Gemma’s bed makes a soft groan of protest when I sit down on its edge, as if it’s also trying to tell me I shouldn’t be here.
Too fucking bad. I’m not leaving. There’s a good chance she’ll pass out on her way from the bathroom to her bed. Gemma can hate me all she wants, but while she’s on our turf, her well-being is my responsibility.
I should have realized sooner that she was burning up with a fever. Maybe that’s why she wouldn’t give me a single damn break while I was trying to apologize.
Wishful thinking.
Here’s the thing. That kiss in the kitchen was out of line. It’s not every day that I admit to being an asshole, but there’s no way around it. I shouldn’t have done that.
She’s right. If anyone had seen us, there’d have been serious consequences. Dem would’ve been put in a very uncomfortable situation, and our tepid relationship with Garzolo would have been put at risk.
I should have known better.
But in those minutes in the kitchen, I forgot myself.
Listening to her justify her marriage to Vale had triggered something dark in me.
Just the memory of it sends a crawling sensation over my skin. There was something so wrong with how she talked about her parents.
Does she really still buy into their bullshit even after what they did to Vale?
It makes me sick.
I thought Gemma was clever. Opinionated. Bold.
But as I listened to that conversation play out, none of it added up. She was hardheaded and so insistent on playing her part in Garzolo’s theater that I couldn’t shake the sense that I’d gotten her wrong.
It’s like she wears all these masks and swaps them based on who’s around her.
I want to find out who she is beneath them all.
But forcing that kiss on her was wrong.
My chest constricts at the memory of how disgusted she looked afterwards. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve never done that before to a woman. Never even thought to do it until I met Gemma, who I’m starting to realize has some kind of a unique ability to get under my skin.
The sound of her violent retching echoes through the door.
Cazzo. That sounds awful.
I get up and head downstairs to get the first aid kit from the kitchen. If the pills don’t help, I’m calling her a doctor. I’m not taking any chances with this. I know taking care of her now won’t redeem me in her eyes, but I’m not letting her suffer unnecessarily.
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.”
Dem’s expression hardens. “That’s not surprising. Stefano has always been a piece of shit.”
“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t the ideal start to your day.”
“We’ll do whatever is needed to take care of Gemma. Vale won’t enjoy our trip if she’s worried about her sister.”
“I’ll let you get dressed. See you downstairs.”
I go down to the kitchen, make myself an espresso, and sip it while imagining ways I’ll rearrange Garzolo’s face if he doesn’t do what’s right by Gemma. Fuck him and his meetings. If he can’t be bothered to wait until his daughter feels better, he can fly home on his own.
Sometime later, Vale bursts into the kitchen. She looks pale. A moment later, Dem appears behind her and grips her arm.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
Vale turns to him. “Gemma’s not doing well. She’s burning up, can’t even keep water down.” She wraps her arms around herself protectively, her worry clear in her eyes.
I slam my empty espresso cup onto the saucer with a sharp crack. “Did they figure out what’s wrong?”
“The doctor thinks it’s a bad bout of food poisoning. For now, he’s giving her an IV to make sure she doesn’t get dehydrated, and he gave her some pills to take for her stomach. She needs a lot of rest. The doctor strongly advised she shouldn’t travel until her fever goes down. My father’s not happy about it.”
“Too fucking bad,” I grind out.
“That’s exactly what I said.” Vale walks over to the sink and pours herself a glass of water. “If the doctor says she shouldn’t fly, I’m not letting her get on a plane. And there’s something else.”
Dem comes to stand by my side, placing his hands against the marble counter, his forehead furrowed. “What is it?”
She takes a sip of her drink before she turns to face us. I can’t remember the last time she’s looked this concerned.
Fuck. I get the feeling I won’t like what she says next.
“Gemma fell asleep right as the doctor was leaving. When I wiped yesterday’s makeup off her face, I noticed a bruise on her cheek.”
There’s a slow pounding in my ears. “A bruise? From what?”
“I don’t know. I asked Cleo about it, but she said she doesn’t know anything. She said maybe Gemma injured herself on a Pilates machine.” Vale looks away from us, her gaze settling on the floor. “Cleo said she hadn’t noticed it until now.”
“How is that possible? They’ve been sharing a bedroom.”
“Maybe Gemma’s kept it covered under makeup.”
“So she’s hiding it…” I take a step closer, trying to keep the sudden rage inside me under control. Red seeps into my vision. “Valentina. Is your father—”
She meets my gaze. “My father has many faults, but he’s never been violent toward us. I don’t think he would do something like that.”
Wouldn’t he? Based on what I’ve seen, Garzolo doesn’t exactly have a functioning moral compass as far as his daughters are concerned.
“It could just be nothing,” Valentina mutters, but I know she doesn’t believe that. “Gemma would have said something to me if it was serious.”
Would she? I really fucking doubt it.
Dem apparently agrees with me. He steps around the counter, his face hardened like stone. “You told me she’s said she doesn’t want you to worry about her. Would she really be honest about something like this?”
Vale grimaces. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”
“We need a plan to get to the bottom of it,” I say.
“I have an idea,” Vale says, her gaze flicking from Dem to me. “But you probably won’t like it.”
“Let’s hear it,” Dem says.
“I told my father that until the doctor clears her for travel, we won’t let Gemma leave. We got into an argument. He said that there is no way he’s missing his meetings, and that my mother and Cleo have to return to New York since they’re expected to meet someone my father wants to set Cleo up with. I told him in that case, they can all leave, and we’ll take care of Gemma. I proposed that…Ras keeps an eye on her, and once the doctor says she’s better, Ras’ll take her back to New York.”
The blood in my veins slows. “What?”
“It’s not perfect. But…” She trails off, looking between Dem and me with hopeful eyes.
“It puts us in control,” Dem mutters, his head already nodding along. “This is good.”
I lift my palms up. “Hold on, does Gemma know about this idea?”
“No, not yet. I told her I’d stay behind and take care of her, but she got all stressed out. Said she’d never forgive me if I skipped out on my honeymoon for her sake. If there was any question about her recovery, I’d insist on staying, but the doctor is sure she’ll be fine in a few days. I know you’ll take good care of her, Ras.”
A dry laugh spills past my lips. “Trust me, I have no desire to make you miss out on your honeymoon, but your idea is impossible. Garzolo will never agree to this.” Not to mention Gemma. She’d throw a fit if she heard I was being left in charge of her. “He thought I overstepped when I brought her home from the restaurant, for fuck’s sake. And it’s not like there aren’t other options. He has guards he can leave with her.”
Vale shakes her head. “Those guards have proven themselves to be useless. Look how easily Cleo was able to evade them. I’m not leaving Gemma under the care of someone incompetent. Or someone who might be hitting her.”
Could one of her guards be the culprit? My fists clench.
“I’ll make it clear to Garzolo that he doesn’t have a choice,” Dem says. “You’re my underboss, and the fact that I’m assigning you to this shows how seriously I’m taking the matter. It must have been our food that made her sick, right? This is our responsibility. Garzolo has to respect that, especially if he doesn’t want to offend us right as we’re on the cusp of expanding our deal. I will not have my wife worried on our honeymoon.”
I move a step back and take measure of my boss. This is extreme, even given the circumstances. Unless…
Damiano wraps his palm over my shoulder and looks me in the eye. “Once Gemma is feeling better, you take her back to New York, and you stay there for a few weeks.”
Fucking hell. I was afraid this was coming. “And what would you have me do while I’m there?”
“You know what. We need to figure out what the hell Garzolo is hiding and why Rafaele is working with him. If our deal blows up, we’ll look like fools. This is the perfect opportunity to do some digging and also keep an eye on Gemma.”
“How would I keep an eye on her?”
Dem smirks. “Because I’ll ask Garzolo to host you. He can’t say no. We’re cousins, so you’re his family now. Distant, but it still counts. It would be extremely fucking rude of him to send you to a hotel after you bring his daughter back to him. I’ll tell him we want to get to know our American partners better so that we can get comfortable with expanding our relationship.”
Vale appears to think it’s a brilliant idea. Her face softens with relief. “I’ll feel a lot better if there’s someone in New York keeping an eye on her. Maybe that bruise really is from Pilates, but if you go with her to New York, you’ll be able to find out what’s going on.” She glances at her phone. “Cleo just messaged me. I have to go back there. Let me know what you settle on.”
She leaves, and I move away from Dem to pace the kitchen.
This is a lot to take in. I have no fucking idea how I’m going to do what Dem wants once I get to New York. I’ll be on my own there. Dem and I have pulled off a lot of insane plots together, but he was always the one conducting the show.
“So what do you think?”
Uncertainty inches along my skin. But what am I supposed to say? Whine about how I’m worried I’ll fail? I’m a damn underboss now. Refusing isn’t an option. Not when Dem’s got that determined look in his eyes that says he fully trusts me to do what needs to be done.
I’ve never disappointed him, and I’m not about to start now.
Dem must see the decision reflected in my expression, because he smirks. “Didn’t Garzolo invite you to see how he runs things during one of our meetings?”
I huff a dry laugh. “Yeah, he did.” Pretty sure he didn’t think we’d be so quick to take him up on the offer.
“He can’t very well take back his invitation now.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “I guess you’re right.”
“Then it’s settled,” Dem says.
“Fuck. All right. I guess I’m going to New York.”
Dem comes around and slaps my back. “Good. Just remember one thing, Ras.”
“What?”
“Be careful around Gemma.”
I bristle, feeling very defensive all the sudden. Am I that obvious? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dem’s gaze pierces through me. “I’ve seen how you look at her. Just remember that she’s engaged to a don, who also happens to be our business partner. There are plenty of other beautiful women in New York in case you get lonely. I’m counting on you and I don’t want you to lose focus.”
A heavy weight solidifies inside my gut. The fact that Dem even feels the need to say this is a problem. Of course I’m not going to lose focus.
“I know what I’m doing,” I tell Dem.
But I’m not sure if I’m trying to reassure him or myself.
