Chapter 64 Fiorella
The soft glow of the morning sun cast through the curtains, leaving streaks of golden heat on the room. The penthouse was quiet, apart from the gentle rhythm of breathing—his breathing.
Rocco.
I blinked sleepily, my head still on his chest, my body folded up into his warmth. I didn't move for an instant. I just lay there, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breath , feeling the way his arm still loosely wrapped around me, even asleep, he was not going to let go of me.
I bent my head to the side, and fixed my eyes on his face. He looked so peaceful like this. The sharpness of his features, the hardness carved into his face through years of brutality and responsibility, had softened. The weight of the world that he carried every day had been cast off, leaving behind a man who, in sleep, seemed untouched by the darkness we lived in.
I let my fingers graze the material of his shirt, my touch light as a feather. Half of me longed to trace the edge of his jaw, to sear into memory the way he appeared here, in this incredible moment of vulnerability. But I didn't. Instead, I just breathed him in, taking a selfish second to wallow in his presence.
I should get up.
There were tasks to be accomplished, things to be done. Building my house back, planning the attack against Vittorio, finishing deliveries—matters that must be attended to. My uncle was out there somewhere, Vincent loose on the streets. And Elios… his time was short.
But for once, none of it was so urgent as it should have been.
I just wanted to stay here.
In his arms.
It was ridiculous. I knew it. I wasn't the kind of woman who craved comfort from another. I didn't crave softness, didn't indulge in moments such as these. But with Rocco. it was different. He was different.
And that terrified me to death.
For the deeper I fell into him, the more dangerous it became.
I breathed softly, my eyes closed just a little bit longer, hiding my face in his warmth. Only a few more minutes. I would give myself that.
Only a little longer in his arms before I could go back into the world.
The rhythmic beat of his breathing shifted. It was subtle at first, the barest adjustment in the manner in which his chest rose and fell beneath my hand. Then a deepening breath, slower than before, accompanied by the clenching of muscles beneath me.
Rocco was waking up.
I felt it before I saw it—the tension in his arm as he wrapped it around me, the slow roll of his body against the couch. I was still, watching as his eyes opened, slow and heavy with sleep. They fell on mine almost immediately, dark and opaque in the light of morning.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re awake.” His voice was rough with sleep, deep and husky in a way that sent warmth curling through me.
I tilted my head to one side, allowing myself to drink him in—the tousled dark hair, the sharp planes of his face softened by the remnants of sleep. He looked good like that. Less like the ruthless man I knew him to be and more like something dangerously close to comforting.
"So are you," I breathed.
He exhaled a small breath, rubbing his face before allowing his eyes to rest back on me. "Did you sleep well?"
I hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "Yeah. I did." And it was the truth. I hadn't slept this well in… a long time.
Rocco looked at me for a moment, as if attempting to decipher the intent behind my words. Then, with a languid movement, he leaned up on one elbow, his eyes never leaving mine. "What are your plans for today?"
The question dragged me back to reality.
Oh, right. My duties.
I sighed, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. "I need to check on the rebuild, make sure the shipments arrived undamaged, and get word from Leo about where my uncle is. Then I have to handle Vincent."
His expression didn't change, but I caught the flicker of something in his eyes when I mentioned my cousin.
"You still set on handling him yourself?"
I turned my head to look at him. "Of course. He thought he could cut me out of his life like I meant nothing." I was still speaking in that calm, even tone, but the edge to my words felt like it could've sliced glass. "I want him to pay for it."
Rocco met my eyes for a beat longer before he nodded. "Good."
That was him. He never questioned my decisions, never questioned that I could look after myself. Not like all the others who'd tried to keep me hidden, to keep me caged. Rocco knew me for what I was, and I liked it.
Maybe too much.
I breathed, pushing a hand through my hair. "What about you? What are you doing today?"
His jaw was clenched slightly. "I have some loose ends with the Bernadi family."
I did not ask for specifics. I already knew what this meant.
Violence. Retribution. Blood.
I gazed at him once more. "Be careful."
There was a faint, almost imperceptible twitch in his lips. "You too."
There was tension between us, thick and unspoken.
Neither of us stood up yet.
And maybe, for a little while longer, we wouldn't.
I stood there and watched as he ran a hand over his messy dark hair and then stood up, stretching a little, the early dawn light picking out the lean points of his body. My gaze paused a second too long before I shook myself into movement.
"Come on, bella," he muttered, still a little rough from sleep. "Time to face the day."
I took a deep breath, dragging myself out of bed. "I was thinking we could ignore the day a little longer."
He smiled weakly. "Tempting." Then his expression cleared. "But we both need to take care of things."
Rocco strapped on his watch, tightening it with practiced ease before finally turning to me. "I really must go."
I stepped towards him, standing on my toes to look up at him. "Be safe."
He smiled sarcastically. "I will."
I pretended to roll my eyes, but something hit me in the chest. I knew he was walking into danger. It was part of our job. But that didn't have to mean I was pleased about it.
Rocco's gaze softened, as if he knew the unspoken. Then his hand went up, fingers caressing over my jaw before pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "You care about me?"
I held his eyes, never breaking eye contact. "You know I do."
He kissed my forehead and smiled. Something flashed through his eyes, but before he could say a word, I breathed out. "Come over for dinner tonight."
His eyebrows shot up.
I crossed my arms. "I'm serious. I'll cook you something." When had I ever cooked?
He laughed low. "You cook now?"
"Shut up and come over."
Rocco tilted his head, looking at me for a second before he nodded. "Okay. I won't miss it."
The corner of my lip curled.
His hand lingered against my waist for an additional second before he finally released me, heading towards the door. Before he departed, he looked back at me.
"Stay out of trouble, Fiorella."
I smiled. "No promises."
He let out a chuckle of amusement before he disappeared through the door.
And so, the warmth of the morning was lost, replaced by the chill of all the things waiting for me.