“Is Ras going to be around all week?” I ask once we’re inside Vale and Dem’s bedroom.
“Probably,” she says, disappearing inside the walk-in closet.
“Great,” I mutter to myself.
She comes out a few moments later with a white garment bag and hands it to me. “Why do you dislike him so much? I get you met him in less-than-ideal circumstances, but I thought you would have moved past that by now.”
Less than ideal circumstances? Ras accosted me in an empty change room and manhandled me with far more force than he should have used. He scared the shit out of me. I literally thought I was about to die. And he’s never even apologized for it.
He treats it like a funny joke.
I take the dress into the bathroom, not wanting to risk Vale seeing the bruise that’s most likely forming on my hip. “I don’t trust him.”
“He’s never been anything but loyal to Damiano,” Vale calls out.
Hanging the bag on a hook, I tug on the zipper. He might be loyal to Damiano, but what does that have to do with me?
The scene I witnessed the last time I was here flashes inside my mind, the memory of it as fresh as if it happened yesterday. I overheard Damiano and Ras talking in the office. Well, more like Damiano was listening to Ras run his mouth about me and my family. He joked I had a few screws loose, which didn’t wound me, but what he said next has stayed with me ever since.
“You don’t need to keep your word on that counterfeits deal, Dem. Garzolo is an asshole. Once we’ve gotten what we wanted from him, we should cut him off. It’ll be fun to watch him scramble.”
That told me everything I needed to know about him. Ras is a snake. His word means nothing. It’s a good thing my brother-in-law is different. I heard him rebuff his underboss and say he’d given his word.
To which Ras scoffed.
Even now, the memory makes me angry. He was ready to throw my family under the bus just to have a laugh.
I want nothing to do with him.
Quickly, I slip the dress on and come back out. “He’s rude.”
Vale arches a brow. “Rude? When has he ever been rude to you?”
“Constantly. He always has this mocking smile on his face when he speaks to me.”
Vale comes up behind me and starts buttoning up the dozen or so buttons at the back. “I think you’re reading too much into it. Ras can be rough around the edges, but he means well.”
I straighten the dress, examining it in the mirror.
It fits perfectly.
Should I tell Vale what I heard Ras say?
No, there’s no point. She probably wouldn’t even care. It’s clear she’s focused on her new life here and not our family.
She said she wanted a clean break from New York.
But me? I’m never getting out.
CHAPTER 4
GEMMA
The next day, cocktail hour begins at four. We’re out behind the house on the meticulously landscaped lawn that overlooks the water. The breeze carries the smell of sea and salt. A waiter passes by me with a tray of canapés, and I steal a little piece of bread with prosciutto on top.
I’m starving.
At breakfast this morning, all Mamma allowed me to eat was a bowl of fruit. She picked out my wedding dress knowing full well it was a size too small, so now she’s managing my weight. She’s pulled this kind of thing on me before—my high school prom comes to mind—and it never gets any less tiring.
“Is there a naked man on that jet ski?”
My chews slow. “What?”
Cleo takes a sip of champagne and points toward the water. “Right there. I think it’s that guy Ras.”
The force of my turn nearly makes my red wine slosh out of the glass. He wouldn’t.
I squint against the sunlight, suddenly wishing it wasn’t so damn bright so that I could see better. Then the jet ski turns, and I see that indeed he would.
“Oh my God.”
Ras slices through the rippling water, strands of his long hair escaping his usual man-bun. He’s too far to really make anything out, but it’s clear he’s not wearing any clothes.
The initial shock is followed by a strange heat that blankets my skin.
“It looks fun.” Cleo bites down on something that makes a loud crunch. “We should try it while we’re here.”
Our parents would have a meltdown if I stripped down to nothing in front of everyone. It’s the kind of indecency that would put my reputation in question and make all those promises to Rafaele about my virginity irrelevant.
A little bit of bile rises up.
The thrill of a naked jet ski ride is definitely not worth some old geezer poking around my vagina to verify I’m as pure as I claim to be.
Vale appears before us. She’s wearing a flattering green dress, a light dusting of makeup, and a sparkling diamond necklace that’s no doubt an extravagant gift from Damiano.
“There you are. Have you seen Vince? The guards told me he arrived while I was getting ready.”
“We saw him for a second before Papà whisked him away.” Cleo reaches out and drags a finger over the necklace. She has a thing for sparkly things. “Nice.”
“Thanks. I wonder when they’ll be done.”
I’m only half listening, my gaze inexplicably being pulled to the sea where a certain someone is frolicking in his birthday suit.
Vale notices and turns to look. She scoffs. “Typical.”
“Is that an Ibizan thing or just Ras?”
“A bit of both. One thing I learned about Ibiza early on is that people here aren’t shy about taking off their clothes. Let me tell you about the time Damiano took me up to Dalt Vila…”
The jet ski comes closer and turns, and I do something I immediately regret. I check out his ass. It’s right there.
And it’s…quite nice.
Toned and firm, if my visual assessment can be trusted.
I bite down on my bottom lip.
Here’s what I truly loath to admit, even to myself in the privacy of my own thoughts. Ras gives the impression of being the kind of guy who could seduce any woman when given enough time. There’s something fiercely attractive about him. The set of his brows, the permanent quirk in the left side of his mouth, the confident way he carries his brawny body. It’s obvious he’s physically strong, but he doesn’t have the ideal proportions men aspire to and put in long hours in the gym to get. He looks like someone who got that body out of necessity. By doing the things that had to be done.
I hate this about him. I despise the fact that if he’d never opened his mouth or displayed his poor character, I may have seen him walking on the street and thought he’s beautiful.
I’d rather be strangled and tossed into the sea than ever admit this to him.
When he turns once more, I avert my eyes. I sip on my cocktail and nod along to my sister’s story.
Some time passes before I bring myself to look back to the sea, and when I do, the jet ski is gone.
A presence appears at my back. Don’t ask me how I know it’s him. I just do. Of course, I pretend like he isn’t here, and when he joins the conversation, I only give him one quick glance. He’s gotten dressed in a hurry—his shirt buttons are half done, revealing a swath of muscular chest, and his hair is dripping water down his back. He seems utterly unbothered by the fact that he just mooned the entire party.