Chapter 101 Rocco
The De Luca household was full of laughter when I came in, too full for the weight that pressed in my chest. The staff were getting ready for something in the downstairs, the scent of lemon and roasted garlic lingering in the air. Somewhere in the living room, Riccardo's thunderous laughter boomed too free, too damn easy.
I followed the sound and found them all gathered around the long marble counter, Rafael at the head, reading a paper, Rosalia beside him, her fingers tracing through his hair. Riccardo leaned against the counter, cards spread out before him.
“Finally,” Riccardo said when he spotted me. “We thought you’d decided to elope with Fiorella instead of showing up.”
Rafael gave him a warning look but said nothing. Rosalia’s face lit up like sunlight breaking through clouds. “We were just talking about the engagement party,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s only a few days away.”
Her voice carried that innocent excitement that used to make me feel lighter. Now it only pressed a little harder against the guilt I’d been trying to ignore.
I took a seat across from them, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “That soon, huh?”
Riccardo smirked. “You don’t sound thrilled, brother. Cold feet already?”
“Don’t start,” Rafael muttered, without looking up.
Riccardo chuckled, lifting his drink in mock salute. “Relax. I’m just saying, the great Rocco De Luca getting married, it still sounds like fiction.”
Rosalia pushed his arm away. "It's not fiction, it's love," she said, smiling off into space. "And I can hardly wait to help Fiorella with the arrangements. She said she was willing to do whatever I wanted, but I want it to be perfect. The colors, the flowers, the music."
Her words tunnelled for a moment, as though tunnelled in from underwater.
I swallowed. "You've done enough, Rosalia. Whatever it is you have in mind, I'm positive it'll be fine."
She smiled at me. "I just want everyone happy. You two have earned it after what you've been through."
Rafael's gaze flashed to mine, sharp, assessing. He didn't say the words, but he sensed the tension in my jaw. He always did. "You seem distracted," he said finally. "Everything okay with Fiorella?
I gazed up into his eyes, lying as smoothly as I'd mastered breathing. "Everything's fine."
He regarded me for another beat, and then nodded, slowly. "Good. Because we've had quite enough fires to extinguish recently."
"Yeah," I snarled. "No more fires."
Riccardo leaned in closer, his smile lazy. "You're certain? Because if you call it off, I'm taking the ring and asking someone else out. You know, to keep the De Luca name alive."
Rafael shot him a look. "Don't make me have to let her hear that. Fiorella will kill you."
"See?" Riccardo laughed. "That's what I like about her. She has fire."
I smiled icy, though her furious face could only tighten the knot in my chest further. She had fire, yes, with enough to incinerate anyone who dared to underestimate her. But what if the fire burns me?
Rosalia's voice pierced my daydreaming. "I've already invited the guests," she said. "It's going to be lovely, Rocco. You'll see."
"That sounds good," I whispered.
She grinned so intensely that it hurt to look at her. I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I wasn't sure there'd be a party.
The table went silent for a moment, the kind of silence that comes between words that you cannot say. I busied myself with the glass I was holding in my hand, pretending to listen as Riccardo continued another story about some girl he'd met at the club.
But my mind was already a mile away, standing in Fiorella's mansion, her face twisted between hardness and something else. Guilt, maybe. Fear. Secrets.
I had told myself it didn't matter, that we'd get it together as we always did. But the look in her eyes had said otherwise.
Rosalia clapped quietly. "Oh, I just can't wait to see Fiorella in white."
I wracked up another small smile. "Yeah. Me too."
But as the laughter returned, and Riccardo began bantering with Rafael over his last anniversary gift, I couldn't shove from my mind the question cycling through my head, soft, insistent, and unwelcome.
What if this party never happens?
The question lingered with me much longer than the laughter did, hanging on like a half-whispered secret that could not be ignored.
Rafael's office was quieter than the rest of the house, always had been. The walls were lined with heavy oak shelves, the scent of cigar smoke and whiskey heavy in the air. Half-drawn curtains allowed slabs of gold to fall across the polished desk upon which my brother sat, sleeves rolled up, his face already expectant.
He looked up when I closed the door behind me. "You've been pacing since dinner," he said, voice even. "Something tells me it's not the menu that's on your mind."
I made a laughless sound and sat down in front of him. "You could say that."
He filled my glass before I could even ask, a habit he'd acquired over the years, because by the time I did drop by to talk, it was never going to be about business. The liquid glimmered in the light as he shoved it towards the desk.
"So," Rafael leaned back. "Fiorella?"
I nodded, gulping down the first sip. It hurt like the truth hurts when it's been festering too long in your chest. "There's something she didn't tell me."
He didn't flinch, at least not at first. He already suspected what it was. "Go on.
I exhaled, fingers tightening around the glass. “It’s about a clause in a letter, something about her inheritance, her last name, ownership of the D’Angelo estate. Her uncle called and told me about it like it was some kind of game. He said she hadn’t told me yet, that she was playing me.”
Rafael’s jaw flexed slightly. “And she hadn’t told you?”
“No,” I said to him. The word was sharper than I intended it to be. "Not until that night. I gave her an opportunity to confess, and she did, but still, I wanted to hear it from him first."
He stood still for a long time, his eyes unblinking. "That hurt you.".
I dry-laughed. "Yeah. You could say that again. I've done all I can to demonstrate to her that she's safe with me, that I'm not like the men who were around her before. Yet still, she felt she had to keep something back. I wonder what else she's keeping from me."
Rafael steepled his fingers, thoughtful. "You love her.".
I glared at the whiskey. "I do. More than I ever imagined that I could love a person. But love doesn't keep you from bleeding when someone you trust cuts you open."
He regarded me, his eyes easing a little. "You and Fiorella. you are both cut from the same stone. Pride and fire. You see the world as something that must be held together in your naked hands. That makes you strong, and will kill you if you let it."
I lifted my gaze to his. "And so what am I just supposed to do? Pretend it doesn't affect me?
“No," he whispered. "You do it. But not as if you're facing an opponent. You told me you love her, show it by giving her room to prove herself once more. Secrets do happen in our reality. Sometimes just to make it through the day, occasionally out of fear. If you punish her for this, you'll do more than lose her honesty, you'll lose her heart.".
I scowled, leaning back. "And what if she does something else from me down the road? What if this is only the beginning?"
"Then you deal with it," Rafael said practically. "Together. That's what marriage is all about, not desire and promises. It's a constant fight to stay on the same team.".
I ran a hand through my hair, the weight of his words settling in. "You make it sound so easy."
He smiled half-heartedly. "It isn't. You think Rosalia and I don't fight? We fight for each other, not against. You two have been to hell. Don't let pride send you back there."
The silence between us was heavy but loamy. I stared at the floor, at the decades of scuff marks made by pacing men like me when we refused to acknowledge that we were scared.
"I don't want to lose her," I said finally. "Not because of this."
"So don't," Rafael said. "Go home. Call her. Listen before you do anything. You're not a soldier anymore, Rocco, you're a man who's going to create something with someone. Don't ruin it before it's even begun."
They were sharper than I expected. I set the empty glass down, nodding slowly.
"Do you know what to do now?" he asked, regarding me like he already knew the answer.
I stood, shoulders braced. "Yeah," I murmured. "I do."
Stepping out of his office, the sound of the mansion faded behind me, Riccardo's laughter, Rosalia's humming, until the only sound left was the sound of my own footsteps and the resolve hardening within me.
If Fiorella and I were going to be a team ruling this world, then we had to cease allowing secrets rule us first.