Page 65 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
I can’t let whatever the fuck is going on between Gemma and I interfere with the task Damiano gave me, which is figuring out what Garzolo and Messero might be hiding from us. I need to play everything very carefully. Garzolo thinks I’m coming here to get a better sense of their operations. At least that’s what Dem told him. He also dangled a carrot by suggesting I’m looking for other opportunities to do business together.
It’s a diplomatic mission.
The pilot makes an announcement over the PA to let us know we’re taxiing to the customs area, and Gemma stirs.
“Shit,” she mutters. “Why didn’t you move me?”
Because I fucking like you there.
Instead, I say, “Don’t worry about it.”
We get off the plane to show our documents to a miserable-looking agent and then make our way to area where they’re scanning our baggage.
She looks around, her expression tense. I can’t decide if it’s because she regrets what happened back in Ibiza, or because of something else.
“Happy to be home?” I ask once we’ve collected our suitcases.
Her response is a non-committal shrug. Given what I’ve observed of her parents, I doubt they have a particularly happy home life.
It was pretty shitty of them to leave her back in Ibiza. It might have only been three days, but that girl went through hell and back. Something strangely protective stirs inside of me. That bruise on her face was hard to look at.
And by hard, I mean it made me homicidal.
Who the fuck would raise a hand to her? Vale said it couldn’t have been their dad, but who else? Even if Garzolo didn’t do it himself, someone may have done it on his orders.
Or maybe there’s a made man with a death wish roaming around.
Well, no matter. I’ll find out who it was, and I’ll make them pay. Now that I’m here, no one’s going to touch a hair on her head.
“So where are you going?” she asks me as we walk toward the exit.
Oh, right. She doesn’t know I’m staying with them.
I grin at her. “A few rooms over, I suppose.”
Her steps slow. “You’re staying…in our house?”
“Where else would I stay but with family?”
Her eyes turn wide and worried. “You’re not my family.”
“I’m Dem’s cousin. He’s your brother-in-law. We’re family, Peaches.”
Although what I want to do to her is decidedly not familial in nature.
Her hand shoots out and wraps around my bare wrist. “Papà is letting you stay with us?”
My gaze drops to where she’s touching me. She immediately lets go, and a blush spreads over her cheeks. “Sorry. I’m just shocked.”
You never have to apologize for touching me.The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back. “Don’t worry. He’s expecting me.”
Garzolo’s driver is waiting for us just outside in a black Suburban. He introduces himself to me as Armando Vitale. Gemma appears to know him, but not well, judging by their curt greeting and the guarded expression on her face. I look for any hint of fear and find none.
Still, I dislike him immediately. No particular reason. Just his vibe.
“Your father wanted me to let you know that I’ll be your security detail until your wedding,” Armando says. I guess the two guys they brought to Ibiza got sacked for spending more time drinking from Damiano’s wine collection than keeping an eye on the girls.
“You’ve been working for Garzolo for a while?” I ask.
