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Gigi’s face lights up with fury and indignation. She turns on Stephano and hisses, “I don’t care who the hell you are, but you’re getting off my yacht, right now.”
Stephano’s jaw ticks. “I don’t care who the hell you are, angel, I’m not going anywhere.”
In two steps Gigi has crossed the deck and slaps him too, this time full on the chest in an attempt to push him away. “Leave!”
Stephano takes it, too dumbfounded to do anything else. But then he shoots into action, grabbing her wrists, making her drop her sandals, and twisting her into an armlock that has Gigi wincing.
All my blood drains to my feet as I watch in horror, having been in a similar situation. They are too deep into the yacht for people on the marina to see, but Gigi just needs to scream?—
Stephano covers her mouth with his hand and looks at Matteo calmly. “Jesus Christ, Matteo,” he sighs. “Can you stop collecting hoydenish shrews? It’s bad for business.”
“Fucking curve ball,” Matteo grunts. “Bring her inside so we can talk without an audience.”
He takes me by the hand and leads me inside the yacht’s formal lounge, passing a dumbstruck, wide-eyed waiter in the process. Stephano follows with Gigi, who is kicking and screaming for all she’s worth. Her voice is muffled, and Stephano is laughing all the way as he carries her as if she weighs nothing.
“Leave us,” Matteo says to the crew who suddenly surfaced, coming to Gigi’s aid, but at Matteo’s authoritative tone, they scatter.
Yikes. Some people are going to get fired, judging by the wrath shining in Gigi’s eyes.
Matteo indicates that I should sit as he pushes his hands into his pockets and leans against the bar.
“I’m going to let you go, angel,” Stephano murmurs in Gigi’s ear as he makes his way toward me. “Try not to bite, okay?”
As soon as Stephano lets go of her, Gigi shudders as if she’s totally grossed out. “Get your filthy Mafia paws off me.”
She doesn’t pay him another second of attention but turns to me and reaches for my hand. “Cara, what is your name?”
“Can I gag this one?” Stephano asks, reaching for his belt buckle. “It will give me endless pleasure.”
Matteo sighs a world-weary sigh. “Nobody is getting gagged. Gigi, what goes on here is none of your business.”
“You’re on my yacht. She’s on my yacht. It is my business.”
Matteo grinds his jaw, as if he just knows he’s in for it now. “Yep. You being on this yacht wasn’t exactly the plan.”
Stephano smirks as Gigi purses her lips, annoyed, but then his attention jumps to me. “There’s some damage to the merch, Matteo.”
“She did it to herself.”
At this point, Gigi is clinging to my hand, studying my wrist. “Oh, no, please, don’t tell me you tried to cut your wrists!”
The rings on my finger flash in the overhead lights and Stephano steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “Are those Mom’s rings? On your hand? The senator’s daughter?” He straightens and stares Matteo down. “What the actual fuck, bro?”
44
MATTEO
Stephano’s tone says it all. I’ve gone a step too far. Everything about Mom is holy in a way. When someone dies in childbirth with her stillborn daughter, after the doctors warned she should never get pregnant again after having had the twins, well… That Mom survived Benedict’s birth was a miracle, but after him she had no luck left. We might be hardened Mafia, brutal and cruel adults now, but in us live five boys who would forever look up at the stars and think there are two angels looking down on us.
“Take them off,” Stephano commands Tasha as he holds out his hand. “Never mind the fucking sacrilege, you can’t wear them tonight.”
“Tonight?” Gigi clings to Tasha’s hand, refusing to let go.
“None of your fucking business,” Stephano growls at her, and by the looks of it, Gigi would spit at him if it wasn’t beneath her.
“Tonight is cancelled,” I say, dropping the bomb. Gigi just sped up the whole conversation I planned to have with Stephano. This isn’t the approach I wanted to take; I would have gone about it more diplomatically, but I don’t have time to argue with him.
“What?” Stephano says, a red flush creeping up his neck. “Tonight’s auction? Cancelled?”
