Page 13 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
The line of her shoulders softens, but there’s a look in her eyes that tells me this won’t be the last conversation we have on this subject. “All right, let’s talk about this week.”
She walks me through the schedule. It’s packed. A family-only cocktail reception tomorrow night, then Martina and Giorgio’s wedding the next day. Two days later, it’s Vale and Dem’s turn. The more Vale talks, the more excited she gets. There’s a glow about her that’s new. She didn’t glow like this back when she lived with us in New York.
“You seem happy,” I tell her when she finishes describing all the events.
She glances at her hand, the one that’s sporting a massive engagement ring and the wedding band from her elopement. “I am. I know we’re already married, but it still feels special to do it with all these people as witnesses. Even Vince is coming. I haven’t seen him in years.”
Our older brother Vince has lived in Switzerland for nearly five years. He rarely comes to New York, and when he does, he doesn’t stay long.
I smile. “It will be good to see him. How many guests are coming?”
“For Mari and Giorgio, there will be around one hundred people in attendance. For ours, there will be a few more.”
Including my fiancé and his consigliere. They’re coming the day before Vale’s wedding.
“Do you need any help with anything?”
“Not really. The planner’s on top of it. But you need to try on your dress to make sure it fits. It’s in my room back at the main house.” She stands up and offers me a hand. “Let’s do it now before we forget. The tailor needs time to make adjustments.”
I follow her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When we pass by the kitchen, a tempting smell makes my steps slow.
“God, that’s heavenly. Did someone make bread?”
Vale sniffs. “Smells like it.”
I drop her hand and take a few steps to peer through the arched entryway.
On the counter is a basket filled with those delicious-looking buns Mamma wouldn’t let me eat.
“You coming?” Vale calls out.
“Yeah.” After a moment’s hesitation, I snatch one, break off a piece, and shove it in my mouth.
It’s still warm. It’s so damn good I barely feel any guilt over breaking my pre-wedding diet. Whichever staff member decided to drop these off is officially my favorite person.
We leave the guest house and make our way over to the main villa. The air is warm and humid, and the slight breeze carries the scent of the waves that crash over the big rocks at the edge of the property. The heat penetrates my skin. My hip still aches from when I fell, but I do my best not to show it.
As we walk along the stone path between the houses, I spy a few red hummingbirds buzzing close to the branches of a nearby tree. One of them spots a flower and dips its long beak inside.
It’s lovely here. I wish we could stay for longer than a week.
I’m about to voice that thought as we step through the side door that leads directly into the living room, but my words dry up when I see the man spread out on the couch.
Ras. He’s horizontal, one tanned arm folded beneath his head, the other holding his phone. He’s typing something, a slight line between his brows.
My gaze skates over his flexed biceps. He was wearing a dress shirt at lunch, but he’s changed into a fitted black T-shirt with a small logo stitched in the corner.
“I thought you were going to Revolvr?” Vale asks. Revolvr is one of Damiano’s clubs on the island.
Ras looks up, his gaze immediately locking on me. “Yeah, I’m about to go. Just had to take care of some things. What are you two doing?”
“Gemma needs to try on her dress to see if it fits.”
He sits up, still staring at me. “If you want my opinion, I’m available.” A smirk plays on his lips, but there’s something darker than usual behind it. A challenge. Like he’s waiting for me to figure something out.
I look away.
Whatever it is, I don’t care.
