Page 84 of Broken Vows

By the time I get to our bedroom, my phone has stopped ringing.Stephano. I dial his number, and he answers within two rings.

“Angel. I hear from Tony that Carla left the apartment. For awalk?”

I drop my head back with a sigh. “Yes. She had to?—”

“Gigi, I told you to stay put.”

“I know. She’s had enough. She’s got cabin fever.” A sob rips through me as I curl up on our bed.

“What happened?” he asks, concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but I couldn’t stop her, Steph. We had a massive fight.”

Muffled sounds come through his phone, and he must have covered it with his hand because I can’t hear what he’s saying.

“She demanded Tony stay twenty yards behind her,” he says. “Where did she plan to go?”

“I don’t know. Tony is with her, isn’t he?” Fear dusts over me, and I sit up straight.

“Listen to me, Gigi. Carla can’t be walking around Boston. Tasha is already heading home.” He takes a deep breath.“Franco Fiore landed this morning at Hanscom Field. It’s one of the smaller commercial airports outside of Boston and caters for private jets. We were tracking him, but—” He grunts with frustration. “We’ve lost him.”

“No. No-no.” I’m up and pacing the room. “What now? How did youlosehim?”

“Fuck knows. We’re figuring it out. Stay at home. We’re heading there now. Tony will be dragging Carla back, but if she makes it look like he’s assaulting her, onlookers?—”

“I don’t care. I just want her safe.”

“Yes.” He kills the call, and I stare at the screen.

Franco Fiore is in Boston.Carla is out for a walk.

I rush to her room as if she’d be on her bed like every other time these past few days. My heart beats in my throat, panic seizing me.

Her laptop is on her bed, flipped open. Her inbox is on the screen, and I gasp as I see an email chain from Vittorio Rossi. She didn’t even mention that Vito contacted her. I was worried sick about her bodyguard’s safety that Friday night when he headed back to the house in Lake Como to look out for Don Trapani. He helped us escape, after all.

Carla was keeping to herself, but I didn’t know she was keeping secrets. I’m keeping secrets too, but this? I flick my gaze over the last message.

I want to be there for you, cara. Be on standby, I’ll keep you posted. Send me your phone number.

Cara?Sweetheart. What the hell? It’s the only line in the last email from Vito, but Carla’s reply is nothing but her phone number. I scroll through the rest of the email chain, starting from the top. Carla begs Vito to let her know whether he’s alive, anxious for a response. She sends this message at least twice a day, but there’s never a reply. And then finally, he wrote back two days ago:I’m here, cara. I’m okay. Where are you?

Carla responded the same day:I’m in Boston, staying with friends. Vito, I’m pregnant.

I sink down on the bed. Pinpricks spread over my skin as I slouch over the laptop, reading the line again and again, my hand to my mouth.Vito, I’m pregnant.

Oh my God. Carla ispregnant.

My little sister got pregnant with Vittorio Rossi, herbodyguard.

I glance through the rest of the message chain. Vito’s responses are short and to the point, telling Carla she should get an abortion.A fucking abortion.After he impregnated her. The prick. And Carla’s only eighteen. I see red and clench the laptop, my hands shaking. That fucking asshole. Never mind that Carla is young and in many ways innocent, her baby is even more so.

I bite my lip to stop its quivering, but I can’t help the flood of emotions surging through me. Visuals of Mom when she was pregnant with Carla, of how I fell in love with my little sister the moment I held her for the first time. Mom’s beautiful face as she looked at us girls, peas in a pod despite our ten-year age difference. The love I felt in that moment is a memory still as strong as if it happened yesterday. And now Carla is carrying a baby, a beautiful, gorgeous child that Vito told her to get rid of so flippantly.

Why didn’t she tell me? So many things suddenly make sense. Her bouts of diarrhea, her loss of appetite and weight loss. The gaunt look on her face as the stress of this situation pressed down on her. Hiding in her room probably to hide her morning sickness.

Our fight this afternoon; Carla pushing me to my limits.

I’ve failed her in every possible way. I didn’t see the signs, but a pregnancy was the last thing on my radar. Worst of all, she didn’t trust me enough to confide in me. Tears stream down my face as I battle every rational and irrational emotion, beggingour Mom for forgiveness. I didn’t protect my sister.Igave the go-ahead for that man to come into her life, joking with her how at least he was something to look at.

---