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Tears roll down my cheeks as my nostrils flare. I can’t hold my sobs in anymore, but with my mouth taped closed, they have nowhere to go. My chest burns with heartache and fear, and I sink to the floor on my knees, no longer able to stand. I watch as the executioner tapes Carla’s legs together, her body wilted. He bends, picks her up with a grunt, and carries her over to the stack of barrels where he makes her sit against one. Then he proceeds to check the lids.
Oh. My. God. Not like this.
I glance to where Franco has opened the carrying case and watch in horrified fascination as he wipes the concealer from his neck, his tattoo breaking through with every swipe of the drenched cotton wool. The other woman has been jerked closer, and she nods whenever Franco pulls out a product to remove something from his skin. Now he’s busy with the remains of the beard, for which there is a special solution.
God help us. She’s been here to transform him. A makeup artist or a special-effects person of sorts. How the hell did she get embroiled in this mess?
For a moment, Franco pauses and picks up his phone. He glances over the screen, reading a message, then puts it down.
“There,” he says with a grin as he turns to me, now shirtless and showing off his tattoo. “Like this better,angel?
Angel. No…no.
If Franco is calling me angel, does it mean?—
No. I won’t believe it. Not until I’ve seen Stephano’s body with my own eyes.
“We’re going to the airport. The jet is waiting,” he says as he plucks a shirt from the case, black like a demon’s. “We only have space for one of you girls, and we know I came for Gigi, so…”
He lets his words hang, and the other woman shakes her head, frantic.God, no…He’s going to kill her, too.
I’m still reeling from the shock when the driver, who has been leaning against the van, keeping an eye on the warehouse door, slumps and slides down to the floor. The sound of a single gunshot seems to come late, slow to penetrate my mind, and then I spot the trickle of blood running down the man’s forehead. A bullet wound.
Next, a similar popping sound, and the executioner crumbles where he’s been peering into a barrel, and he tilts, banging his head on the barrel’s edge as he droops to the ground.
Franco freezes on the spot and grabs a handgun. The other men had the automatic rifles, which now hang limply from their hands. He scans the space, panic flashing for a mere second in his eyes.
When the garage door rolls open, it diverts his attention, and he points the gun in that direction, but I hear something else. A shadow seems to chase over the roof, footsteps light, and then bullets come raining down. They don’t hit Franco, though, but splinter the floor around him, shooting up shards of cement. Franco looks up and shoots, but it’s too late. The assailant is gone.
Now, there’s another shower of bullets tracing a line where he stands. Dumbfounded, he turns to follow the footsteps on the roof, his back facing the door, and in that moment, Stephano, Matteo, and Luca walk into the warehouse, automatic rifles raised. Burley and two other bodyguards file in along the walls of the warehouse, guns trained on Franco.
It’s too much. This feeling in my chest wants to choke me as it tries to burst my heart.
He is here. He has come. He hasn’t abandoned me.
It’s only when Franco feels Matteo’s gun pressing into the back of his head that he raises his hands and drops his handgun.
And then, Stephano is there, staring down at me. He cups my cheek, and I blink when I spot his own tears. His touch is so gentle, it’s hardly a breath.
“He’s hurt you, angel, again,” he murmurs. “He raised his hand and hit you like that motherfucker hit her.” He swallows and brushes an angry wipe to his cheek. “Fuck it, angel, I want to rip this tape off, but it’s going to hurt real bad. I’ll leave you to do it yourself.”
Through my tears, I manage a nod.
“My brothers will look after you,” he murmurs as he brushes away my tears.
Wait. What? I glance around wildly. Franco is frozen on the spot, several guns pointed at him. Why does he say it as if he won’t see me again? I feel myself break, slowly, as if the world is grinding to a stop those last seconds before a tsunami hits.
He goes on his haunches and our eyes lock. “Angel, I don’t want you to see this.” His fingers tremble where they’re pressed to my cheek. “I love you. I fell in love with you the moment you walked into that hotel room in Cannes, telling me you loved a good auction. I’ve never met a woman with so much raw grit and guts, who always puts others before herself. My wife who kicks ass and literally kicked my feet from under me…” He smiles, and it breaks my heart not to be able to wrap my arms around him. “Fuck, Gigi. I thought of you every single minute of every single day until you arrived in Boston. And then—” He chuckles. “I wanted to give you grief, but I wanted to marry you so bad, too. Just for once be a man worthy of a woman like you. Prove to myself that I’m a man a woman could love and respect and look up to as an honorable husband. Be anything else but what’s in my blood.
“And you did. You came along and showed me that I’m nothing likehim. You went so far as to say I’m an angel. But I’m not. I’m going to flip because there’s this demon in me that I fight every day. Now everything seems like a warm-up for the real fight. Go with my brothers, my darling, beautiful wife. I’ll see you on the other side.”
He presses kisses to my head, my forehead, my nose, and then over my covered lips as he gently weaves his fingers through my hair. For a last second, he presses his forehead to mine. “I love you.”
Stephano stands and steps away from me, giving a last command to his brothers. “Get the women out.”
Benedict and Dominic rush in, sniper rifles over their shoulders. Benedict comes towards me, but Dominic runs to the far end of the warehouse.
Only now do I notice the unknown woman has dropped to the floor.
