We sit down for dinner. Something is wrong with Ras tonight, but I can’t figure out what. He’s been quiet since I found him by the bar, his brows furrowed in thought.
Mamma’s last-minute trip to the Hamptons couldn’t have happened at a worse time. She said she wanted to give us a chance to process the news we got somewhere calm, but I have a feeling Papà asked her to take us away so that we wouldn’t talk about it in the house while Ras is around.
It’s way too late for that though. Ras knows what he plans to do to our family.
Mamma made sure to offer us plenty of her usual guidance. “Remember, you may not understand your father’s ways, but everything he does is to protect our family.”
I’m so sick of hearing that. She said it all the time to us growing up.
How did it take me until the age of twenty to realize it’s a lie?
I feel trapped. Vince hasn’t returned my calls, and I don’t know why. My wedding is mere weeks away, and at this point, making any attempt to back out would be like setting off an atomic bomb.
What if Papà’s right about Vince not wanting the responsibility? Why didn’t I ask him about it at Vale’s wedding?
I gnaw on my nail. I don’t know what to do. I’m not a political mastermind.
All of this just feels wrong.
Except for what’s happening between Ras and I.
Which is crazy, because what we’re doing is objectively wrong. The Gemma from even a month ago would have never done what I did in that car with him.
I’m cheating on my fiancé. I’m risking us getting caught. I’m being selfish.
And it feels intoxicating.
The scene in the car played on repeat inside my head for the two days we were away.
I couldn’t wait to be back around him.
I want more. So much more.
I wish we hadn’t stopped.
A waiter snaps me out of my reverie when he comes to refill my water. I glance around the table. Ras is sitting across from me, while Cleo and I are sandwiched between Papà and Mamma. Rafaele, Rafaele’s mother, and Nero are here as well.
My fiancé may as well be a ghost. I barely register him. When I first met Rafaele, I was constantly aware of his presence, the way prey is aware of a predator. Now, it’s surprisingly easy to pretend he doesn’t exist. Why should I save my body for him? This emphasis on my virtue when most of the men in this room possess none is hypocrisy at its finest.
I wish I’d just said screw it and had sex with Ras. The thought of doing it makes my skin buzz with excitement.
I want to feel all of his attention on my body again, but with no restraint this time. I want him to lose himself in me. Those lips on my breasts. His fists in my hair.
He’d be gentle at first. Careful. I’m sure of it. That’s how he was with me in the car. But then he’d turn impatient. Demanding. It’s that contrast in him that makes me weak in the knees.
Ras cuts into his steak with precision and puts a piece into his mouth. The tendons on his thick neck move, and his jaw flexes as he chews. His big, rough hands make the fork look tiny.
Heat swirls between my legs.
I love those hands.
I love how they feel against my skin.
I love how just before he puts them on me, my body tingles with anticipation and everything comes alive.
He must feel the weight of my attention, because he glances in my direction. The expression on my face makes his eyes darken.
“Ras, when are you heading back to Italy?” Nero asks.
His gaze is still on me, and it flashes with pain. “Soon.”
What? My stomach drops. “How soon?” I blurt out, barely hiding my crushing disappointment.
He cuts another piece of steak. “No set date yet, but I’m likely to leave within the week.”
It’s an effort to maintain control over my features.
What is this? Why is he leaving?
Because you’re still getting married to a don. Did you think Ras would stay here forever?
No, but I just want a bit more time.
What for?
My nails dig into the flesh of my palms.
He’s somehow become the only good thing in my life. In the midst of all this betrayal, heartbreak, and chaos, he’s the only anchor I have left. A light in the darkness.
And it looks like I won’t even have that soon.
The dinner wraps up, our parents bid Cleo and I goodbye, and the two of us head out with Ras to Rafaele’s club. Once we’re there, a bouncer leads us to the private entrance meant for VIPs.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been allowed to go to places like this. Our cousins took Cleo and I out to Papà’s club in the Meatpacking District two times, and there was one birthday party for a girl from my school. It says something about how close Papà is to Rafaele that he’s okay with Cleo and I coming here with just one escort.
“When were you going to mention that you’re leaving soon?” I ask Ras under the cover of the blaring music.
His palm finds a spot on my lower back. “I only just talked to Dem about it. I was going to tell you tonight, but Nero asked before I could.”
So Dem wants him home. I guess Ras accomplished whatever diplomatic mission he was sent here for, and now he has no reason to stay. I can hardly call my brother-in-law and ask him to lend me his underboss for a little longer because I feel things for him that I have no business feeling.
Maybe Ras’s decided I’m not worth the risk. Rafaele would kill him if he knew what we’ve done. It doesn’t matter that Rafaele doesn’t feel an ounce of attraction to me—by contract, I’m already his.
That realization is tough to swallow. I’m putting Ras in danger by keeping this thing between us going.
“I’m going to grab a drink,” Cleo says, ditching us and heading to the bar.
I’m still trying to collect my thoughts when Nero intercepts us moments after she leaves.
“There you are. This way,” he says, gesturing ahead. “Rafaele wants to speak to you, Gemma.”
Behind me, Ras stiffens. I shoot him a wary look and slip my hand into the crook of Nero’s offered arm.
My fiancé notices us approaching and acknowledges me with a nod. He’s in a huge round leather booth with a few of his men around him. They make space for me, Ras, and Nero.
Ras takes a seat on one end, Nero beside him, and I sit by Rafaele. If he notices the inches of space I’m careful to leave between us, he doesn’t say anything about it or make an attempt to move closer.
He reaches for a bottle of wine and pours me a glass.
I take a sip. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“You were distressed at our last dinner,” he says, pouring a glass for himself. “I wanted to see how you feel about my future role as the head of your family now that you’ve had some time to think about it.”
He wants my opinion. Didn’t I make myself clear? “You’re stealing something that doesn’t belong to you.”
His icy gaze drops to me, and fear zips up my spine. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ras crack his neck. He’s watching us but he can’t hear our conversation over the noise in the club.
“Stealing? The favor I’ll have to call in with the DA is not only worth millions of dollars, but also many lost lives and years of espionage. That favor took a lot of work to get. Giving me control of your family is the only thing your father could have offered me to make it a fair deal. He even managed to get a concession out of me—five more years as don.”
I clench my fists. He’s explaining all this to me with the confidence of someone who believes they’re in the right. It infuriates me.
“How is any of this fair if Papà’s using Vince and I as his chess pieces? Papà lied to me about why I had to marry you. He manipulated me.”
“And when I realized you didn’t know what you were signing up for, I told your father he had to come clean.” Rafaele places his glass on the table and rests his elbows on his knees. “He didn’t want to tell you the truth, but I made it clear he had to, or I’d walk from our deal. I’m not above lying to my enemies, but if we’re to become a family, I don’t want us to start on a foundation of lies.”
“How do you expect me to believe that when you’re still lying to me about Vince?”
Rafaele frowns. “How so?”
“I don’t believe for a second that he’s okay with this. He’s Papà’s only son. The position of don is his.”
Rafaele stares at me for a long while and then says, “The whole thing was your brother’s idea.”
I laugh. It’s a shock response, a thing to do when I can’t formulate words. My pulse gets louder and louder in my ears, and Rafaele just keeps staring, cataloging my reactions.
I want to hit him.
I want to punch him right in the face for being such as filthy fucking liar. “Bullshit.”
“Vince was pulled into our negotiations when Stefano and I couldn’t agree on the terms of our deal. Stefano thought his son might have some creative ideas, and he did. He said he didn’t want to become don because he wants to continue running his own things abroad. He asked me what I thought about becoming your father’s successor. I wasn’t sold at first. I thought he wasn’t being honest with me. But then I went to visit him in Switzerland and saw what he’s built there. It’s impressive.” Rafaele takes a sip of his drink. “He convinced me he really meant what he said. We had to work out how to get your family to accept me, and that’s when it became obvious I’d have to marry my way in. Vince thought you were the best option. I wasn’t sure it was going to work out, because you didn’t seem too agreeable or interested during our initial meeting. But then the war with the Riccis began, and your papa said you were on board. When I saw you months later, it appeared you’d changed your tune. You seemed committed, just like Vince said you would be. Your brother’s not a pawn, Gemma. He orchestrated all of it.”
The wineglass in my hand shakes.
I put it on the table and press my spine into the leather seat. I don’t want to believe him. My brother wouldn’t do that to me.
My brother wouldn’t use me like that.
But then I remember the things he said in Ibiza, and I suddenly see them in a different light.
“I could never live with Papà breathing down my neck.”
“He’s lucky to have you, Gem. Very lucky. He raised three selfish kids, and one selfless daughter.”
“I’m not going to convince you of anything. I don’t agree with Vale. You should marry Rafaele.”
Acid floods my mouth. Back then, I was touched that Vince had looked into Rafaele on my behalf. I thought he was watching out for me. Instead, he’d probably done all that research to make sure his masterplan wouldn’t fail. This is why he’s been ignoring my calls. He’s probably scared of what I have to say.
“Gemma.”
I blink. Rafaele looks at me and then glances down at the emerald ring on my hand. “I can’t give you love. But I can give you respect and honesty. And I can promise that I’ll treat your family the way I treat my own.”
I nod numbly.
There is no way out of this marriage. Not when Papà, Vince, and Rafaele are all working together. There’s nothing I can do. Nothing anyone can do.
My fate is sealed.
Nero interrupts us. “Rafe, you’ve got a call. I think you should take it.”
Rafaele takes the phone from Nero. “Excuse me.” He walks away with his consigliere, and the two of them disappear behind a hidden door off to the side.
Ras is beside me as soon as they’re gone, his thigh bumping against mine. “Are you all right?”
I swallow. My throat is bone dry. “No.”
“What’s going on?”
“Papà didn’t lie to me about Vince.” It takes effort to get the words out of my mouth. “He really is giving up his position. He doesn’t want to be don. He wants it to be Rafaele.”
Despair wraps around me. I’ve always tried to do the right thing, so what did I do to deserve this? A father who lies to me and hits me. A brother who manipulates me and uses me for his own gain. They’ve laid an elaborate trap and forced me into a corner. There’s no way out.
Ras is saying something, but a movement across the dance floor catches my attention. I jump to my feet. “Is that Ludovico?” My eyes widen when the crowd parts. “Oh God, he’s all over Cleo.”
Ras stands, his eyes narrowing on the scene playing out on the other side of the VIP area. Ludovico is tugging Cleo into him, trying to grind up on her from behind while my sister tries to shove him away. She breaks his hold, whirls around, and shouts something right into his face.
My stomach drops. He’s drunk, and I think Cleo’s in trouble.
“We have to go,” I say urgently. “We need to get him away from her.”
Ras and I try to squeeze through the crowd, but it’s packed, and we’re moving so slowly, I start panicking.
“What do we do?” I shout over the music.
Ras moves ahead of me, parting the crowd by shoving people aside. I suspect he’s growling at everyone to get out of his way, and no one’s idiotic enough to not listen.
My pulse is loud inside my ears by the time we finally emerge from the crowd, but Cleo and Ludovico aren’t in the spot I saw them before.
“Where are they?”
Ras points. “There.”
Cleo’s standing on a small round balcony that overlooks the dance floor below. Her back is pressed against the rail, and her expression is a grimace. She’s angry, but I know her well enough to detect a hint of fear.
Ludovico is crowding her. His hands are on her waist and sliding lower. Cleo yells something and digs her high heel into his foot. He staggers backward, the music swallowing up his shout. Before Cleo has a chance to dart away, he lunges at her, fist raised.
Fear seizes me. He’s out of control. What if he knocks her over the balcony? “Cleo!”
Ludovico’s fist never makes contact with my sister.
Someone catches his arm from behind.
It’s Rafaele.
For the first time since I’ve met him, there’s no mistaking the raw emotion on his face.
Cold, merciless fury.
The crowd quiets, even as music keeps blasting through the club. Everyone is waiting with bated breath to see what Rafaele will do. Everyone but Ludovico, who’s still snarling insults at Cleo like a rabid dog.
Rafaele says something I’m too far away to make out, and the effect on Ludovico is immediate. He freezes in place and slowly turns. When he sees who grabbed him, his mouth abruptly slams shut.
Whatever Ludovico sees in my fiancé’s eyes makes him visibly cower. He’s halfway through uttering what I presume is an apology when it happens.
Something glints in the darkness of the club. A knife in Rafaele’s hand.
He jerks Ludovico away from Cleo with such force I think he may dislocate Ludovico’s shoulder, and then he lifts his other hand and slashes the knife down.
This time, even the music isn’t loud enough to mask Ludovico’s shriek.
No one in the VIP area moves.
Rafaele drops Ludovico on the ground like he’s a bag of trash and takes a step backward.
A horrified gasp leaves my throat.
The knife is sticking out of Ludovico’s eye socket.
Get Cleo.
I’m the first one to move. I run toward her, some primal part of me kicking into action and screaming at me to get her away from here. “Cleo! Come here!”
But she doesn’t hear me. When I reach her, she’s staring down at Ludovico in horror, her back pressed against the rail. Her skin is milky white with shock.
Rafaele tears his gaze from Ludovico and pins it on her. “You have blood on your shoes.” His voice is calm and measured. I suspect if I checked his pulse right now, it would be as steady as a clock.
He just stabbed a man through the eye, and he’s acting like nothing happened.
My stomach turns.
Cleo looks down, and when she sees Rafaele’s right about the blood, she sags against me.
Rafaele locks eyes with someone behind me. “Get them out.”
Ras steps forward. I hadn’t even realized he was right beside me this whole time. “Let’s go.”
He and I grab Cleo under each arm and hurry out of the club.
“Wait here,” Ras commands once we step onto the sidewalk. “I’m going to get the car and bring it around.”
“Okay.” I wrap my arms around Cleo and press my nose into her hair. She’s trembling.
“Hey, are you okay?” I squeeze her harder. “Say something.”
She shakes her head. I think she’s crying.
“Are you hurt anywhere? Do we need to take you to a hospital?”
“No.” Her voice is reedy.
When I try to pull away so I can look at her, she clings to me tighter. My chest cracks. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen her this shaken. When our parents are angry with her, it’s like she’s Teflon. All of their words slide right off.
“Cleo, I love you,” I squeeze past the ball in my throat. “You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”
She produces a wet little whimper. My arms squeeze her tightly, and it still doesn’t feel like enough.
“C’mon, Cleo. Talk to me.”
She breathes deeply against me for a few moments before lifting her head off my shoulder. Her eyes are red and puffy, and there’s a hint of mascara smudged underneath them. “Gem, his blood is on me.”
A shiver runs through me. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”
“I don’t want to go home.” She clutches my arm. “Can we go to the penthouse? It’s not far. I don’t want to deal with Mamma or Papà tonight. I just want to go to sleep.”
The family has a penthouse that overlooks Central Park. I’m pretty sure it’s where Papà takes his whores, but the family uses it from time to time too. It’s not a bad idea to spend the night there.
We get into the car, and I give Ras directions.
He nods. “I can call your father and explain everything to him. Do you have a key?”
“I know the code.”
Ras dials Papà, and while they talk, I wrap an arm around Cleo and pull her into me.
