Page 6 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
I’ve gotten better at tolerating suits since then, but that urge to introduce a bit of chaos into something orderly has never quite left. When I became older, I learned that manufactured chaos is a powerful tool, especially in my current position as underboss of the Casalesi. It’s saved my ass, and Dem’s, more than a few times.
When thrown into chaos, people do things they never would under normal circumstances. The animal brain takes over. The filters come off. People reveal their true desires, and sometimes those desires have a lot to do with seeing Dem or me dead.
The way Gemma Garzolo is looking at me right now… I’d put her squarely into that category.
Narrowed gray eyes.
Pursed lips.
An angry pink blush across her cheeks that might be my new favorite color.
“Do you ever knock, Ras?” She places her fists on her hips and spears me with an irritated gaze. I’ve become deeply acquainted with that gaze from our two previous encounters.
The first was when I was tasked with finding her in New York so that I could give her a burner phone to talk to her sister. What should have been a straightforward task had turned into a whole Thing because Gemma had assumed I was waiting for her in the changing room of her Pilates studio to kill her.
She saw me and opened her mouth to scream. I lunged at her, stuffed her into a closet, and held my palm against her mouth just long enough to explain that I was here on Valentina’s orders. When she went still, I thought we were past our misunderstanding, but I was terribly wrong.
As soon as I removed my hand, she sank her surprisingly sharp teeth into my forearm. I remember staring into those stormy-gray eyes as she drew blood and thinking,“Fuck, this woman is beautiful.”
A scuffle followed. I may have been rougher with her than I intended because I really hadn’t been expecting this sort of resistance, and I was jet-lagged. Nothing makes me feel more like a zombie than hopping through half a dozen time zones.
Long story short, I wasn’t feeling myself.
Yet even after we straightened everything out, and Gemma calmed down enough to speak to Vale over the phone that I brought to her, her opinion of me didn’t seem to change.
This woman deeply dislikes me.
It feels a bit unfair, to be frank.
But it’s for the best.
After all, Gemma’s engaged to marry an Americanstronzo, who also happens to be our new business partner, and if our relationship ever progressed past highly acerbic banter into something more civil, I might actually get upset over the fact that she’s taken.
No, I’ve been burned before. Third degree. And I’ve spent nearly a decade getting really fucking good at keeping women, no matter how alluring, at arm’s length.
I drag my palm over my chin. “I do, actually. Didn’t realize I needed to when there’s a perfectly good lock, though.”
“There are a dozen bathrooms in this house. You just happened to pick this one to barge in on?”
Okay, I may have seen her go inside this one while I was going through my messages in the kitchen. I just couldn’t resist catching her off guard.
I paste on a grin I know will irritate her. “You know what they say about great minds.”
She heaves a long sigh. “Move out of my way, you utter imbecile.”
Instead of doing that, I brace my palms on either side of the doorframe and lean into her space. Her eyes widen, and she shuffles backwards, a hint of alarm flashing across her expression.
“I have to say, I thought you’d skip this one.”
“Skip what? This trip? My sister’s getting married. Even your annoying presence isn’t enough to keep me away.”
The grin widens. “I’ve missed you too, Gem.”
“Don’t call me Gem. And I’ve missed you as much as someone misses a used condom.”
I snort. Her anger looks good on her. Then again, what doesn’t?
Chocolate hair, plum rosy lips, and a round, tight ass I’ve studied so thoroughly whenever she wasn’t looking that its shape is practically ingrained in my memory.
