Page 9 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
Fuck, she’s pretty. Would look even prettier with my cock inside her mouth.
Her gaze flicks to my face, and I wink.
She turns pink, looks away, and points at one of the bread rolls.
“You shouldn’t eat that, Gemma,” her mother says. “Not if you want to fit into the dress we’ve chosen for your wedding.”
It takes me a moment to process what I just heard.
The fuck?
That’s a pretty fucking rude thing to say. Anyone with eyes can see Gemma’s already quite thin. Her mom’s either projecting or just a bitch.
I run my tongue over my teeth, eager to see Gemma bite back.
But she doesn’t. Instead, I watch as she slightly deflates and drops her hand back in her lap. “You’re right.”
Indignation floods through me.
“Pass the tomato salad,” Damiano says, and I do it in a mild trance. Something’s seriously not computing, because if I’d said something as rude as that, Gemma would have bitten my head off. But with her mom, she just rolls over and takes it?
“So how are the wedding preparations going?” Mari asks Gemma, oblivious to the interaction I witnessed a few seconds earlier. I don’t think anyone but me noticed, because no one else has developed a habit of studying Gemma like me.
Maybe that’s a sign you should stop.
Gemma gives Mari an unconvincing smile. “They’re going. I have a lot to do when we return to New York.”
“Will it be a big wedding?”
“Nearly five hundred people.”
Mari’s eyes pop wide. “Oh my God. I’m sure I don’t even know that many people.”
“We both have very big extended families. It seems Rafaele is set on inviting just about everyone on his side.”
“Messero is a traditionalist,” Garzolo says, tuning into the conversation. “I like that about him. So many Italians have dropped the traditions we held dear before we came to America, but not them.”
“What kind of traditions are those?” I ask, already disliking where this is going. In the Casalesi clan, but even more broadly in the Camorra, women have always had far more opportunities than in the Cosa Nostra. If a person can prove they can run a territory and make good money doing it, few give a fuck about what they have going on between their legs.
Garzolo finally deems me worthy of a look. It’s amazing how a man with an ego as big as his can be in this business for so long. Usually, it’s a ticket to an early death.
“The women aren’t allowed to go anywhere unaccompanied. For their safety, of course. Gemma will have at least two guards with her at all times.”
Okay, that’s not so unreasonable. As the wife of a don, she needs to be protected at all times.
“They don’t like having their women drive, so she’ll also have a driver.”
The other conversations have quieted, and everyone is listening to Garzolo now.
“And wedding night linens will be displayed the day after the wedding.” He chuckles. “That one is a bit silly if you ask me, but one has to admire their dedication.”
Gemma turns a light shade of green, but the fire inside of her, the one I was so sure was inextinguishable, is nowhere to be seen.
Valentina’s eyes flare with anger. “That’s sick.”
“It’s their family’s tradition.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not despicable. What else? Have they demanded a doctor verify Gemma is a virgin?”
