Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Joshua

I probe her neck with a soft touch, careful not to inflict any more damage. I lost it in the car. I zoned out, and for a few seconds, it wasn’t Gia’s smooth skin under my fingertips, it was Ina’s. I’m usually more successful at blocking out thoughts of my ex—and no one talks about her anymore—so Gia caught me off guard, but it’s no excuse for the way I treated her.

“I don’t think it’ll bruise, but I’ll put this on anyway,” I say, reaching for the arnica cream. I’m embarrassed I reacted like that. Disgusted I attacked her so viciously when she’s done nothing to deserve it.

Mom would be furious with me and not just because Gia is Frankie’s daughter. She has raised us to always treat women with respect and to never raise a hand in anger to any female, no matter the circumstances. We have both failed, and she’d be so disappointed if she knew. I hate upsetting Mom because she means everything to me. She sacrificed a lot for Caleb and me, and she’s been the one true constant in our lives. Disappointing her is something I try to avoid, so this kills me.

“I can do it.” Gia reaches for the tube.

“Let me.” I circle my hand around her wrist, purposely gentling my touch. “It’s the least I can do.”

Her brows climb to her hairline, and I feel like a piece of shit all over again. I don’t know if I got out of the wrong side of bed today or if it’s all this shit with the Irish and the traitor in our midst, but I’m not feeling in control, and I’m on edge. I don’t overreact to situations. I don’t react with anger or violence, yet I’ve done both today, and it unsettles me.

“Joshua. Are you okay?”

I realize I’ve just been staring into space. Releasing Gia’s hand, I squeeze some ointment onto my fingers. “I’m fine. It’s been a tense couple of days, and I haven’t gotten much sleep.”

What the actual fuck, Joshua? Why on earth did I blurt that shit? Maybe it’s her. Maybe Gia is the one messing with my mind.

Shoving those thoughts aside, I concentrate on applying anti-bruising cream to her skin. Her flesh is warm and silky smooth as I massage it in, taking my time to ensure I’m covering both sides of her neck where my fingers gripped her. A fresh wave of shame washes over me before I’m distracted by the slight hitch in her throat and the faint blush crawling up her neck and onto her cheeks.

I’m suddenly aware of how intimate this is with me bending down over her within the confines of my bathroom. Our faces and bodies are close enough to touch, and tingles spread over my hand and up my arm as I caress her soft skin.

“I think that’s enough,” she whispers. Her chest heaves, and air trickles from her full lips. Her warm breath fans across the side of my face, scorching my skin every place it touches. Our eyes connect, and I should look away, but I can’t. We stare at one another as electricity crackles in the small space between us, and it’s as if there’s a string connecting our bodies and I’m being tugged into her orbit.

She’s fucking beautiful. How have I never noticed before?

Her big blue eyes convey so much, and I know I’m not the only one feeling this weird chemistry between us. The thought is enough to break the spell, and I jerk back and straighten up, needing distance. My heart is pounding against my rib cage, and my goddamn hands are still tingling. Must be the arnica, I lie to myself.

She clears her throat and stands as I turn on the faucet and apply soap to my hands. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Not for that,” I say, irritated all over again. I lather my hands and rinse them under the flowing water while I avoid looking at her. I’m drying my hands when a security system alert pings on my cell phone. I glance at the screen before repocketing the phone. “The hairdresser is here.” I fold the towel and place it on the heated radiator before walking out of the bathroom after Gia. “I’ll get you settled and then let him in.” I lead her to my private spa and open the door.

“Holy shit.” She steps inside with a dreamlike expression on her face. “I can’t believe you have all this at home.” Her brow puckers, and she loses the childlike wonder in her gaze. “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

“I don’t.” I lean against the doorway, fighting amusement.

“Oh. Oh .” Her fingers dance across the massage table as her eyes flit over the hair station, freestanding tub, and rainforest shower, drinking it all in. The shelving unit tucked into the corner holds various toiletries and towels. “This is for your wh—lady friends.”

A laugh bursts from my lips of its own volition. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She narrows her eyes and plants her hands on her hips. “I’m trying to be polite, out of respect for the women you sleep with, not you,” she adds, shooting fire from her eyes.

“I don’t bring women here. Only the female staff and my mom have been at my penthouse.”

She blinks repeatedly. “You don’t take your fuck buddies home?”

I arch a brow. “What happened to respect?”

“I’m done being polite. Let’s call a spade a spade unless you’re telling me I’m wrong?”

“You’re not wrong, and we’re not doing this. Who I fuck is none of your business.” I step into the room. “My home is my haven, and I like privacy. It’s why I pay a masseuse, a beauty therapist, and a hairdresser to come once a month to attend to my needs.”

Her face contorts, and she looks like she just sucked on a lemon. I fight the urge to laugh again. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Gia. It’s all strictly professional.”

“Actually, that’s not what I was thinking. At all. I was trying to decide if I was jealous or horrified that any man could be so vain to have all this in his private residence.”

“You call it vanity. I call it self-care.”

“At least it explains all this.” She waves her hands up and down my body.

I can’t fight my grin this time. “Liking what you see?”

She scoffs before rolling her eyes. “As if. I’m just stating the facts. You know you look good. You had a freaking spa built at your home for fuck’s sake.”

My cell pings again letting me know Alexander has arrived at the front door. “My hairdresser is here, and Rosemary, my beauty therapist, will arrive in a couple of hours. I’m having your new wardrobe delivered later. By the time you’re done tonight, I’ll have a new apartment and car lined up.”

“Wow, you’re a fast worker.”

“We don’t have time to waste.”

Her expression turns more sober. “No, we don’t.”

I leave Gia in Alexander’s expert hands while I retreat to my office on the upper level to make a few calls. I’m turned around in my chair, looking out the window at the view of Central Park when the call I’m waiting on comes through. “Kennedy,” I answer the second I press the speaker button on my desktop phone to accept Keanu’s call.

“Accardi.” There’s a brief pause. “I spoke with Rachel, and we made it happen. I have a driver on the way to you. He should be there within the hour.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you pulling out all the stops. Send me the invoice directly, and I’ll pay it immediately. Please pass my regards and gratitude to Rachel.”

“Consider it done.”

“Hit me up anytime I can return the favor.”

“I’m still intrigued. I didn’t think you dated let alone date a woman who refuses to wear the Accardi brand.” He chuckles. “Your girlfriend must be someone special if you’re going to all this trouble.”

Movement behind me lifts all the hairs on the back of my neck. I swivel in my chair, eyeballing the stunning redhead standing in my doorway. “She deserves to look a million dollars, so no trouble is too much trouble.”

“Cagey as ever, Accardi.” Keanu chuckles.

“I owe you one.”

“Happy to help. Say hi to Caleb,” he says before hanging up.

“Who was that?” Gia asks, stepping into my office.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” I cross my feet at the ankles and lean back in my leather chair as she walks toward me.

“I planned to, but then I heard you speaking, and I didn’t want to interrupt your call.”

“You’d just rather eavesdrop.”

She shrugs, like it’s no biggie, as she flops into the chair in front of me. “Is it eavesdropping if it concerns me? And I’m an informant. Spying is second nature.”

“Glad to hear it. To answer your question, that was Keanu Kennedy.”

“No way!” She sits up straighter in her chair. “He’s gorgeous. All those Kennedy men are.”

“If you’re into old dudes.”

She bursts out laughing. “I can appreciate a good-looking man of any age, and youthful genes clearly runs in their family. Besides, Hewson Kennedy isn’t an old man. He’s a freshman at Harvard.”

“Stalker much?”

More laughter spills from her mouth. “If you weren’t such a cold fish, I’d say you were jealous. But we’re getting off topic. What’s going on, and why does he think I’m your girlfriend?”

“You need a new wardrobe, and we can’t dress you from our label because there can’t be any hint of an Italian connection. We want to keep this on the down-low, so I called Keanu. He understands the need for discretion, and I knew he could get his hands on what we needed ASAP. Rachel McConaughey is practically his family, and she has a large store near Sak’s Fifth Avenue. She’s sending over your new wardrobe now.”

“Oh my God. I freaking love Rachel’s brand!” She’s close to bouncing in her chair, and amusement tickles the corners of my lips. “It feels like I’m having my own Pretty Woman moment.”

“I don’t recall there being a gun-toting Irish mafia prick Julia Roberts had to seduce in that movie?”

“You’ve watched Pretty Woman ?” Her tone drips with disbelief.

All good humor fades. Why does my ex keeping cropping up? Fuck this day. Can it seriously be over already? “Change the subject,” I grit out.

She drills me with a pensive look, like she’s trying to dig a hole in my head and extract my innermost thoughts. Her features soften a little, and I’m guessing she’s worked it out. I’m grateful she doesn’t articulate it. “How did you know what size to buy?”

“I called my mom, and she called yours.”

“You could have just asked me!” Her voice elevates a few notches. “I’m a grown-ass woman and a professional. You didn’t have to involve either of our mothers.”

“You were busy with Alexander, and it seemed easier to call Mom.”

The muscles in her face relax. “Okay, fine. I suppose that makes sense. But, in the future, I’d prefer you keep our families out of work-related matters.”

“Sure.”

She tosses her hair over her shoulders, and waves of glossy reddish-brown hair cascade down her back. Blonde highlights glint under the stark overhead lighting adding an extra dimension.

“Your hair is stunning. That color really suits you, and it looks very natural.”

A genuine smile ghosts over her mouth, transforming her beauty into something ethereal. “Thank you. Alexander was thrilled with my ‘virgin’ hair.” She makes little quote marks with her fingers. “He said the fact I haven’t ever dyed my hair made his job easier.” She shrugs. “Anyway, he sent me up here to check you were okay with it before he left.” The smile fades as she purses her lips. “I thought about stabbing him when he said that, but he’s too nice and too skilled to deprive the world of his talent.”

“Unlike someone I could mention, he knows how to conduct himself appropriately and do what he’s paid to do.”

“I know how to act appropriately.” Her lips jut out in a pout. “The overly misogynistic commentary today is playing havoc with my professionalism. Every time a man says something disgustingly sexist, I have this crazy urge to cut their tongues from their mouths so they can’t utter anything so heinous ever again.”

“You’ll need to control those urges because you’re about to seduce a senior member of the Irish mafia, and you can bet the environment will be sexist.”

“I’m well aware and capable of dealing with it. It’s a job. What I don’t expect is to receive that treatment from my own kind.”

“Everything we are doing is for your protection.”

“I don’t see how you having to rubberstamp my new hairstyle has anything to do with protection.”

I get up and walk around my desk, stopping behind her. “You’re tasked with seducing a powerful man, so a man’s perspective is all-important.”

“This is such bullshit, but whatever,” she says, tipping her head back to look up at me.

I reach for her hair, stopping at the last second. “Can I touch you?” Her eyes startle, and a chuckle rips from my lips. “Your hair, Gia. Can I touch your hair?”

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

She mutters something under her breath before conceding. “Fine.”

Threading my fingers through the silky-soft strands, I marvel at how luxurious her hair feels to the touch. Alexander cut some layers, and it looks thicker and glossier, and it feels amazing.

“Well?” she asks in a slightly breathless voice. “Do I pass inspection?”

My eyes lower to her chest for the first time, and I stop breathing. I was so entranced with her hair I didn’t even realize she’d ditched her red suit jacket and she’s only wearing a white silk camisole top over her red pants. From this angle, I have a decent view of her chest, and it’s possible I might be frothing at the mouth. Her breasts rest high on her chest, held together by a white silk bra with a lace overlay. They are fucking huge, and I’m practically drooling now. Visions of burying my face in her ample flesh accost me without warning, and I jerk back to put distance between us, removing my hands from her hair. I’m praying she doesn’t spot the semi growing in my pants.

“I meant my hair, you pig.” Her nostrils flare as she folds her arms protectively against her chest and storms past me.

Shit.

“Gia!” I call out after her.

“Fuck off,” she hollers before disappearing through my door.

I sigh as I reclaim my chair and spin around to look out the window. Is this what my life will be like over the coming weeks and months or however long it takes for us to shake down McDermott and identify the rat in our ranks? And why is there a fissure of excitement racing through my veins at the thought of spending more time with the fiery Gia Bianchi?

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