Chapter 121 Rocco
The curtains were drawn, but pale gold light seeped through the seams, tracing down Fiorella's bare shoulder where she lay beside me, her hair a black coil across the pillow.
She looked soft, unflustered by the turbulence of our lives. And I just lay there for a while, watching the rise and fall of her breaths.
I leaned forward and ran my fingers over her hand. She shifted, not quite awake, mumbling my name in that half-awake voice that always left me stumbling.
"Sleep," I whispered, kissing her forehead.
She made a gentle humming sound, her lips curving up into a shaky, half-asleep smile before she settled back into sleep.
For a moment, I thought about staying. Wishing that what was outside this room didn't exist. But the world had a cruel way of reminding me that it always did.
My phone on the bedside table pinged.
Once.
Then again.
I lifted it to my eye, squinting away from the brightness of the screen. Rafael.
Two words on the preview stopped the breath in my chest.
We have a problem
I slid out of bed, not wanting to wake Fiorella, and went over to the window. I pushed back the curtain a small amount. Morning had just stretched over the estate.
I opened the message.
I inhaled deeply. The meaning of those words dropped like lead in my chest.
Rafael: Valenti made a shot. One of Antonio's warehouses was burnt last night. Nobody hurt, but it's a warning.
Rafael: They're calling for full payment within the week.
Rafael: Get to the estate in an hour. Bring Riccardo. We nipped it in the bud before it goes any further.
The Valentis weren't just demanding payment, showing they'd burn everything they had to do with Antonio. And thus, with Rosalia.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to soothe the beat of my pulse in my jaw. It wasn't shock that I was experiencing, it was inevitability. Always like this. Blood for debt. Fire for warning.
Behind me, Fiorella stirred. "Rocco?" she whispered, her voice husky, soft, in the middle of waking and sleeping.
I turned. She was sitting up, the sheet fallen away from her chest, eyes still blurry but already wildly scanning my face.
"You received a message," she whispered.
"Yeah."
She didn't have to ask to know from whom, she did.
"What happened?
I held back. There were things I did not wish to tell her, not after last evening. But I didn’t want to lie.
"The Valentis came out swinging," I said dullly, taking all from my tone that might have sounded like fear. "They burned one of Antonio's warehouses. It was empty, but Rafael thinks it was just a warning."
Her eyes darkened. "And the message is clear."
"Yeah." I moved back to the bed and sat beside her, elbows on knees. "They want their money at the end of the week."
Fiorella stared at the sheets for a moment, not saying anything. Then softly, "How much?"
"Rafael does not know the amount yet. But Antonio suggested it was tens of millions."
Her head snapped up. "Tens of—? Rocco, that's a lot.”
"I know," I cut in. "And it's not our debt to pay."
She scowled. "But it's going to be our problem whether you like it or not. You think the Valentis care who owes whom? They'll go after whoever they can get their hands on. That includes Rosalia, and you know Rafael won't let that happen."
She spoke the truth. I clenched my jaw, turned away. She was right. If the Valentis couldn't harm Antonio, they'd harm his daughter. And Rafael. Rafael would burn down the entire city before that happened to her.
"He won't pay it," I muttered.
"Then what will he do?"
"I don't know." I reclined back, running both hands over my face. "He loves her. That's the problem. Love makes you careless. He'll either pay the debt and hate himself for it… or he'll fight them and risk losing her anyway."
Fiorella grasped my hand, linking our fingers together. Her touch mellowed the coarseness of my thoughts.
"And what about you?" she asked.
"What about me?"
"You look like you're about to explode. You've been holding everything inside since this all started. If something happens, I don't want you to get caught up in Rafael's drama."
I looked at her, actually saw her, and something clutched deep inside my chest. Last night wasn't about lust; it was bonding. She centered me in ways she didn't even realize.
"I won't, he’s my brother," I whispered. "It’s a family drama which makes me involved."
Her grip on my hand tightened. "Then at least come back to me when you're done."
"I always do."
I kissed her. slow and deep, with the final sparks of heat between us. The kind of kiss that wasn't goodbye, but a promise that no matter what tempest raged outside, I'd find my way home.
When I finally pulled away, she was calm, but her eyes still followed me as I reached for my coat and jammed my gun into the waistband beneath it.
"Be careful," she breathed.
I nodded and pushed my phone into my pocket. "Always."
The air outside was cold and biting when I walked out. A vehicle was parked by the curb, motor humming. Riccardo was already in the driver's seat, sunglasses on his nose even though the sun was just starting to rise.
He glanced at me when I approached. "You read the message ?"
"Yeah."
"Rafael was enraged."
"He's always enraged."
"Even more than normal."
I said nothing. We drove in silence, the drive unwinding through the wooded perimeter of the estate, the kind of silence that led to something blowing.
I read over the message again as the De Luca house came into view, guards already posted at the gates, armed and alert.
As the car stopped, I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to Riccardo, "If the Valentis think we're going to fold, they're out of their damn minds."
Riccardo gave a thin smile. "You sound like Rafael."
"Maybe because he's right this time."
I stepped out, the cold seeping into my skin, and headed for the front doors.
Whatever Rafael had planned next, it was clear the war has already begun.
And this time, there was no walking away free.