Page 36 of Broken Vows

I did a double take. At a first glance, I hardly recognized Gigi. This isn’t the glamorous woman who strode down the Cannes marina with a skip in her step, or the siren who walked into Tasha’s auction as if she owned the place, in the red dress I still want to rip off her. This isn’t the woman who stayed and seduced me by just being there. Fuck. I might have kept my hands to myself that night, but now I have them on her, and it’s like holding a cracked china doll.

Fragile. On the verge of breaking. I can feel it in the way she breathes, haltingly, how she quietly winces as she shifts, probably thinking I can’t pick up on these little signals.

The only thing that’s the same from the day in Cannes is that she’s keeping a girl safe. In Cannes, she was hellbent on saving Tasha from the auction, but this time, it’s clear it’s only her sister’s safety she’s concerned about. Carla looks unscathed. I bet Gigi stepped in and took all the blows. Maybe we have more in common than either of us will ever admit to each other.

All I know is, the fucker who’s done this to her is going to have his reckoning.

We’ve made it to the exit, and I spot my SUV with the tinted windows driving up to us. “Come on, this is us.” I have my arm around her back, supporting her by her waist.

Tony, my bodyguard, who’s been trailing a few steps behind us, opens the back door, and I help Gigi in. Carla rounds the car and gets in on the other side.

With a suppressed grimace, Gigi shifts to the middle seat to make space for me. As soon as I’m seated next to her, I strap her in. I’m careful not to touch her, but even the seatbelt makes her suck in a breath.

“You’re going to tell me everything,” I say. “Get me the medical kit in the back for some pain meds,” I tell Tony, and he opens the trunk to pull out the emergency kit we always have on hand. He gets into the front passenger seat, and I nod at the driver to go. Tony passes me the pill box, and I hold out bottled water for Gigi. “Take two of these.”

“I need a shower,” she groans. “Will they knock me out?”

“Maybe, but you need to rest.” I shake out two pills. “If you have broken ribs, the shower can wait. You’ll feel better once you’ve slept on a bed.”

“It’s more than broken ribs.” Carla leans forward to meet my gaze. “She won’t say.”

“Carla—” Gigi breaks off as she takes the pills. She doesn’t look me in the eye. “If I fall asleep, look after my sister, please.”

“I promise to take care of you both, and you know she’s safe with me.” I wasn’t on my best behavior that day in Cannes, and I have no excuse for my last words to her, but surely, after that afternoon and night, she knows I’ll never hurt a woman. Not that I’ve tested this theory, but—I can’t go there. Not now. I watch how she swallows the two pills and take the water from her. “The drive isn’t far.”

“Where’re we going?” Carla asks.

“My brother Matteo’s apartment. It’s basically a high-rise Alcatraz without the island.”

“Sounds perfect,” Gigi says, her eyes closed.

Her head bobs, and then it settles on my shoulder. She didn’t need meds to knock her out; she needed the green light stating it’s finally safe to fall asleep as someone else holds the fort. Whatever happened to her, it’s totally drained her.

We drive out of the airport and take the tunnel to the other side of the harbor. It’s quiet in the car as Carla stares out of the window. When we get to the high-rise apartment buildingIl Consiglioowns, the security team rolls the gate open for us, and we drive into Matteo’s private underground garage. The driver parks close to the elevator. I manage to cradle Gigi in my arms, trying to be as gentle as possible. She moans but doesn’t wake up.

Tony gets us into the elevator. Carla is fidgety now, probably because she doesn’t know us at all, and with Gigi passed out, her mind could be in a tailspin. She also looks ridiculously young.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Eighteen.”

“You’re going to tell me what happened, and you’re not going to skip one single detail.”

She bites her lip. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Good.”

Soon, the elevator doors open to the penthouse foyer, which hosts three doors. A central double door leads to Matteo’s apartment, a single to his bodyguard’s apartment, and the third leads to a room we keep forspecialguests. There haven’t been any of those lately, and when Matteo kidnapped Tasha, he opted to use the safe room inside his apartment as she didn’t fit the profile of people we usually park there.

We’ve hardly stepped out of the elevator when the door to Matteo’s place opens.

“You’re here!” Tasha’s eyes widen when she sees me carrying a body. “Oh, God, is that Gigi?”

“Yes.” I meet her gaze, and our eyes communicate silently as she lets us in. This woman dressed in jeans and an oversizedMilano, Ti Amosweater and sneakers is a world apart from the elegant goddess we both met on Don Trapani’s yacht.

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. We might need to take her for X-rays. I gave her some meds for the pain.”

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