Page 30 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
He’s found something to toy with—me. But this isn’t a game. Did a part of me enjoy our verbal sparring? Sure. But I can’t after he’s shown me what a loose cannon he is.
My bruised reflection is another reminder of why I can’t afford to have Ras mess with me. I will not give Papà more reasons to hit me. I spend a good ten minutes covering up the ugly brown-green splotch on my cheek, pressing the sponge so hard into my skin that I make myself wince.
When I come out of the bathroom, Cleo’s bed is empty.
I frown at the mess of sheets. Cleo’s bed always looks like the aftermath of a racoon fight.
She drank less than me last night, but enough to get a little rowdy on the dance floor. Papà and Mamma left dinner early, instructing Vince to keep an eye on us. He’d done no such thing and had instead spent his evening smoking cigars with the older male guests.
I chug a bottle of water from the nightstand and check my phone. Nothing from Cleo, but there’s a text from Nona.
You haven’t sent me pictures like you promised, cara mia.
I send her a few photos, put on a white linen button-up shirt and a pair of jeans, and venture outside. It’s never a good sign when Cleo just disappears.
The sun warms my skin as soon as I step through the front door. Two guards greet me in Spanish, and when I ask them about Cleo, one of them explains in broken English that they saw her walking around the property.
I find her standing at the edge of the cliff that protrudes over the small private beach currently hidden by high tide. She’s in an oversized T-shirt with IBIZA spelled out across it—when did she manage to get that?—and a pair of booty shorts. One of her Chanel purses is slung over her shoulder, looking very at odds with the rest of her outfit. She hasn’t bothered to brush her hair, so it’s billowing around her head like a black halo.
Typical Cleo.
I stop by her side. “This is a nice spot.”
She sniffs. “It is. Great cliff.”
A seagull soars over our heads.
“I’m thinking of throwing myself off it.”
My gaze jumps to her profile. “What the hell, Cleo?”
Her jaw tightens, her hands squeezing into fists. “She won’t leave me alone.”
“Mamma? I thought her and Papà were still asleep?”
“She’s driving me crazy on this whole trip. It feels like I can’t do anything without her offering an opinion. She’s constantly hovering. Every time I take out my phone, she wants to see what I’m doing. Did you see the dress she made me wear last night?” She extends her arm to show me some light-red marks on her forearm. “I was itchy everywhere.”
The dress did have a lot of itchy looking lace. “I’m sorry, Cleo.”
She sighs. “Now that Vale and you are matched up, she’s focusing all her attention on me. Gem, I can’t handle it. I don’t even know what she wants from me. It’s like she just can’t deal with not having me in her sight, but she can’t stand being around me.”
I bite down on my lips. Mamma’s anxiety has gotten worse and worse. The ordeal with Vale is Mamma’s biggest failure, at least in her eyes. It destabilized her. Made her hyper vigilant, especially where Cleo is concerned.
“This is a difficult time for her.”
“Don’t.” Cleo’s voice hardens. “Don’t make excuses for her.”
“I’m trying to be sympathetic. It’s been a difficult year for all of us.”
Cleo makes a dismissive sound and peers over the cliff.
My heart rate spikes.
I reach out instinctively, grabbing her elbow. I don’t let go even when she takes a small step back.
“I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this, Gem. Sometimes, I feel almost a perverse kind of jealousy.” She turns her head sideways, looking at me. “Soon you’ll be moving out of our prison of a house and moving in with your husband. And me? I have no escape. No end in sight. I know Rafaele sucks, but I’m pretty sure he won’t fucking hover like Mamma. He’ll have better things to do.”
“One can hope,” I say warily. “So what, you want to get married now? For the longest time, you said you wouldn’t marry anyone they chose for you.”
