When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(109)

I force myself not to spiral as I place my napkin back on the table.

Everyone looks up at us as Rafaele pulls out my chair and helps me up. Papà’s eyes narrow, but I ignore it. It’s incredible how little I care about what he thinks anymore.

I follow Rafaele out of the room, my palms sweaty and my pulse pounding against the side of my neck.

Be brave. You’re doing the right thing.

But that doesn’t mean Rafaele won’t murder me on the spot for the grave insult I’m about to give him.

We walk into the wood-paneled office. It’s littered with paperwork and random restaurant supplies. There’s only one chair behind the desk, and I expect Rafaele to take it. Instead, he shuts the door, flicks on the overhead light, and stops a few feet away from me.

I guess we’re having this conversation standing. He must think it won’t take long.

“What is it?”

I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. They’re as unreadable as ever.

“Rafael…” The light above us flickers.

Say it. You said you’d fight for Ras. For your baby. This is your chance.

I take it. “Rafaele, I can’t marry you.”

He doesn’t react in any physical way besides sliding his palms into the pockets of his slacks. I wonder if he’s doing that so he won’t spontaneously break my neck.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“I’m in love with someone else.”

“I don’t see why that’s a problem,” he says coolly, like he’s explaining something he assumed I knew by now. “This was never about love.”

“I know. But there’s something else.” I bite down on the inside of my mouth. “I’m not a virgin. Actually, I’m pregnant.”

The air in the room turns dense and heavy, pressing down on my lungs. Rafaele’s stillness becomes absolute. Seconds tick by. It feels as if he’s drilling into my brain matter with that penetrating gaze.

“Who’s is it?”

There’s no emotion in the question. He may as well be asking me for the time.

I shake my head.

We both know that it could only be one man. But I won’t say Ras’s name around him. I’m afraid of what will happen if I do.

“Look, I know this is not ideal,” I say.

“Understatement of the century.”

“Right. But I have a solution.”

His brows furrow, and he waits to hear what I have to say.

“Cleo will marry you instead of me.”

The mask he always wears falls away for one brief moment, and something vaguely hungry flashes inside his gaze.

I swallow. “She’ll take my place…if you’ll have her.”

Rafaele drags his palm over his lips. “She offered to do this?”

“Yes.”

A beat passes. “I see.”

Slowly, he extracts his other hand out of his pocket. I flinch, expecting him to do something to me with that hand, but he simply holds it out like he wants me to give him something.

“The ring.”

I blink. I’d thought I’d get more questions from him. What does this mean? Is this him saying he’s fine with marrying Cleo?

I hesitate for a second and then slide the heavy emerald ring off my finger and place it in his palm. His fingers curl around it.

He’s too calm about all of this.

Too calm about swapping his bride for a wedding that’s supposed to happen in three days, one his entire family is supposed to attend.

“So does this mean you accept?” I ask carefully.

He slides the ring into his suit pocket and casts me an impartial glance. “I already fulfilled my end of the deal with your father. If this is the only way he can fulfill his, then so be it. Cleo will be my wife.”

Relief fans through me. “Papà doesn’t know about any of this. We’ll have to tell him now.”

“I gathered as much since your father didn’t seem at all nervous when he arrived.”

Adrenaline buzzes beneath my skin. “Once we tell everyone, I have to leave,” I say. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I’m asking for a favor. If Papà tries to stop me, can you help? Just until I walk out the door.”

“Where are you going to go?”

I swallow. “To him.”

For a moment, Rafaele seems like he’s about to say no. Why would he help me? I’m the woman who just made his life more complicated. His reputation has painted him as a ruthless monster, but I think there’s far more to him than meets the eye.

Papà said he thought Rafaele had a strange moral compass. I’m not sure what that means, but while I wait for him to answer, I’m praying the arrow on that compass points in my direction.

Finally, he firms his jaw. “Fine. I’ll make sure you’re able to leave.”

I exhale a pent-up breath.

He moves to exit the office, but there’s one more thing.

“Wait!”

He pauses with his hand on the door handle. I feel like I’m tempting fate by asking so much of him, but I can’t leave this last thing unsaid.

“Please take care of Cleo.” My voice cracks. “I know she can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she’s clever, and funny, and insanely brave. Just look at what she’s willing to do for the people she loves.”