Chapter 31 Rocco
The weight of the whiskey glass in my hand did nothing to soothe the irritation eating away at my chest. I sat in the dimly lit lounge of our mansion, my jaw set as Rafael and Riccardo spoke in low tones before me.
"She what?" I finally asked, my voice harsher than I intended.
The De Luca informant, one of Fiorella's father's men, stood several feet away, squirming under my glare. He swallowed before he went on.
"She met with Enzo Marchesi alone. Took snipers. Had him killed."
The words fell like a hot ember inside me.
"She didn't tell anyone," I growled, gripping the glass tightly.
"She didn't say anything to anyone but her father’s right hand ma ," the man said, as if that was somehow going to make any damn difference.
Riccardo whistled low, ruffling his hair in shock. "Remind me never to get on your flower's bad side."
I shot him a look, but he merely smiled, clearly taking pleasure in the moment.
"She volunteered to go with them on her own," Rafael said, his voice pensive more than shocked.
"She set up an ambush and pulled it off to perfection," I said, the first flush of irritation still searing my flesh.
She'd done it alone.
By herself, without us.
And she'd gone away without a bruise.
I should have been furious. Maybe I still was. But beneath the fury, there was something else, a sharp, irreversible pride.
They'd underestimated her. They'd believed she was some girl who'd crack under pressure, who'd never even step into the role her father had set out for her.
And they got what they'd deserved.
I breathed slowly, running a hand through my hair before sipping some of the whiskey.
"She's going to make a lot of enemies doing things like this," Rafael commented.
"She already has," I said tightly.
Elio Marchesi would be looking for blood now. Enzo was his brother, and if I had learned one thing about men like him, it was that revenge was never off the table. .
"She's got a death wish," Riccardo complained, shaking his head.
I set my glass down with a crisp clink on the table. "No. She has something to prove."
And she proved it.
To them.
To me.
But she should have told me.
I didn't like being excluded, particularly where she was involved.
The first call rang out.
So did the second.
By the third, I was gripping my phone so tightly that I might have cracked it.
No response.
I looked at the clock, past midnight. My jaw tightened as I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and stood up. The quiet of my office did nothing to soothe me.
She should have picked up.
The fact that she didn't just angered me further.
I grabbed my keys and made a dash for the door. If she wasn't going to answer, I'd get my own damn reply.
The guards on the D'Angelo grounds didn't even have time to move before I was already striding past the gates. They stood there, stiff and vigilant, but they knew better than to attempt to stop me.
"Is she in?" I asked one of them.
A grudging nod.
I didn't wait further.
The house was in darkness, most of the staff having retired for the night. I moved through the corridors with purpose, my focus homing in on where I thought she'd be.
Her office.
I stood outside the door and knocked once.
There was no answer.
I knocked again, this time more forcefully.
Still nothing.
Patience had never been my strong point, and I wasn't about to start now. I turned the handle and pushed the door open.
She sat there, her back to the desk, one hand resting on her temple as if the weight of the world was crushing her. There was one lamp, which lit the room and cast golden shadows on her face.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, hard and unyielding.
"Don't answer your phone now?" I asked, moving in and closing the door behind me.
She exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "Didn't feel like talking."
My hands curled at my sides. "You didn't feel like talking?" My tone was flat, but I knew she heard the bite. "You managed to get into a meeting with Enzo Marchesi, got him killed, and you didn't feel like talking to me about it?"
Her expression didn't flinch. "It wasn't your fight."
I laughed a dry, humourless sound. "Not my fight?" I moved in, placing my hands on her desk. "You think that after all of this, I'd just stand back and let you handle this alone?"
She tilted her head to the side. "I did handle it."
Her voice was calm, measured. But her eyes betrayed her. There was exhaustion there, far below her steel exterior.
I exhaled, ruffling my head. "You're something else, you know that?"
She arched an eyebrow.
I stared at her for a while, then finally said, "I'm proud of you."
For the first time since I walked in, I saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes. It was there and gone so quickly, covered over by something unreadable.
Her lips parted fractionally as if she was going to say something, but she didn't.
She just looked at me.
And I stared back at her.
The tension between us hovered in the air, thick with something neither of us wanted to say.
Finally, she diffused the moment, shifting slightly in her chair. "You didn't need to come all the way out here to tell me that."
"Yeah," I said, still staring at her. "I did."
I didn't move. Neither did she.
The air between us had shifted, filled with something unsaid, something neither of us was prepared to put into words.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, guarded but seeking.
"You didn't have to come all the way here," she repeated, her voice a notch softer.
I leaned slightly forward, my hands braced on the lip of her desk. "You keep saying that, but we both know that's horseshit."
Her lips were pursed. She wasn't used to people checking up on her. Not like this. Not after she had already cleaned up the mess.
She always cleaned up the mess herself, took control, made sure things got done. And I knew, deep within my heart, she was expecting to do it herself.
No more.
"Next time," I said to her, voice stern, "you don't go in alone."
Her jaw tightened. "I don't need..."
"I don't care what you think you need." My tone was dripping with bite, cutting through the air between us. "It's not about needs. It's about the fact that I should have been there. Whether you like it or not, Fiorella, you and I...we're in this together."
Her eyes flashed, but not with fury. Something else churned beneath the surface. Something that made my pulse beat a little faster.
She leaned back in her chair and rose, her movements slow and deliberate.
"Together?" she repeated, stepping around the desk, closing the distance between us.
I didn't move.
She stopped inches from me, close enough that I could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the tension in her shoulders that she tried to conceal.
"Don't promise something you don't mean, Rocco," she breathed, tipping her head back up a bit to look at me. "I don't want promises."
I gazed at her, my eyes tracing every sharp line and soft curve of her face.
I raised my hand, slowly, my fingers grazing the edge of her jaw. Her breath caught, just slightly but she didn't pull away.
"I don't promise anything I don't intend to do," I breathed, my voice softer now, scratchier.
Her lashes twitched and for a moment I thought she'd move back, put up the wall. She didn't.
She stood where she was, inches from me, close enough for me to see the conflict in her eyes—the half that wanted to keep away and the half that was desperate to surrender.
I trailed my thumb down the line of her jaw to the edge of her mouth. Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't draw back.
Neither did I.
The tension hung, thick and charged.
Then she exhaled, slow and deliberate, as if she was counterbalancing herself.
"You should leave," she said, but her words lacked conviction.
I held my thumb there for a moment longer before letting my hand fall.
I shifted back half a step, not removing my eyes from hers. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She shook her head, but I knew her brain wasn't here either.
I moved away from the door, turned to leave, but before I could get far, her voice halted me, whispery, on the verge of reluctance.
"Rocco."
I glanced back over my shoulder.
She simply looked at me for a second . Like she was trying to figure something out in her brain.
Then, only after a second she continued , "Thanks for coming."
I gave her a final glance and then left.