Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines Book 2) (17 page)

Emma thought that was terribly sad. A daughter
shouldn’t feel like she had to make her father like her. He just should without
question.

“Emma?” Cynthia asked when Emma stayed quiet.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to say sorry.”

Emma’s brow lifted. “For what?”

Cynthia’s gaze dropped to Emma’s flat stomach. “Daddy
said we shouldn’t say anything, just act like nothing was different.”

Oh
.

Emma’s heart leaped into her throat, almost choking
her silent. “It’s okay.”

“Is it really?”

“No,” Emma admitted. “But it’s a lot better than it
was.”

“I’m still sorry.” Cynthia turned back to the display
case and stared inside. “I need to find something for Cal.”

Emma did, too.

“I’ll help you look,” she said.

Cynthia smiled brightly. “Thanks, Emma.”

Teenagers weren’t as hard to like as everyone claimed.

Except for one …

“Are we done here or what?” came Michelle’s annoyed
voice from behind Emma. “I’ve got things to do. Better things. Just get him the
goddamn lighter, Cynthia. Daddy will shove it into his drawer like he does with
everything else we buy. Stop wasting time on him.”

The girl was more like her father than she knew.

Emma didn’t bother to tell her that, though.

Christmas rolled in quietly for the Donati home. It
was one of the only holidays when Affonso didn’t open up his home with a large
dinner and parties that went on for hours.

Emma was grateful.

She didn’t think she would be up for it.

The Christmas holiday brought with it a somber mood
that seemed to hang in every damn hall of the house. It was unavoidable.

Emma knew that Affonso’s first wife, his daughters’
mother, had died close to Christmastime. It was probably hard on Cynthia and
Michelle. They wanted to celebrate the holiday and enjoy their gifts, but it
was another reminder of their grief and losing their mom.

She understood.

Emma let the girls do their own thing when they needed
to. Affonso didn’t say a word either way. She decorated the home using a
mixture of the decorations that had been packed away, and some new things she
had purchased leading up to the holiday. Instead of asking if Cynthia and
Michelle wanted to join in to help string lights or hang wreaths, she let them
come to her willingly.

But even with the decorations, bright lights, and
tinsel all around, the house still felt sad. Like it had its very own heart
that was broken.

So when Christmas morning arrived, Emma didn’t rush to
get ready and make her way downstairs. It wasn’t like anyone else in the house
was particularly excited, and she certainly didn’t have anything to look
forward to.

Whatever gifts Affonso gave to her would be yet more bribes.

Something to keep her pleased, happy …
quiet
.

Once she was dressed, and her mask made of makeup and
fake smiles was plastered on, Emma finally made her way downstairs.

She was the last one to wake up, apparently.

Emma was surprised to find her husband, his daughters,
and Calisto chatting around the dining room table. The cook had been given the
day off, which meant everyone had to fend for themselves if they wanted to eat,
or Emma had to cook.

“It’s about time you woke up,” Affonso grumbled from
the head of the table.

Calisto met Emma’s gaze, his expression passive. The
barest hint of a smile graced his lips at her confused look.

“They’re hungry and incapable of cooking,” Calisto
said.

“I’m not incapable,” Cynthia replied. “Emma just makes
things better than I do.”

“Your opinion,” Michelle said. “But she does make
great waffles.”

Emma smiled at that. “I can make waffles.”

“Hurry up then,” Affonso said. “The coffee is hot. I’m
not so inept that I don’t know how to turn the pot on. We’ll be in the living
room opening gifts when you’re ready to join.”

“Sure,” Emma said, still watching Calisto out of the
corner of her eye.

He hadn’t mentioned that he would be there on
Christmas morning. She was surprised to see him. It didn’t help that her first
reaction was to rub her thighs together to soothe the constant ache whenever he
was near.

As soon as Affonso stood from his seat, his daughters
followed suit and left the dining room. Calisto stood to join them.

Emma tampered down her desire at the sight of him in
one of his all black, tailored suits. The man looked damn fine, and he knew it.

This was not the time.

Today was not a good day.

She went straight to the cupboards, thinking Calisto
would follow the rest of his family to the living room where the tree was set
up. Pulling out the things she would need to make the waffles, she didn’t
realize Calisto had come up behind her until his hand landed on her hip.

Emma jerked at the sudden touch.

And
sighed
.

He made her so goddamn stupid.

“Merry Christmas, Emmy,” Calisto whispered in her ear.

“Merry Christmas, Calisto.”

“I’ve made it a tradition to join them on Christmas
morning and take the girls to Mass afterward. Affonso takes his own car. I’m
sure the girls wouldn’t mind if you joined us.”

Emma’s stomach clenched with heat and need. “Yeah,
sure.”

“I have something for you.”

Calisto took his hand away, and every single part of
Emma felt the loss. She wanted him touching her again, she wanted him closer.
It didn’t matter how dangerous and idiotic it was, she needed it.

She didn’t say a thing.

Calisto moved beside her, and put a tiny gift box
about the size of her palm on the counter.

“Better I give it to you now,” he said. “No one else
will understand.”

“Your gift is under the tree. The girls picked it out
with me.”

She hoped he liked the black rosary with its silver
cross and chain. It reminded her of the one he had given to her. He had yet to
ask for it back.

She made sure to touch it at least once a day.

Calisto smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind. Open it, and
then don’t let anyone see it.”

Without another word, Calisto caught Emma’s chin
between his forefinger and thumb, and pressed a fast kiss to her lips. Before
she could react to his kiss, he was leaving the kitchen with a two finger wave.

Stolen moments.

Calisto couldn’t possibly know, but Emma clung onto
each one.

Every single time.

Shooting the kitchen entryway a look, Emma listened to
make sure no one was coming back from the living room. She quickly opened the
top of the gift box, and froze in place as she saw the small item nestled
inside black velvet.

A casino chip. From the casino where
her
penthouse had once been. Where Calisto played her right off a poker table with
his cocky as hell grin.

The white chip was embossed with golden dots all
around the outer rim. The casino’s logo was emblazoned on the middle along with
the dollar value.

It was a little thing.

A stupid thing.

And she
loved
it.

Emma laughed under her breath, amused and overwhelmed at
the same time. She plucked the chip out of the velvet case with trembling
fingers. Her vision blurred as she blinked away the sudden tears gathering in
her eyes.

Somehow, Calisto had either kept a chip from his time
in Vegas, or he got one sent to him.

It didn’t matter.

It meant the same thing to her.

His time there had been important enough for him to
want to keep something from it. His time with
her
had been important to
him.

Emma held the chip tighter, hiding it in her palm.

The simplest things were the best kind of things.

Emma

“That’s an awful one,” Affonso said, flicking his
wrist at Emma.

Emma glanced at the dress in the mirror, appreciating
the soft colors and smooth lines. It wasn’t
housewife
enough for
Affonso’s tastes.

“You’ve only seen a few of this season’s collection,”
the shop woman said. “Give it a few more dresses and see how you feel.”

Affonso sneered at the woman. “If they’re all like
this one but in different colors, I think we’ve had enough for the day.”

“Affonso,” Emma chided, shaking her head.

Shopping with him was unbearable. Unfortunately, it
wasn’t something he gave her much of a choice in. Affonso wanted Emma to be
dressed in the most up-to-date items when they came into the stores. Both he
and she regularly updated their entire wardrobe over the span of a couple of
days.

It bored the hell out of her.

Affonso just liked to antagonize the ladies working in
the boutiques. Emma was sure of it.

“Fine, we’ll try on another few,” Affonso said.

He shooed the woman away with a wave, glaring as she
went.

“You don’t have to make this whole thing so awful for
them,” Emma said.

“For the amount of money I spend in here, yes I do.”

Jesus.

Emma rolled her eyes, and turned back to the mirror.
“I don’t see what the problem with this dress is.”

“The length, for starters.”

“It’s only a few inches above my knees, Affonso. I
can’t think of a single man who gets turned on by the sight of a woman’s knees.
Should I start wearing dresses that hang down to my ankles?”

“Don’t start,” her husband warned. “Try on another.”

Knowing better than to argue with him, Emma went back
into the changing room. She picked a navy blue dress that would be tight to her
curves with a pencil thin skirt, but fell low enough to soothe Affonso’s
jealousies. Once she stepped out of the dressing room, Affonso nodded in
approval.

“Better,” he said. “I like this one.”

“Me, too.”

Affonso stayed quiet as Emma turned in the mirror,
surveying the back of the dress and how it looked at different angles. She
couldn’t help but notice how quiet her husband had become. Usually he was full
of praise or disapproval when she came out of a dressing room with something
new on.

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked, not bothering to turn
around. “You said you liked it.”

“I do.”

“You’re too quiet.”

Affonso sighed. “It isn’t the dress.”

Emma turned around to face Affonso. “Do you want me to
get the dress?”

“Yes.” He stared up at her, unflinching. “I also want
to know if you put any crazy ideas in my daughter’s head about some school in
England.”

Emma blanked. “What?”

Affonso waved his phone in the air. “Cynthia messaged
me not five minutes after her plane landed yesterday. She’s been waiting on a
reply from me ever since. Something about a school and dance—in England.”

Shit.

Why was Emma’s throat so tight all of the sudden?

The girls had stayed home for nearly three weeks
before they left again for boarding school. Emma was sad to see them go, as
they made the New Year’s celebrations leading into cold mid-January a little
bit better. They gave her something else to think about, other than the fact
that February was crawling closer and closer by the day.

Her baby boy, the one she buried, would have been due
the first week of February. She didn’t realize how much it hurt until it was
right around the corner.

Emma forced the thoughts away. It was better if she
didn’t stay focused on the sadness for long. It could eat her alive if she let
it.

“Did she mention it came from me?” Emma asked.

“No,” Affonso replied.

“Then why would you think it came from me?”

“Who else would it come from?”

“Your daughter who has spent the majority of her life
practicing ballet and wants to continue.”

“In
England
,” he stressed.

Emma racked her brain with something to say to calm
the anger clouding Affonso’s features even colder and darker than they usually
were. This was not good. She planned on slowly bringing this topic up to her
husband in little ways, while trying to engage him more in Cynthia’s dancing.

Clearly, her step-daughter had different plans.

“She might have mentioned it,” Emma said.

“And you encouraged it enough that she decided to ask
me if I would sign off on the tuition early,” he snapped.

Surprised at the change in Affonso’s demeanor, Emma
refused to back down. He wasn’t fun to deal with when he was pissed off, but
neither was she.

“Actually, no,” Emma said. “I didn’t. I thought it was
something she should discuss with you. I never encouraged her to drop the bomb
on you about it, however. I told her to give it a bit of time and make sure it
was what she really wanted before she brought it up to you.”

“What is even in England for her? There are dance
schools in New York that would die to take her. England is …”

“Too far from you,” Emma said quietly. “Give her a few
years, Affonso. She’s young. Let her be young before you start demanding things
from her. She needs to grow up a little bit.”

Affonso growled under his breath and tossed his phone
aside. “You don’t understand, Emma.”

Emma threw her hands wide. “I don’t understand?”

“Well—”

“A year ago, I was Cynthia!”

Affonso swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. “I don’t
think it’s quite the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing. You’ve already told me
how you want to marry the girls off to strengthen your
famiglia
. It’s no
different. I’m asking you, Affonso, to please give Cynthia a few more years
before you do that to her. A little more time for her to learn who she is and
to let her grow up. She’s just a
girl
.”

“She knows what I expect,” Affonso said, brushing off
his pant legs like he was over the entire day and conversation.

Emma’s fury boiled over. She couldn’t have stopped it
if she tried.

“I know she’s less important because she was born a
girl, but she is still your daughter,” Emma said, knowing damn well how harsh
she sounded. “And if you can’t understand even a tiny bit why it would be
better for her to have just a little more time to be young before you force her
to be someone she doesn’t want to be, then you aren’t worthy of being her
father.”

Affonso turned to stone, his gaze lifting to level
Emma with a single look. “Tell me how you really feel, sweetheart.”

“She’s just a girl.”

“My
daughter
,” Affonso corrected.

“Then why don’t you act like it?”

Affonso’s stare dropped, his posturing softening
briefly.

Emma wondered if she had hit a weak spot on the man.

“How many more years would you have needed?” Affonso
asked quietly.

Emma wished he hadn’t asked that question. Her answer
wasn’t a simple one. She never would have been able to marry him without hating
her father for making her do it.

So, she lied.

“A couple,” she said.

“Did Cynthia mention anything else about this … school?”

“It’s a four year program—bachelor in arts. She’ll be
able to focus on dancing while she earns her degree,” Emma explained.

“I’ll consider it,” Affonso said.

Emma would take it.

She wouldn’t push him for more.

“Another dress?” she asked.

“Yes, another.” Affonso reached for his discarded
phone and turned it on. “Also, about tonight.”

“What about it? Calisto invited us to the opening of
his new club. You’ve known about this for weeks, Affonso.”

Her husband didn’t look up from his phone. “I’m not in
the mood tonight.”

Emma had been looking forward to it. Since Christmas,
she hadn’t been able to see Calisto, let alone be close to him. It saddened and
irritated her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Her heart was missing home.  

“That’s too bad,” Emma said, trying to hide the
disappointment in her voice. “I was looking forward to doing something.”

“As long as you have your enforcer with you, I don’t
care what you do.”

Emma smiled. “Oh?”

Affonso still hadn’t looked up from his phone. “Go.
Have fun. Give our well wishes for my nephew’s opening.”

Your son
, she corrected silently.

It didn’t even matter.

Emma was too happy to worry about all of that
nonsense.

A night out where she could be with Calisto without
Affonso?

Perfect
.

“Does that work for you?” Affonso asked.

“It sounds fine.” 

Emma couldn’t have hidden the elation if she tried,
but by the time Affonso had discarded his phone again, she was already in the
dressing room.

“Oh, wow,” Emma said.

She watched from behind the safety of one-way glass as
bodies swarmed the hardwood dance floor. Lights strobed and flickered, making
the patrons look like shadows moving slowly. They were actually dancing quite
fast. Sharp, hard bass pounded at the floorboards.

It was an amazing sight.

“It’s something else,” Carter said beside Emma.

Calisto chuckled as he strolled over to the windows.
“All of the walls up here were built into this loft-like floor. They weren’t
structural or needed, so I had them knock them down and add these in instead.
It turned out exactly like I thought it would.”

Emma shot Calisto a smile.

He returned it with a wink.

“The boss would have liked it, I imagine,” Carter
said.

Emma ignored her enforcer as she turned to take in the
rest of Calisto’s new office. Apparently, he had given up his office at the
restaurant to begin doing his day-to-day business here. Light-colored leather
furniture had been pushed into a cozy arrangement against the far wall. A
large, cherry oak desk rested in the middle of the room. Brass lighting hung
from the high vaulted ceiling.

And the windows …

It was fantastic.

Two walls were lined with flat screen televisions that
showcased different vantage points in the club. From the cash, the kitchen,
outside of the bathrooms, fifteen angles of the dance floor, and all exits and
entrances. It was all covered.

Emma liked it a lot.

“I might have to schedule this place in for my
Saturday nights,” Emma said to Calisto.

Calisto smirked. “I’ll make sure to save you a seat.”

Carter was still staring out the windows at the people
below.