A look in the mirror reveals my face is a mess. Two black eyes and a taped-up nose.
My torso is blooming in dark bruises.
I grab the bottle of ibuprofen and pop several pills.
Everything hurts.
Rolling my neck, I pull out my phone and press on Matteo’s contact.
The line only rings once before he picks up. “Funny to hear from you.”
“Why is that funny?”
“I’m standing outside your building, which is locked as tight as a drum. And the lobby looks like a cyclone ripped through it.”
“One did. His name is Vigo Sinclair.”
“Shit.”
“Why are you outside my building?”
“I was picking up my dinner date,” he answers. “But I could come up and chat with you instead.”
“Building’s on lockdown. To see me, you’d have to walk up twenty-six flights of stairs.”
“Fuck.”
“Who was your date?” My breath holds as I wait for his answer. Because I know he knows Gigi somehow. Some way.
“Dinner date. Different from date, date,” he says easily. “And if you’re asking if it was Gigi, the answer is no. She doesn’t know me and what little she saw of me this morning, she didn’t like.”
“But you know her.”
“I do.” Static fills the phone like he’s shuffling around.
Normally, I’d wait, but I’m short on patience tonight. “How?”
“She’s my cousin,” he answers, and I look up at Gris who looks as shocked as I feel.
“But…”
“Her father didn’t want her growing up around criminals. Go figure. So he stopped speaking to his brother—my father— and kept Gigi away from us. I’m ten years older than her, so I remember her when she was three, maybe four years old. I can’t quite remember. Cutest little thing. Big brown eyes.” He stops and my chest tightens, thinking of Emma. “But I’ve met her twice now, once at Vigo’s, and then again this morning, and it’s clear she doesn’t know who I am.”
Fuck. Me.
“Why didn’t you help her?” I grit out, knowing it’s not a fair question. But my hackles are up where Gigi is concerned.
“I didn’t have the power to take on Vigo directly. You fucking know it. But I did help her. I sent my sister—” He stops.
“Your sister?”
“I sent her help, a woman, who gave her a place to hide, and then I gave her a new identity. Gigi Hope. And I made sure she ended up in your office, though becoming your assistant was an unforeseen twist.”
I look at Gris again. “Erika,” he mouths.
Of course. If tonight hadn’t been so full of beatings and information I would have seen it sooner.
“And where do you fall in all of this, in terms of Vigo and me?” I’m careful to ask the question without a hint of culpability.
