When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(108)

She wants to do this. I can see it in her eyes. Why not accept her help?

“Cleo…” I sit down beside her, unsure of what to do.

“Look, Papà is going to marry me off anyway,” she says. “What difference does it make if it’s Rafaele or someone else? It’s all the same to me. At least this way, I get to help you. I wish I could have helped you all those years when you dealt with Papà’s abuse on your own.” Her eyes glisten. “We can’t change the past, but we can influence our future.”

She waits, watching me as I make this decision. The biggest decision of my life.

It’s so hard to admit that I can’t solve this problem on my own. It’s even harder to accept that to solve it, I’ll need to complicate the lives of others. It feels selfish and uncomfortable. I’ve gotten so good at minimizing my own needs to make everyone else’s lives easier.

But I can’t do that anymore, can I?

I can’t keep putting myself last and pretending like my sacrifices are fulfilling enough for me.

Not if I ever want to have a chance at real happiness.

Taking a deep breath, I make up my mind.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Cleo smiles and pulls me into her arms. “It’ll all work out. I promise.”

I hope she’s right. With Rafaele no longer a problem, all I have to worry about is Papà preventing me from going to Ras.

But can he? I’ll beg Rafaele and Vince for help if I have to. I’ll fight tooth and nail to get to wherever Ras is. I won’t let my parents stop me, because for once, I know exactly what I want and need, and I’m not letting anyone stop me from getting it.





CHAPTER 35





GEMMA


We have a dinner planned with Rafaele’s family the next day.

It’s Vince, Cleo, Mamma, Papà, and I in the car, and I hold Cleo’s hand the entire drive there.

Cleo and I spent hours this morning going over our plan, and now that we’re about to go through with it, my mind is strangely empty.

I’m nervous, but beneath the nervousness is a breathless kind of hope. What if this works? I wrap my palm around the pendant hanging around my neck, the cool stone a visceral reminder of the man I love.

The dinner is on Rafaele’s turf—an Italian restaurant he owns in Chelsea. We arrive around seven and get taken to the main dining area where a ten-person table has been set. We’re the first ones here.

“Cute,” Cleo comments, looking around the interior.

She’s right. This place is cozy and intimate, with only about ten other smaller tables in the dining room. The décor is traditional Italian—checkered tablecloths, ornate mirrors on the walls, dark wood furniture.

Cleo walks over to study a picture frame hanging on the wall. From where I’m standing, it looks like a photo of Rafaele and his parents.

I can’t help but wonder what’s going through Cleo’s head right about now. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked her if she’s sure about going through with this, and every time, she’s reassured me that she is.

I know my sister well enough to know no one’s going to change her mind once it’s made up. Not even me.

Her sacrifice isn’t something I’ll ever forget.

Rafaele arrives with Nero by his side, both of them looking put together. Nero’s grin is as fear inducing as always. Behind them are Rafaele’s mother, his grandmother, and one of his uncles.

An anxious shiver runs down my spine as we all take our seats.

How will Rafaele react when I ask him to swap his bride a few days before the wedding? It should seem like a ridiculous proposition, if it weren’t for the small things I’ve noticed about Rafaele over the last few weeks. I haven’t said this to Cleo, because she’d tell me I’m imagining it, but there’s something strange in how Rafaele behaves around my sister.

He looks at her the way he’s never looked at me.

I first noticed it in Ibiza. When he dragged her out of his car, he couldn’t stop glancing at her. The day of Vale’s wedding, I’m convinced he chuckled at something she said. That’s a big deal for a man who hardly cracks a smile.

There have been more things like that since we came back from Ibiza.

That dinner when Rafaele and Papà announced the succession plan, he was bothered that she was drinking so much. I think he was worried about her. And then the whole thing with Ludovico…

I don’t know Rafaele very well, but I’m convinced of one thing. If he accepts my offer, he won’t let Cleo come to any harm.

And maybe, just maybe, their match will fare better than mine and Rafaele’s ever could.

The servers come out with jugs of house wine and water, and I decide there’s no point in waiting to have the conversation.

I turn to Rafaele. “May I speak to you in private?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Cleo stiffen. She’s put on a brave face for my sake, but she must be as nervous as I am.

If Rafaele refuses our offer, I don’t know what I’ll do. My only hope of being set free is if Rafaele allows me to leave. Otherwise, I won’t stand a chance against him and Papà. They will do whatever they want with me, and I might never see Ras again.

Rafaele glances at me and nods. “We can talk in the office.”