24. Gigi

24

GIGI

I struggled to fall asleep last night. Our options are limited. I can't come up with any other solutions, and panicking doesn't help. It rises in me every time I think back of Friday night, because I have no clue what happened to Don Trapani. Whether he is dead or alive.

We're cut off from the rest of the world. I desperately need to shop for some basics, and even this seems like a mountain to climb now we're stranded. Tasha lent me some clothes, and the adjacent bathroom is kitted with everything I need, but this isn't sustainable either. Stephano's promise he'll look after the wife he vowed to never have and take care of things is very tempting, but I'm not sure what he'll table under look after the wife and take care of things.

After showering, I deal with my cuts while trying not to look at them or gag, and dress again in some borrowed clothes. As I open the door to the landing, voices echo from downstairs. This apartment is weirdly soundproof—I wasn't even aware other people were awake. By the stark sunlight falling through the windows, it's past midday already.

I glance over the glass railing to the big room below. Carla sits at the dining table with Tasha, Matteo, and Stephano. Several boxes, empty plates, and some food platters clutter up the twelve-seater. Two chairs are covered with clothes, and a pile of boutique totes and shoe boxes are discarded to the side.

As if she senses me, Carla looks up with a smile. "Hey, Gigi."

Tears I have no control over well in me. She looks so much better. Rested, relaxed… happy ? It's the last thing I ever expected. Carla is a lot of things, but happy isn't exactly one of them. Parts of her are still a teenager, whereas she thinks she's a full-grown adult.

The rest of the group turn their eyes up to me, but I'm only drawn to Stephano's which seem to inspect every inch of me in slow motion. Heat blazes a trail where his gaze makes a journey over my body, and I pull away from the glass railing to descend the stairs.

"I overslept," I say in excuse. It's so late, they've already had lunch.

"It's a good thing," Tasha says as she comes up to me. "Have something to eat."

"You look better for it." Matteo pushes a plate laden with salad and roast chicken in my direction.

"Thank you." I sink into the chair Stephano holds for me. He hasn't said a single word, but when I meet his intense gaze, his brow is quirked in question. Dammit . "What's all of this?" I ask as he settles back in his seat next to mine.

"Stephano brought us laptops and cellphones," Carla says, not hiding her enthusiasm. "And some clothes. Gigi, you need to settle with him."

"Of course." I eye the brand-new laptops and latest-edition phones, making a rough calculation in my head. At this rate, my fifty thousand euros isn't going to last very long. I have more funds, but they're trickier to get hold of. And there's my business I don't know how I'm going to keep afloat from here.

"It isn't necessary," Stephano says. "The electronics are standard company issue, and the clothes…well, it's only to tide you over until you have the energy to shop for yourselves."

"Heavens," Carla says on a sigh. "I'd love to go shop in New York."

I want to reach over the table and shake her. "This isn't exactly a holiday, Carla. And please tell me you haven't gone and randomly messaged your friends and told them where you are?"

"No! God, do you take me for such an idiot?"

Heat flushes my face, and I drop my gaze. Having a tiff with my sister in front of the Scaleras isn't how I wanted to start my day.

"I've told her to be careful and wait," Tasha says. "Don't worry, we've got this."

Tasha and Carla look at each other, and my sister's lips twitches with a smile. Who knows what happened this morning while I was asleep? These two seem to be thick as thieves already, and as much as I hoped to close the gap between Carla and me, I just cracked it open wider again.

"We've also looked at courses for her to take, given what she wanted to do in Italy. It would be easy to get her into something here. There are so many universities and options in Boston," Tasha says. "And I have time to take her around. My own classes only start in September."

Hell, Tasha's young, but I didn't realize she's still a student. My face must give my shock away because she chuckles.

"I'm doing medicine," she says in explanation. "And it takes forever."

"Steph," Matteo says as he stands. "I'll leave you to sort out what else they need. I've got to get to work."

I stand, too. "Thank you for everything, Matteo."

"Thank Stephano." Matteo smirks. "He's two steps ahead of everybody here."

He leans down and kisses Tasha on the forehead, but she pulls him in for a lingering one on the mouth. It's somehow so intimate, I look away only to meet Stephano's gaze where he's staring at me.

I sink back in my seat, wishing I was anywhere else.

"Thank you, Stephano." I hope that was official enough. "Let me know how much I owe you. We're a lot of things, but we're not leeches."

"No, you're not." Tasha leans over and touches my arm. "I know what you would have done for me, so it's a pleasure to help you out. I was thinking of driving Carla around this afternoon to show her a few places, if you don't mind? We waited to see if you want to come with us?"

My gaze jogs between the two women. I can only imagine what would happen if I said no to Carla right now. "I'm not up for it, and we have a lot to discuss?—"

"I know, Gigi, but later, okay?" Carla takes her laptop and phone and bundles the stack of clothes into her arms. "I'd be sorted for university here, and it would be great to do a gap year in Boston, don't you think?"

A year? She thinks we're going to be here for a full year? I can't leave my clients hanging or take my fingers off the pulse of the art scene in Europe for so long. I might as well close shop. "Yes, a gap year would be fun, but?—"

"You should know. You did three years in London."

I refrain from rolling my eyes. It's always tit for tat with her. "We'll talk about university later. As for this afternoon, you can only go if it's safe."

For this, I glance in Stephano's direction.

"Of course it's safe," Tasha says as she stands. "I have Burley with me and a driver. We can have an extra security detail if you think it's needed?" She looks at Stephano for confirmation, and he nods. "See? It's going to be fine."

"Yay!" Carla hands Tasha some clothes to help carry, and together, they take the stairs, deep in cahoots. "Thank you, Steph, I love everything you and Tasha got for me," Carla calls down as if in an afterthought as they reach her room. "I'm going to try on some of these and wear them now."

"Any time, Carla," he calls back.

Steph ? Just like that, my little sister is on a nickname basis with him. Her bedroom door clicks closed, and then it's almost eerily quiet as only the two of us are left.

Stephano turns to me, and there's a wry smile on his lips. "Giving you hell, isn't she?"

I poke at my salad. "I've never felt our ten-year age gap more than now, to be honest. She's spoilt and reckless."

"She's just young, and you've protected her, with your life by the sounds of it."

I blink, wishing he could make me angry instead of poking at my emotions that have been so close to the surface since Friday night. "She doesn't understand. She's grown up with so many layers of protection, she can't fathom the danger—" I break off. I'm trembling, the lettuce leaf on my fork shaking as if there's a breeze. "And even now, doesn't she worry about Papa? I don't know what happened to Don Trapani?—"

"We've had news," he interrupts. "We should have told you first thing. Don Trapani is fine."

I drop my cutlery to my plate and turn to him, desperate. "How do you know?"

"Matteo has a contact on that side who has an inside track on what's happening. He used to work for this Randazzo, so Matteo reached out last night and had a message from him this morning."

My heart pounds, lodged in my throat. They know someone who used to work for Randazzo. "What's his name?"

"I don't know, but I trust Matteo. He just calls him the mole."

I search his eyes, trying to find the lie in his words, but there's none. "And where's my stepdad now?"

"He's in Lake Como, under house arrest as Franco's waiting to see if you contact him. Franco has no clue where you are, but the search is on."

My stomach twists, and bile rises in my throat. I shiver and then it overwhelms me. I'm trembling uncontrollably.

"Hey," Stephano says as he leans closer. His hand cups my neck, and he pushes my jaw with his thumb, forcing me to look at him. "Gigi. You need to be honest with me here. If there's more to Franco Fiore's urge to marry you than business connections, I need to know. Now."

Gentle. Always so freaking gentle. And warm. I swallow, at a crossroads with this man.

"I can't help you if you're not honest with me, angel."

"I know."

I lean into his touch, and he circles my neck, pulling me closer. This has been pressing on my chest for ten heavy years, but to finally share this secret with a man I barely know…it's pure madness. Evidently though, the secret about the Trapani family finances is out already, thanks to Vincenzo. At least, the Scaleras have no business in Italy, and by the looks of it, don't need the money.

"I'm pretty lucky to be alive," I whisper. "Franco offered to marry me, but what he really wants are my hands and my eyes."

"What?" Stephano's eyes grow dark, and he drops his head even closer to mine. "Why?"

"Ten years ago, when my mom died, most of Don Trapani's unrecorded assets were put in my name, with the understanding that when Carla turns eighteen, we'll split it again, as she was underage. I'd hope it slipped everybody's minds, but clearly, it hasn't. Vincenzo must have told Franco about the funds. I'm the only one who can unlock secret vaults the Trapanis have in the Swiss banking system without jumping through some serious hoops. With my fingerprints and retina scans."

Stephano's expression says it all. Shock and disbelief. "Why would anybody do that?"

"Don Trapani saw this day coming. Vincenzo isn't a good man, and he wants it all for himself. I bet he's in bed with Franco Fiore in more than just a metaphorical sense. This was always the Don's way of keeping me alive."

"And to protect you from your own brother?"

He drops his hand away, and I miss the reassuring touch.

"He isn't my brother. For ten years, it's worked. I never needed a bodyguard, and Vincenzo left me alone. Those vaults are probably the best-guarded secret in Europe, but I'll be pretty dead once they have what they want."

"Which is?"

"Blood diamonds and physical gold. Hundreds of millions of euros of both." I'm in such a chokehold, my breathing is strained. "One of the pillars of the Trapani fortune." And one I've vowed to never touch. "Once laundered, it's all the money they'll ever need to expand their operations and whatever criminal shit they're involved in now. Franco doesn't want me. The marriage will be a mere by-product. What he wants is the money."

We just stare at each other, knowing the truth. In our world, there are no pre-nuptial contracts, no law that binds us like the general populous. In my case, Franco Fiore would torture me until I caved in and took him to the vaults to raid as much as he could.

"And he'd hack off my hands if it were only the fingerprints he needed." I shudder as I choke up. I've had enough of Franco's torture to last me a lifetime.

Stephano's arm is around me, and he pulls me close. I collapse against his chest as sobs rip through me.

"Carla knows all of this?"

"No." I sound strangled. "She turned eighteen three months ago, and I've been too busy to go do the necessary. Don Trapani didn't push me either to get it done. In fact, I forgot about it, on and off, you know?"

Now I understand why Don Trapani let it slide, too. If half the amount were in Carla's name, she would be as much a target as me. Thank God none of it is in her name. Don Trapani made sure his own daughter is safe. I don't want to think he's serving me up to Franco Fiore as a sacrificial lamb, because that isn't his nature. None of us saw this coming, and who knows how Vincenzo manipulated his own father?

"We've protected her to the last," I say. "And I won't stop."

He holds me as his hand strokes my arm. "There's only one way this ends. You know that, right?"

I nod. I've always known. Married or not, the end game for Franco Fiore and me has always been like writing on the wall.

Until death do us part.