Pills in hand, I pop back into her bedroom. The tap runs in the bathroom while I send a quick message to Dem and Napoletano to let them know I left the party to take Gemma home because she isn’t feeling well. After a moment of deliberation, I decide not to mention just how sick she is. Dem and Vale deserve to enjoy their night. Plus, I’m taking care of the situation.
The door opens just as I press send.
Gemma shuffles out in a set of blue pajamas, and when she realizes I’m still here, her tired eyes narrow. “Ras, what are you doing? I told you to leave.”
Her skin has a gray undertone, and she’s keeping her palm pressed firmly against her abdomen. Something squeezes inside my chest. She looks miserable.
“I’m not leaving you while you’re in this state,” I say. “Here, take this.” I stand and give her the bottle of pills.
She snatches it out of my hand and sinks onto the bed, taking my earlier spot. “Will you leave if I take these?”
“Possibly. Here’s some water.”
I watch her pop two pink pills and follow them with a small gulp from the water bottle. She makes a grimace, her nose wrinkling adorably. “Even water tastes disgusting right now.”
“You must have picked up a bug somewhere.”
She hands the bottle back to me and stands back up with a groan. “I guess. I think it might have been some fish from earlier.”
“Sit back down. You’re practically swaying.”
Of course, she doesn’t listen to me. Instead, she walks around the bed as if to use it as a barrier between us.
Her stomach makes a loud gurgle. She winces and grabs one of the bedposts. “Honestly, why are you still here? Enjoying watching me suffer?”
Her words cut through me. “I’m really not.”
“Let me rest, please.”
“Lie down, and I’ll leave you.”
She shoots me a suspicious look. When I hold her gaze, something like fear flashes across her expression.
My stomach drops. She doesn’t trust me. Is that surprising after what I pulled?
“Gemma, the kiss was a mistake,” I say in a low voice. “I’m sorry.”
“You already apologized.”
“I promise I won’t do that again.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do you really think I’m that much of a liar?”
Her eyes narrow. “Yes.”
“Why?” I ask, exasperated. I’ve never lied to her.
“Ras, I already asked you to leave. You can’t be in this room when my parents return, or I’ll be in deep shit. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. Thanks for bringing me here. Now, for the love of God, leave.”
Of course. She’s worried what it will look like if someone discovers me here with her. I’m a man who isn’t a blood relative. It’s bad enough we left the party alone. If I’m discovered in her room, her fuckface fiancé won’t be happy.
I feel a sudden irrational urge to put that bullet through his head after all. Thankfully, he and Nero are leaving at the crack of dawn.
“Do you want me to call Cleo?”
She shakes her head. “No. Let her enjoy herself. I’ll be fine.”
I take a step toward the door. “All right. I’ll be in the main house. Call using the landline if you need anything.”
“Goodbye.”
As soon as I shut the door, I let out a heavy breath and press my forehead against the wooden surface.
Well, that’s that.
The next morning, I get up before everyone else. And by get up, I mean I unfurl myself off the couch in Dem’s living room, wincing at the ache in the center of my spine.
I chose my spot with utmost precision. From here I could watch the guest house through the window. The Garzolos arrived about an hour after I left Gemma in the guesthouse, and it was only after I saw them enter through the front door that I finally allowed myself to get some sleep.
It’s a lot of effort for a woman who wants nothing to do with me, but something prevented me from just forgetting about her. Now, that same something sends me out the door to check on the situation in the guesthouse.
I make it as far as their entryway before I’m stopped by Stefano Garzolo. Good, I can ask him for a status update on Gemma’s condition.
“How’s—”
“Who gave you permission to take my daughter home last night?” he interrupts, his eyes flashing with anger.
“She was about to be sick all over the dance floor. Getting permission to do the obvious thing didn’t seem like a priority.”
He glowers at me like I’ve just admitted to fucking Gemma in front of her fiancé.
The fuck is his problem? Has he even checked on her to see how sick she is?
“How is she?” I ask as I follow him into the kitchen.
“Fucking awful.” He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and grabs a lighter off the counter. “We called a doctor thirty minutes ago.”
My pulse picks up. “What happened?”
“She’s been vomiting all night. Cleo said she thinks she saw some blood in her puke.”
My steps freeze.
Garzolo puffs on his cigarette. “We’re leaving tomorrow, and there’s no way we’re delaying our flight.”
Is he crazy? Why the fuck is he talking about his flight when his daughter is as sick as a dog?
“Vomiting blood is serious.”
Garzolo walks over to the espresso machine and starts making himself one. “Only Cleo saw it, and she has a tendency to exaggerate. It’s probably nothing. I have meetings back in the city, so this doctor better give her something to contain this shit show until we touch down.”
My fists clench at my sides. “Is someone with her right now?”
“I would have expected some disaster like this from Cleo, but not Gemma. These fucking daughters. Always one thing after the next.”
The thought of Gemma being alone right now is unbearable. “Garzolo, is someone with her, or do I need to get Valentina?”
He glances at me, taking note of my sharp tone, and his scowl deepens. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Fuck this. I spin on my heel and march out of there, not stopping until I’m knocking on Dem’s bedroom door.
To my relief, Vale opens moments later, already dressed. When she sees my expression, her face drops. “What’s going on?”
“Gemma’s sick. You need to go check on her.”
“What? What happened?”
“Last night she started feeling unwell. I took her home. She threw up a bunch, and now they’re saying she might be throwing up blood. I just spoke to your father, and I don’t know if anyone’s taking care of her.”
Vale nods, her lips thinning into a determined line. She brushes past me. “I’m going. Tell Dem when he comes out of the shower.”
Inside their bedroom are a bunch of suitcases. Fuck, they’re leaving for their honeymoon today. I’m supposed to drive them to the airport in—I check my watch—five hours.
I’m pacing their room when Dem comes out.
His brows furrow. “No offense, but you’re not the person I hoped to see here. Where’s my wife?”
“Checking on Gemma.” Quicky, I bring him up to speed. “Her dad’s being a real asshole about it,” I say. “He’s more concerned about his meetings than how Gemma’s doing.”