When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(116)

My chest swells. Seeing the happiness in her eyes is everything.

I let my arm fall off the bed and curl my palm around her delicate ankle. I wish I’d been there when she realized she’s carrying our child. She must have been so scared during a moment that should have been filled with joy.

She’ll never be in that position again.

And the next time she finds out she’s pregnant—there’s no way we’re stopping at one—I’ll be right by her side.

Dem’s voice comes back on the line. “You can’t stay in New York for long. We don’t want to risk having Garzolo come after you. You should leave as soon as possible.”

“What are you going to do about him and your deal?” I ask Dem.

“It’s off. There’s no fucking way we’re working with him after what he did to Gemma. Vale said he’s as good as dead to us.”

Damn right he is. I’m still very much intent on putting him six feet under myself when things calm down here.

Dem keeps going, “But since Cleo is now marrying Rafaele, we want to maintain a relationship there. Maybe we renegotiate the deal directly with him and cut Garzolo out. If Rafaele guarantees Garzolo won’t see a penny from it, there might be a path forward. It’s going to be a mess to navigate.” He lets out a heavy breath. “Too bad my underboss quit at the worst possible time.”

My lips twitch. “What, you’re saying you’d want that bastard back?”

“I had an open casting a few days ago for a replacement. No one showed up.”

I snort. “An open casting… Just say you miss me, stronzo.”

“You going to give me shit again?”

I sit up and prop my elbows on my knees. “I’ll make it right, Dem. As long as you don’t try to keep me away from my woman, I’ll make all of this shit right.”

“Your woman… Vale, he’s calling Gemma’s ‘his woman’.” There’s a distant laugh on the other line, and Vale asks something I can’t quite make out. “She’s asking when’s the wedding,” Dem says.

Gemma turns bright red. I grin. It would be tomorrow if it were up to me, but something tells me Gemma might need a break from wedding talk for a little while.

Plus, I want her to have the best pregnancy possible, and I want time to show her just how fucking special she is. Her parents did a number on her. If I need to spend years showing her just how wrong they were to ever make her feel less than enough, I’ll do it.

“Not sure, but you’ll be the first to know,” I tell Dem.

“I’ll send a plane to get you out of there tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Dem.”

“I’m happy for you.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I know.”

I hang up.

Gemma arches a brow at me. “So, you got your job back?”

I grin at her. “Gainfully employed once again. Dem wants us back in Italy. How do you feel about that?”

She smiles back. “That’s where you belong. And I belong wherever you are.”

I cup her cheek. I love this woman so much. “Damn right, Peaches.”

She leans into my touch and closes her eyes.

“You excited?” I whisper.

“More than words can describe.”





That afternoon, we pack up our few belongings, hop into a car Orrin lets me borrow, and drive to a hotel. On our way over, Dem messages to confirm the plane is picking us up tomorrow morning.

Soon, we’ll be heading to Italy, and I can’t fucking wait.

“You know, I wouldn’t have minded staying in the studio one more night,” Gemma says, taking a sip of her tea. She seems to be on a tea kick. I wonder if it’s the pregnancy hormones, and what else they’ll make her crave. Hopefully, it’s not some miserable American food, although if I have to, I’ll send a damn plane here every week to get her whatever she needs.

“The place was awful, Peaches. And I spent some long, depressing days there. I’d much rather check you into the presidential suite and have you beneath me on one thousand thread count sheets.” I want to spoil this girl in every fucking way. I don’t think she realizes it yet. “Let’s go somewhere nice for breakfast afterwards.”

We end up making use of the presidential suite for about two hours before we remember the food, but Gemma doesn’t seem to mind the delay after I make her come three times. Her cheeks are rosy, and her lips a bit swollen when we step back outside.

She gasps. “It’s warm out!”

Warm is a bit of a stretch, but at least I’m not rushing to zip up my jacket as soon as the air hits my body. I look up. There aren’t any clouds in the sky for what must be the first fucking time since I got here.

I lean down and press a kiss to her cheek. She looks so happy. I take out my phone and snap a photo of her.

She notices. “What’s that for?”

“Need a new background picture for my phone.”

Gemma grins. “God, you’re such a sap. Who are you, and what happened to the mean Camorrista?”

“Mean?” I grumble. “I was never mean to you,” I say as I give her ass a firm smack.

She yelps. “Forgetful too.” She slides her hand into mine and squeezes.