The bed is empty when I wake up the next morning.
There are voices coming from the living room. It’s Ras and Cleo, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.
I sit up in bed, noticing the slight ache between my legs, and that’s all it takes for last night to come flooding back to me.
Ras and I had sex.
And God, if it wasn’t everything I wanted.
I drag my palm over my cheek and wrap it around my throat, remembering how he held me.
I don’t regret it. Not a second of it.
Whatever happens now, it was worth it.
Gingerly, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and my gaze lands on the bedside table.
There’s a box on it. Plan B. Ras must have gotten up early to buy it this morning.
For a second, I allow myself to wonder what would happen if I didn’t take it. If I got pregnant with Ras’s baby. There’s a perverse kind of pleasure at allowing my mind to wander in that destructive direction, like when you’re driving down the highway and you imagine what would happen if you swerve into the incoming lane.
That would be one way to call off the wedding.
What would Rafaele and Papà do then?
They’d probably try to kill Ras.
And they’d probably kill the baby.
I pop the pill out of its packet and swallow it dry.
I pull on the party dress from last night, leave the bedroom, and find Ras and Cleo having espressos in the kitchen.
His hazel eyes lift to mine.
There, I see all the same emotions that are currently tormenting me. Longing, despair, and a stubborn kind of joy at what we did last night.
Despite everything.
Despite having to survive this morning where reality is like a prison around us.
“Coffee?” he asks in a voice so afflicted that even Cleo notices.
She looks between the two of us, her brows pinching together. “Did I get you in trouble, Ras?”
Ras’s expression flattens, his mask once again in place.
If only Cleo knew the trouble we’re both in now.
She finishes her espresso. “Is Papà mad at you about what happened with Ludovico? I’ll tell him there was nothing you could do. You were watching Gemma.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he tells her, going over to make me an espresso even though I never answered his question. “We’re all just glad you’re okay.”
When he hands me the espresso, our fingers brush.
Sparks. Electricity. Goosebumps.
I sip on the bitter drink and look out the window.
It’s snowing again.
We get home an hour later. The car ride is tense. I catch Ras looking at me, and there’s something wounded in his expression.
I remember how he tried to convince me to leave, and how I shut him down over and over again. I might have hurt him, but it’s for the best. I can’t risk getting him sucked into this mess.
“Mamma?” I call out as I take off my jacket, surprised she’s not here to greet us. She’s been blowing up my phone with messages all morning.
The door to Papà’s office swings open, and he comes out clutching his cellphone in his hand, looking like he just hung up on someone.
The expression on his face makes my stomach drop.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this furious.
“Where’s Mamma?”
Cleo takes a step forward. “Have you heard—”
“Pietra left an hour ago to go see Ludovico’s mother. Ludovico is dead.”
There’s a twinge of relief inside my chest. Good riddance. It’s a horrible thought, but after last night, it’s clear he wouldn’t have made Cleo a worthy husband.
I wonder if Papà even bothered thinking about what a poor match those two would have made. Probably not, since everything Papà does is in his own best interest.
It’s hard to believe that wasn’t painfully obvious to me until recently.
Cleo is damaged goods as far as everyone is concerned. Papà knows he can’t lie about her being a virgin. Cleo would never go along with that lie. He decided to give her to Ludovico so that the man would keep breaking his back for him.
At least he’d get something out of it.
“Ras, leave us. I need to speak to my daughters.” Papà’s tone brokers no argument, but Ras doesn’t move from his place behind us.
I glance at him over my shoulder and give him a barely there nod. He clenches his jaw, and then he hesitantly walks in the direction of the kitchen.
Cleo and I follow Papà into his office. The air vibrates with tension, and the house is deathly quiet. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Papà has sent the servants away. He’s done that before when he was so angry he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing anyone in his space.
“Sit down,” he barks.
Cleo and I exchange a look. She didn’t do anything wrong. Ludovico crossed a line and paid for it. Papà can’t blame his death on her.
“We’ll stand,” Cleo says.
“Suit yourself.” Papà plunks an empty glass on his desk and splashes some whiskey in it. He downs it in one go. “Ludovico was one of my top earners. An excellent asset. You knew this, Cleo. It’s why I wanted you to marry him.”
“Yes, I know. I was to be a reward for good work,” she retorts.
I close my eyes. My sister’s brave, but she can be so damn stupid. This is not the time to push Papà’s buttons.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
“As soon as we got to the club, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He was grabbing me, Papà. Trying to pull me on the dance floor and grinding against me. It was disgusting.”
“You made a scene?”
“When he tried to kiss me, I punched him and stomped on his foot. That made him mad. He was about to hit me when Rafaele stopped him.”
Papà’s mouth becomes a thin line. “You provoked him.”
“Are you kidding? I didn’t provoke anything.”
“Don’t lie to me!” He jumps out of his seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His eyes are wild with anger. “I know how you are, you ungrateful brat. You made him mad. If you’d just danced with him like he wanted you to, all of this could have been avoided. Instead, you had to humiliate him in front of nearly everyone important in the family. What the fuck am I going to do with you? No one will want to touch you with a ten-foot pole after this fucking mess.”
Cleo snarls. “Good. I don’t want to marry any of the losers who work for you.”
Papà lunges toward Cleo, and I put myself between them. “Papà, Cleo doesn’t mean it! She’s shaken up from last night. I was there. I saw how drunk Ludovico was. Cleo didn’t provoke him.”
Cleo sucks in a breath like she’s about to say something else, even though anyone in their right mind would know to stay quiet.
He’s never hit her. She doesn’t know what he’s capable of.
I speak before she gets a chance to make things even worse. “Papà, let her go lie down. She watched Rafaele kill somebody. She was right there. It was horrible.”
Papà’s nostrils flare, but he seems to consider my words.
Somehow, Cleo manages to keep her mouth shut for the few seconds it takes him to give a slight nod. “Fine. Get out of my sight.”
My sister flies out of the room, and Papà’s gaze slams down on me.
I do my best to keep my voice steady. “Rafaele didn’t have to kill him. He pulled that knife out of nowhere and plunged it into Ludovico’s eye. You can’t blame Cleo for Rafaele’s short fuse.”
Although it was strange. Rafaele doesn’t strike me as someone to act on impulse. Did he have a history with Ludovico?
Or was it seeing Cleo getting hurt that made him snap?
He’s always been a little off around her, hasn’t he?
Papà shakes his head, the tension loosening from the cords in his neck. “I didn’t expect that from Rafaele.”
“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize they sound like an accusation.
Papà’s eyes narrow. “I know everything I need to know to be confident he’ll make a good don. Don’t start with me on that again, Gemma. The matter is settled. The Garzolos will be in good hands. You know I always do my best to take care of our family.”
I clench my fists, feeling a wave of anger wash over me. The way he lies is outrageous, because he somehow believes the lies. He really thinks he’s doing what a good don would do.
I’m good at keeping my mouth shut around Papà, but after last night, my nerves are fried. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue.
Fuck you.
I got one night with Ras. One measly night with a man I have real feelings for. And now I have to face a lifetime with Rafaele, a man I do not love, all the while knowing that I’m in this position because my father and my brother care more about themselves than anyone else.
“Are you confident Rafaele will make a good don?” I ask. “Or are you just happy you won’t have to pay for your mistakes? Last night, Rafaele told me how Vince helped you craft this entire plan. The two of you must be very pleased with yourselves.”
Surprise flashes inside Papà’s eyes before he tampers it down. He places a fist on the desk and gives me a condescending look. “Rafaele has a strange moral compass. His insistence on telling you the full details about our arrangement drove me up the fucking wall. I told him it would only make you upset. But he’s apparently fine with that, and also fine with committing murder in front of his future wife.”
My nostrils flare on an intake of breath. “You know what? I don’t mind. At least with him, I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. What I do mind is how you and Vince shamelessly manipulated me. Why didn’t you just tell me everything from the start? If you’d come and asked me to do this for you and Vince, if you’d showed me some respect and explained the situation, I probably would have done it anyway. I would have volunteered myself for a lifetime of unhappiness if you’d just been honest with me. But I know why you weren’t.”
Papà flexes his jaw. “Watch your tone. You don’t know anything.”
I take a step back, my internal alarm ringing, but I have to get this off my chest. I just don’t have the strength to hold it back anymore. “You weren’t honest with me because you’re a selfish coward. You’re terrified of ending up behind bars, aren’t you, Papà? That must be embarrassing to admit, given many better men in our family have served their time. But not you. All you care about is taking good care of yourself. You’re a disgraceful don. I’m starting to think you’re right. Our family will be in good hands with Rafaele. After all, he can’t possibly be any worse than you.”
My only warning is the low growl Papà makes.
Pain bursts over my cheek, sharp and deeper than I’ve ever felt before.
The impact sends me to the floor.
“You think you know better than me?” my father grinds out.
I catch myself at the last second with my hands, and my left wrist screams in pain. A weak sob escapes me.
“You think I made this decision lightly?”
Before I get a chance to catch my breath, a hit comes to my side. A kick. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“You dare to blatantly disrespect me after everything I’ve done for you?”
Another kick against my ribs. I moan in pain, shrinking into myself, clutching my knees to my chest.
And then I hear something that makes the hairs on my neck stand.
A roar.
The books on the shelves shake. There’s a loud crash. A big tome falls a few feet away from me.
I’m trembling, and the pain in my side is spreading and spreading. The shirt I’m wearing sticks to my back with cold sweat. My stomach clenches, and I throw up. There’s nothing in my stomach but the coffee I drank this morning.
A few moments later, someone’s hauling me up. I recognize who it is by his scent.
“Ras?”
Familiar hands cradle my face. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice shaking with fury.
I blink at him. “There’s something wrong with my side.”
I get a single glimpse of his murderous expression before he carefully tucks me behind him and moves toward Papà.
My father’s slumped against the bookshelf, a trickle of blood running down his chin. His furious gaze is locked on Ras.
“Get out,” Papà says with a sneer. “Get the fuck out before I—”
Ras lunges at him, slams him into the bookcase, and wraps his fingers around his throat.
“You fucking decrepit piece of shit,” he spits out, the veins on his forearms growing more prominent as he squeezes and squeezes. Papà’s face turns beet red beneath his grip.
“I knew it was you.” Ras’s voice is clear and deadly and ricochets off the walls. “You’ve done this to her before.”
Papà’s eyes bulge. Ras is going to kill him.
I should try to break them up, but I’m frozen as I watch everything play out.
He punched me and kicked me while I was on the ground.
The halting words on the tip of my tongue dry out, but Ras stops short of choking him. Just as Papà starts sputtering, Ras lets go off his throat and lands a hard punch on his face.
Papà’s nose explodes with blood.
That visual gets my throat unstuck. “Ras, stop.” I reach out, grab his arm, and pull him back. “No, stop. Don’t.”
His rage is infernal. He throws Papà to the ground. “She’s your fucking daughter. You get off on beating women? Does it make you feel tough? You’re a sad joke, you goddamn asshole.”
My father glares at him from where he’s sprawled on the ground panting. His nose gushes blood.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Papà snarls, red spittle flying from his mouth. “This is none of your business.”
Ras’s response is a vicious kick to my father’s gut.
Papà groans, spits out blood. “You’ll pay for this,” he wheezes.
Ras steps on his hand, and a moment later, there’s a crunching sound, and Papà’s face goes white.
“Ras! Stop,” I beg. “Don’t do this.”
“You’re a dead man,” Papà hisses through the pain. “You hear me? A dead man.”
I dig my fingers into Ras’s forearm. “That’s enough. Please.”
Papà hits the floor with his fist. “Get out. Get out so that I can hunt you down.”
Ras lowers on his haunches and grabs Papà’s shirt, bringing his face close. “I’m taking Gemma to the hospital. You better not be here when we come back. I don’t give a fuck that this is your house. I don’t give a fuck that she’s your daughter. No one touches her. You hear me? No one. If I’m a dead man, I’m dragging you down to the depths of hell with me.”
There’s a loud gasp. “Gem!”
I whip my head around to see Cleo standing in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth.
Shit.
She flicks her gaze over the scene, and I can see the realization of what happened slowly dawn on her. Her eyes turn red and watery, and she rushes to my side. “Oh my God, are you okay?”
My body is in so much pain, but I can still feel my heart break. The secret is out. I’ve spent so long trying to shield Cleo from this.
Ras prowls over to us. “I’m taking you to get checked out.”
I hesitate. My mind is sluggish, but even in this state, I know Ras is in trouble.
He just beat the shit out of a don.
Papà will send his men after him.
They can’t kill Ras. I can’t let that happen. Maybe if I stay behind, I can talk Papà down. “Ras—”
“We’re going,” he says resolutely. His eyes lock on mine, and something inside of them makes my protest die out.
I swallow. Nod. “Cleo, go up to your room, lock the door, and wait until Mamma comes home.”
My sister’s crying now, tears running down her face. “Papà did this?”
“Please, Cleo. Just do as I say. Go to your room.”
When she doesn’t move, Ras takes her arm and lifts her off the floor. “Go, Cleo.”
She blinks at me, her lips trembling, and she then turns to him. “Please take care of her.”
“I will,” Ras says.
“Don’t you dare leave,” Papà growls at me as Cleo runs out of the room. “You leave with him, and I swear, Gemma, you’ll regret it.”
Tears spring to my eyes. How could he do this? My own father?
Ras wraps his arm around my trembling shoulders. “Don’t listen to him. They’re nothing more than the words of a desperate man who’s aware his days at the top are numbered.”
Papà’s face blanches.
And with one final look at my cruel, broken father, I let Ras whisk me outside.
