Ras lets out a low moan and breaks apart moments after me. “Mine. You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I pant, clutching onto him like he’s the only tether I have left to reality.
I want to stay in this feeling. Luxuriate in it. But an intrusive thought comes right on the heels of my last words.
When the honeymoon phase ends, how long will it take for him to regret losing everything because of you?
A wave of dread crashes right through the warm haze.
Ras pulls out of me and lowers my feet to the ground. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I let him wash my hair and lather up my body, but my mind is elsewhere.
Is this how it’s going to be? Even in our best moments, will there always be an undercurrent of dread?
There’s a guillotine hanging above us, and we’ll remember it every time we look away from each other.
We dry off and go to have breakfast in the kitchen like everything’s okay, but it doesn’t take him long to notice the change in me.
He sees the look on my face and frowns. He’s become so good at reading me, it’s as if I’m his favorite book.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand into his. “You’re tense.”
I avert my eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he implores, his voice low and penetrating. “Not to me.”
My lip gets caught between my teeth. “I’m afraid of how this will end.”
His eyes dim, like he wanted me to be honest, but maybe not that honest. Or maybe he’s been avoiding thinking about our future because he knows there are no easy answers.
At his silence, my walls rise up. “Never mind.”
“Hey.” He lets go of my hand and slides off the sofa to kneel before me, putting our eyes at the same level. “This? It will never end. I know you’re scared. I know. But we can figure out anything as long as we’re together. You hear me? We will take it one day at a time.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. “Don’t you feel any guilt? For what happened between you and Dem? For the people that care about you wondering where you are?”
He smooths my hair back. “If guilt is the price I have to pay to be with you, I’ll pay it. Gladly.”
It’s easy for him to say that now. But what about weeks from now? What happens when it all finally sinks in?
He sees the hesitation in my gaze and frowns. “Don’t you believe me?”
I swallow down my distress and lie. “I do. Of course, I do.”
CHAPTER 31
GEMMA
Guilt is physical. It’s a parasite that grows inside your gut, getting bigger and bigger with each passing day, feeding on you.
It’s day eight when I break.
If I don’t fix this, the parasite will consume me entirely.
Even if Ras takes years to resent me, I’ll resent myself far sooner than that.
While Ras is out at the store getting groceries, I take my old phone out of the nightstand and search the drawer in the kitchen that’s filled with all kinds of cords and chargers.
When I find one that matches my phone, I take it as a sign.
I count the seconds until the screen flickers to life. I quickly write down Cleo’s number, turn the phone back off, and dial her using the burner phone.
It doesn’t take her long to pick up. “Hello?”
I sit down at the kitchen table, my legs wobbly at hearing her voice. “Cleo,” I breathe.
There’s a surprised gasp. “Gem! You came up on my caller ID as Unknown. Where are you?”
“Somewhere far. Are you okay? Tell me what’s going on.”
“Shit, hold on. Let me go into the bathroom to make sure no one hears. I don’t even know where to start. Are you with Ras?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good,” she says, sounding relieved. “Shit, Gem. No one knows where you two went. Papà’s ordered all of his capos to look for you, but no one else in the clan knows you’re gone. He’s keeping it hush-hush and has told Rafaele he’ll get you back in no time. Papà’s been trying to get your location from Damiano, but Damiano says he doesn’t know where you went. No one believes him.”
“Do people think Ras took me away on Damiano’s orders?”
“Of course. Didn’t he?”
I feel a tinge of relief. Is Damiano covering for Ras? He could have made it clear that Ras acted on his own and thus deflect any blame, but he didn’t. That means there’s still hope they can reconcile.
I clutch the phone tighter. “So Papà’s still in jail?”
“Yes. Listen, apparently the whole succession thing is now in question. Rafaele’s refusing to help Papà. He said he’s not doing anything until Papà delivers on his side of the bargain.”
I thought that might happen. Rafaele doesn’t seem like the type to hand out favors without a clear repayment plan. “And Vince? Is he back?”
“He is. I told him he’s a fucking prick. Actually, I told him a lot more than that. You should have seen us when he first showed up. Ma had to practically pull me off him.”
So my brother returned to New York. Now that I’m not conveniently solving all of his problems, he’s had to step up.
“What’s his position on all of this?” I ask.
“He’s running things while Papà’s in jail, but he doesn’t want to be here. He says he’s in love with some princess.”
My eyes widen. “A princess? What does that mean?”
“She’s literally a princess. Royalty from some European country. Not Switzerland, but maybe Sweden? I don’t know. You know geography was my worst subject.”
“So what does this mean?”
“It means she’s the reason he doesn’t want to come back. Or one of them at least.”
My stomach sinks. Vince and Papà made their succession plan ages ago. Sounds like Vince was already involved with this woman back then, and yet he didn’t say a word about her to me. I’m starting to get the sense I don’t know my brother nearly as well as I thought I did.
“Vince had the decency to look ashamed after I went off on him,” Cleo continues. “I think he regrets manipulating you with Papà, but he’s not exactly embracing his responsibilities. He’s working overtime trying to convince Rafaele to still go through with the deal.”
I rub my forehead. It’s as big of a mess as I’d expected.
“I don’t think you should come back for a while,” Cleo says. “When he went to see Papà he said he’s going to kill Ras the next time he sees him.”
Panic squeezes around my lungs. He won’t. I won’t let him do anything to Ras.
“Are you okay wherever you are?” Cleo asks.
“Yes, I’m safe here.”
“Ras is taking care of you?”
“Yeah.” But at what cost?
“How is he? How are you two getting along?”
Well, I’ve thoroughly fallen for him, and I think it was in the cards all along. A fuzzy memory from Ibiza surfaces—his thumb brushing over my skin, his lips forming the words, “Who did this to you?”
I shut my eyes and clear my throat. “We’re making it work. Does Papà really not have any way of getting out without Rafaele’s help?”