Page 33 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
“Thank you.”
Rafaele comes out next.
I swallow. My fiancé isn’t as physically intimidating as Nero, but he carries an unmistakable air of danger about him. Maybe it’s the way he moves, slow and intentional like a panther. Or the way he’s able to keep his gaze as cold as ice no matter the circumstances. When that gaze falls on me, I shiver.
Rafaele doesn’t greet anyone. Instead, he turns around and reaches back inside the car, apparently having forgotten something.
There’s a strange muffled sound.
My jaw drops when I see Cleo’s face with silver masking tape over her mouth.
There’s a collective gasp.
“We found this stumbling on the side of the road,” Rafaele says coldly as he hauls her out by her elbow. Her hands are tied behind her back.
The moment Cleo’s feet hit the ground, she tears her arm out of his grip and screams like a banshee against the tape.
Rafaele steadies her by her shoulder, wrapping his big palm around it, and rips the tape off in one fell swoop.
If it hurts, Cleo doesn’t show it. Her eyes are blazing. “I was going for a walk, you jerk off. Your thug—” she jerks her head at Nero, “—is the one who pulled me off the road like some caveman.”
A gust of wind lifts up the hem of her shirt, revealing a sliver of her belly, and for a moment, I swear Rafaele’s gaze drops to it. Then I blink, and his gaze is back on her face. Cold. So damn cold.
Nero chuckles. “We invited you in nicely. It’s only when you refused that Rafe asked me to get you.”
Rafaele tears his gaze off Cleo and moves it to Papà. “We nearly ran her over.”
The direct address seems to snap Papà out of his shocked stupor. His nostrils flare on a breath. “She shouldn’t have been off the property.”
Cleo bares her teeth at Rafaele. “Get the damn zip tie off my wrists. Right. Now.”
I wince. Lovely. My future husband appears to travel with a supply of zip ties and masking tape. Just in case.
Rafaele pulls out a pocketknife and approaches Cleo.
My breath catches inside my lungs. My fiancé is an exceptionally dangerous man, and I can’t help but think that having him with a knife close to my sister is a bad idea.
But he doesn’t do anything besides quickly snipping the zip tie off.
Cleo rounds on him as soon as she’s free and snarls. “You do that again, and you’ll regret it.”
“Cleo!” I exclaim, more than a little concerned for her life, especially when Rafaele’s gaze darkens.
I rush over and tuck her against my side. When I catch a whiff of her, my eyes widen.
She smells like liquor.
The idiot.
She must have hidden a bottle of something inside her purse. It’s not even noon, and she decided to get drunk while walking on the side of a road?
Horror floods me. I should have never let her go.
My fearful gaze flits toward Rafaele. Is he going to out Cleo to our parents? There’s no way he didn’t smell it while they were in the car together.
My fiancé walks over to greet Papà. I barely breathe as I watch them shake hands.
My prayers are answered when they only exchange a few words before Rafaele moves on to say hello to Mamma. She mutters a string of apologies for Cleo’s behavior. He just nods and then comes over to me. I push Cleo behind me, trying to get her out of his sight. My sister’s insane enough to provoke him even now.
