Page 4 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
Silky blonde hair, petite frame, and curves that any man would be lucky to handle. Her expression was all shy innocence, but that body was pure sin. If she wasn’t only eighteen and wasn’t De Rossi’s sister, things could have gone very differently for us, but I’m not one to linger on things that could have been.
Any second now, Martina will become my ward.
And that’s all she’ll ever be.
I push off the glass and drop my arm to my side. Turning away from the pool, I take a seat in one of the armchairs and check my watch again. They’re taking their damned time.
My attention snags on a book on the coffee table. I’ve seen that cover before.
It’s the pocket-sized special edition ofJane Eyrethat Martina was reading by the pool that day.
I like Brontë. Reading is one of the ways I pass my time when I’m not out doing Sal’s bidding. I pick up the book, flip through the pages, and nearly smile when I find the line:“I am not an angel, and I will not be one till I die.”
Last time, De Rossi left us on our own for a few minutes. Martina was bashful and shy around me—qualities I’ve never valued in women before, but in her, they struck me as endearing. A strange weightlessness crept inside my chest while I stood beside her, and when I noticed it, I immediately set out to crush that feeling by any means necessary. In general, I dislike things that throw me off. So I said those words to her, inspired by the book in her hands, and meaning them as an honest warning. She blushed a deep red in response, the color making her even prettier.
When I left that day, I convinced myself whatever that episode was, it wasn’t going to be repeated. Women came and went in my life like the winter season. The first glimpse of snow is always exciting, but by the time it’s late February, you’re sick of the cold and ready for something new.
Martina, though… That girl is summer, through and through.
A door opens. Voices float from upstairs into the living room.
My gaze drifts to the side of the staircase, and a moment later, two sun-kissed legs begin descending the steps.
Fuck.
My fingers tighten on the book, the hard edges of the cover digging into my palm.
An inexplicable urge grips me—take the book.
Just before Martina’s face comes into view, I give into it and slip the book inside the inner pocket of my jacket.
CHAPTER2
MARTINA
Last nightI dreamt I was flying. A vast green valley unfurled dozens of meters below me, and on the horizon was a great, brown mountain with a snowy peak. I had a premonition that there was something special on the other side of that summit, but no matter how far I flew, the mountain never got any closer. Eventually, I started to fall. Just before I crashed face-first into the ground, I woke up.
Now, when I close my eyes, that mountain is there before me.
Then, I hear my brother’s voice calling, and it’s gone.
“Mari, Napole— I mean, Giorgio is here.”
I sit up on my bed and glance over my shoulder at my brother standing in the doorway. His expression is carefully guarded, but I know him well enough to see past the mask. He might be Damiano De Rossi to the rest of the world, but to me, he’s just Dem, and right now, he’s worried.
Worried about me.
I force a small smile. “Okay. I’ll be right down.”
“I’ll help you with your bags,” he says, stepping inside and looking around the room. “Where’s Vale?”
“Bathroom.”
My sister-in-law’s spent all day helping me pack. She’s far more stressed than I am about the fact that no one but Giorgio has any idea where he’s taking me.
She asked me what I wanted to bring, and when I told her it didn’t really matter, her face fell. Maybe I should feel guilty for making her worry, but I didn’t feel anything.
Even now, there’s nothing. Not a pang of anxiety. Not a whisper of sadness. Not even a small hint of apprehension. I’m leaving my home to go to an unknown place with a stranger while my brother wages a war against the most powerful man in the clan, and I feel…
