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“Come on, it’s not far now.”
What a lie. It feels like miles. We go through passport control, basically lying our way into the country with the false documents I have on hand, telling them we’re here for two weeks as tourists to see Boston and then New York. I’m going to change or not show up for our return flights, depending on how soon I know what’s happening next.
Nothing flags on the border control officer’s side, not from what I can see in any event, and I deflate, feeling even weaker as we make our way through baggage claim.
I stumble as we walk out into the arrivals lounge, and Carla grips me tighter.
“God, Gigi, come on, stay with me.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, but I lean into her.
I scan the arrivals lounge for the only person I want to see. I’ve met him only once, but Matteo’s face, going through every emotion when I kidnapped him on the yacht that day, is a solid memory. I won’t miss him.
The airport is busy, and I’m scanning the area for Matteo when my gaze snags on Stephano Scalera. I snatch in a breath. The one man I vowed to never see again if I could help it.
He’s coming towards us, and his eyes lock with mine. He is just as I remember him. Tall, dark hair, broad shoulders only accentuated by his suit’s perfect fit. My heart skips a beat. My ribcage protests. I sag a bit on my feet.
“Gigi?” Stephano is right here, his gaze filled with concern.
“Where’s Matteo?” I manage, but I’m seeing black spots. I might faint.
“He sent me to fetch you.” He steps even closer.
“My sister needs a doctor,” Carla tells him, and before I can straighten properly, I’ve lost my grip on Carla.
But Stephano has me, and I lean into him as my head sways.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
His arm snakes around my waist for support. I wince as I press into his chest to keep upright, but honestly, I want to collapse in his embrace. In these Mafia paws that hold me tenderly and don’t punch with the least provocation like my dad’s did. Or like Franco’s did. I swore to never get hitched to a man like that, and for now, I seem to have escaped such a fate.
“Where’re you hurting, angel?” Stephano asks softly.
Tears are flowing now. For Carla’s sake, I’ve contained them, but his tone, his touch, so caring and tender as he holds me steady, is too much.
“She won’t say,” Carla tells him when I say nothing. “Ever since Friday night— I don’t know what happened in the library, but he hurt her.” She chokes. “He hurt her real bad.”
A shudder runs through Stephano’s body, and for a second, he just rubs my back.
“Okay. I’ll take care of you. Lean against me, angel,” he says in my ear. “That’s right. As if we’re having a hug like we haven’t seen each other for years. I’m going to call the car to come around to the pickup and go. I’m sorry, but I think you need to walk out of here. I’d carry you, but I don’t want to draw any attention.”
“No,” I whisper. “No attention. I’ll manage. We made it, and Carla is safe.”
I’m wrapped in his arms, his hold firm and solid around my back. I inhale the fresh scent of his laundered shirt, my one hand resting against his pecs, the other settling on his hip under his jacket. I can’t smell very nice at all, but through his shirt, I can smell him. His male scent that seems to pair perfectly with every feminine need my body has. He is so solid and warm, and for the first time, I’m able to let go. This giant wall of responsibility I’ve been scaling seems to shrink against this wall of a man. He is here now. He’s in control, and he’ll keep us safe. I can hand the reins over to him.
Within seconds, he’s on the phone, giving orders.
“Come on,” he says once he’s rung off. “It isn’t far. You don’t have luggage?”
“No,” Carla says.
“It was a ‘come as you are’ moment,” I mutter.
Nobody laughs at my little joke.
19
STEPHANO
