When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(17)

“He’s proud, but deep down, he knows what he did was wrong. And Mamma cries in her bedroom at night. One time, I went to her, and she told me she’ll never forgive herself for putting you in that situation.”

“I don’t believe her. She suspected what was happening, at least in broad strokes. She knew Lazaro wasn’t right in the head. When I tried to give her the details, she wouldn’t listen.”

“You know she’s never gone against Papà. She didn’t know how to change anything.”

“God, Gem! I’m not ever going to forgive them, all right? I feel sorry for Mamma, I do, but not enough for me to excuse her for her role in all of this.”

“Fine. I won’t try to change your mind. Now do me the same courtesy about my upcoming marriage.”

Valentina sighs. “There was a time when you wouldn’t have been okay with marrying a Messero.”

“Maybe I’ve grown up since then. I was there when Tito died. You weren’t. They brought our cousin to our house while he was bleeding out, and I held his hand as he took his last few breaths. I’ve seen what perceived weakness can do to our family, how it makes our enemies foam at the mouth. My marriage to Rafaele will ensure things like that won’t happen again. So just stop it, okay? I’m fine with my decision. I don’t need you to try to make me feel bad about it.”

I frown. So Gemma thinks she’s saving the family. From what? Did Garzolo make up some imaginary threat to pressure her into this marriage? Or is he in actual trouble?

Either way, Garzolo’s lying to one of us.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Vale says.

“It’s what it feels like. Now can we please get back to dinner? Your husband will worry about you.”

“Will yours?”

There’s a long silence and then the sound of footsteps. I press my back against the fridge and wait for them to pass, but a moment later, Gemma enters the dark kitchen.

She stops by the island and presses her palms against the counter as if to steady herself. Her shoulders and head slump.

A door opens somewhere in the distance. Must be Vale going back outside.

It’s just the two of us now.

Given we’re working with Garzolo, I can’t just ignore this. If he’s been lying about everything being stable in New York and Gemma knows something, I’ve got to get it out of her.

I step out of the shadows.

She hears the rustle of my clothes and whirls around. When she sees it’s me, her expression morphs from resignation to fury. “Were you eavesdropping?”

I walk toward the kitchen island and take a peach from the basket. “Didn’t think you were such a hero, Gem.”

She watches me take a bite. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I wipe a drop of juice off my chin with the back of my hand. “I thought your father got rid of all his enemies. Who is he afraid of now?”

“Oh yes, let me just spill all of my family’s business to you.”

I study her. Her body language doesn’t match her haughty tone. Her eyes flit back and forth, like she can’t look at me head-on.

She doesn’t know shit.

“Let me get this straight.” I move around the island. “You don’t even know if there’s a real threat or if your papa’s just being paranoid?”

Perceived weakness. Why would anyone in New York think Garzolo is weak after he sent the Riccis packing? The casualty numbers might have been higher than we thought… Possible, given how weird Garzolo got when we brought it up.

But if he’s really so weak, why is Messero getting into bed with him?

A lot of questions and no answers.

Gemma mirrors my movements to prevent me from getting closer to her. “Do you really think my father shares every detail about his business with me? Why do you care anyway?”

“Did you even bother to ask?”

Her expression flashes with uncertainty.

Cazzo.

Irritation inches along my skin. Seeing her being such an obedient little princess pisses me the fuck off. She’s willing to marry Rafaele on blind faith in her Papà?

We’re still moving around the island like two hands of a clock. I take the last bite of my peach and place the pit on the granite surface.

Gemma glances at it.

Before she realizes what’s happening, I anchor my hands on the counter and haul myself over the island.

I land directly in front of her.

“What are—”

“I think I get it now.”

She tries to move to the side, but I bracket her in with my arms.

When she realizes I’m not going to let her escape, her angry gaze moves to my face. “Get what?”

Just being this close to her sends blood rushing to my dick.

My irritation morphs into a simmering kind of frustration. “You’re angry and miserable. You’re sacrificing your future, and you don’t even know what you’re sacrificing it for.”

A shadow passes over her eyes, but she raises her chin in defiance. “You don’t know anything.”

“You can’t show anyone how you really feel, can you? You’re too busy pretending to be perfect for your papa’s sake. So you suppress all that rage, and then you take it out on me.”