When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(65)

I must be losing my mind, because although I’ve just spent all morning convincing myself what a bad idea this is, I still say, “Me neither.”

“Gemma!” her mother calls out from a few rooms down. “We’re leaving!”

“I have to go,” she says. As she moves past me, our fingers twine together for a split second, and then she’s gone.





CHAPTER 21





RAS


I keep myself busy over the two days by spending some time hanging around Garzolo’s crew. They don’t say anything to signal they’re aware of the trouble brewing with the Feds, but that’s not surprising, since they must know better than to talk about anything important around me.

My next meeting with Orrin is far more productive. He managed to confirm what Gemma told me about Garzolo at his poker game. The Feds are preparing a RICO indictment for Garzolo and a few other high-up members of his clan. They’re all looking at doing decades or life.

I wonder if his deal with Messero covers getting the rest of the guys out.

Orrin also tells me he’s heard rumors about Messero’s connection to the DA before, but I ask him to see if he can get anything more concrete so that I can convince Dem I need to stay here a bit longer.

I’m practically counting down the hours until Gemma returns.

It’s pathetic.

I’m a made man.

An underboss in the most powerful clan in the Camorra.

And this girl—one engaged to another man nonetheless—has me wrapped around her finger.

Friday afternoon, I’m eating a late lunch in the dining room when I hear her voice.

I stay in my seat, not wanting to seem too eager. But when she comes in and her eyes light up at seeing me, I realize I’m thoroughly fucked.

My heart beats louder inside my chest. My fingers clench as if they’re searching for something of hers to grab onto.

“Hi,” she breathes. “Were you bored here on your own?”

Bored.

Being bored would be a hell of a lot better than engaging in this dance with insanity.

You can’t have her. No matter what happens between the two of you in the days you have left here, you can’t fucking have her, you absolute damn idiot.

“I made do,” I squeeze out.

Her mother appears behind her. “Ras, how are you?” she asks in an uncharacteristically friendly tone. “You’re coming to the Messero party tonight, correct?”

She’s in a better mood than I’ve ever seen her. Their time in the Hamptons must have done her some good, or maybe that’s simply the effect of not being around her husband for a few days.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good. I don’t think Stefano and I will make it to the club, but the girls will go. Gemma needs to be there to support Rafaele. Are you able to accompany them?”

Support him? It’s a fucking birthday party for his aunt, not a funeral. I paste on a smile. “No problem.”

“Excellent.” Pietra turns to Gemma. “You should go shower and start getting ready. Rafaele will expect you to look perfect. Most of his family will be there.”

My vision darkens at the edges, and Gemma stiffens as if she can guess the direction of my thoughts.

“Okay,” she says, giving me her back. “I’ll go do that.”

She hurries away to make herself pretty for her asshole fiancé while all I can do is pretend like this isn’t fucking killing me.

A few hours later, I’m dressed and ready to go. Garzolo and I are waiting downstairs when Gemma and Cleo appear at the top of the steps.

My gaze latches onto her and doesn’t let go.

She’s wearing that dress she tried on in the department store, only now it fits her like a glove, highlighting all her soft curves. The memory of that day torments me, spreading heat over my skin. When she moves past me, the backs of our hands brush, and her cheeks redden.

We get on the road, me in one car, and the rest of them in the other. After the club, I’ll drive Cleo and Gemma home.

Giulia Messero’s birthday party is in downtown Manhattan at a place called the Melody Club. The room is already filled to the brim with Messeros by the time we arrive. On one side is a long bar, and on the other, the food is laid out buffet style. The dress code is formal, but some of the women have taken liberties with their interpretation. One in a tight red minidress with her cleavage practically spilling out passes by me and gives me a coquettish smile.

Gemma appears at my side, her gaze narrowing on the woman.

“How was your trip?” I ask, taking advantage of the fact that her mother isn’t hovering around her.

“It was two days, but it felt like a week.”

“Tell me about it,” I say gruffly.

A small smile pulls at her lips. “I missed you too.”

My chest expands, but I manage to keep my expression straight. “Did you talk to Vince?”

Her face falls. “No. I’m so annoyed. I rang him dozens of times and left him a ton of messages. He only responded to one and said we’ll talk soon. I don’t know what to make of it.”

Neither do I. Vale hasn’t been able to get in touch with Vince either. It seems like he’s ignoring everyone who might be able to help him.