Chapter 99 Rocco
The night wind battered me as I came out of her compound. Cold, biting, and full of the scent of rain that did not arrive. The kind of night that mirrored the emotions I’m feeling.
I didn't drive off immediately. I just stood there, staring at the mansion. The lights in the dining room were still burning, casting shadows onto the curtains. I could picture her in there, sitting still, pretending not to break. And the bottom line was, I hated that image almost as much as I hated how much it stung.
My hand curled around the car key. I'd said I needed air, but what I truly needed was spac, enough so that I no longer saw her face whenever I shut mine.
When I finally got into the car, the leather felt cooler than it should. The engine roared, but I didn't turn on the music. I drove.
The city was half-asleep, its beat slo . I had nowhere in mind to go. My head just replayed the same thought like a curse: She kept it from me.
I wasn't angry about the will, not really. I knew about legacy. I knew about family duty. What I couldn't stand was not being told.
My entire life, I'd built everything on control, anticipating in advance every detail, every weakness before it could be turned against me. And she'd gotten one past me accidentally. Or maybe not. I no longer knew.
Phillipe's words continued to echo in my mind, smug and superior, the way he'd used them hours before.
“I'm rescuing you from making a big mistake—trusting a D'Angelo woman."
I had listened, let him talk. But the way he'd said it, that suave, poisonous voice , it hadn't left my mind since.
He'd been out fishing, planting seeds of doubt and for some reason they'd taken root.
I tightened my hold on the steering wheel. I should have just hung up when he started talking, but there was a voice in me that needed to hear it. To understand what I was up against.
And here I was now, questioning the one person I'd vowed never to question.
I drove down a deserted street near the water and pulled over. The city lights rimmed the dark water, jagged and distant. I simply sat for a time, watching the ripples ripple like thoughts I couldn't switch off.
I wasn't used to this, losing control, hurting. The last time I'd ever felt this was years ago, when someone I trusted had opted for ambition instead of loyalty. I'd promised myself then that I would never let someone have that much control over me again.
And Fiorella had it, effortlessly.
I stroked my hand through my hair, reclining back in the seat. Her scent still lingered on me, barely on my shirt, warm, intoxicated, stubborn. It was like she was still there with me, beside me, saying things she hadn't yet said.
I wanted to believe her. God, I did. My entire being wanted to spin around, wrap my arms around her, and act like none of this ever took place. Then I recalled the hesitation in her voice when she'd said, "I was going to tell you."
Going to.
After weeks.
That hesitation was enough to flip something within me.
If she could hide this from me, what else would she hide? What would happen when the big things arrived? The kind of things we both knew they would, threats, family politics, foes who dressed in expensive suits.
If our foundation was already weak, how would it survive when the storm hit?
The irony did not escape me. I'd built an empire from secrets, out of control, out of knowing when to remain silent. And now I was upset that she'd done the same. Maybe that was what scared me the most.
We were too similar.
The understanding hit me like a truth I did not wish to accept. She guarded her world as I guarded my own, passionately, instinctively. The only difference was I had convinced myself into thinking I could do it better.
The rain finally started falling, light at first, then it turned to something hard that pounded against the windshield to the rhythm of the hurricane in my brain. I didn't move. I just sat and let it obscure the lights outside, until the entire world was just one huge smear of gold and black.
I thought about how she had looked at me tonight, not defensively, not defiantly, just scared. Not of me, but of losing something she'd struggled to hold on to.
Maybe it wasn't betrayal. Maybe it was fear.
But fear did not make it sting any less.
My phone buzzed on the console. For a moment, I thought it might be her, and that small flash of hope was enough to hurt. But it wasn't. A text from my security chief, reminding me of tomorrow's meeting.
I tossed the phone aside. I could not think of business at the moment. Could not think of anything except her sitting by herself in that dark room, under candlelit atmosphere, waiting for a me that was nowhere to be found tonight.
I sighed, rubbing my hand over my face. I wanted to turn back. I wanted to tell her I wasn't walking away from us, that anger and quitting were two vastly different things. But part of me refused to move yet. Not until I was sure I trusted myself not to do something that I'd regret later.
Because when I lost control, I didn't just yell at the top of my lungs, I destroyed things.
And she wasn't worth that.
Not her.
The rain slowed down later, but the streets remained slippery and still. I reversed the car, driving back to her estate, lights cutting through the darkness. The nearer I got, the thicker the air became again, not from the fight, but from what was on the other side of it.
I'd always thought love was passion and loyalty, having your back when the world came after you. But no one ever informed me that it was also about forgiving someone before they even apologized. Trying to see things from their perspective, understanding them and being patient with them.
I pulled up to her gates and just parked and didn't drive in. The guards came out, waiting for instruction. I rolled down the window, the cold air whipping through.
"Tell Miss D'Angelo I'll be seeing her in the morning," I said quietly.
"Yes, sir."
They nodded, and I caught a glimpse of her shadow at the window, small, quiet, watching. The sight almost made me do what I'd resolved not to. Almost.
I pushed the car into gear and drove away, the wet asphalt tires fading back into the distance.
For the first time since the proposal, I had no clue what tomorrow would be like.
But one thing was for sure, whatever the next course of action was, it would make us either stronger than we had ever been. or break us completely.