Chapter 84 Rocco
The city stretched out before us, glittering against the velvet night sky. From the penthouse, the world seemed distant, like it belonged to someone else entirely. But tonight, none of it mattered. Tonight, it was just her and me.
Fiorella sat across from me, candlelight falling across her face in golden shadows. She was beautiful, as always, but this evening there was a more relaxed quality to her. Tranquil. As if the weight of history had finally been lifted off her shoulders.
Dinner had been slow, intimate, just the two of us, a stolen moment away from the world. I had planned every detail with care. The wine she loved, the soft violin music whispering in the background, the private chef who had prepared each course to perfection. But now, with the plates cleared and the night ahead of us, my heart pounded with a different kind of anticipation.
I extended my hand toward the glass, but my fingers curled around instead for the tiny velvet case hidden in my pocket. I'd rehearsed a thousand times through this, dreamed of doing it again and again, but now that the chance was finally present words felt too paltry.
Fiorella's head cocked forward, and I confronted her icy, watchful eyes. "You're nervous," she taunted, lifting the glass of wine to her mouth.
I smiled. "Me? No way.".
She laughed, the tone warm and rich. It was a difficult thing, that kind of laugh. I had worked for months to make her have more opportunities to let it escape her lips.
She put down her glass and leaned in, her fingers tracing the edge absent-mindedly. "What is it?"
I sighed, standing and moving around the table. Her eyebrows creased slightly as I moved, but she didn't move as I grasped her hand, lifting her to stand.
City lights twinkled in her eyes as I encircled both my hands around hers. "You know, I used to think love was a weakness." I spoke evenly, but my heart thudded against my ribcage. "That it left you vulnerable. That it gave people a tool to use against you."
She didn't interrupt me, didn't rush me. She just listened, her fingers tightening around mine.
"But then you showed up," I continued, my throat closing. "And you were the first thing in my life that ever made me want to fight for something more than just staying alive."
Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching.
"You pushed me, drove me crazy half the time," I told her, a small laugh breaking free. "But you also made me feel things I never thought I deserved. Love. Hope. A future."
I let one hand go of hers to drop down into my pocket, pulling out the black velvet box in there. She was holding her breath as I got down onto a knee, everything around me condensing onto just her.
"Fiorella D'Angelo," I breathed, my voice smaller now, my thumb running along her knuckles. "I don't want a life without you. I don't want a future where you're not part of it." I clicked the box open, and the ring inside glinted—a complex design, classic but bold, just like she was. "Marry me."
Her mouth opened in shock, but her eyes sparkled, emotion weighty in her eyes. A shaking, slow breath left her, and she then let out the tiniest, most beautiful laugh.
"You idiot," she whispered, shaking.
I lifted a brow. "That a yes?"
Instead of answering, she took my face in her hands and kissed me, slow and deep, giving me everything she had. I tasted her smile on my lips, and when she finally pulled away, her forehead on mine, she whispered the words that would redefine me.
"Yes, Rocco. A million times yes."
And with that, war, bloodshed, the past—all of it melted away.
Because she was my future. And I was hers.
I barely had time to feel the warmth of her lips as they pulled away from mine before Fiorella cupped my face in her hands, the thumbs tracing along the line of my jaw with a softness that broke something inside me. Her eyes, as sharp as ever but glinting with unbridled emotion, locked onto mine.
"Believe it or not, I never thought this would be for me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud too loudly would shatter the moment. "Love. Marriage. A life where I wasn't constantly looking over my shoulder, where I could just… be." She swallowed hard, her fingers tracing the shape of my cheek. "And then you came into my life like you'd always been there."
I remained quiet, allowing her to talk, because at this moment, nothing else in the world was important but the words pouring out of her mouth.
She smiled gently, shaking her head. "I fought it at first. You know I did. And I told myself it was just lust, that we were just two people who understood each other in a way that no one else could. But then… then it became more."
Her fingers wandered down, resting against my chest, right over my heart. "And I realized something, Rocco." She caught her breath, steadying herself. "I realized that no matter what was going to happen—no matter the blood, the enemies, the war—there was something between us. You and me."
I exhaled slowly, my hands settling at her waist, grounding myself in the warmth of her.
"I love you," she said, her words steady, with a determination. "More than I ever thought I possibly could. More than I ever thought was safe. And I don't care about the past anymore, I don't care what might have been different—I care about now. About us."
A warm, heavy feeling seeped into my chest, something unshakeable and unfamiliar. I lifted my hands, cradling the sides of her face, my thumbs tracing along her cheekbones.
“I love you , Fiorella," I whispered, my voice weighted with emotion, "I will love you with every last breath within me, every day." I pressed my forehead into hers, breathing in the smell of her. "I will protect you, always. You'll never be hurt by anyone again. And I'll take care of you—for us, of our family."
Her breath hitched, and I felt the rhythm of her heart against mine.
"You are my everything, Fiorella," I said to her, my fingers digging into her skin. "Always."
Her lips trembled into a smile before she kissed me again, slow and deep, filling me with all of her love like a promise of her own.
And in that moment, under the soft hum of the city, I knew with utter certainty—this was forever.
I never believed in fate. In destiny. In the idea that somebody out there was meant for me.
But then there was her.
Fiorella burst into my life like a storm, fiery and unrelenting. She was the only woman who ever stood eyeball-to-eyeball with me, who never flinched before the darkness of my soul. I remember that first time that I had seen her, standing strong and unyielding, daring me to brush her aside. I didn't. I couldn't.
I remember the fire in her eyes that night she promised revenge, how her hands did not tremble when she held a gun, how she took back what had been stolen from her without hesitation. I remember the way she breathed my name in the quiet of night, like a promise, like a secret shared between us.
But I recall the quiet moments, too. The way she reached for me in her sleep, as if even dreams told her that I was hers. The soft thrum of her voice in the mornings, the teasing she did when she knew she had the upper hand. The sly glances across a room, the unspoken dialogue we had without using words.
I had spent my whole life in a world of war and blood, believing that love was a weakness. But Fiorella? She was my greatest strength. My fiercest fight. My greatest love.
And now, when I look at her, understanding that each and every fight we fought, each and every scar we carry, led us to this place—to a future that is ours—I know one thing with complete conviction.
"Fiorella," I whisper, tracing the shape of her cheek with my fingers, my voice shaking with all that I am. "My flower. My forever."