Gris gives a single jerk of his chin. “I know. Somewhere along the way, you became the best of us. And the worst.”
He puts a bunch of emphasis on the last word, and I stop, the single word penetrating my thick skull. “What do you mean the worst?”
“Have you forgotten how Gigi arrived here? With bruises barely disguised with coverup? You’re really going to send her back out there? To him? What happens to her? What happens to Emma?”
What Killian did not accomplish with his fists, Gris does with his words. I suck air into my lungs. “She can’t stay in my office looking at sensitive documents.”
“They’re not going anywhere,” Killian adds, sounding pained, like he can barely draw air. “They stay.”
I look down at my brother. The one I trusted to keep them safe whenever I needed to put my focus elsewhere. He’s doing that again. It hits me square in the chest.
“You still have a tap on Gigi’s phone?” I ask Gris.
“Yes.”
“Who has she called?”
“No one,” Gris shakes his head. “You. Erika. That’s it.”
“No chance she’s got another phone?” I swipe at my bloody face again.
“Not in her desk. Not in her apartment. They’ve been searched. And nothing has shown up on any of the cameras. She hasn’t left the building since you hired her and no one has come here looking for her.” He moves to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel. “Clean up, for fuck’s sake.”
I use the towel to swab my face, pain shooting through my face when I wipe my nose. I think Killian broke it.
Killian pulls himself from the floor, kneeling with his hands over his junk. “It’s a good fucking thing my wife is already pregnant. You could have ruined the babymaker.”
Something about him calling his dick a babymaker makes me snort, which hurts like fucking hell.
But I move to my desk and pull up the camera feed. Gigi is in her apartment pacing, and obviously crying.
My chest fucking hurts to look at her. “She call anyone since I fired her?” I ask, my hand rubbing at my temple.
Now that the haze of anger has diminished, I think maybe I could have handled that better.
“No,” Gris says looking at his phone. “The only person she’s called today is Erika, while she was in the copy room.”
“Is it a coincidence her name is Andriani?” I ask, my head spinning over that one.
“I don’t know. But if she is related to Matteo, it…” Gris stops, thinking. “It might explain why he was so quick to give us information on Vigo.”
Killian pulls out his phone. “Someone needs to text Gigi and tell her not to leave the building.”
“You think she would?” I ask, fear making my pulse tic up. Yes, I’m pissed. Yes, she’s got some serious fucking explaining to do, but she cannot leave. It’s too dangerous.
“My honest opinion is that she’s a runner. She ran from Vigo and she’s hiding here. If I’m right, after what you just did, she’ll run again.”
“Fuck,” I spit. I don’t know what I think about Gigi’s past, or how she lied, but I know I want the time to decide. “Text her, Killian.”
He nods, taking out his phone. I look at Gris. “I’ve got an idea, and this time I’ll wait for your opinion.”
“All right.”
“If we want answers, we could…call Vigo.”
Gris’s eyes go wide. “That could be like adding gasoline to a fire.”
“You won’t have time to find his successor or stabilize New York.” Killian slowly works himself up to standing.
