When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(15)

My eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

A passage opens. I’m so stunned that I follow Rafaele down it without another peep. The passage isn’t very long and we stop in front of an armored door with a biometric lock.

Now, I’m genuinely curious. What is this place? A panic room? We have one back at my parents’ place, but it’s not nearly as high tech. And why would he take me here?

Rafaele walks up to the lock and allows the sensor to scan his eye. I can hear the lock disengage. The door pops open, and Rafaele holds it, gesturing for me to go in. I take a tentative step inside.

Oh. Oh.

It’s a vault brimming with jewelry. Three full wall cabinets, four shelves each. On each shelf, jewels glitter. Sapphires, rubies, emeralds, and diamonds—so many diamonds.

Some are loose, but most are set into diadems, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, brooches, and rings. Stunning. One shelf even has a row of extravagant watches bobbing on watch winders. I have to scrape my jaw off the floor.

Rafaele stops by my side. “My family’s hundred-year-old collection.”

I’m speechless. Rafaele could have told me this was the jewelry collection of some dead king and I would have believed him. It must be worth hundreds of millions. I knew the Messeros were richer than my family, but I never thought they were this rich.

I walk around the vault, taking it all in, and my shock only deepens. I might hate Rafaele, but this…

This, I like a lot.

I’m a sucker for pretty, expensive things. Jewelry has always been my weakness. I had my own small collection back home, but it’s a joke compared to this.

“Pick something to wear for the wedding tomorrow.”

I glance at Rafaele. He’s leaning against the wall, watching me with an intent gaze. I probably look shell-shocked. My heart pitter-patters in my chest.

“I can pick whatever I like?” My voice comes out as a breathless whisper.

“Yes.”

Is this a test? This must be a test. But what is he testing exactly? Am I supposed to act all modest?

I nibble on my lip, trying to read him, but he’s not giving anything away with that indifferent expression.

Bah. Screw it.

I don’t know what he’s expecting, but modesty isn’t in my DNA. I head straight toward the shelf with the biggest, most over-the-top pieces.

What to choose, what to choose… Everything is gorgeous. I eye a pretty brooch in the shape of a butterfly. It’s made with dozens of diamonds and some ruby accents on the wings. It would look nice in my hair.

Rafaele walks up to the case and points at the showstopper diamond necklace in the center of the shelf. “That was my grandmother’s. Magdalena Caruso. She wore it to her wedding.”

Magdalena Caruso… Is that the Signora Caruso that Sabina is obsessed with? The one she said was pure class? What will that miserable hag think if she sees those diamonds on my neck? The neck of a trashy whore?

Oh, she’ll hate it. She’ll hate it so much.

“It’s perfect,” I breathe.

I’m half expecting Rafaele to refuse me, to say I’m not worthy of a piece this grand, but he simply nods, opens the case, and carefully lifts the necklace.

He turns to me, an expectant look on his face.

“What?”

“Turn around so I can put it on you. Don’t you want to see how it looks?”

“Oh. Right.”

I give him my back, and a moment later, the cold gems land on my upper chest. Rafaele’s fingertips brush against my nape as he secures the latch.

“There,” he murmurs. Big hands wrap around my shoulders, spilling heat over my skin.

He steers me to stand in front of a mirror before letting his hands drop away, and some illogical part of me misses the warmth.

Relax. It’s just because it’s cold as fuck down here.

I look at my reflection and a gasp falls out of my mouth. The necklace is stunning and…outrageous. Forget Signora Caruso—this is a piece that could be worn by actual royalty. It’s definitely going to make a statement tomorrow.

The fact that Rafaele is on board with this… I meet his gaze in the mirror. Maybe it’s a statement he needs to make to his family too. It’s clear they’re pissed about this marriage, about me being brought into the Messero fold. Is this a way for him to say “fuck you” to all of them for questioning his judgment?

Probably. I guess I’m helping his cause but given the treatment I’ve received tonight from his relatives, I’m happy to do it.

I walk back to where the necklace was and point at the matching earrings. “Those too.”

He takes them out and hands them to me.

“And the bracelets,” I say as I put the earrings into my ears. When I’m done, Rafaele slides the bangles onto my wrists, three on each.

This is a lot, but that butterfly brooch…so dang pretty. It really would look nice pinned in my hair. Would I be pushing it if I asked for that one too?

I shoot Rafaele a cautious glance. “And this one.”

Mild amusement passes over his features. “Why not just ask for the whole shelf?”

I scoff. “Are you crazy? I’m going for subtle.”

His lips twitch. He reaches inside the glass case and gets the brooch. “Where is this one going to go?”

“My hair. I’ll put it there tomorrow.” I slide the brooch into the small matching purse that came with the dress.