When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(103)

“I still have things I need to say to her.”

“Why didn’t you say them, then?” he asks, his voice razor sharp.

I was supposed to but she ran from me before I could.

When she took off the ring, I lost it. It felt so utterly wrong that I knew I’d do anything to get her to put it back on, and so I did. I got down on my knees for her, begged and pleaded and prayed. It worked. Thank fuck, it worked.

That ring is a symbol of everything we were, everything we still can be. I want her to think of us whenever she looks down at it.

I have to convince her I’m worth another shot.

Tomorrow, I’ll try again.

“If you want to win her back, you’re going to have to try harder,” De Rossi says firmly. “She’s hurt. Thanks to you, she blames herself for what happened with Nero.”

“Believe me, I know. I fucked up.”

He stares me down even though we’re the same height. “I can’t tell her the truth about Nero.” He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t have to.

He can’t tell her about Nero, but I can.

That would require me to trust Cleo fully. I know De Rossi, Ras, and Giorgio know how to keep a secret. They wouldn’t be where they are today if they didn’t, and it’s in their interest to protect their business partner. They’d gain nothing from ratting me out to Gino.

Cleo’s never had to guard information like this before, and she’s angry. Knowing the truth might only make her angrier. I’ve let her believe Nero is dead for weeks. I would be putting my fate and the fate of my family in her hands.

Am I willing to risk everything to get her back?

My father would never do something like that, but my sisters are right. I’m not him. I can be a better man than the one who raised me.

“Give me a few days. If I can’t get through to her in that time, I’ll leave.”

De Rossi blows out a breath, contemplating the request.

What the fuck am I going to do if he says no? Find a hotel nearby? Show up here every day until Cleo agrees to see me again? She’ll probably ask De Rossi to set his guard dogs on me. Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.

After a while, he nods. “Fine. There’s a guest bedroom down the hall from the library. I’ll tell someone to bring your things.”

“I’ll do it.”

He turns to leave, and I call after him. He halts. There was a time I’d rather cut out my tongue than say the next two words to him, but now it seems like a small price to pay to be allowed another chance to win Cleo over. “Thank you.”

His jaw tightens. “Three days, Messero. That’s all you get.”





The next morning, I walk into the dining room around eight a.m. feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. I didn’t sleep well, I don’t like being De Rossi’s guest, and I just want my fucking wife back. But my frustration isn’t helpful, so I shove it away.

Valentina is sitting alone at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. She hears me enter and shoots me a cold glare. “If you’re hoping to see Cleo, you’ll have to wait. She doesn’t have breakfast until much later.”

“I know. She lived with me for four months, remember?”

Valentina purses her lips. I pull out a chair and sit down. A maid appears and comes over to fill my coffee cup before asking what I’d like to eat. I request two hardboiled eggs and a side of smoked salmon. The maid leaves, and Valentina stands up, tucking her book under her arm.

“Be very careful,” she warns. “If you upset her, I will kick you out. Cleo is my sister, and I will not allow you to mess with her.”

“I don’t think there’s a way around upsetting her. We have difficult conversations ahead of us.”

Valentina’s eyes narrow. “You’re lucky she’s not very good at hiding her feelings from me. If I thought she was truly over you, I wouldn’t hesitate to make you leave. But she’s not.”

I sit up straighter. Her words inject a much-needed dose of hope into my veins. “What do you—”

She shakes her head. “I’m not helping you win her over. That’s on you. Damiano told me he gave you three days. Use them wisely.” She stalks away.

“I’m planning on it,” I mutter to the empty room.

That’s why I’m here this early. I don’t want to take the chance I’ll miss her when she comes down. If all I have are three days, I’m going to be around her as much as I can. We need to talk and I have to find some way to make her listen.

I finish my breakfast and down a few cups of coffee while I wait for Cleo to wake up. Just before ten, she shuffles into the dining room in an oversized T-shirt dress, her hair tousled, and her mouth open on a yawn. The sight hits me right in the chest. This is how she used to look in the mornings when she woke up to say goodbye to me before I left for work. My gaze drags over her body, all the way down to her exposed legs.

Where did she get that tan? What has she been doing in Italy? The thought of her lying in a bikini on a beach, her perfect body on display for anyone to see, sends a surge of possessiveness through me.

When she sees me, she halts. Her expression goes from neutral to dismayed before settling on reluctant. “You’re still here.”

I press my napkin to my lips. “I am.”