Page 41 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
“You’re all missing the point. What I want doesn’t matter.”
Cleo’s lips thin with pity. “When did you internalize that, Gem? It’s really sad you think that way.”
My hands curl into fists on my lap. God, I’m so sick of these conversations. “No, you know what’s sad? The way you don’t seem to see the big picture. My marriage will strengthen our family. You know, that silly thing you and Vale seem to scoff at. Have you forgotten what we just lived through? Tito’s gone. Our uncles…gone. If I have to make a sacrifice to prevent that from happening again, I’ll do it.”
“God, Gemma. You sound just like Mamma. Always helping clean up Papà’s messes for him.”
My anger rises to a boil. “This has nothing to do with Papà.”
“If he wants to get in bed with Rafaele that badly, maybe he should marry him,” Cleo snaps. “Instead, he’s getting you to bail him out.”
“It’s not. About. Him,” I growl. “I am not doing this for him. I’m doing this for Nona, who has to worry about her grandsons bleeding out in the street. I’m doing this for Aunt Lia and Aunt Daniela, who’ve got four sons between them as made men. Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?”
Cleo’s face turns red. “How noble of you, Gemma. Did it ever occur to you that all those menchoseto be made? They knew what they were getting themselves into.”
I laugh. “Honestly, Cleo, it’s time you stop living in fantasy land. We were all born into this life. We can’t do anything about it, so why don’t you try to accept it?”
“Vale didn’t.”
“Look where she ended up.” I gesture at the restaurant. “She’s married to a fucking don. She may have left New York, but she never left our world. Few ever do. So enough, all right?”
Cleo’s eyes are shining by the time I’m done. She shoots out of her seat, throws her napkin on the table, and storms away in the direction of the bathroom.
I look at the calm waters of the Mediterranean and let out a long breath. My stomach groans. I think that fish is definitely not sitting well with me.
When Cleo returns, we don’t speak. Over the next two hours, there are dozens of courses and as many toasts from Damiano’s capos. Their fast-paced Italian quickly becomes background noise since I’m not fluent in the language. I pick at my food but don’t get very far with any of it. There’s a steady ache inside my belly. The air should have cooled by now, but I’m still feeling too hot.
From time to time, I get the same feeling I had at the church. Like someone’s watching me. I don’t need to look in Ras’s direction to know it’s him. For the life of me, I don’t know why he keeps staring at me. It makes me feel exposed.
My abdomen is as hard as a rock. I pop a pill from my purse and put on a brave face, because that’s the only option I have. This wedding is what we came here for. Mamma would never allow me to leave the dinner early.
I’m sipping on some water when I feel a presence at my back.
“Will you join me for a dance?”
A cold shiver runs down my back at the sound of Rafaele’s voice. I force a smile and take his offered hand. “Of course.”
My head is aching as we make it to the dance floor where a few couples are already dancing.
Rafaele keeps our right hands linked and places one clinical palm over my waist. Even his touch is cold. Uninterested.
It dawns on me then that I’ve never really asked why he’s marrying me.
Rafaele has something Papà wants, but their agreement has to provide some benefit to both of them, right? What is Rafaele getting out of this?
“May I ask you something?”
My fiancé’s heavy gaze brushes over my skin. “Of course.”
“Why marry me?”
The rhythm of the song picks up speed, but Rafaele’s movements stay slow and steady. This is a man who does everything at his own pace, I realize. Everything and everyone else be damned.
“I need a wife.”
“I understand. But why me? Surely, you had plenty of other candidates to choose from.”
A single line appears between his brows. Since I can’t read my future husband, my first instinct is to assume it’s anger, but then his eyes flicker with what can only be confusion.
