Page 17 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
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I float around the party, nicking canapés and pondering why I tend to not hold anything back around Ras.
I think it’s because he’s the first person I’ve been around whose opinion of me is of no consequence.
He can hate me. He can think I’m a bitch. Or that I have “a few screws loose.”
I don’t care. My opinion of him is far worse.
I’ve always had to be careful about what I say to people back in New York. I realized a long time ago that anything I say to anyone in the family has a high likelihood of making its way back to my parents.
But Ras? He’s not going to go and tell Papà how I’ve been speaking to him, that’s for sure.
So yeah. It’s liberating to be able to say whatever’s on my mind.
What’s not liberating is him calling me out on it.
I sit down on a stone bench facing the water and pop a shrimp skewer into my mouth.
“Gem.”
I turn around at the sound of a familiar male voice.
It’s Vince.
My brother looks mildly annoyed as he takes a seat beside me, a glass of whiskey in his hand. I catch a whiff of some expensive cologne. He always smells nice.
“Um, hi? Don’t I even get a hug?” I haven’t seen him in months.
“You didn’t come to say hello,” he says coolly.
I sigh. “I’m sorry, your majesty.” My brother has what some might call a difficult personality.
When he lived back home, he terrorized our staff. My brother is a perfectionist and a bit of a… Well, let’s just say I overheard even our sweet housekeeper, Lydia, call him an asshole.
I wrap an arm around his waist and peck his cheek. After a moment, he hugs me back.
“You look pretty,” he says begrudgingly.
I grin. Affection’s never come naturally to Vince, but he tries with his sisters. “Thanks. You’re looking sharp yourself.”
The setting sun glints off the sleek clip he’s got on his tie. I study his flawless profile—he’s chiseled, with bone structure to die for. His brows are drawn. He’s worn that severe expression since he was a kid, but now that he’s a full-grown man, the severity is underscored with something more deadly.
I wonder if he’s had to get his hands dirty in Switzerland, or if he’s still feeding his superiority complex by limiting his illegal activities to pushing money around.
Vince is capable of violence just like any man in our family, but he’s never liked the mess that comes with it.
It’s one of the reasons he left New York.
Papà wanted him to work his way up the organization by starting as an enforcer—a position Vince immediately deemed to be below him.
So my brother concocted a different career plan. He got into one of Papà’s bank accounts and started investing the Garzolo fortune by pretending to be our father. He traded over five million dollars before he got caught.
He’s lucky his schemes turned a profit. Papà was furious, but when he saw the new balances, he simmered down.
That’s how Vince ended up getting permission to go and keep growing our investments abroad.
He drags his thumb over the face of his watch. “It’s good to see everyone together. Vale looks happy.”
