Page 36 of Entangled

He’s still the same man, her mind whispered, but with added baggage.

Yes, if only it was that fucking simple.

Cara learned, as she snooped through Gian’s office and wandered into his walk-in closet, that the penthouse still held pieces of her time from before. One of her chokers hung from a small brass hook in the jewelry case, resting alongside a half of a dozen Rolex watches. Bangles she had slipped off her wrist still sat in a glass bowl. A jacket she remembered tossing over the bedpost one night in her haste to get in the bed with that sinful man had been hung up in the closet alongside Gian’s things.

Gian had no reason to keep her things; to leave the items where she had placed them, or to move them to safe spots where she could find them again.

And yet he had.

Gian kept the tiny pieces of her with him. Cara didn’t know if that was because, one day, he planned to return them. Maybe he wasn’t willing to scrub her from his penthouse or his life.

There was something else that became painfully obvious as she snooped. His wife held no place in his personal spaces. The woman was nowhere. No clothes, makeup, pictures, or mementos. It was as though—only here—she did not exist.

Or perhaps he didn’t want her to.

Cara also didn’t want to think on it for too long. Thinking for her almost always led to overthinking, and that was a problem. She already knew Gian loved her, and she didn’t think for a second that he would say something he didn’t mean, but it was all the rest of the details that came along with it where she hesitated.

Cara didn’t want to hesitate.

Not for Gian …

She decided, when it was just after dinnertime and she was still at Gian’s place, that it was the only reason why she was there. Comfort and familiarity. Nothing more, nothing less.

Cara was also pretty damn good at lying to herself.

And overthinking.

She should have been gone hours ago. Instead, she stayed, putting the shower in the master bath to use, and then ordering in food for lunch and supper. She had answered the one text from Gian earlier in the day, but he had yet to send another.

Cara didn’t know if that was a purposeful move on Gian’s part, or not. It would certainly be smart of him, to let her have the few hours that kept them apart without his voice in her head so she could work through her shit. She was always working through something.

It was only after supper time had long passed, that Cara began to think something might be wrong. She shot Gian another text and got nothing in response.

Cara was just slipping on her shoes to leave the penthouse, after sending another text to Gian that explained he could call her when he had time, when the elevator into the penthouse opened. Chris—Gian’s man that had kept an eye on Cara months ago—rushed into the place with a black messenger bag clenched in his hand.

He only hesitated when he saw Cara coming down the hall.

“Sorry, I thought you might be Gian,” Cara said.

Chris cleared his throat and glanced back at the elevator. “Boss brought you over?”

“Last night.”

The man didn’t even look surprised. “All right. You should head out.”

The lilt in Chris’s tone made Cara stay right where she was. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing that you need to worry about, miss.”

“It’s Cara.”

“I still know your name and I still prefer what I use.”

Cara frowned. “Because I’m not his wife, or—”

“Because respect matters,” Chris interrupted as he slid past Cara in the hallway. “Now, I’m serious. Get out of this building, preferably within the next ten minutes or so.”

“Why?”