Page 8 of Broken Vows

“So? It’s an hour’s drive?—”

“You haven’t seen the traffic?—”

He sighs into the phone. “I don’t care. Make it happen,cara. Go meet them. Charm them. Make new friends.”

“Why? Who are these people, anyway?”

“Friends from America. And you know why. We might need them.”

This. Everything is about scratching each other’s backs.

“Who are they, then? I assume their business isnotthe same as yours?” My subtle way of prodding to see if I’m stepping into another crime-riddled Mafia ring.

“No. The Scaleras are from Boston. You’ll see for yourself. They’re good people to know.”

“What business are they in, Papa?” I insist. I’m not going to smooth the way for the ’Ndrangheta or Cosa Nostra from America into Europe. Plus, I’ve never heard the name Scalera before.

“Honestly, Gigi. They own security companies in the US. Top of the range and latest technology like we don’t know here yet.”

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to calm down. If Don Trapani is making connections with security companies in the States, to the extent where he allows them to use our yacht, things are worse than I anticipated. If you’re getting a company from theStates to come and upgrade your security, it only means you don’t trust anybody locally anymore.

We’re in deep, deep trouble. And I bet Vincenzo doesn’t know anything about this Scalera visit.

“I’ll go meet them,” I say, my eyes focusing on Carla’s flawless face, her makeup done to perfection and doing nothing to hide her youth.

“Thank you,cara. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

We ring off, and I revert to the menu, but my appetite is gone.

4

STEPHANO

I’m pacing the St. Chalamet presidential suite. Waiting is the worst. Two months of planning, and now, time drags. My body is buzzing with unspent energy and a nagging worry about Matteo I can’t shed. The only word I got was a quick message statingit’s doneafter he killed Randazzo.

My phone vibrates in my jacket pocket. This better be my brother. I groan in relief when Matteo’s shitface shows on the screen.

“Fuck, Matty,” I say as I answer the call. “Are you okay?”

“Hey.” He clears his throat. “All good.”

"Bro. I’m sitting here on pins and fucking needles waiting to hear from you.” I sweep my gaze over the ridiculous luxury of the space. ‘Pins and needles’ isn’t exactly right. The two-bedroom suite exudes class, money, and style. It has magnificent views over the white sandy beach of Cannes’s La Croisette, currently packed with umbrellas, deck chairs, and vacationers. The sunlit ocean beyond is such a bright blue, it’s almost blinding.

If I weren’t so fed up with this virgin auction, I would’ve relaxed on the balcony and enjoyed the services that come with of this level of luxury.

Matteo laughs, if a bit drily. “I’m good. Made a fine escape on Don Trapani’s yacht, I’ll tell you this much.”

He might be cruising in style, but now I’m sensing again things didn’t go exactly as planned. “So the Don made the right call?”

“Yeah. And with our jet already in France, it will be harder for someone to trace our tracks.”

I sigh in relief, but I won’t feel at ease until I’ve seen him in person. I can’t wait for all of this to be over. Up until my arrival in Cannes, I’d been going through the motions, mindless, forcing myself to make the necessary arrangements for this auction. With my twin brother Luca, we’ve done hundreds of virgin auctions, but the women always come to us, wanting to auction off their virginity for whatever reason. Student or medical debts for family members, wanting to fund their travels, buy a home for their ailing parents, anything. If you can think of a reason, it’s been used.

Our clients are men with so much money they don’t care to throw it around for a bit ofinnocentpleasure. With every woman who applied, asking us to arrange her auction, I’ve vowed it would be the last time. Yet every single time, I figured better us than another party with fewer scruples and measures in place to ensure the girls aren’t brutalized in the process.

“What time are you arriving in Cannes?” I ask. The clock is ticking, and this show needs to get on the road.

“We’re about to enter the marina. Should take another half an hour, I’d say.”

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