Page 2 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
This is an alliance the Garzolos desperately need.
“You’ve seen what happens when we go to war with another clan. We may have won against the Riccis, but we paid a high price for that victory.”
Three cousins, two uncles, and a half-dozen soldiers had died.
I attended every funeral. Held crying mothers and wives in my arms. Gave gifts to confused children, some of them so young they couldn’t understand what had happened to their papas and brothers.
“Our enemies know we’ve been weakened. You’re our last hope to regain our footing in the city.”
I clasp my hands on my lap. My family is in trouble. And according to Papà, their future rests in my hands.
“You hardly know Rafaele,” I say to Cleo. In truth, neither do I. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve spoken to my fiancé.
Cleo wrinkles her nose. “Thanks, but no thanks. Cracking my skull open on the asphalt would be better than getting married to that stony-faced fucker.”
Cold dread trickles down my back. Cleo is never one to hold anything back, but sometimes, I wish she would.
A second passes before Cleo realizes what she said, and she shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” That’s a lie.
Nothing’s been fine for a long time. But this week is supposed to be a reprieve before I have to face the music and plan my wedding to a man who is a stranger to me.
A stranger who became a murderer at thirteen.
I stop picking at my cuticles when I accidentally make myself bleed.
Enough.
I promised myself I wouldn’t think about all that while we’re in Ibiza. After all, we’re here to celebrate. One week, two weddings.
The final wedding of the week is between Vale and Damiano De Rossi, the new don of the Casalesi. Two days before them, Martina De Rossi, Damiano’s sister, and Giorgio “Napoletano” Girardi, Damiano’s advisor, are getting married as well.
I don’t know the De Rossis well, but my sister says Damiano is her perfect match.
I’m happy for her. I really am.
They actually want to be married.
Must be nice to do what you want.
Cleo opens the window, letting warm, humid air invade the inside of the limo, and takes a deep inhale. “Do you smell that? That’s the smell of freedom.”
“Close the window,” Mamma snaps, her thin hands sliding over her hair to keep down the frizz. She spent an hour on the plane getting herself ready for our big arrival at Vale and Damiano’s house, and even though she’d never admit that she’s nervous, an angry kind of anxiety is emanating off her.
It’s the first time our whole family will be together since Vale ran away from New York. I don’t blame my sister for doing what she did—her ex-husband was a monster who made her torture people. She did what she had to in order to survive. But while she was starting a new life on this side of the world, I had to watch our friends and family struggle like they’ve never struggled before.
There’s a disconnect between us now. One that makes itself apparent in our phone calls. Whenever I mention the names of the family members who died, Vale clams up and changes the subject.
I know she’s hurting, and that’s how she copes. But in my head, the names play on repeat.
Carlo. Enzo. Renato. Bruno. Tito.
Cleo blows out a breath and presses the button to roll up the window.
“We need to have a word before we arrive,” Mamma says, her hands still patting her hair. “There are some rules.”
“When are there ever not?” Cleo mutters.
