When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(72)

When I return to the living room, Ras is planted by the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands clasped behind him. The lights are dim. Moonlight spills across the dark hardwood floor.

There’s a knot inside my chest that eases at the sight of him.

I don’t know if it’s because of the sense of safety I feel whenever he’s around or because he’s beautiful enough to be distracting.

Straight nose, a prominent brow, shoulders that form a hard line. When I first met him, it was his dark, stormy eyes that I first noticed. And that earring. That small flash of silver that taunted me while I went straight into fight-or-flight mode.

And for once, I chose to fight.

But I’m not a fighter. The hits just keep coming, and they’re finding their mark. After what I learned about Vince tonight, I feel utterly defeated.

I walk over and halt by Ras’s side.

“How is she?” he asks.

“Asleep. I hope she’ll feel better tomorrow.”

We’re forty floors above Central Park—an enormous, open expanse framed by rows of densely packed buildings. In the summer, the lush greenery takes my breath away, but in February, the park is covered in a blanket of snow. I can see the snake-like paths winding through the branches of the trees below, and in the distance, the frozen lake reflects the night sky.

I press my fingertips against the glass. “Do you remember when we stopped at your condo in Ibiza? I never told you how much I liked it there.”

“Of course, I remember.” He smiles a little and then quietly adds, “I don’t think I’m capable of forgetting a single thing as far as you’re concerned, Peaches.”

I drag my teeth over my bottom lip, letting his words settle over my skin.

“I think I have the same problem,” I confess, reaching for his hand.

He laces our fingers together, his hold warm and sure even though everything else about us feels uncertain.

Does he hope he’ll forget about me when he returns to Europe?

He’ll be gone so soon.

And I’ll be walking down the aisle toward another man.

I release a breath. “Vince dreamt up the whole thing. It was his idea to make Rafaele the successor. His idea to get Rafaele into our family by having him marry me. Papà and Vince used me. They traded me away so that the two of them can have the lives they want. I guess no one really cares what kind of life I wanted for myself.”

An ambulance moves down 59th Street, its sirens muffled to a barely there whine by the soundproofed windows.

Ras lets go of my hand and steps closer, moving his palm to the small of my back. He looks down at me, his forehead lined with concern. “Peaches, I’m so sorry.”

“Rafaele told me everything tonight. I don’t think I ever want to speak to my brother again. I wish I didn’t have to speak to my father either, but that’s unavoidable, isn’t it?” A bitter laugh spills past my lips. “You know what’s funny? I blame myself for allowing this to happen. I enabled it. When I was younger, I got off on being praised for being such a good daughter. That was my value. If I wasn’t good, I had no worth. When I agreed to marry Rafaele, I could tell it made Papà happy, and some part of me sang with pleasure at having that rare light of his shine on me. I never learned how to be a fighter like Cleo or Vale. Honestly, I don’t know where they picked it up. Maybe it’s just something people are born with, and that particular quality skipped me. I’m paying for it now.

Ras takes my elbow, his grip firm. There’s some internal battle playing out inside his eyes, and after a few long seconds, he huffs a heavy breath and says, “Let me help you. I can get you out of here.”

Hope flickers for a short second until reality snuffs it out.

There’s nothing that can be done against the combined power of the Garzolos and the Messeros. The only way to back out of this marriage would be to run, but my disappearance would make the family implode, and Papà won’t allow that to happen. No matter where Ras takes me, eventually they’d find us. Papà would drag me right back to New York kicking and screaming, and I’d end up in the exact same place. Only I’d have put Ras in danger in the process. Dem and Vale too.

If I put myself first, everyone suffers.

Rafaele’s offered me honesty and respect. Maybe that’s as good as someone like me can get. It’s more than what my family has ever given me, isn’t it?

I lift my hand to Ras’s cheek. If things were different, I could see a life with this man. This beautiful, strong man who’s offering me impossible things.

“Do you remember when you asked me why I hated you?”

He nods, his beard scratching against my palm.

“I overheard you talking to Damiano when I came to Ibiza for the elopement. Do you know what I heard?”

“I can make a pretty good guess,” he says gruffly.

“I heard you urge Damiano to walk away from the deal with Papà. I remember I got so angry about that. I thought you were horrible for being so flippant about breaking your word, especially when the other party was my family. But now that I know you, I can see I was wrong. Ras, you’re one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

Raw, pained emotion flares inside his eyes. “Gemma,” he says, covering my hand with his own. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise. Say the word, and it’s done.”