CHAPTER 35
GEMMA
We have a dinner planned with Rafaele’s family the next day.
It’s Vince, Cleo, Mamma, Papà, and I in the car, and I hold Cleo’s hand the entire drive there.
Cleo and I spent hours this morning going over our plan, and now that we’re about to go through with it, my mind is strangely empty.
I’m nervous, but beneath the nervousness is a breathless kind of hope. What if this works? I wrap my palm around the pendant hanging around my neck, the cool stone a visceral reminder of the man I love.
The dinner is on Rafaele’s turf—an Italian restaurant he owns in Chelsea. We arrive around seven and get taken to the main dining area where a ten-person table has been set. We’re the first ones here.
“Cute,” Cleo comments, looking around the interior.
She’s right. This place is cozy and intimate, with only about ten other smaller tables in the dining room. The décor is traditional Italian—checkered tablecloths, ornate mirrors on the walls, dark wood furniture.
Cleo walks over to study a picture frame hanging on the wall. From where I’m standing, it looks like a photo of Rafaele and his parents.
I can’t help but wonder what’s going through Cleo’s head right about now. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked her if she’s sure about going through with this, and every time, she’s reassured me that she is.
I know my sister well enough to know no one’s going to change her mind once it’s made up. Not even me.
Her sacrifice isn’t something I’ll ever forget.
Rafaele arrives with Nero by his side, both of them looking put together. Nero’s grin is as fear inducing as always. Behind them are Rafaele’s mother, his grandmother, and one of his uncles.
An anxious shiver runs down my spine as we all take our seats.
How will Rafaele react when I ask him to swap his bride a few days before the wedding? It should seem like a ridiculous proposition, if it weren’t for the small things I’ve noticed about Rafaele over the last few weeks. I haven’t said this to Cleo, because she’d tell me I’m imagining it, but there’s something strange in how Rafaele behaves around my sister.
He looks at her the way he’s never looked at me.
I first noticed it in Ibiza. When he dragged her out of his car, he couldn’t stop glancing at her. The day of Vale’s wedding, I’m convinced he chuckled at something she said. That’s a big deal for a man who hardly cracks a smile.
There have been more things like that since we came back from Ibiza.
That dinner when Rafaele and Papà announced the succession plan, he was bothered that she was drinking so much. I think he was worried about her. And then the whole thing with Ludovico…
I don’t know Rafaele very well, but I’m convinced of one thing. If he accepts my offer, he won’t let Cleo come to any harm.
And maybe, just maybe, their match will fare better than mine and Rafaele’s ever could.
The servers come out with jugs of house wine and water, and I decide there’s no point in waiting to have the conversation.
I turn to Rafaele. “May I speak to you in private?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Cleo stiffen. She’s put on a brave face for my sake, but she must be as nervous as I am.
If Rafaele refuses our offer, I don’t know what I’ll do. My only hope of being set free is if Rafaele allows me to leave. Otherwise, I won’t stand a chance against him and Papà. They will do whatever they want with me, and I might never see Ras again.
Rafaele glances at me and nods. “We can talk in the office.”
I force myself not to spiral as I place my napkin back on the table.
Everyone looks up at us as Rafaele pulls out my chair and helps me up. Papà’s eyes narrow, but I ignore it. It’s incredible how little I care about what he thinks anymore.
I follow Rafaele out of the room, my palms sweaty and my pulse pounding against the side of my neck.
Be brave. You’re doing the right thing.
But that doesn’t mean Rafaele won’t murder me on the spot for the grave insult I’m about to give him.
We walk into the wood-paneled office. It’s littered with paperwork and random restaurant supplies. There’s only one chair behind the desk, and I expect Rafaele to take it. Instead, he shuts the door, flicks on the overhead light, and stops a few feet away from me.
I guess we’re having this conversation standing. He must think it won’t take long.
“What is it?”
I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. They’re as unreadable as ever.
“Rafael…” The light above us flickers.
Say it. You said you’d fight for Ras. For your baby. This is your chance.
I take it. “Rafaele, I can’t marry you.”
He doesn’t react in any physical way besides sliding his palms into the pockets of his slacks. I wonder if he’s doing that so he won’t spontaneously break my neck.
“Why’s that?” he asks.
“I’m in love with someone else.”
“I don’t see why that’s a problem,” he says coolly, like he’s explaining something he assumed I knew by now. “This was never about love.”
“I know. But there’s something else.” I bite down on the inside of my mouth. “I’m not a virgin. Actually, I’m pregnant.”
The air in the room turns dense and heavy, pressing down on my lungs. Rafaele’s stillness becomes absolute. Seconds tick by. It feels as if he’s drilling into my brain matter with that penetrating gaze.
“Who’s is it?”
There’s no emotion in the question. He may as well be asking me for the time.
I shake my head.
We both know that it could only be one man. But I won’t say Ras’s name around him. I’m afraid of what will happen if I do.
“Look, I know this is not ideal,” I say.
“Understatement of the century.”
“Right. But I have a solution.”
His brows furrow, and he waits to hear what I have to say.
“Cleo will marry you instead of me.”
The mask he always wears falls away for one brief moment, and something vaguely hungry flashes inside his gaze.
I swallow. “She’ll take my place…if you’ll have her.”
Rafaele drags his palm over his lips. “She offered to do this?”
“Yes.”
A beat passes. “I see.”
Slowly, he extracts his other hand out of his pocket. I flinch, expecting him to do something to me with that hand, but he simply holds it out like he wants me to give him something.
“The ring.”
I blink. I’d thought I’d get more questions from him. What does this mean? Is this him saying he’s fine with marrying Cleo?
I hesitate for a second and then slide the heavy emerald ring off my finger and place it in his palm. His fingers curl around it.
He’s too calm about all of this.
Too calm about swapping his bride for a wedding that’s supposed to happen in three days, one his entire family is supposed to attend.
“So does this mean you accept?” I ask carefully.
He slides the ring into his suit pocket and casts me an impartial glance. “I already fulfilled my end of the deal with your father. If this is the only way he can fulfill his, then so be it. Cleo will be my wife.”