When She Loves (The Fallen, #4)(31)

Tiny shakes my hand with his big paw, and it’s unnerving. He could snap me in half if he wanted to. Unlike Sandro, he doesn’t seem like he ever smiles. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Messero. I’m your new bodyguard.”

“Anyway, I won,” Sando says. “In case you were wondering.”

I tear my gaze away from Tiny and turn to Sandro. “Won what?”

“The card game with the guard. Won a hundred bucks.” He winks.

“Kid, what are you doing?” Tiny mutters in a low voice. “Don’t wink at the boss’s wife.”

Sandro’s cheeks redden. “Oh, sorry. I’m just excited.” He rubs the back of his head. “This is a big assignment, you know? Driving you around. But don’t worry, I’m the best driver the don’s got. I’ve been racing since I was fourteen.”

I raise my brows. “Where were your parents?”

He shrugs. “Dead. Nero and Rafaele took me in. I’ll always be grateful to them.” He bumps his fist against his chest. “It’s an honor that the don trusts us with you, Mrs. Messero. Right, Tiny?”

The big man nods, his face very serious. He looks like the consummate professional. This is strangely uncomfortable. I know how to handle Sabina’s scorn, but I’m not sure how to respond to this. They’re excited to be around me? Sandro is bouncing on his feet like a puppy. And Tiny, well, he doesn’t exactly seem excited, but he doesn’t seem upset about the gig either.

I settle on giving them a smile. “Call me Cleo.”

“What would you like to do today?” Sandro asks cheerfully as we make our way to the garage.

“I need to buy some things.”

Tiny pulls a brand-new cell phone out of his jacket and hands it to me. “Our numbers are in there, as well as the don’s and the house line. Your sisters’ numbers too.”

Oh.

Rafaele actually did as he promised? Something warm unfurls inside my chest. I can call Gemma on the drive. I thought I’d have to beg Rafaele for her number. I feel a tiny pang of premature guilt for what I’m about to do to his bank account. But no, one good deed doesn’t change anything.

I take the phone from Tiny. “Thanks.”

Sandro unlocks a black SUV and holds the door open for me. “Where would you like to go? The Westchester?”

“Take me to Fifth Ave.” I’m not going to waste my time in a nearby mall. I need the help of my trusted sales reps for the damage I’m hoping to do. “Hope you’re ready for a long day, gentlemen.”

An hour later, I’m inside the Dior boutique, buying up their latest collection. Afterward, I pop into Chanel for a handbag and a few pairs of shoes, followed by Hermès, where my rep gleefully offers me a limited edition Verrou handbag. I use the opportunity to order two stunning marble coffee tables and a few lounge chairs from their catalogue. The lounge chairs are thirty grand each.

“They’ll look great in my backyard,” I croon to the rep.

I dip into Bergdorf Goodman next and ask the sales associate to bring me a bunch of things she thinks I’ll like. I spend at least an hour there before going to a few more stores.

By the time five p.m. rolls around, the trunk of the SUV is nearly full. There’s a running tally in my head, and it’s well into high six figures.

I pull out the black card and look at it. I swear it’s looking a bit worn from the workout I’ve given it. The goal is to get Rafaele to send me away, not to murder me.

Then I remember the jewelry vault beneath his house. He’s filthy rich, and I want this to hurt.

To put the final nail in the coffin, I go inside Cartier. When the sales rep sees the glint in my eyes, he takes me to the back and shows me their newest collection. A thick choker that’s studded with emeralds and diamonds catches my attention. When I try it on, it looks incredible, the green contrasting beautifully with my hair.

“How much?”

“Three hundred thousand dollars,” the rep says.

I grin. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”

Tiny, who’s been keeping a great poker face all day, turns a little pale. “Mrs. Messero—”

“Cleo,” I correct him.

“Cleo. The don might not be happy about this.”

“You know, I think you might be right.” I lift my gaze from the display case.

Tiny looks relieved. He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his forehead.

I sigh. “I’ve been buying things for myself all day, and I haven’t gotten Rafaele anything. How thoughtless of me. I should get my husband a gift.” I turn back to the rep. “Show me your watches.”

Fifteen minutes later, we walk out with my necklace and a watch for Rafaele, and I announce that I’m done for the day.

The final tally is one point one million dollars.

Inside, I’m doing a little dance complete with pirouettes and high kicks. I can’t wait to see my husband’s reaction.











CHAPTER 16











RAFAELE


Just as I pull up to my uncle’s house for a meeting with him and one of my capos, my phone rings with a call from my accountant. “Don Messero, your wife is… Well, how do I say it… You see, she’s—”