Page 179 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
While the kettle is boiling, I sit on one of the barstools by the island. My gaze catches on a big brown envelope addressed to me.
Huh. Must have arrived this morning.
Carefully, I pry it open, unsure of what’s inside.
It’s Cleo’s wedding photos.
A weird feeling materializes inside my chest at seeing them.
Naturally, Ras and I weren’t invited to attend. We were here when my sister walked down the aisle toward the man I was supposed to marry.
I thumb through the five or six pictures. Cleo looks beautiful, if not a little stiff. In most of the photos she keeps at least a few inches away from Rafaele, who’s severe and handsome in his tux. They could be a royal couple given the amount of jewels Cleo is wearing. She must have been happy about that, at least.
The last photo is different. It’s a candid shot, captured by the photographer while the couple is unaware, and you can practically feel the tension between these two. Cleo’s got her nose upturned, looking down at Rafaele while he’s sitting down at their sweetheart table, and he’s looking up at her, his eyes hooded and his lips slightly quirked. He’s grasping her hand in his, like he’s trying to stop her from leaving.
A smile tugs at my lips. I should give Cleo a call and see how they’re doing.
The kettle starts making a noise, so I leave the photos and go make myself a cup of tea.
Ras and I have settled into a routine here quicker than I expected. Since Casale di Principe is the base of the Casalesi, Ras is able to do most of his work without leaving on too many overnight trips. We’ve gone to Ibiza a few times to check up on things there but I always enjoy those trips, especially when Damiano and Vale join us.
Today, they’re coming over for lunch.
As excited as Ras is about the baby, my sister might be the most excited of the bunch. Whatever rift I felt between us earlier has all but disappeared.
She’s my confidant once again. I might be far away from the rest of the Garzolos, but between her and Ras I have plenty of support.
Ras and I have gone into Naples or Napoli as they say here on more than a few occasions. The city is full of sunshine and raw, unbridled energy. I had no idea the populace worships a soccer player as their god. Images of Diego “Dios” Maradona are graffitied on the walls, hung on banners between the narrow streets of the Spanish Quarter, and worn on T-shirts of seemingly every other Napolitani. I’ve even seen a few altars to his name.
And the food, oh God,the food. I thought I was spoiled growing up in New York, but the food in Naples has brought tears to my eyes on a few occasions. Perhaps it’s the pregnancy hormones and the fact that I can eat what I want without anyone offering their criticism. My favorite is a sugar-powder covered pastry filled with ricotta cream called Fiocchi di Neve. I’m convinced it’s impossible to eat just one.
My stomach growls at the memory. Maybe I’ll have to get Ras to take me there again this week.
Familiar footsteps pad into the room. “Morning, Peaches,” Ras says, his voice still raspy with sleep. He embraces me from behind and presses a kiss to the side of my neck, his beard scraping deliciously against my skin. “You’re up early.”
I lean into him. “Couldn’t sleep.”
His hand slides lower to my belly. “How are you feeling?”
Ras has been doting on me this entire time, checking in to make sure I’m okay at least a few times a day. I’ve had to tell him to chill on more than one occasion, but secretly, I love that he’s so attentive.
It’s so different from what I’m used to.
“Good,” I tell him, sipping on my tea and turning to face him. “Do you remember Vale and Dem are coming in a few hours?”
He sighs. “Yes. Although, I’m tempted to cancel so that I can have you to myself for the entire Saturday.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say with a smile on my lips.
He takes my mug out of my hands, places it on the counter behind me, and tugs me into a deep kiss.
I moan into his mouth. It never gets old, being kissed by him like I’m everything he could possibly ever need.
When he pulls away, his eyes are dark with lust. He pushes his fingers into my hair and presses the length of his body against mine. “They’re not coming over that soon, are they?”
I roll my hips, heat spreading beneath my skin. “Not that soon.”
A lazy grin unfurls on his face. “Come back to bed, then.”
