25. Stephano

25

STEPHANO

It's a witch hunt. And they're going to track her down, use her, and then burn her at the stake. She's so fragile in my arms, and now she's trusted me with her truth, it's as if she's punched a hole straight through my defenses, opening my heart for an invasion.

There's been something about this woman from our first meeting in Cannes. I've vowed to never let someone in, that Tatiana was the last, but Gigi…she's different. She's from my world and in so much trouble, it's going to take the whole squad of Scaleras to get her out of this mess alive.

Upstairs, Carla's bedroom door opens, and Tasha walks out with Carla right behind her.

Gigi pulls out of my arms and wipes at her face as she glances up at her sister, who is oblivious to the level of danger here.

"Oh," Gigi breathes. "She always looks so pretty. Just like our mom always did."

The love in her eyes as she looks at her sister feels like an echo of my own for my brothers. I get it. Here is someone who would die to keep her sister safe.

The two women head down the stairs.

"Tasha needs this as much as Carla," I say softly. "After everything that happened in Sicily and Cannes, and with Matteo, she's disconnected from her usual friend group. This is good, for both of them."

Gigi nods, composing herself.

"You look beautiful," she says as Carla comes up to the table.

"Tasha sorted me out this morning." Carla smiles and gives a twirl, making the white summer dress flare up. "To think the boutique's owner delivered everything within an hour after we spoke to her. And all the sizes are just right."

"We'll see you later," Tasha says as she hooks her purse over her shoulder. "I have my phone should you need us."

"Have fun," Gigi calls as they walk off.

I lean back, in awe. Carla didn't even pick up the fact that her sister is distraught. The front door clicks closed, and the women are gone.

"What now?" Gigi asks after a moment of silence between us.

"From where you're sitting now, I bet you don't think we can extract you out of this situation. But trust me, we can."

"But how? I can't run forever. I'd rather hand over the money to Franco on a platter, but I don't want to support what they are doing in Europe. I hate the roots of our fortune, and I know the type of crime rings Franco's type runs. Underage…all-age sex trafficking—" She breaks off, her fingers working her T-shirt's thin fabric as she purses her lips, trying to curb her tears.

"For which you've been brutally marked," I complete her sentence. "We both know Franco will push you into that as soon as he has what he wants."

If he doesn't kill her.

She sucks her bottom lip and closes her eyes, trying to control her emotions.

"And the drugs," she whispers. "Human trafficking that includes everything from the whole to parts. Slavery."

"Angel. Franco Fiore is a dead man. We just have to figure out how. And for that, I need my brothers. Please trust me."

"But why? Putting yourself in danger like this for someone you don't know?—"

"I know you better than a lot of people I spend time with."

She cups her hands to her face to hide a blush as she leans her elbows on the table.

"Hey," I say as I reach for her fingers to peel her hands from her face, wanting her to look at me.

She lowers her hands and stares at me through tears.

"At least if we get married, you know I'm not after your money, because we discussed it yesterday before I knew about this situation."

A chuckle bubbles up, and she gives me a woebegone smile. "I vowed to never marry into the Mafia."

"I'd like to think there's more to me than being in the Mafia," I say with a lopsided grin. "And it won't be forever."

She shakes her head. "I don't get why you'd do it. You've got nothing to gain out of this if you're not in it for the money." She searches my gaze, her eyes like shovels digging straight to my soul.

I don't look away, tempting as it is, but let her see what she can. "I made a vow, to my mom, that I will protect women, any woman, and all women, irrespective of circumstances. This is what it takes, and I'll do it, for her and for the sacred vow I made."

And for revenge. When it comes to Franco's level of brutality, which echoes the Don's, revenge is infinite.

"You'll break one vow to honor another?"

"Yes. The one about never marrying is one I made to myself. The one I made to my mom supersedes all others." I reach for her hands where she's fidgeting with her napkin now, her lunch pushed to the side. She hardly had two bites. I wouldn't be able to eat either if I were her. "The first step to secure your safety is to give you my name. Nobody fucks with what belongs to me."

"Here maybe, but Franco is in Italy."

"And you're not going back there. Not until this has been settled."

"So, you're going to go there? Don't be crazy. It isn't your territory."

No, it isn't. But I'll have something Franco wants, and by the sounds of it, he wants it desperately. If we can get him to come here, we'll be ready for him.

"We have time to make our plans." To set a trap. Already, an idea is taking shape, but I'll need my brothers' help to fine-tune it. As a team, we never fail. "Come see what the boutique dropped off for you."

I want to distract her and de-escalate the tension in her body, so I round the table to where Carla and Tasha draped her clothes over a dining chair.

She stands, eyeing the two dresses I hold up by their hangers. "That's this season's Dior."

"It is?" I turn to look at the label. "Yes."

"Stephano," she groans. "I can't afford dresses with those price tags right now."

I shrug. "I can. Plus, we might be American, but we're Italian. I won't have my wife walk around in anything less than couture perfection."

I love how she's comfortable in the soft T-shirt Tasha dug out from who knows where, but I burn to see her in a beautiful dress again. Somehow, that will reassure me she's still the same confident woman I met in Cannes, and that Franco didn't break her.

Gigi scoffs and rolls her eyes. "As if. You haven't even asked me yet."

"Don't hold your breath, angel," I tease. "Here." I reach out for a tote the other women didn't unpack as I made sure the delivery came directly to me. "Tasha and Gigi helped picked out most of your things, but this, I got for you."

She takes the pale pink tote from me and peeks inside. Then she puts it down on the table and pulls the first item from the bag. "What is… oh ."

The blush is back, and I drink it in. This woman is all lady, but wanton in all the ways that make me so fucking hard. And I can't wait to rip this off her, or even better, work my way up to her naked butt and bend her over, her hair falling loose over her shoulders, then fuck her like she needs to be fucked.

"It's so old school…and delicate." She holds up the full-length white cotton nightgown as her fingers trace the lace on the bust. "And soft. And wide."

"And perfect to let things heal."

"God." With a sigh, she lowers it to the side and feels for the other things I got her. "Why?" she asks as she lifts silk and satin from the bag, not looking at the individual items but fisting them and holding them out to me.

Granted, I've gone overboard as I got carried away in the lingerie section. I aimed more for comfort than anything else, but I know she'll look sexy in everything I got her.

"Because when I told you I'll take care of things, angel, I wasn't fucking around."