When She Unravels: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Fallen Book 1)

I tell Ras I’ve decided not to trade Valentina back to her father when we sit down for lunch on the terrace the next morning.

When I finish my explanation, he places his cutlery down and crosses his arms over his chest. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Why?” I ask. It makes perfect sense to me.

“Because she doesn’t know anything. The line about the sister was just a ploy to buy herself more time.”

“It wasn’t.”

He rolls his eyes. “Mio Dio, you’ve lost your head over her. When will you admit it?”

“Admit what, exactly?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

My mouth goes dry, and something sparks inside my chest. “That’s absurd.”

“When she was still working at Revolvr, you started spending a lot more time there. All so that you could be around her.”

“I had work to do.”

“You were either talking to her or daydreaming about her in your office.”

“How would you know what I daydream about?” I retort, not wanting to pause and reflect on the truth in his words.

Ras shakes his head. “I thought you’d move on after we realized who she was, but you’ve just dug in deeper and deeper. And now this. You want to bring her into our plan. A plan that requires me, Napoletano, and many other men to put their lives on the line. You know I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, but you’re not going to win a lot of respect from the other capos if they see your strategy for taking over as don has your dick as a compass.”

His words light the fuse of my anger, but I take a breath and put it out before it explodes. “I did realize who she was. The woman who saved my sister. That makes her someone worthy of respect, mine and yours.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I respect her. Very much. She’s done the impossible. She’s brought you to your knees.”

My hand tightens around the fork. “Then maybe it’s respect for me that you’re missing.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” He heaves a sigh. “Goddamn it, Dem. You know I want you to be don. And not just because you’re a brother to me, but because unlike Sal, you’re a real leader.”

“Then have a little faith. She wasn’t lying. She knows something.” A flicker on the security monitor pulls my attention to it. “The guards just let in a car. Are you expecting someone?”

Ras’s brows pull together. “No. Is it Mari?”

I zoom in on the car as apprehension coils inside my gut. “She’s in the Mercedes with her driver. She shouldn’t be back from her shopping trip for another few hours. This is a white BMW. Why would the guards let someone through without checking with you?”

He walks around to look at the screen just in time for the car to park in front of the house. The door opens.

Ras swears. “It’s the Pirozzis. Nelo and Vito.”

“What the fuck.”

“They have to be here on Sal’s orders. It’s the only reason the guard would let them pass.” Ras’s phone rings, and he picks it up. “Speak.”

Not two seconds later, Ras hangs up. “The guard just confirmed it.”

“Tell Martina’s driver not to come back until we tell him it’s clear,” I say as I grab my gun from the desk drawer and check to make sure it’s loaded. “I’m going to go greet them. Stay here unless you think I need backup.”

As I walk to the front door, the bell rings. It’s a good sign they used it instead of barging in. I tuck the gun in the front of my slacks and button up my jacket. I don’t know what they’re here for, but I’d prefer not to start a war today. We’re not ready for it yet. I need to buy us time, which means appeasing whatever this is.

They’re standing on the other side of the door wearing two shit-eating grins.

“Ciao, cugino. We were afraid you might not be here today,” Vito says.

“My car’s right there,” I say, pointing to the Mercedes they parked beside. “Did you think I went for a long walk to contemplate the scenery or something?”

Nelo steps over the threshold. His cologne is layered on so thick my eyes nearly start to water.

“You’ve got plenty to contemplate these days,” Vito says as he runs a hand over his gelled hair.

“Same as always. The business doesn’t run itself.”

“Is Martina here?” he asks as he passes me.

Ice drips into my bloodstream. Why the fuck are they asking about my sister? “No.”

We enter the living room, where Nelo immediately goes to the bar to pour himself a drink, and Vito follows the smells coming from the kitchen. The cook is making our lunch in there.

“Is that spezzatino di manzo?” Vito exclaims with exaggerated glee. “Smells better than the one my mamma makes.”

I stop behind him and gesture to the cook she should leave. Her eyes turn to saucers, but she manages to give Vito a tight smile. “It is. Almost ready. Just need to let it simmer for another five minutes.”

“Take a break, Angela,” I tell her, and she doesn’t hesitate to take off her apron and disappear through the back door.

“I think we’ll stay for lunch,” Vito says, slapping me on the chest as he walks back into the living room. My fists clench. I force them open.

They make themselves comfortable on the couch. Nelo is nursing what looks like a double shot of whiskey while he studies the chandelier above his head. “That’s a gorgeous piece.”

I take a seat in the armchair. “It’s from Murano.”

“Stunning work. My glassware is from there. The don recommended me the same workshop he got all of his own glassware from.”

Vito props his ankle on his knee and grins. “The don’s a real generous guy.”

“He really is. Isn’t he, Damiano? Look at all of this.” Nelo spreads his arms. “He gave all of this to you.”

I don’t bother correcting him. Sal didn’t give me anything. I grew the initial investment Ras’s father gave me into a fortune, and it was only after I proved myself that Sal insisted on giving me more capital to deploy. I did him a favor taking his money and growing it year after year.

“Why are you here?” I ask. Even my patience isn’t infinite.

Nelo takes a sip of his drink. “Remember what happened to me at Revolvr? You know, it really wasn’t that big a deal.” He lifts his hand up and shows me the scab. “It’s nearly healed. I was ready to move on and forget about it, but somehow it got back to the don—”

“I wonder how that happened.”

“No idea. I suppose he’s got eyes everywhere.”

There’s no doubt in my mind Nelo told him himself. These two are the don’s eyes on Ibiza.

“He wasn’t happy,” Vito says with a shrug. “He said when someone insults us, it’s the same as if they were insulting him.”

“And Sal doesn’t like to be disrespected,” Nelo adds.

They’re taking their sweet time spitting it out. “What do you want?”

The preemptively triumphant glint in Nelo’s eyes puts me on high alert. “I’ve had some time to reflect on all the fun I’ve had, and I think I’ve had enough for a few lifetimes,” he says. “I’m ready to settle down. The don approved of the idea. He suggested Martina might make me a good wife.”

My fingers dig so hard into the wooden armrests, I feel my fingernails splint. Red fills my vision. How dare he suggest such a vile thing?

Sal’s still trying to get my sister under his thumb. Does he think I’ll just hand her to them after their kidnapping attempt failed? He’s living in fantasy land. Martina will never be Nelo’s wife. I’ll rip his throat out before I let this asshole have her.

Whatever the two of them see play out across my face makes them sit up straighter. Vito makes a subtle movement of his hand, bringing it closer to the gun tucked behind his back. My own gun burns against my abdomen.

“She’s your cousin,” I grit out. “Even for you, that’s sick.”

“We’re related by our great-great-grandmother,” he says as he places his empty glass on the coffee table. “C’mon. You know that barely counts.”

“Martina’s not looking for a husband.”

“Why not? She’s almost nineteen.”

“Single,” Vito says.

“And beautiful,” Nelo adds. “I could see her warming my—”

If he finishes that sentence, I’ll rip out his tongue.

CRASH.

Vito jerks in his seat. “What was that?” he asks, looking toward the stairs.

Nelo arches a brow at me. “Is there someone else here?”

It must have come from Vale’s room. I grit my teeth. What the hell is she doing in there?

“I thought you said Martina wasn’t home,” Nelo says, looking at me as he moves toward the stairs.

I stand up and block his way. “It’s not Martina.”

“Who is it then?”

Cazzo.

“Give me a moment,” I bite out. “I have a guest staying with me.”

Without giving Nelo a chance to ask me more questions, I scale the stairs and duck into Valentina’s room.

She’s standing by the bed, her breakfast tray broken at her feet. She’s wearing Martina’s clothes—a pair of spandex shorts and a white T-shirt. Her eyes shoot up to me. “It slipped off the bed.”

I lock the door behind me. “Listen to me. Nelo and Vito are here sniffing around. The don sent them. You’re going to come downstairs with me. You don’t know anything about who I really am, got it? You’re only an employee who’s sleeping with me.”

Her lips part in shock. “The guy I stabbed is here?”

I pick up one of my sister’s sweaters off the floor and toss it to her. “Put this on. Yes. Did you hear what I said?”

“We’re sleeping with each other, I got it. Why do I have to go down there?”

“Because they heard the crash.” I grab her by the elbows. “We don’t have time for explanations. Just follow my lead.”

She nods, and we exit the room.

Nelo is waiting at the foot of the steps, just where I left him, and the stunned surprise on his face when he sees Valentina with me is unmissable.

“You.” The word is an accusation.

“Me,” Valentina responds.

When he won’t move to let us pass, I give him an annoyed look. “You were so curious to know who was in my room, I thought I’d show you.”

A prominent vein appears in his neck. “Vito, you know who this is?”

“Who?” his brother calls out from where he’s still sitting on the couch.

“The bottle-service girl who stabbed me,” he says. “Apparently, she’s also Damiano’s new girl.” His expression darkens even as he steps aside.

“Let me see her,” Vito says, coming up to us. “Ah, what a beauty. No wonder you seem so impatient to get rid of us, cugino,” he says. “I would be too if I had her in my bed.”

Valentina keeps her head high as Vito rakes his gaze over her. An urge to cut his eyes out solidifies in my stomach. I step between them.

For a moment, everyone is silent. Then Vito makes a loud sniff. “The spezzatino smells like it’s ready.” He tips his head at Vale. “Why don’t we go check on it.”

“Let’s all go,” Nelo says, his gaze flicking between Valentina and I. “I’d like to get to know Damiano’s new flame a little better. Our previous two meetings were cut short, wouldn’t you say?”

Valentina stays quiet, but when Vito starts making his way to the kitchen, I nudge her to follow. I don’t want either of them out of my sight.

The three of us take our seats on the wooden stools around the kitchen island while Valentina makes her way to the pot.

I do not like how Nelo is looking at her. It’s clear he’s far from getting over his embarrassing injury, and men like him deal with embarrassment in one way.

Violence.

“Ale, was it?” he asks the back of Vale’s head.

“Yes,” she says without turning around. She takes a wooden spoon the cook left on the counter and mixes the stew with it.

He directs his next question to me. “Is she living with you?”

I know what he’s trying to get at. He wants to know if Vale is important to me, which means I have to show him she’s anything but that.

“She stayed the night.”

“You don’t bring many women back here, do you? You must really like this one.”

“Just because you can’t convince any women to go back with you to your place, doesn’t mean others have that problem.”

Vito snickers a laugh but shuts up quickly when Nelo glares at him.

Vale opens a bunch of cupboards before finding the one that contains the bowls. She takes out four and starts pouring the stew inside of them with a ladle.

“You’re quieter than before,” Nelo notes. His gaze dips to her ass, and it makes me want to strangle him. “Was Damiano’s lovemaking so depressing?”

Her shoulders square. She turns around and brings the first bowl to me.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

Nelo’s face turns red. “You’re ignoring me.”

I send Vale a cautious look. There’s no worse insult to a man with an ego like Nelo’s than being ignored.

She serves the next bowl to Vito. “Be careful, it’s very hot.”

“Sure,” he says.

A vein in Nelo’s temple twitches as he watches Valentina go back to the stove. I hope he’s decided to stay quiet to save himself from further humiliation, but I know that’s wishful thinking.

When she comes over to him, the tension in the room reaches a fever pitch. The bowl lands on the wooden island with a soft clank. She places a spoon beside it.

Nelo peers down at the stew and hums loudly. “It looks juicy. Just like your fat ass, bella,” he says as he places his hand on Vale’s behind and squeezes it.

Hard.

Hard enough to make her flinch.

Hard enough to make her gasp in pain.

The room around me starts to tremble.

There’s no holding it in this time.

Flinch. Gasp.

It sets off an inferno of rage.

I move as fast as lightning. My bowl and the entirety of its steaming hot contents end up in Vito’s face. He shrieks from the burn. Good. I hope he goes blind.

Nelo jumps, reaching for his gun. Suddenly, Ras is there, pushing Vale out of the way and knocking Nelo’s gun out of his grasp.

I jerk Nelo by his wrist and slam the hand that touched Vale on the island. The dark scab stares up at me for a moment before I cover it with the barrel of my gun.

“I really thought you’d learned your lesson the first time you insulted her.”

His wild eyes meet mine. “You’re fucking crazy. What the fuck—”

Flinch. Gasp.

I pull the trigger.