Chapter 137 Rocco
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sliced fruit lingered in the air. It was almost warm, peaceful, something men like us weren't meant to have.
Rafael had that quiet expression again, the one that told me he was thinking about Rosalia even when she wasn't around. His tie was loosened, and his gaze flicked toward the door every few minutes.
Finally, he said, "It's done."
Riccardo raised an eyebrow. "What's done?"
"The debt."
That halted me mid-sip.
"You paid it off?" I set my cup down carefully.
Rafael nodded. "Every last cent."
Riccardo settled back, a smirk teasing his lips. "You must be really in love with that woman, brother."
"She's my wife," Rafael replied simply, as if that was explanation enough. Perhaps it was.
He accepted a slice of mango, his fingers relaxed now in a way I hadn't seen in weeks. "I talked to Antonio again yesterday. His wife's recovering, still weak, but stable. He couldn't believe I settled the debt for good." He let out a dry laugh. "Said it wasn't my issue. Told him it stopped being just his the minute his daughter married into my family."
There was something in his tone, soft, resolute, that silenced Riccardo and me.
"Do you think the Valenti will stand down?" I said.
"I hope so." Rafael exhaled slowly. "I kept the payment above board and official. No secret deals. I don't want their stain on our family again."
"Hope," Riccardo said with a snort, picking a grape from the bowl. "That's a poor strategy for a mafia don.
Rafael shot him a warning look, but before he could reply, the doors opened.
Rosalia appeared, her steps light, her smile brighter than I’d seen since the engagement party. She wore a simple cream dress, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, and for a second, the entire mansion seemed to breathe again.
“Rafael,” she said softly, her voice warm.
His entire face softened, stern lines softening, shoulders relaxing , and without hesitation, he extended his hand to her.
She crossed the room, and when she reached him, he didn't just take her hand. He pulled her into his lap, settling her carefully into position until she was sitting sideways across his thighs, her head on his shoulder.
Riccardo rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."
Rafael ignored him completely. He picked a piece of peach from the plate and held it to Rosalia's lips.
She smiled, biting into it, her laughter suppressed. "You're spoiling me."
"You’re my wife," he replied straightforwardly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "I can spoil you for a lifetime if I want."
Her fingertips traced the line of his jaw, affection shining in her eyes. "Thank you again… for everything. For helping my father. I know he doesn't deserve it, but…”
Rafael cut her off with a kiss to her forehead. "You don't need to thank me for something I did for us."
Riccardo emitted a theatrical groan. "Sweet Mother Mary, get a room before I choke on your love fumes."
Rafael didn't pay him any attention at all, his hand finding Rosalia's waist, keeping her close as he reached for a slice of peach. "Eat," he whispered, holding it to her lips.
She smiled, taking a delicate bite, a small sound in her throat that made Rafael's face soften into something I never thought him capable of, pure tenderness.
“Wow, so this place is just turning into a rom com movie now? The female lead and male lead being all cozy and in love in the opening scene.”
Rosalia laughed, her cheeks rosy. "You're just jealous, Riccardo. No one spoils you."
He smiled complacently. "I spoil myself very nicely, tesoro. And unlike my brother here, I don't need an audience."
She giggled, swatting at him in turn as Rafael gave him a look that would've sent most men fleeing. But Riccardo just grinned the more. "Easy does it. I'm happy for you two. Sickeningly happy, even."
Rafael merely leaned back, his hand making small circles on Rosalia's thigh. "Then be quiet and let us enjoy breakfast."
It was cozy, too cozy for the De Luca family. But I couldn't make myself ruin it. Not yet.
I took a sip of my coffee, letting the heat ease the tightness from my chest. For a second, I could almost make myself believe that we were ordinary. That our existence wasn't made of blood and loyalty and ghosts that wouldn't die.
Yet Riccardo looked up from his cup. "Any news on C?"
And the illusion shattered.
Rafael's hand stilled on Rosalia's leg, his eyes coming up to mine. "What did you discover?"
Rosalia looked between us, the gleam in her eyes dying. She knew already what C represented, we'd abandoned pretending weeks ago.
I set my cup down. "Not much. He's being careful to clean up after himself. Every lead we've followed ends up cold or dead."
Riccardo's smile was wiped from his face as he leaned forward. "Dead as in—"
"As in someone's cleaning up after him," I stated baldly. "Three men who claimed they'd seen him alive were in dumpsters within two days. All killed the same way. Execution style."
Rafael’s jaw clenched. “That sounds like Camillo, all right.”
Hearing his name made something twist in my gut. I’d known Camillo longer than anyone at this table. We’d bled together, laughed together, buried men side by side. And then he’d sold me out for a seat at someone else’s table, for power. For money.
I still saw it when I closed my eyes from time to time, the flash of betrayal in his smile, the burning pain in my back, the smell of gunpowder and rain.
Rosalia placed a soft hand on Rafael's shoulder, bringing him back to the ground. "I thought he was dead," she whispered.
"We all did," Rafael muttered.
He should have stayed that way," I muttered. "But now he's back, and he's smarter. Last week's shipment of arms? The symbol our guy found? It was his. Subtle, but it was there."
Riccardo's smirk fell completely. "So the bastard's building something again.".
"Sounds like it." I rubbed the back of my neck. "But I don't know what. He's not making inroads into any of the known territories. It's like he's building in the dark, probing for limits before striking."
Rafael's voice was gentle but more rigid than steel. "He'll make a mistake sooner or later. They always do."
"I don't know," I said. "This is not the same Camillo we buried. He has been plotting something for a long while."
There was quiet for a bit, a sense of heaviness in the air. Even Rosalia, who never discussed business, could feel it, the weight of what was to be.
Then, trying to cut through the tension, Riccardo smiled again. "You three brooding mafiosi are ruining my morning. Can't a fellow eat fruit without talk of corpses and betrayals?"
Rosalia laughed, relief skipping across her face. "You could always leave early, Riccardo."
He smiled. "Tempting. But then who'd keep an eye on your husband while he feeds you like a baby bird?"
Rafael glowered, but Rosalia's laughter grew gentle and warm, her hand still on his chest. "Maybe you should find someone to spoil too, Riccardo."
"Impossible," he said, feigning offense. "No one can handle me."
"More like no one would want to," Rafael said dryly.
Riccardo stood, smirking. "Touché, fratello. I will be at the club. Do not wait up."
He whistled as he walked out and left only the three of us and the hum of silent love in the air.
Rosalia turned back to Rafael, her eyes gentle. "You all act like you're so tough, but it's clear. You care about each other so much."
Rafael smiled weakly. "Don't ruin my reputation, amore."
She leaned to kiss his cheek, and I permitted myself, for one fleeting moment, to forget. Forget the message that had come late last night. The one that still burned the backs of my eyelids when I blinked.
It was simple. No ultimatums, no threats, just words that had felt like poison.
"We'll C soon."
No name. No signature. Only that damned letter.
I'd told no one. Not yet.
"Rocco?" Rafael's voice returned me to the present. "A thousand miles away. Something new?"
I hesitated, fingers drumming on the table. "Nothing concrete," I lied smoothly. "But I'll keep looking. He's out there. I can feel it."
Rafael studied me, but didn't press. He'd learned better.
Rosalia looked between us, her expression gentle, worried. "Promise me you'll be careful," she said softly.
I smiled wryly. "I always am."
It wasn't the truth, but it would do for the time being.
I stood up, brushing my jacket straight. "I'll leave now. I’ve got some leads I want to pursue."
Rafael nodded curtly. "Keep me posted. And Rocco…” His voice softened. "Take care of Fiorella."
That stopped me in my tracks. "That's why I'm doing this," I said quietly.
Rosalia smiled slightly, knowing smile. "She brings out the best in you.".
I didn't answer. Maybe because I wasn't sure the best of me was still around.
As I left the dining room, the sound of their laughter grew faint, covered by the buzz of my phone again.
Another message. Same number.
"Anticipating when we finally see, brother?"
My fist clenched around the phone.
I slipped the phone into my pocket, my eyes narrowing as I moved down the hallway. The sun streaming through the glass now felt cold.
If he wanted to play this game again, fine.
But I'd be the one to finish it this time. For good.