Chapter 62 Fiorella
The heaviness of the day weighed down on me, exhaustion creeping into my very bones, but my thoughts were too restless to succumb to sleep. My body throbbed from training, my knuckles still sore from the collision of my punches upon the bag. I had given everything to that session, trying to concentrate the tempest within me into something tangible.
Something I could master. But even after all of that, I still found myself reaching for my phone.
I scrolled through my contacts, my thumb hovering over one name longer than I'd like to admit.
Rocco.
I hesitated.
It had been hardly over a few hours since he had left, yet I could feel him as an invisible presence, hiding in the shadows. Not that I was missing just his presence around—I was missing his quiet confidence, the way he grounded me without trying to overpower me.
I hesitated for a moment before I took up the receiver and dialled his number.
It had rung twice before his deep voice spoke over the speaker.
"Miss me already, princess?"
His mocking tone went to a warmth in my chest, but I rolled my eyes in spite of the fact that he couldn't see me. "Don't flatter yourself."
He laughed, a low and knowing laugh. "Too late."
I relaxed back into my pillows, the edge of my mouth crimping. "I was just checking in."
"Checking in, huh?" He chuckled. "And here I was, thinking you couldn't sleep without hearing my voice."
I rolled my eyes. "You're insufferable."
"And yet, you keep calling me."
I shook my head at how easily he could get under my skin. But the thing was, he wasn't wrong. I hadn't even thought much before dialling his number.
His voice relaxed a bit. "How's the house?"
I exhaled, my fingers tracing rhythmic patterns on the sheets. "Repairs are underway. I just talked to Leo a little while back. He's taking care of it."
"Good," he said. "Do you need something?"
I chewed on my lip, hesitating before I answered. "No."
He hummed, not trusting me. "Where are you sleeping tonight?"
I stalled once again. "Here."
There was silence. Then, "Fiorella." Firm now, with something unreadable creeping into his tone. "You're not sleeping at that house. You need a change of scenery.”
"I know." I closed my eyes, allowing it all to fall on me. "But I don't know where to go."
He didn't hesitate. "I have a penthouse. It's yours for as long as you need it."
I should have expected his offer. Rocco never was the kind of man to do things for people he considered his, yet still, something in me resisted. I did not wish to be a burden. I did not wish to be in debt to anyone.
"I don't need—"
"Fiorella." His voice was soft, adamant. "Take the damn penthouse."
I inhaled, knowing he was not going to let this go. But something inside of me refused to allow me to accept it so readily. "I'll take it," I said slowly. "But you have to stay with me."
There was a beat's silence. Then, his voice low, the gravel quality of it heavy with something unreadable. "You want me to stay with you?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
Another silence.
Then, "I'll be there in ten.".
The phone went dead before I could say anything else.
I sat there staring at my phone for a minute, my heart pounding harder than I'd admit. I had asked him to stay. And he'd said yes with no hesitation whatsoever.
I wasn't sure what that meant.
I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
But when I heard the roar of his car outside minutes later, I knew one thing—
I wanted to be with him.
The moment I heard the low, comforting rumble of Rocco's car outside, my heart started to beat faster. I stood at the window for a moment, gazing down at the black car sitting in the shadows of the street lamps' faint light. It was pitiful how fast his presence made me calm down. I didn't like to be in need of someone, but tonight, after everything that had occurred, I wanted him present. I needed him.
I grabbed my coat and headed out. The cool night air kissed my skin, but the warmth pooling in my chest made me barely notice. Reaching the car, Rocco shifted forward, opening the door from within. His dark eyes flashed rapidly over me, his gaze dwelling for a single moment too long.
"Changed your mind about staying with me?" he teased.
I rolled my eyes, getting into the passenger seat. "If I had, I wouldn't be here."
His lips curved into a smile as he edged away from the curb, the engine growling with its thick power as we glided effortlessly into the serene streets. We rode in silence for a time, the city lights flickering against the windshield. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though. If anything, it was strangely reassuring, as if we didn't need to speak to fill the space between us.
But I wanted to hear his voice.
"Where did you grow up?" I blurted suddenly, tilting my head to one side to watch him in the dim light of the dashboard.
Rocco gave me a look, surprised by the question. "Here," he said. "Ashton for most of my youth. Then Italy for a few years."
"Italy?"
He nodded, curled fingers around the steering wheel. "My dad sent me and my brothers there when things went wrong here. Thought we'd be safe. We were put into training young. Learned everything early. Too early."
I caught the small spasm on his face, the clenching of his jaw as if he were remembering something he didn't enjoy.
"You didn't have a normal childhood," I said softly.
His laughter was hollow. "No one in this life does."
I knew that well enough.
"I dreamed about normal things," I admitted, my gaze wandering over to the window. "Like going to college, building a career, falling in love like characters do in books." I breathed quietly. "But I was born into this. I never really had a choice."
Rocco remained silent for a moment, then spoke up, "If you had the choice, what would you have done?"
I pondered. "I used to think I wanted to be a lawyer."
He laughed. "You? A lawyer?"
I gave him a dirty look. "What is so funny about that?"
He was still grinning. "You'd be a scary lawyer."
I couldn't help it. I smiled. "I like to win. It would have been a good career for me.".
His gaze flashed to me again, something unreadable in his face. "You still like winning."
"Obviously." I raised my chin. "Losing is not in the deck."
We were silent for a moment. The tension in the car shifted, built. Then just as fast, he released it and changed the subject.
"You ever been to Italy?"
I shook my head. "No. My father always meant to take me, but things got… complicated."
Rocco tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "You should visit there one time."
"Perhaps." I gazed at him. "Take me there."
His eyebrows creased upwards slightly. "You want me to?"
I shrugged, but my heart quickened at the offer.
His smile was softer this time. "Yes. I'll take you.".
I had no idea why the promise sat so easily in my chest, why it was one I felt like holding on to. But it was.
The drive to the penthouse wasn't too far, but by the time we arrived, I'd learned more about him in twenty minutes than I had in the weeks we'd been together. Rocco was guarded, but when he let his walls fall—even just a little—it was impossible not to want more.