Page 32 of Broken Vows

I can’t think. “No?”

“Think, Gigi. You have a world full of contacts.” His hand is on my shoulder, stressing how this will be all for nothing if we can’t disappear. “It won’t be forever. Just until this tectonic shift has settled.”

“Maybe.”

Make it happen,cara. Go meet them. Charm them. Make new friends. Friends from America. And you know why. We might need them.

Don Trapani’s words ring back in my head like alarm bells.Monsters are rising…No wonder he was so adamant I go meet the Scaleras. He knew this day was coming, but I bet he got the timing wrong. Nobody else knows about our connection with the Scaleras, Franco Fiore least of all.

“Yes. There’s?—”

“Don’t tell me where you’re going. You’ve cash?”

“Fifty thousand euros in my handbag’s lining.” Plus some more in an account I’ve opened ages ago that’s not even in my real name.

“Good. Passports?” Vito is working through his mental checklist.

“Yes, fake ones, for both of us.” My business may all be above board, but I have contacts. Fake passports were the first thing I’ve secured after that talk with Papa on Carla’s birthday. I’ve always had one, but I made sure Carla had one too.

He smiles. “Never underestimate a Mafia princess. Take the cash and ditch the bag and clothes as soon as you can do so safely. Get everything new. We don’t know where they planted what. And you both leave your phones here. It’s a risk you can’t take.”

Carla inhales sharply in protest, but I grab her wrist in warning. “We have no choice.”

We blink at each other in the dark, and then Vito crouches and squeezes through the narrow gap between the stone and the fountain wall, working the overgrown foliage to the side. As he disappears into the night, all I can think is how I owe him, big time.

I told Matteo the Scaleras owe me—they oweus. The Trapanis never forget a debt, and I’m going to call in this one.

17

STEPHANO

It’s midnight, and the DJ is about to break the roof. The club is pounding with people dancing, and the light show accompanying the music makes everything more frenzied.

I can feel the vibrations under my feet where I’m standing at a railing on the second floor giving an eagle-eye view over the dance floor. The office is behind me, a quieter place to pass the hours I spend here. But midnight is always a highlight, and I have to come and feel the vibes for myself.

When I was younger, I thought clubbing would never get old, but time stands still for nobody. It’s not as if I’m old, but at twenty-nine, I’ve seen and lived through more shit than any man should. Lately, I’ve come to realize this type of life might have an expiry date for me. It’s time I put succession plans in place.

The dancers in the cages along the wall and suspended over the dance floor are part of the theatrics. Some of them work as strippers at our other clubs; some of them are just fucking good at what they do and don’t need to shed clothing in the process. Ever since Tatiana, I’ve vowed to never get involved with one of them again. I shouldn’t get involved with any woman, least of all one that makes me think long-term… Scalera boys don’t getto love and fuck me if I have to learn that lesson again. TheIl Consigliolife doesn’t gel with things normal people do.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.Matteo. Weird. Since we got back from Cannes and he married Tasha, late night calls are not a thing at all. I’m still digesting the whole turn of events in Cannes, but I’ve forgiven him for putting me through all that hell for this outcome. To see Matteo this happy only made me realize how fucking sad and lonely life has become. I don’t know how he’s going to balance life with a wife he loves and life as the Don. All I know is we will all protect Tasha, with our lives if needed.

I let the phone ring, not in the mood to talk to him. Eventually, the call dies, but he calls again. This time, I walk back into the quieter office, past the security team monitoring the cameras in the club, to my back office.

“What’s up?” I hope this isn’t some dirty business that needs wrapping up. I’m not exactly in the mood.

“We have a problem.”

Here we go.“Yeah?”

“I need you to pick someone up at the airport.”

“Okay…” I say, rolling my eyes. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me. We have drivers for that, no?”

“It’s a bit more complicated. Gigi Trapani is arriving at Logan at ten in the morning.”

Gigi Trapani.The one woman I’d planned to never see again. The one woman who keeps on slipping into my thoughts uninvited. Into my bed at night where I fist my cock with frustrated longing. The one and only woman I’ve ever hate-fucked in my life. Not that I actually fucked her, but I did kind of hate on her.

That night eats at me, and I know why. I never treat women this way, and nothing she did warranted such a level of dickishness.

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