Page 45 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
I thought Gemma was clever. Opinionated. Bold.
But as I listened to that conversation play out, none of it added up. She was hardheaded and so insistent on playing her part in Garzolo’s theater that I couldn’t shake the sense that I’d gotten her wrong.
It’s like she wears all these masks and swaps them based on who’s around her.
I want to find out who she is beneath them all.
But forcing that kiss on her was wrong.
My chest constricts at the memory of how disgusted she looked afterwards. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve never done that before to a woman. Never even thought to do it until I met Gemma, who I’m starting to realize has some kind of a unique ability to get under my skin.
The sound of her violent retching echoes through the door.
Cazzo. That sounds awful.
I get up and head downstairs to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. If the pills don’t help, I’m calling her a doctor. I’m not taking any chances with this. I know taking care of her now won’t redeem me in her eyes, but I’m not letting her suffer unnecessarily.
Pills in hand, I pop back into her bedroom. The tap runs in the bathroom while I send a quick message to Dem and Napoletano to let them know I left the party to take Gemma home because she isn’t feeling well. After a moment of deliberation, I decide not to mention just how sick she is. Dem and Vale deserve to enjoy their night. Plus, I’m taking care of the situation.
The door opens just as I press send.
Gemma shuffles out in a set of blue pajamas, and when she realizes I’m still here, her tired eyes narrow. “Ras, what are you doing? I told you to leave.”
Her skin has a gray undertone, and she’s keeping her palm pressed firmly against her abdomen. Something squeezes inside my chest. She looks miserable.
“I’m not leaving you while you’re in this state,” I say. “Here, take this.” I stand and give her the bottle of pills.
She snatches it out of my hand and sinks onto the bed, taking my earlier spot. “Will you leave if I take these?”
“Possibly. Here’s some water.”
I watch her pop two pink pills and follow them with a small gulp from the water bottle. She makes a grimace, her nose wrinkling adorably. “Even water tastes disgusting right now.”
“You must have picked up a bug somewhere.”
She hands the bottle back to me and stands back up with a groan. “I guess. I think it might have been some fish from earlier.”
“Sit back down. You’re practically swaying.”
Of course, she doesn’t listen to me. Instead, she walks around the bed as if to use it as a barrier between us.
Her stomach makes a loud gurgle. She winces and grabs one of the bedposts. “Honestly, why are you still here? Enjoying watching me suffer?”
Her words cut through me. “I’m really not.”
“Let me rest, please.”
“Lie down, and I’ll leave you.”
She shoots me a suspicious look. When I hold her gaze, something like fear flashes across her expression.
My stomach drops. She doesn’t trust me. Is that surprising after what I pulled?
“Gemma, the kiss was a mistake,” I say in a low voice. “I’m sorry.”
“You already apologized.”
“I promise I won’t do that again.”
