Chapter 107 Rocco
The De Luca estate was changed.
Crystal chandeliers shined, pouring gold light over acres of manicured grass. A string quartet performed live beneath a rose-covered archway and velvet. Waiters in white and black glided like specters on silver trays, bearing champagne, oysters, and other snacks.
It was a night for legends, a night that would be talked about for decades within the families' circles.
The evening Fiorella and I became engaged.
But the only thing I could think of,in my black tuxedo-clad self, was her.
She wasn't here yet. And already, the whole world was talking about her in whispers, about the mysterious D'Angelo heiress, the woman who had somehow reduced me to melting. I allowed them to guess. Let them guess. Because none of their gossip could touch what was true, that she was more fire than flesh, more danger than beauty, and I would fight my way through hell itself to protect her.
"Rocco," Riccardo's voice sliced through my head, sharp and mischievous. "You've been staring at the door for ten minutes. You look like a guard dog waiting for his queen."
I shot him a look. "And you look like someone who needs a broken nose."
He laughed, raising his glass. "Don't worry, fratello. You're the one getting married, not going to war."
Rafael came in, his tie undone, that calm smile of his tugging on his lips. "Leave him alone. He's afraid, and he doesn't want to admit it."
"I'm not afraid."
Riccardo smiled dryly. "Naturally. You only look at your watch because time has annoyed you."
I had no opportunity to strike back before a hum reverberated over the crowd. Heads turned.
And there she was.
Fiorella swept in as if night had taken form, the red silk clinging to her curves, her black hair flowing in waves that glowed. Each movement she made drew eyes. Talk faltered. The musicians lost their beat.
My heart tightened.
She wasn't simply beautiful. She was magnificent. Regal. Beyond reach.
But the moment her eyes fell on me amidst the uncountable crowd, that steel reserve in her face softened, for a moment. The world, all its noise and men and lights, fell away.
I went to her without any second thought, waltzing through the opening crowds of men.
I didn't say a word when I got there. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her knuckles, my lips brushing the diamond ring on her finger proclaiming her mine.
"You're late," I breathed.
She smiled faintly. "You look like you've waited forever."
"Maybe I have."
Riccardo cursed behind me. "For the love of God, save that for the vows."
Rosalia slapped his arm, smiling at Fiorella. "You look perfect. I knew red would be the best on you!"
"Perfect?" Riccardo growled. "Rocco's going to cancel the party just so he can be alone with her.”
I ignored him, still holding Fiorella's gaze. "You did this on purpose."
She tilted her head. "What?"
"Coming like that."
"Like what?" she teased, eyes shining.
"Like sin."
She smiled, slow and knowing and dangerous. "Then it's a good thing you already swore yourself to me, isn't it?"
The party proceeded as a symphony.
There were toasts, there was laughter, too much champagne. A jazz band took the place of the string quartet, and the rhythm shifted from refined to electric. Sequins and laughter crowded the dance floor as individuals danced beneath the fairy lights as glasses were filled again and again without ever having to be refilled.
Rafael and Rosalia navigated the crowd like royalty, smiling and shaking hands with politicians and old family acquaintances. Riccardo was shamelessly flirting with half of the guests until Rafael gave him a glance hard enough to stifle him. Aria was somewhere making out secretly with her boyfriend and her parents were talking to Rosalia and Rafael about something I didn’t want to bother myself with.
And Fiorella, she blended in perfectly. She was born for this life. She smiled when necessary, laughed when a story was being told, and remained somehow unapproachable. Every man in the place eyed her. Every woman there envied her. But she saw only me.
When we danced, she felt perfectly nestled in against me, her scent all spice and risk, her heartbeat firm against my own.
"I’m glad we let them talk us into doing this," she whispered, her warm breath stroking my jaw.
"I'm glad too," I admitted, my voice quiet. "I can’t wait to get married to you.”
Her hand slid across to my chest, following the edge of my collar. "That's good," she whispered. "Because I can’t wait too."
I couldn't help myself. I smiled softly, the kind that dispelled tension instead of inflamed it. "You know how to disarm me too well."
She took a step closer. "That's because you taught me how."
Hours passed. Champagne flowed freely, as did music. Strangers filled glasses and toasted with us, to the future, to power and unity and everything that didn't mean half as much as the woman beside me.
When the fireworks began, Fiorella and I were on the balcony. The air was cool and filled with the scent of a whiff of rose and smoke. Fire exploded in the air, red and silver flashes that sparked in her eyes.
"Do you like it?" I breathed.
She nodded, softly. "It's wonderful. Almost magical."
I looked at her. "This is just beginning.".
She stared at me, and for a moment, there was something uncertain there. As if she wanted to believe it, to sustain the moment, but could not permit herself.
"Rocco…" she began, but her voice stumbled.
I smoothed a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Don't overthink tonight," I said gently. "It’s been perfect so far."
She smiled faintly, and I kissed her, slowly, as the fireworks painted the sky overhead.
The crowd around us burst into cheers, calling our names, but none of it registered.
There was only us.
Until my phone got a notification.
I leaned back slightly, frowning. The screen pulsed with a sigle message. A text.
Unknown Number: Congratulations on your engagement, De Luca. Hope you've made arrangements for the funeral that follows.
I fumed.
Fiorella caught sight of my face because her smile faltered. "What is it?"
I placed the phone in my pocket, forcing myself to remain calm. "Nothing. Just business."
But the truth was undeniable, the shadow that had been playing around us was not yet gone.
The laughter was still echoing down the hall when my phone buzzed again. That message hadn’t left my head, every word of it replayed like a whisper in the back of my mind.
Hope you’ve planned for the funeral that comes next.
The party itself hung in the air around us , the sound, the clinking glasses, the wispy smell of champagne and candle smoke, but all of it suddenly sounded. too loud. Too wild.
I glanced around.
Security men flanked the doors, moving sharply and quickly. But there was something in the air that didn't feel right. Like the pre-storm pause.
Fiorella sat on the patio again, talking with Rosalia and Aria, smiling demurely, the red of her dress catching the light. I could sit and observe her for hours, not today.
Not with this roiling fear twisting in my gut.
I slipped out of the party, heading toward the hall where Rafael's office was situated. I needed to show it to him. If anyone had the guts to threat us at our engagement party, then they were near, and it meant the hunt was on again.
As I came around the corner, I heard Rafael's voice behind the half-shut door, low and clipped, giving orders to his guards.
He looked up the moment I stepped inside.
"Something wrong?" he asked, already his eyes narrowing.
I handed him my phone. "Received ten minutes ago."
He read the message, his jaw tightening. "Same person as before?"
"Unknown. Encrypted."
He cursed under his breath. “I’ll have the system traced. Security’s still running sweeps — nothing unusual yet, but I’ll double the perimeter. No one leaves without being checked.”
I nodded, the tension in my neck refusing to ease. “Check the feeds too. If someone got in—”
The words died on my tongue.
Because at that moment, the sound cut out.
The music. The chatter. Everything.
Then, the lights went out.
Pitch black.
A ripple of bewilderment, a scattering of frightened voices, then the crunch of terror as glass shattered somewhere down the hallway.
"Rafael," I growled, already moving for the door.
He was right behind me. My hand went instinctively to my side, palm closing over the gun clipped there under my jacket, even as my mind was racing through the floor plan of the estate, exits, the area I hadlsst seen Fiorella.
And then.
The lights came back on.
Blinding. Too bright.
Shrieks tore the air.
My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Fiorella and then I froze.
On the white marble floor, a splash of scarlet grew beneath bare silk.
Rosalia.
Her eyes were open wide with shock, her hands smeared with blood as she placed a feeble pressure on her stomach. People were screaming, chairs crashing back, Rafael's roar over the chaos, but all I could see was the abomination that was before me.
Someone had come too close.
Someone had touched her.
Within our walls.
During my engagement party.
I dropped to my knees beside her, my own heart pounding in my head. "Rosalia. hey, don't go, don't—"
Her lips quivered, trying to form the words that wouldn't move past them.
Rafael was there in a flash, his voice ringing over the hysteria as he barked orders. "Get the medics! NOW!"
Fiorella pushed through the crowd of people, white as a ghost, eyes wide and frightened. "Rocco, what happened?"
I looked up at her, my hands already stained with the blood of Rosalia, the party a cacophony of screams and terror all around us.
And then, in the distance, above the cries of people shouting for help, my phone buzzed once again in my back pocket.
I didn't need to look to know whose it was from.
Unknown Number: Told you the funeral was approaching.
My eyes reddened.
Someone had taken action.
And as the enforcer I was to ensure they would regret breathing.