Gigi

Gigi

Nena Duran

Edited by Marisa Chenery

Cover design by April Martinez

Copyright 2014 Nena Duran. Published by Forever More Publishing, 31 Wycliffe Place, Kitchener, Ontario, N2M 5J6, Canada. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-92785-935-3

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Gigi Allen had the voice of an angel and a failing heart. Her husband was an abusive monster who tormented her. Her shame was a burden she shared with no one. One tragic day change her fate forever.

Briq was a killer full of uncontrollable rage. Bah-Troy was a warrior whose honor had been unquestionable. The warrior he’d been was gone forever, and Briq was all that was left. He roamed the twin galaxies, smuggling, sabotaging and spying on the ones who’d cost him everything.

Thrown together by the same cruel creature who’d transformed him into a monster, will Briq and Gigi find love? Can two broken souls at last find peace in each other’s arms or will fate step in to rip them apart?

Dedication

To my family, for their continued love and support, thank you for believing in me. For all of you who read the first book, taking a risk on someone unknown, I hope you enjoy this new installment as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter One

Demons

Gigi came in through the back door of the well-preserved house. It was a charming English-style cottage she’d inherited from her parents. She’d loved the place as a child, because it reminded her of all the fairy tales told by her father. She’d spend entire evenings sitting on his lap, listening to stories of brave warriors in faraway lands.

The trip took a little longer, because after stopping for groceries she’d discovered a flat tire. Normally she’d have been there in less than three hours, but it took her five. She arrived at the house at noon, not even bothering with the garage.

She juggled an armful of groceries and opened the refrigerator with her left foot. Her leg froze in the air, and the bottle of ridiculously expensive water crashed to the floor. Right there, inside her fridge, was a severed human hand in a glass jar.

It couldn’t be real, she thought, backing away.
Who would put a severed human hand in my fridge?
After the initial shock, she noticed the strong smell of bleach drifting up from the basement. She turned the knob. The door creaked open like in a horror movie. Ten steps, there were only ten steps to the basement. Funny how today they looked steeper, darker, shadows lurking everywhere.

One by one she took them, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. A scene out of a popular horror movie greeted her eyes. Sprawled on what resembled a medieval torture device was the girl from the museum. The poor thing looked like a broken doll. Her once beautiful face was forever frozen in agony.

Gigi knew she’d been dead for hours. The stench of bleach couldn’t disguise the smell of decomposition. She had no doubt her husband was responsible for it. All the signs had been there, she was just too scared to face them. The most awful thing was the feeling this wasn’t his first time. Davide used to claim he could make anyone disappear.

The unfortunate girl had been systematically mutilated. Gigi knew how much Davide loved inflicting pain.
How many times had he killed in my parent’s house? How long had he soiled my childhood home?
How long did he keep her alive while torturing her? God, this is my fault. I should’ve spoken up sooner. She’s dead because of me.
So many questions only he could answer.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” Gigi sobbed loudly. “I should’ve done something the first time he beat me. You’re dead because of me. I’m a coward. He threatened my godparents’ lives if I ever told.”

She ran her finger through her hair, sending pins flying everywhere.

“I guess my silence didn’t matter, after all. He’s a sick monster who enjoys pain. Please, please, God, let this girl into your kingdom. Let her rest in peace. Hail Mary, mother of God…” Gigi stammered, stumbling out of the basement. Her lips bled after she bit them to keep from screaming. Unshed tears clouded her eyes. Her skin crawled at the thought of the times this demon had taken her by force.

Why had she confronted him? She should’ve turned around and called the police. Instead, she came upstairs to find him high on drugs and drunk. He reacted violently, punching her in the face. She knew then he was going to kill her too. As he dragged her to the bed, ordering her to strip, something snapped.

The gun was by the bedside table so she picked it up. “Don’t you ever touch me again, you coward.” She shook so badly she had to grip it with both hands.

“Or what?” He smirked. “What’re you gonna do, stupid bitch?” He slapped her again. “You gonna pull the trigger? Huh? You gonna kill me?”

He grabbed her wrists, lifting her off the bed. Pain ran up her arms, and she screamed. He didn’t care. He just tightened his grip more. Her husband liked to inflict pain, loved to see her suffer.

Gigi tried to pull away, but he increased the pressure. Her fingers grew numb. “Let go of me, you bastard.” He just slapped her a third time, still laughing. His eyes had a crazy glazed-over look. “I know what you did to that poor girl in the basement. I’m calling the police.”

 He broke her wrist as he twisted the gun out of her hand. It went off with a loud bang. The bullet went in through his head, killing him instantly. Davide jerked once before falling backward onto the bed.
Call the police, then call Gustav. He’ll know what to do
, Gigi thought, panicking. The gun slowly dropped from her shaking hands to the floor. The
thud
was muted by the thick white carpet that was now splattered with his blood. Oh, god. She ran to the bathroom and got sick. He was really dead.

Slumped between the wall and toilet, Gigi gulped air into her deprived lungs. Looking at the wound inflicted by the gun made her stomach turn. Her ears still rang from its loud bang. There was so much blood everywhere.

Her cheek throbbed. It was swollen from when he’d punched her so hard. Her wrist was bent at a weird angle. Everything would be all right once she explained it’d been an accident. Would they believe her? They had to. He’d been on drugs. She’d thought he was going to kill her. The trigger had gone off by accident when he’d twisted her wrist. She hadn’t even known the thing was loaded.

After reaching the stables, she mounted Willow without bothering with the saddle. Her mare was really beautiful with a black shinny coat and gentle nature. She loved riding carefree with crisp spring air on her face.

Gigi guided Willow to a trot and took the usual path through the woods. They reached the clearing near a stream she liked to visit every time she came. At times, she just sat deep in thought. Sometimes she practiced her arias.

Once she dismounted, Gigi walked Willow to the stream. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity. There was no other way, she had to call 9-1-1 and turn herself in, then call Gustav. She didn’t want him finding out in the media. He deserved to hear it from her.

Another thought intruded in her mind. The girl in the basement was dead. Would the police think she had something to do with it? No, she’d seen on TV how they could tell time of death. She hadn’t even been there when it happened. They could still think she was an accomplice. After all, she was married to him.

No one would believe the famous opera singer’s claim. There was no one to corroborate her story of Davide’s years of abuse. He’d made sure she never talked to anyone. She’d tried a long time ago, but he’d had her personal assistant beaten in front of her. Her confidant had never pressed charges. Her husband had made it clear her assistant’s family was also at risk. After that, she never shared her problems with anyone.

* * * *

It was unreal how things turned out in just a span of a few hours. Gigi had just finished her premiere concert the night before with a party at the museum. She’d been the toast of the party.

“Gigi, you were absolutely wonderful as usual.”

“Thanks, Gustav. You’re the best thing that ever happened to my ego.”

“Nah, you know I speak the truth. I just wish—”

“Gigi, get ready. They’re waiting for us at the museum.” Her husband didn’t even try to hide his dislike for Gustav. He hated the Boldayevs.

“Yes, Davide. Let me get my coat. See you at the party, Gustav.”

It was always the same, Gigi thought. After a successful premiere, she was required, no, forced, to attend the after parties. She wasn’t a party person, preferring smaller gatherings with close friends.

Her husband and manager, Davide, however, loved them, taking every opportunity to further humiliate her. They arrived together, then made the rounds. She’d look for a place to hide. After the initial whirlwind, Davide would find some young ingénue to seduce and cast aside like yesterday’s laundry.

Gigi had tried to warn this lovely soprano once. Davide had found out and beat her. Of course he was careful never to touch her face or arms. He only struck her back, or worse, he’d spank her with a whip, leaving her ass full of red welts.

One time her heart became arrhythmic and she’d had to be rushed to the hospital. Davide had told the doctors they’d been playacting, because she loved bondage. That was the day she planned her escape.

She noticed the usual crowd gathered by the bar at the Museum of Fine Art. What she’d come to think of as the mindless herd. They were the old matrons, patron saints of the opera. They thought to compensate for their unfulfilled lives by supporting the arts.

 The press were the scavengers, picking apart every performance and aspect of her private life. Last were the predators with her husband as their leader. They stalked and devoured any young aspiring artist, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts and dreams. Unscrupulous agents like her husband or bored millionaires pretending they knew and understood opera.

 She had to get out of this trap. There were other things she could do that’d be just as rewarding. She could become a voice coach. In fact, she’d been training some young talents behind her husband’s back.

Gigi looked around and spotted Davide with his next conquest. She reached him with what felt like a plastic smile plastered on her face. “There you are, dearest. I’ve been looking for you. Would you mind terribly if I call it a night?”

“Did you greet the members of the fundraiser committee? I’d hate for them to feel slighted.”

“Yes, we had a nice conversation regarding our future projects and how to improve the public participation. Mrs. Rosenfeld invited me for tea next Friday.”

“Good, good. I’ll ask Jake to take you home.”

“That won’t be necessary. This is my weekend with the Boldayevs. Gustav is flying us to Nantucket. We’ll be back Monday morning in time for rehearsals. Unless you want to meet us tomorrow?”

She knew he’d decline. Something her husband hated was Nantucket and the Boldayevs. The only reason he tolerated them was because they kept her out of his way. Davide loved to indulge in meaningless sex and casual drug use. They both knew this. They just kept up appearances. This entire conversation was just a pretense to keep their public image spotless.

He was happy to see her go with the old mummies as he liked to call the Boldayevs. The closest thing to a family she had were her godparents. Gigi’s parents had died during an avalanche when she’d just been seven. The Boldayevs had assumed her custody. She’d been very shy when she’d come to live with the older couple.

They’d continued encouraging her love of reading. Their library boasted one of the best book collections in the state. Gustav and Melissa were scholars and avid readers. They’d encouraged her, often reading stories together. Just like her father before, Gustav brought to life many stories of gallantry, magic and love. He’d made her believe in dragons, titans and fantastic creatures from another time.

Davide pulled her away from his new bimbo, and whispered, “Remember to call at least twice a day. We don’t want people thinking you don’t love me, now do we?”

“Of course,” she answered dutifully, her fake smile still plastered on her face. She reached over to caress his cheek in what appeared to others as a loving gesture, but both of them knew it was all a charade. It was another reason she was considered one of the best in opera. Her voice was on the top five, but it was her ability to emote that was legendary.