Page 53 of Broken Vows

“Good.” Gigi will hate me when she realizes how I plan to use her. This can’t go wrong because she could die. Carla could die. I won’t be able to live with myself if that happens. “Gigi and Carla can’t know, because when this goes down, they might give the game away. This will only work if they’re ignorant of our plans until Franco’s dead.”

It’s going to feel like betrayal, but the end justifies the means.

27

GIGI

“Is this really what you want?” Carla’s gaze meets mine in the mirror. “I know it’s temporary and fake to boot, but it seems a bit extreme?—”

“Yes,” I cut her off. “And please, for God’s sake, never mention it’s fake to anybody. The last thing we need is gossip reaching the wrong ears.”

She’s standing behind me, having just closed the last in the row of buttons at the back of my dress. Our gazes meet in the mirror, and her silent promise comes with a soft nod.

I’ve racked my brain for every other solution, but this one is by far the best. If this leaks and we’re caught committing marriage fraud, Stephano will go to prison. I’ll only be deported, so given the risks he’s facing, he’s doing me a massive favor.

It’s a bit late in the day to start questioning if this is the right move. The past two weeks have been a haze. The one thing standing out is this: Stephano does take care of things, and he doesn’t mess around.

We’re getting married in half an hour in Matteo’s apartment. Technically in the rooftop garden overlooking the Boston skyline at an intimate family-only affair but done properly if just forshow. It might be a marriage of convenience for me, and a fake one for Stephano, but to the outside world, it must seem real.

“Okay.” Carla steps away and reaches for my bouquet. “You look stunning, for what it’s worth.”

I want to cry. I dreamed of this day as many girls do. I’m not sure why, since Mom’s marriage to my biological father was anything but moonlight and roses. The dress is spot on—not the massive meringue I envisioned as a girl, but a strapless fitted silk gown without any embellishment. My bouquet of orchids is eye-catching, filled with color. I needed something to brighten up the day. Not that I feel like a lamb led to slaughter as I would have with Franco, but I always thought if I got this far, it would be for love, with a man I know and whom I’d tested a thousand times over.

In a way, it is. My love for my sister is why I’m doing this, and although Stephano isn’t indifferent to me—we have chemistry if nothing else—part of me wants the whole dream, and not just snatches in the fog.

I step back to give us a once-over in the mirror. What I wouldn’t give to have Mom here, to see us like this. To see Carla for the woman she’s becoming. This sudden move to the US has rattled her, and the past few days seemed more intense as reality set in. She’s complained of not feeling great and struggling to adjust to the food, with bouts of diarrhea. I get it; it’s been stressful, and she’s lost some weight. She hasn’t asked to see a doctor, so I’ve let it slide. If she’s still having issues next week, I’ll insist she sees someone.

“I wish Papa could be here.” Carla is dressed in a gown similar to mine, but in a light pink that suits her perfectly.

“I know,” I say as I turn to her. “I’m glad he’s safe.”

So far, the only message we dared send him was via Matteo’s contact, and all we know is he’s received it in secret. Don Trapaniknows we’re safe, but doesn’t know where we are, and it needs to stay that way.

Stephano enrolled Carla at a college and applied for her student visa via the endless contacts the Scaleras seem to have. She’s geared up to start her degree in political science. We might have entered the US with fake passports, but these brothers have connections who will backdate and officially make us enter the US as ourselves when we’re ready.

There’s a knock on the door, and Tasha leans in. “The photographer is here.”

Great. Wedding photos are a must apparently, to make this marriage look real under any Homeland Security officer’s scrutiny. They might use the photos to leave as a breadcrumb trail to lure Franco Fiore to Boston. I’m not sure exactly what they’re planning, but Matteo’s apartment has been busy with a revolving door of people. I know the types. I’ve watched them coming and going all my life. To think it’s come to this.

I steel myself. It’s just photos, and in an hour, this will all be over. After the ceremony we’ll have a family dinner, and that’s it. Better than Tasha’s wedding from what she’s told me: a late night, clandestine, money-under-the-table affair that happened in a small back room at the City Hall. This is all above board.

We file out of the room, and as I look down to the open space, my heart flutters as my breath catches. I’ve been hiding out in my room since lunch, contemplating my life choices. Then came the hairdresser and makeup artist, and I got dressed. While I was oblivious, the space has been decorated with what seems like thousands of white roses. Center stage is the dining table, set with elaborate crystal and crockery, and silverware catching the light.

“Who arranged all of this?” I ask, stunned. I didn’t hear a thing, what with the soundproofing in this apartment.

“Stephano, with a bit of help.” Tasha winks at me. “They did it all off site and carried it in. Honestly, it’s been such fun, and I lived vicariously through you. Do you like it?”

“You lot are really sneaky,” Carla says as she comes to stand next to the railing with me. “I didn’t even catch a hint of this going on behind the scenes.”

It pains me how this is all for show. I’m not even sure who we’re trying to impress, because it’s only us and the five Scalera brothers who are attending. No parents. Stephano’s are both dead, too. Don Trapani is the last connection I have left to that generation.

“I’m getting to know the Scaleras one by one,” Tasha says with a smile, “and I’ve come to realize Stephano is a real romantic.”

“You don’t say.” I swallow hard, knowing I’m going to leave with thisreal romanticlater, for his own apartment, which I haven’t even seen yet. Matteo’s apartment has become this weird safe haven since we arrived, and although Carla has ventured out several times, I haven’t left it once.

As for my fiancé, I haven’t seen much of him lately, but I know the exact moment I agreed to all of this. Stephano wasn’t even there. Matteo came up to me a couple of days ago after dinner,to confirm I was happy to go ahead with the arrangement. By then I’d realized I had no choice and said yes, provided we stuck to the terms we discussed.At this he’d quirked a brow, nodded, and disappeared off to his office again.

I glance over the space. There’s no sign of Stephano or his brothers, but caterers are busy in the kitchen, doing the last prep for dinner.

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