When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(54)

Oh, right. Pilates.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

I flex my hands around the wheel and pull out of the driveway.

Why did I tell her about Nunzio yesterday? It’s not a story I’ve shared with many people, but when she asked me about my name, something compelled me to tell her the truth.

“Tell me you killed him.”

My gut tightens. She said it with an undercurrent of fury, like she cared.

Or maybe that’s just my mind imagining things. Seeing things it wants to see.

Does she feel this connection between us? It’s always been there. Yes, from that very first fucking day when she bit me, and I don’t care if she insists otherwise.

In Ibiza, that connection is what allowed her to be so fucking unhinged around me.

You said it yourself. She was just taking her anger out on you.

Maybe at first, but not afterwards. Not in my apartment. Definitely not at that department store.

And not now, when she’s looking at me with those beautiful gray eyes like she’s trying to figure me out.

I’m trying to figure her out too.

There’s a fire that burns inside of her, but I suspect her family has spent her entire life trying to stomp it out.

To make her compliant.

To make her obey.

It’s clear they have her under their control. She cowers around her parents in a way she’s never cowered around me.

What is she afraid of?

Perhaps it’s not fear that motivates her. Perhaps it’s a sense of obligation that her parents have spent a lifetime instilling.

“What would happen if you don’t marry Messero?” I ask, trying to test out my theory.

Her gaze flickers with apprehension. “Why?”

“Back in Ibiza, you said to Vale it’s critical to the survival of your family.”

She shifts in her seat. “We already talked about this, didn’t we? It’s what Papà told me. He said the union with the Messeros will strengthen our reputation after the mess with the Riccis. When everything was going down with them, things got bad for a while.”

“How bad?”

“They killed a bunch of our men.” She looks out the window before she says the next thing. “Our uncles. Our cousins.”

“Vale doesn’t talk about it much.”

“She wasn’t here for it, was she?” Some sharpness slips into her tone. “It accelerated after she ran.”

I frown. Did that cause Gemma to internalize a certain lesson about what happens when you go against your family? Is that why she argued so adamantly with Vale when Vale just floated the idea of breaking off the engagement to Messero?

No wonder Garzolo didn’t have to say much to convince her this marriage is nonnegotiable. She’d been primed for it.

When rationalizing this marriage, Gemma always talks about other people. What they want. What they need. But what about her own needs? Does she even know what they are? Or has she spent her whole life learning how to repress them?

I swallow past the unpleasant taste inside my mouth. This is fucked up. Garzolo is putting the responsibility of his whole family on Gemma’s shoulders. That burden should be Garzolo’s to carry, not hers.

We come to a stoplight, and she glances at me. “If my marriage can help ensure that never happens again, it’s a bargain, don’t you think?”

“You really think it’ll be enough? In your father’s line of work, peace doesn’t last.”

A shadow passes over her expression. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I could have helped my family, but I chose not to.”

My heart lodges itself between my ribs.

She’s determined to do this.

It should be a good thing. It should make it easier for me to stay focused on what I came here to do. But it sure as hell doesn’t feel great to hear her talk about how ready she is to sacrifice herself. And to Messero of all people. That man will never appreciate the gift he’s been handed. Gemma deserves better than this.

Still, there’s nothing I can do. Not when she’s convinced this is the right thing.

When we reach the Pilates studio, she turns to me, her expression grave. “Ras?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened in the dressing room… It can’t happen again.”

I should have known it was coming, but hearing her say those words still feels like a punch in the gut. We’re walking on different paths. Paths that aren’t meant to intertwine. Whatever’s been brewing between us needs to end, despite how tempting it is. Because no matter how drawn I am to her, she’s not meant for me.

Her eyes burn brightly as she holds my gaze, waiting for me to acknowledge her words.

It’s me who eventually looks away. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”





CHAPTER 18





GEMMA


I manage to keep myself at home for the next few days, avoiding any more alone time with Ras.

The wedding planner comes to the house, showing Cleo, Mamma, and me linens, options for the centerpieces, and bringing us cake samples. I ask lots of questions, forcing myself to occupy my mind with something other than the man living a few doors down from me. My diligence earns me praise from Mamma and an exasperated glare from Cleo.