said something, hadn’t he? She put her hand to her temple and rested her elbow against the back of the couch. “Wait. He did say something…” She swallowed hard. “He called me Giovanna and said that I was lucky to have lived as long as I had.”
She left out the part about how her father would have been proud. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t so sure her father would have been proud. She had not yet avenged his death, she couldn’t even keep herself safe.
Besides, he’d never approve of his daughter following in his footsteps. He’d always tried to keep everything involving the family business well away from her. She suspected part of the reason was the sexist double standard to which most men from the old country subscribed. Being a mobster was a man’s job. Not a woman’s.
Mostly, he probably wanted to protect his only daughter.
She recalled another old-country man with whom she’d had an unnerving visit just that morning. Could Vincenzo Tamburo have been behind the attempt on her life?
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here,” Luca said.
Gia looked at him. “Where would you have me go? My place in Manhattan?”
She’d meant the suggestion as a half-assed attempt at a joke. But Luca wasn’t laughing. Neither was she, for that matter.
Fact was, he was probably right. She’d known she’d pinned a target to herself when she’d vowed revenge against those responsible for the hit against her father and brother. She’d only thought that so long as she stuck to the house, and stayed away from the windows, she wouldn’t be that much at risk.
Mistake number one.
Her gaze dropped to the stern lines of Luca’s mouth. And if she wasn’t careful, she might give herself over to mistake number two.
A knock at the door and then it opened.
“Miss Gia?”
She sat up a little straighter. “Come in, Vito.”
The older Italian entered and stood, taking in the couple on the couch. “I just got word on what happened.”
Luca got to his feet to face him. “Aren’t you in charge of security, Vito?”
Gia winced. “Luca…”
“No, no, he’s right, Miss Gia. I am in charge of security. And there’s no excuse for what happened tonight.” He looked at the red mark around her neck. “I can only thank God that no more damage was done.”
“What did happen tonight?” Luca continued.
Gia sighed, suddenly feeling like she hadn’t slept for days. “That’s enough, Luca. Thank you…for stopping by.” He hiked a brow at her purposeful understatement of his activities. “But I’ll be fine now that Vito’s here.”
Luca looked between her and the old Italian. Then he finally said, “If you’re sure.”
“It won’t happen again,” Vito said. “I stake my life on it.”
Gia spread her hands palm up as if to say, “See.”
Truth was, though, she didn’t trust herself where Luca was concerned. In light of all that had happened not just that night, but over the past five weeks, she might be tempted to give in to that soft spot inside her that yearned to curl up in his embrace and take whatever he might have to offer by way of comfort…and sex.
But considering what had happened the last time she’d given herself over to fundamental urges…she looked everywhere but at Luca’s questioning gaze.
“Vito will see you out,” Gia said.
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