When She Falls: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Fallen Book 3)

The next day, cocktail hour begins at four. We’re out behind the house on the meticulously landscaped lawn that overlooks the water. The breeze carries the smell of sea and salt. A waiter passes by me with a tray of canapés, and I steal a little piece of bread with prosciutto on top.

I’m starving.

At breakfast this morning, all Mamma allowed me to eat was a bowl of fruit. She picked out my wedding dress knowing full well it was a size too small, so now she’s managing my weight. She’s pulled this kind of thing on me before—my high school prom comes to mind—and it never gets any less tiring.

“Is there a naked man on that jet ski?”

My chews slow. “What?”

Cleo takes a sip of champagne and points toward the water. “Right there. I think it’s that guy Ras.”

The force of my turn nearly makes my red wine slosh out of the glass. He wouldn’t.

I squint against the sunlight, suddenly wishing it wasn’t so damn bright so that I could see better. Then the jet ski turns, and I see that indeed he would.

“Oh my God.”

Ras slices through the rippling water, strands of his long hair escaping his usual man-bun. He’s too far to really make anything out, but it’s clear he’s not wearing any clothes.

The initial shock is followed by a strange heat that blankets my skin.

“It looks fun.” Cleo bites down on something that makes a loud crunch. “We should try it while we’re here.”

Our parents would have a meltdown if I stripped down to nothing in front of everyone. It’s the kind of indecency that would put my reputation in question and make all those promises to Rafaele about my virginity irrelevant.

A little bit of bile rises up.

The thrill of a naked jet ski ride is definitely not worth some old geezer poking around my vagina to verify I’m as pure as I claim to be.

Vale appears before us. She’s wearing a flattering green dress, a light dusting of makeup, and a sparkling diamond necklace that’s no doubt an extravagant gift from Damiano.

“There you are. Have you seen Vince? The guards told me he arrived while I was getting ready.”

“We saw him for a second before Papà whisked him away.” Cleo reaches out and drags a finger over the necklace. She has a thing for sparkly things. “Nice.”

“Thanks. I wonder when they’ll be done.”

I’m only half listening, my gaze inexplicably being pulled to the sea where a certain someone is frolicking in his birthday suit.

Vale notices and turns to look. She scoffs. “Typical.”

“Is that an Ibizan thing or just Ras?”

“A bit of both. One thing I learned about Ibiza early on is that people here aren’t shy about taking off their clothes. Let me tell you about the time Damiano took me up to Dalt Vila…”

The jet ski comes closer and turns, and I do something I immediately regret. I check out his ass. It’s right there.

And it’s…quite nice.

Toned and firm, if my visual assessment can be trusted.

I bite down on my bottom lip.

Here’s what I truly loath to admit, even to myself in the privacy of my own thoughts. Ras gives the impression of being the kind of guy who could seduce any woman when given enough time. There’s something fiercely attractive about him. The set of his brows, the permanent quirk in the left side of his mouth, the confident way he carries his brawny body. It’s obvious he’s physically strong, but he doesn’t have the ideal proportions men aspire to and put in long hours in the gym to get. He looks like someone who got that body out of necessity. By doing the things that had to be done.

I hate this about him. I despise the fact that if he’d never opened his mouth or displayed his poor character, I may have seen him walking on the street and thought he’s beautiful.

I’d rather be strangled and tossed into the sea than ever admit this to him.

When he turns once more, I avert my eyes. I sip on my cocktail and nod along to my sister’s story.

Some time passes before I bring myself to look back to the sea, and when I do, the jet ski is gone.

A presence appears at my back. Don’t ask me how I know it’s him. I just do. Of course, I pretend like he isn’t here, and when he joins the conversation, I only give him one quick glance. He’s gotten dressed in a hurry—his shirt buttons are half done, revealing a swath of muscular chest, and his hair is dripping water down his back. He seems utterly unbothered by the fact that he just mooned the entire party.

His nonchalance irritates me. “You put on quite the show,” I say during a lull in the conversation when Vale pulls out her phone to show Cleo something.

“Did you enjoy it?” he answers without missing a beat.

“I lost my appetite.”

He snickers. “I’m ravenous. Being on the water always makes me hungry.”

The way he says hungry makes heat rise to my cheeks.

As if to emphasize his point, he snatches a goat-cheese crostini off a passing tray. “You should try it. There’s still time left.”

“You could try being more subtle about wanting to get me naked.”

His eyes spark. “I never said you needed to take off your clothes. But I do tend to have that effect on women.”

I roll my eyes so hard I’m afraid they might get stuck facing the back of my head. “The only effect you have on me is indigestion.”

His deep laughter is not entirely unpleasant, and it sends something buzzing inside my lower belly.

I give my head a slight shake. The heat, the alcohol, and my nearly empty stomach are clearly mixing some brain signals, because there’s no way I find anything about Ras pleasant. Deciding it’s time to make an exit, I move to brush past him, but he stops me by grabbing my forearm.

“Tell me, why does your tongue get so sharp around me, but you seem to swallow it around your parents?”

A thrill runs up my spine. Why is he touching me? He shouldn’t be touching me. I shoot a nervous glance in Vale and Cleo’s direction, but they’ve moved away to say hello to Vince, who’s finally arrived. Mamma and Papà are farther away engaged in conversation with Damiano.

My gaze finds Ras’s. His dark-hazel eyes have flecks of bronze in them, I realize. “Why do you care?”

His grip on me tightens, and he tugs me closer. I can’t tell if it’s to intimidate me or to simply make sure no one overhears our conversation, but I suspect it’s the former.

His touch burns along my arm. “You let people push you around, and they’ll keep doing it, Gem.”

Anger flares inside my belly. I tug my elbow, but his hold on me doesn’t let up. “Didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude to give unsolicited advice?”

“I must have missed that lesson.” He arches a thick brow. “So what? Your ma has you on some kind of diet so that you’ll be nice and weak when it comes time to walk down the aisle? She making sure you won’t have the strength to run away?”

“Why would I run away?” I snarl at him. “For all you know, I can’t wait to marry Rafaele.”

He laughs at me. “Oh yeah. He sounds like a real catch. Are you going to be all meek and obedient for him? Yesterday at lunch, you put on a convincing performance.”

“Get your hand off me before Papà sees it,” I grind out, trying to mask the slow simmer of panic inside me. I can’t keep getting slapped around. Even my extra-coverage concealer has its limits.

Ras lets go of me, and his expression turns probing. I don’t like it at all.

“Here’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he says in a low voice. “Which version of you is the real Gemma?”

My body grows still and hollow, his question rattling inside the cavity of my chest like a snake. I purse my lips, willing the unsettling feeling away. “I don’t know what you mean, but this conversation is far past its expiration date.”

His reaction is not what I expect. Something flares to life in his eyes, and he points one thick finger at me. “That, right there. Is that fire real? Or are you just pretending to be someone you’re not?”

My teeth clench. “Goodbye.” I spin around and march across the lawn, desperate to get away from him and his damned questions.

Because the truth is, he nailed something on the head.

I don’t know if the fire is real.

All I know is that it only really started to come out after I met him.

I float around the party, nicking canapés and pondering why I tend to not hold anything back around Ras.

I think it’s because he’s the first person I’ve been around whose opinion of me is of no consequence.

He can hate me. He can think I’m a bitch. Or that I have “a few screws loose.”

I don’t care. My opinion of him is far worse.

I’ve always had to be careful about what I say to people back in New York. I realized a long time ago that anything I say to anyone in the family has a high likelihood of making its way back to my parents.

But Ras? He’s not going to go and tell Papà how I’ve been speaking to him, that’s for sure.

So yeah. It’s liberating to be able to say whatever’s on my mind.

What’s not liberating is him calling me out on it.

I sit down on a stone bench facing the water and pop a shrimp skewer into my mouth.

“Gem.”

I turn around at the sound of a familiar male voice.

It’s Vince.

My brother looks mildly annoyed as he takes a seat beside me, a glass of whiskey in his hand. I catch a whiff of some expensive cologne. He always smells nice.

“Um, hi? Don’t I even get a hug?” I haven’t seen him in months.

“You didn’t come to say hello,” he says coolly.

I sigh. “I’m sorry, your majesty.” My brother has what some might call a difficult personality.

When he lived back home, he terrorized our staff. My brother is a perfectionist and a bit of a… Well, let’s just say I overheard even our sweet housekeeper, Lydia, call him an asshole.

I wrap an arm around his waist and peck his cheek. After a moment, he hugs me back.

“You look pretty,” he says begrudgingly.

I grin. Affection’s never come naturally to Vince, but he tries with his sisters. “Thanks. You’re looking sharp yourself.”

The setting sun glints off the sleek clip he’s got on his tie. I study his flawless profile—he’s chiseled, with bone structure to die for. His brows are drawn. He’s worn that severe expression since he was a kid, but now that he’s a full-grown man, the severity is underscored with something more deadly.

I wonder if he’s had to get his hands dirty in Switzerland, or if he’s still feeding his superiority complex by limiting his illegal activities to pushing money around.

Vince is capable of violence just like any man in our family, but he’s never liked the mess that comes with it.

It’s one of the reasons he left New York.

Papà wanted him to work his way up the organization by starting as an enforcer—a position Vince immediately deemed to be below him.

So my brother concocted a different career plan. He got into one of Papà’s bank accounts and started investing the Garzolo fortune by pretending to be our father. He traded over five million dollars before he got caught.

He’s lucky his schemes turned a profit. Papà was furious, but when he saw the new balances, he simmered down.

That’s how Vince ended up getting permission to go and keep growing our investments abroad.

He drags his thumb over the face of his watch. “It’s good to see everyone together. Vale looks happy.”

“Of course she’s happy. She’s in love.”

“She picked a good man to fall in love with. One powerful enough to keep Papà from dragging her back home.”

“You make it sound like it was some calculated move on her part.”

He shrugs. “Who says it wasn’t?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Listen, she’s smart for doing what she had to do to make a better life for herself.”

“Ah. Of course. That’s what you did.” Vince was twenty when he left, and that was five years ago. He built his own kingdom an ocean away. I wonder who he’ll hand it off to when it’s time for him to take over the family business in New York.

Papà isn’t getting any younger, and Vince is his successor. Eventually, even his finance skills won’t be enough of an excuse to keep him away.

The day Vince returns and takes over the family is going to be a good day. If my brother had been in charge, I believe the war with the Riccis may have played out very differently. Papà is a tough guy. He lacks subtlety and restraint.

Vince is the opposite. He’s a schemer and an out-of-the-box thinker. Violence is always the last resort with him.

He shrugs again. “Haven’t regretted it for a single second. I could never live with Papà breathing down my neck.”

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of just disappearing for a few years.”

Now his attention is on me. “He’s lucky to have you, Gem. Very lucky. He raised three selfish kids, and one selfless daughter.”

“Vale isn’t selfish. She did what she was told in the beginning.”

“And now you’re doing the same,” he says, his gaze dropping to my ring.

“I don’t have to explain it to you. You know how bad things could get.”

Vince came back for the funerals. He stood by Papà’s side with that grim expression on his face. Tito, our cousin who died, was his close friend. They grew up together.

“You’ve always taken it upon yourself to fix things.”

“Have I?”

“Have you forgotten how you’d call me every Saturday morning for years after I left to ask when I’d be back?”

“I was just checking in,” I grumble.

“You were doing what Papà was too proud to do. Did he ask you to do that? I’ve always wondered.”

“No.”

Vince’s lips curve into a knowing smirk. “You did it just for a chance to earn his praise. He would have heaped it on you if you’d managed to convince me to come home.”

My cheeks heat. It’s embarrassing because it’s true. Back then, I’d have done anything to earn Papà’s approval.

But I’ve grown up. At least, I like to think I have.

I’m not marrying Rafaele for Papà to tell me what a good daughter I am. This is so much bigger than that.

I’m doing this for my family.

I tuck a strand behind my ear. “Whatever.”

He snickers. “Anyway, tell me about your future husband. Vale seems to already hate him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re also going to try to convince me I don’t have to marry him.”

“I’m not going to convince you of anything. I don’t agree with Vale. You should marry Rafaele.”

“How well do you know him?”

“We had a few meetings after he began working with Papà. Despite his reputation, I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who would mistreat his wife. I asked around. He’s had women around him, and there haven’t been any complaints.”

“You looked into him for my sake?”

“Do you think I’d leave my sister on her own? Yeah, I looked into him.”

Something warm burst inside my chest. It’s nice of him to look out for me.

Vince leans back on his palms. “I told Vale to let it go. I’m not sure I got through to her. She’s all about love marriages now.”

“How do you feel about them?”

“I wouldn’t bank on one. Love fades. It’s too unpredictable. Papà fucked up with Vale’s ex-husband, but you can’t dismiss the entire system of arranged marriages based on one bad incident.”

“What about you? Have you started looking for a wife?”

He makes a dismissive wave. “There’s no rush.”

“I don’t know about that. Given the long list of requirements I assume you’re going to have, you might want to start early.”

“Smartass. My list isn’t that long. Just a few obvious things.”

“Like what?”

“Since she’d be around a lot, I’d want someone nice to look at,” he says. “Someone without baggage who wouldn’t try to turn me into their therapist.”

“Charming.”

“She’d have to put the relationship first. Complete loyalty. Complete trust. Without it, it wouldn’t work. I have enough people who want to stab me in the back. My wife can’t be one of them.”

It didn’t sound too unreasonable, actually. “So you’d be faithful to her?”

He gives me a blank look. “What?”

“You’d want her to be loyal to you and trust you. Would you be loyal to her? Would you sleep around the way Papà does?”

“Sleeping around has nothing to do with real loyalty. Of course my wife would know I’d have women on the side. She’d accept it and move on.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s the kind of stuff that makes women want to stab their husbands.”

“Nothing a pair of diamond earrings and a trip to the Maldives can’t fix.” Vince tosses back the last of his whiskey and stands. “Dinner’s about to start.” He eyes my empty wine glass. “How many of those have you had?”

“Not enough.”

When I rise, the horizon before me wobbles. Okay, maybe I should have stopped one glass ago.

“C’mon.” Vince offers me his arm. “So you’re expecting Rafaele to be faithful?”

I frown. I haven’t thought about it. The idea is distasteful in principle, but the thought of my future husband with another woman…

I wait for some emotion to surface.

There’s nothing.

“I haven’t thought that far,” I say to Vince. “I just hope we’ll get along.”

“If you can get along with our parents for as long as you have, you can get along with anyone.”

I roll my eyes. That isn’t true. Prime example—Ras.

There is no situation, no possible scenario in which I’d get along with him.