34. Gigi

34

GIGI

It's late afternoon, and somehow, I've ended up at Tasha and Matteo's apartment. Stephano insisted I come see Carla. I can't explain to him how I need a break from my sister. When I'm with her, I have to keep up the fa?ade that everything is okay. I must be strong for both of us as Carla, typical for her age, believes someone else is going to sort out the mess while she just cares for herself. By magic, everything is going to come right.

After Franco's attack on my business, things won't go back to what they were. If I were in England, or anywhere in Europe, I would have fought these allegations in the open. I would've scrambled to get lawyers in place and fight him through the legal system, but when it comes to the Mafia and staying in hiding, common law doesn't govern.

"What did you do today?" Carla asks.

We're sitting on her bed, where she was watching a movie on her laptop before I arrived.

The list is long, so I keep it short. She doesn't need to know. "I painted."

"Painted?" She leans forward and hugs her legs to her chest. "What did you paint?"

"A small canvas as a warmup. Toying with colors and so on."

To think Stephano got up this morning, ordered a whole art store of supplies for me, helped some staff with their personal finances, then went to the gym for almost three hours, only to come back and be the perfect husband by surprising me with his thoughtful gift. And this after I accused him of entertaining prostitutes.

And after the intimacy last night… I feel like a real fishwife, living up to my promise to be the most horrible wife ever. I'm swimming against the tide. I don't want to be that anymore, not with him giving me space to find calm in the chaos, talking to me, and showing me who he is.

"Sounds like fun," Carla says as she rocks herself.

"And you?"

"Nothing much, mostly looking into the course I'll be taking and so on."

"That's good." I can keep pretending, but there's no guarantee Carla will be going to university. I hope this situation can come to a head before her classes start. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Better than last week."

She looks fine. I don't know what stomach bug she caught, because I've been fine. She looks smaller here in this room, and I don't know if it's the weight loss from last week or the trauma in general that gives her this fragile air.

"Maybe you should still see a doctor? Just for a check-up. You've been through a lot."

"The last thing I want to do, Gigi, is to see a doctor. I'm fine. I'll be fine. It's been intense."

I lift my hands up and capitulate. "Okay."

There's no point in pressing her.

"Are you staying for dinner?" she asks.

"I don't know." The men are in Matteo's office, and who knows what they're discussing.

Stephano and I haven't made dinner plans. I bet Matteo wants his wife all to himself. Imagine being newlywed with house guests staying indefinitely. If there were space at Stephano's apartment, I would have insisted Carla come live with us. His place is too open concept, though, an exclusive bachelor's pad to the last brick, and Carla needs her space, which she has here. I'd love for her to get her own studio or something, but what with my cashflow cut off and the uncertainty and safety concerns, there's no way I could even suggest we look at places.

There's an awkward silence between us, and I have no clue how to crack it. It's been like this with her for months now. During our escape here, things were better, because we were each other's lifelines, but now, it's as if we're back in our own corners, cuddling our secrets.

"How was last night?" she asks, a blush staining her cheeks, and I exhale softly.

"It was fine." I don't want to discuss my fake marriage. "Is there an update on Papa?"

If there were, Stephano would have told me. I want to steer the conversation away from me, but Carla's bottom lip trembles, and she bursts into tears.

"No. There's been no word from anybody! What if he's dead? What if we indirectly killed him?"

I rub at my brow, not knowing what to say. "Time will tell, Carla, keep faith. Vincenzo won't?—"

"You don't understand?—"

A knock on the door makes her clam up, and after another knock, Tasha opens the door. "Are you staying for dinner? We've got so much leftover wedding food."

"I'm going to take a shower," Carla says as she gets off the bed.

She doesn't notice the pile of used tissues crumbling like a tower to the floor in her wake. She's been hiding those from me. I didn't see them when I arrived, because she literally sat down on them when I walked in.

"Have you checked with Stephano?" I ask Tasha as I stand. Something's up with Carla, and for the life of me, I can't pinpoint it.

"He said to check with you." She smiles, but it's forced as she arches an eyebrow at the pile of tissues on the bed.

I walk out of Carla's room and reach for Tasha's arm as she closes the door. "Has she spoken to you at all? Because she isn't speaking to me."

"No, I'm sorry. It seemed like she was coping, but she spent the whole day locked up in her room. I'm glad you came to see her."

"What does it help if I come see my sister, but she doesn't open up to me?" I feel lost, unfit to mother my younger sister. Something that's become harder with each year she gets closer to adulthood. It's as if she's saved face until the wedding was over and then basically caved in. "She needs to see a therapist. Talk to someone."

"I'll ask Matteo," Tasha says, but shakes her head as she tugs at my hand. "Come. I hate standing here."

"Why? It has such a view over the first floor. All the flowers from yesterday?—"

A shiver runs through her. "Let's just say, I've seen things from this exact spot when Matteo held me captive…things that can't be unseen."

"What?" We're making our way to the stairs.

"I shouldn't have said anything, but I'm keen for us to move out of this apartment, and Matteo is working on it."

Oh my God. She saw someone being killed here, didn't she?

"Whoever it was, please tell me he deserved it," I say softly.

"Totally." She meets my gaze, and the particular understanding for this life, for what Mafia men get up to and how it affects us, passes between us.

I swallow, knowing the lay of the land. "Don't bother talking to Matteo. We both know no Scalera is going to allow us to talk to outsiders, even a shrink under oath of confidentiality."

She squeezes my arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Let me see if Stephano wants to stay for dinner."

"How was last night?" Tasha asks as we descend the stairs.

Honestly . Can everybody stop poking their noses in our business already? "It was fine."

"I can't help feeling there's something brewing between you two. The way Stephano kissed you yesterday?—"

"There's nothing going on between us." Never mind sex, kissing is the last thing on the agenda, even though he made my knees weak with his kiss when we sealed our marriage. I couldn't deny him that one so we'll have a photo as proof should Homeland Security ever come poking around our fake marriage.

Matteo's office door opens as we take the last stair, and Stephano's eyes catch mine across the expanse of the room. My heart skips a beat, and my stomach flutters with butterflies as if on cue. I can feel Tasha's gaze burning on me as a blush spreads like wildfire over my cheeks.

"I know nothing when I see nothing ," she says with a suppressed smirk.

I can't stay a minute longer than needed in this apartment, being scrutinized like a bug, and pretending I'm fine. "We won't stay for dinner. Thank you all the same."

"You good to go home, Gigi?" Stephano asks as he closes in on us, probably having read my expression.

"Yes." I don't need to sound so desperate, but suddenly, all I want is to be home, alone, with my husband. The one person in this world who knows everything. I bet he's told Matteo what happened today. Now that the initial shock has passed, I'm exhausted.

"Let's go."

He takes my hand, and I don't have it in me to protest. Honestly, he could guide me into Hell right now, and I'd follow him blindly. I can't pinpoint what changed my opinion of him like this. All I can hope is that it will last.

We say our goodbyes, and eventually, we're on our way back to his apartment. It's quiet in the car. I'm too tired to make small talk, and Stephano seems deep in thought. We both stare out of our respective windows as the driver navigates Boston's rush-hour traffic.

"How's Carla doing?" he asks when we're almost home.

"I don't know. She didn't talk much, and I sense something's off, but I don't know what."

He searches my face and then sighs. "You can't protect her from everything, angel."

A fact I'm not ready to acknowledge.

He holds my hand as we scale the stairs to the apartment, and once we're inside, he takes me by the shoulders and turns me to face him. "Do you trust me, angel?"

"You asked last night."

"Yes, but I ask you again. Do you trust me?"

I swallow at the knot in my throat. His stare is so intense, it's as if he wants to strip away every layer that ever was between us. "Why do you ask again?"

He skims his hands down my arms and catches my fingers with his. "Because there's going to come a time where you'll doubt everything. In that moment, I need you to come back to this one and remember that you trust me."

"I... I…" My voice breaks, and I'm in his arms.

"Say it, angel. Say the truth now."

"I trust you," I whisper as I look up at him.

He drops his head back and exhales deeply as he hugs me close. "Okay."

"What's going on, Steph? What's happened? You're scaring me. Does Franco?—"

"No, not yet. But soon." He peers into my eyes. "Remember this moment." He leans in and presses the softest of kisses to my forehead. "I'll sleep on the sofa going forward."

"But…" I swallow my own protest as he lets go of me and walks to his office and closes the door, exiling me from his presence. My heart sinks, one beat at a time, to the pit of my stomach.

The one thing that kept me going was the notion that he'd be there tonight, at some point holding me close.