Chapter 29 Rocco
The De Luca compound was quiet at this time of night, except for the soft static of security radios and the occasional grind of boots on gravel as guards patrolled the perimeter. Inside was no different. The dim lights created long shadows across the walls, and there was a silence in the air.
I pushed through the doors of Rafael's office without knocking. He was already there, leaning against the large oak desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Riccardo was lounging on the leather couch across from him, one leg carelessly thrown over the other, an amused expression already on his face.
They had been expecting me.
I shut the door behind me and stepped inside. "This tug-of-war with the Marchesi brothers, it stops now."
Rafael took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass. His face was impassive, but he didn't interrupt me.
Riccardo, instead, let out a low laugh. "So that's what this is about." He tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "You've finally had enough, have you? Or is this because you don't want your flower getting hurt anymore?"
My jaw tightened.
Riccardo's smirk intensified. "What was it you were calling her the other day?" He pretended to think. "Oh, right, untouchable."
"Riccardo." Rafael's voice sliced in, a warning.
But Riccardo wasn't done. "Funny, given all the time you've been spending with her. Beginning to think she's not as untouchable as you claimed."
"Shut the fuck up," I snarled, dropping into the chair across from him.
He smiled but didn't pursue it.
Rafael set his glass down on the desk. "You're right." His voice was measured, calculated. "This has gone on long enough.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees. "We already know they were behind the hit on Fiorella's father. And we know they'll never stop until they've taken everything from us, or we take everything from them."
Rafael nodded. "Which means we strike first."
Riccardo exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You're talking about taking them out altogether."
"Yes," I said, without hesitation.
The room was silent for a moment.
Then Rafael spoke up, "It won't be easy."
"It never is," I said. "But we can't just sit defending. We have the resources. We have the men. We hit them where it hurts, take out their key players, and don't give them any room to counterattack."
Riccardo whistled low. "Cold."
"They gave us no choice," Rafael said, his face a mask.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my jaw. "I don't care what it costs. This is over now."
Riccardo shook his head, but there was a thread of approval in his eyes. "Damn. She really gets under your skin, doesn't she?"
My fingers twitched. "This isn't about her."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sure."
Rafael already had his phone in his hand, not paying attention to him. "I'll call people. We need to move quickly before they get suspicious."
Riccardo exhaled. "Well, damn. Looks like we're going to war."
I stood. "We have been at war. Now we finish it."
And this time, there would be no prisoners.
Fiorella wasn’t the type to take care of herself the way she should. Not when she was too busy holding up the weight of her family, managing the aftermath of her father’s attack, keeping her enemies at bay, and proving to the world that she wasn’t to be underestimated.
I’d seen it before, people who burned themselves out trying to control everything, refusing to show weakness, refusing to ask for help.
Fiorella was no different.
Which was why I was driving to her mansion, a bag of food in the passenger seat, in the hopes that she would actually eat something that hadn't been poured from a whiskey bottle.
I had not asked her what she would have preferred. She would not have said even if I had asked. So I ordered what I thought she would like. A variety of dishes, grilled steak, pasta with sauce, a side dish of roasted potatoes, and a slice of dark chocolate cake.
The drive to her estate was quiet, but as soon as I pulled up to the gates, I could feel the tension in the air. Security had been doubled. Men with guns stood at every corner, their movements stiff, jerky. They spotted my car and waved me through without a word.
Good. I wasn't in the mood to have to deal with idiots today.
Within the estate, everything was quiet. Too quiet.
I strode into the spacious foyer, the smell of varnished wood and expensive cologne familiar. A few of her guards lingered at the entrance, their gazes darting toward me before they quickly turned away. Good choice.
I found her in the sitting room, curled up in a big armchair, one leg pulled under her, an open book in her lap. The fire in the marble fireplace cast a warm glow over the room, softening her so that she looked nearly… relaxed. Nearly.
Her dark, guarded eyes, as ever, met mine as she glanced up when I entered.
I raised the bag I was carrying. "Thought you haven't been eating."
She raised an eyebrow. "And why would you assume that?"
I put the bag on the coffee table and pulled out the containers. The smell of steak and warm pasta filled the air. "Because I know you."
Her lips parted a little, just enough for me to notice before she covered it by straightening up. "You assume a lot, De Luca."
I smirked, flipping open one of the containers. “And I’m usually right.”
She stared at the food for a beat longer than necessary before finally reaching for one of the containers. The sight of her eating, actually eating was enough to make this trip worth it.
I sat across from her, watching as she took a bite. Her expression did not alter noticeably, but the slight easing of her shoulders was all I was waiting to see.
"Good?" I asked.
She inclined her head slightly. "Yeah."
We ate in silence, but the silence between us was far from quiet. It was thick, charged with something unspoken. Every now and then, she'd glance at me from under her lashes, studying me as if she was trying to figure something out.
"You didn't have to do this," she said finally, pushing a roasted potato around her plate with her fork.
"Yeah, I did.".
She laughed softly, tossing her head. "Why? Because of the alliance? Because my father..."
"Because I wanted to," I interrupted, my voice even.
That stopped her. Her hand tightened on the fork, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head as she tried to get a handle on me.
I leaned forward slightly, resting my forearms on my knees. "You're too damn stubborn to say so, but you don't object to me being here."
She looked at me, her expression flat.
I grinned. "See? You're not saying no."
She made a quick, exasperated sound, putting down her fork. "You really are impossible."
"And you love it."
She rolled her eyes, but she didn't tell me to leave.
For a time, neither of us spoke. The crackling fire filled the silence, casting flickering shadows on her face.
She was different this way. More rough. More real.
I didn't push. Didn't speak again. Just sat, and watched as she played with her food, as the weight of everything she was carrying tried to pull her down.
Fiorella D'Angelo was a force to be reckoned with, yet even the strongest had their limits.
And for some reason, I did not wish to see hers break.