Page 7 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
The second time I saw her was at the elopement, and while she did her best to ignore my existence the entire time she was here, I did the very opposite.
It’s another reminder how far I am from being a gentleman.
Gentlemen don’t look at engaged women the way I look at Gemma Garzolo.
That sobering thought forces the next question out of my mouth. “So when’s your fiancé coming?”
A shadow passes over her eyes. “The day before Vale’s wedding. Don’t pretend you don’t know that as well as I do.” She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and my attention snaps onto that enormous ring on her finger. A bright-green emerald surrounded by a bunch of sparkling diamonds.
I reach out, grasp her wrist, and pull her hand toward me so that I can get a closer look.
She sucks in a harsh breath. “What are you—”
“A Messero family heirloom?” I venture a guess, the last name of her stupid fiancé tasting bitter on my tongue.
She jerks her hand away. “Yes.”
“A bit gaudy.”
“No one asked for your opinion.”
“What’s he like, Gem?”
“Guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
I study her face for any hint of what she thinks of this guy, but she gives away nothing.
Rafaele Messero is supposed to be the youngest don amongst the five New York families, which isn’t saying much given the other four are ancient. The wedding is a great excuse to get him out here to talk business, and as part of the normal preparation process, Napoletano and I have dug up everything we could on the guy.
By American standards, he seems like a force to be reckoned with.
But to us Casalesi, he’s a kid still riding a bike with training wheels. I’m looking forward to having him here and watching Damiano knock him down a notch.
“What were you doing in here anyway?” I ask, remembering her clutching the sink like it was a lifeline when I first swung the door open.
“Taking a piss, what else could I be doing?”
“Tsk.” I glance over my shoulder toward the front door. “Is that how you talk around your father?”
“You’re not my father.”
“No, but I’ve been called daddy on occasion.”
I’d thought she was looking at me like she wanted to murder me earlier, but that had nothing on how she’s looking at me now.
She makes a gagging sound. “Seriously, is this some sort of torture method you’re testing? Holding unsuspecting women hostage in bathrooms while you share details about your sex life?”
Laughter spills out of me as I drop my arms back to my sides and step to the side to let her pass.
She brushes past me, leaving the scent of cinnamon lingering in the air.
My eyes track her until she disappears from sight. I’ve always liked feisty women. A weakness you could say. And to find a woman like that living in our world? It’s rare.
I drag my palm over my lips and chuckle to myself. Yeah, Gemma might be off-limits, but I’m still going to enjoy pressing her buttons over the next few days.
* * *
Our first lunch with the Garzolos happens a few hours later on the back terrace that overlooks the sea. While we wait for the food to be brought out, the sisters ooh and ahh at the view with Vale. The Garzolo matriarch, Pietra, stands to the side with Martina, examining some flowers.
