Chapter 86 Fiorella
The tone stuck in my ear, cold and mocking, promising an end before anything had a chance to begin. But I did not let Rocco see the way my hand trembled when I ended it. I did not pick. I pressed the red button and let the call time out, the screen going black.
Not tonight. Whoever it was, whatever lurked in the shadows, they could wait until dawn. Tonight was ours. Was mine.
I put the phone back in my pocket , before I turned back to Rocco. His sharp eyes caught mine immediately, scanning my face for something, as if he could sense the storm raging behind my ribs. I smiled, a genuine smile this time, because I was adamant not to let our enemies enjoy taking even a second of this night from us.
"Where were we?" I whispered, moving closer to fill the space between us.
He didn't hesitate. His arms came around me, pulling me into that cage of strength and heat I had come to crave more than I craved air itself. For a moment, I buried my face on his chest, inhaling the smell of smoke and leather that clung to him, grounding me.
It struck me then, how far we'd come in one year. I'd never imagined this outcome. Marriage had always been some abstract thing, something silly and crazy to me. I was not made for vows or bridesmaids. I was born to live. To fight.
And still, there I was, wrapped in the arms of the man who had led me to think forever was possible.
"You know," I whispered, pulling back enough to gaze at his face, "if someone had sat and told me a year ago I'd be here, where I'm wearing your ring, planning a future with you, I'd have laughed in their face."
Rocco's mouth curled into that killer, unusual smile that always left my knees trembling. "Hilarious. I would have put a bullet through their head."
I laughed, the sound even shocking me. His grin softened, and he leaned his forehead into mine, the motion so tender it melted something hard inside me.
"I never saw this myself, Fiorella," he admitted quietly. "Marriage. A future that was not stained with blood. I thought I was beyond it. But then you…" His hand drifted down my arm, over the ring on my finger, and paused there. "You burned your way in, and now I couldn't envision tomorrow without you."
Emotions clogged in my throat, smothering and thick. I swallowed hard, forcing the burn from my eyes. "We're doing it, then?"
"Yes." His reply was absolute, final. "And no shadow, no foe, will take this away from us."
I believed him. That moment, with city lights skirting his features with gold and silver, I took every word on faith.
We sat at the window table, where a half-drunk bottle of wine lay on the table. Rocco filled two glasses, his gaze never once leaving my face, and handed me one. I curled my fingers around the stem, the cold glass a marked relief to the heat creeping into my chest.
"To us," he said, raising his glass.
I struck mine against his, the silence-producing sound ringing out across the penthouse like a vow. "To our love. To our future."
The wine trailed down my throat, rich and full-bodied, but it was not the alcohol that made me dizzy, it was him. The manner in which he looked at me, as if I were no longer the mafia queen who clawed her way to the top through betrayal and death, but the woman he'd spend all eternity with.
We didn’t talk about war. We didn’t talk about enemies. We just sat there, sitting close enough that our knees brushed together beneath the table, passing quiet smiles and soft touches, soaking up a cozy, romantic night. A quiet one. An ordinary one.
Tomorrow, the shadows may come. Tomorrow, the blood would flow once more. Tonight, though, it was only us, our love, our sparks, our forever.
And I wasn't going to let anyone rob me of that.
Rocco faced me, ran his thumb over my knuckles, and the atmosphere shifted. The world closed down to him alone. The tension, the heat, the perpetual pull which had never faded since the day I'd met him.
I inched in, my lips brushing over his jaw before I even realized it. His breath froze, a gentle hiss slipping out as his hand swept into my hair, tilting my head a big. Then his lips was on mine, hard, demanding, the taste of wine combining with something else harder, something very much him.
The kiss intensified, slow at first, then hungrier, pulling us both down. His chair squeaked as he moved back from it, standing up and pulling me up behind him, his hands never letting go. I let out a tiny laugh that turned into a gasp as he lifted me up with ease, striding towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss.
Sheets pressed against my back as he lowered me down to the bed, but he was warm, on top of me, surrounding me. Hands tugged at clothes, mouths entwined, gentle sounds flowing between kisses, his voice low and gruff, promising me forever in every silent word.
We moved together as if we'd done it a thousand times, but tonight it was different, charged, desperate, enveloped in something larger than desire. Love. The kind that burned and shined at the same time, the kind that shook me from memory of the scars we both carried.
When it was over, I was wrapped around him, his heart thudding steadily beneath my ear. His hand traced slow patterns along my spine, anchoring me, pulling me deeper into blessed peace. Sleep was never easy before.
But peace did not linger long in our world.
The piercing ring of my phone jolted me awake. The room was still dark, it was way too early in the morning. Rocco slept beside me, his arm pinned down over my waist. Gently, so I wouldn't disturb him, I reached over and grabbed the phone from the nightstand.
One new message.
Unknown Number.
Time to face the shadows.