“I think I miss singing.”
“You have the recording studio.”
I look up at him, at the tight, irritated line of his jaw. “It’s not the same, Rocco. I think you know that.”
There’s a pause. “Do you…want to see him again?”
It’s my turn to feel irritated. We hadn’t talked about that night beyond my displeasure at Claudio’s lack of sobriety and choice of company.
I thought Rocco had dropped it because it had been a complete waste of time. But the reek of jealousy in his voice gives way to a whole new explanation.
After everything we’ve been through, had I not made my choice in men crystal clear?
With a huff, I shuffle up on my knees and throw one around his waist, straddling him. He doesn’t meet my eye, even when I lower my chest closer to his face.
“Rocco.”
“Cassandra.”
“I don’t want to see him,” I say firmly.
Finally, he glances over at me. “You’re looking at me like that again. It’s distracting from your point.”
“Do you want me to close my eyes?”
“I want you to stay here and be safe.”
My body sags back on my heels. “Rocco, if I have to stay here for another month, I think I’m going to go insane.”
“Then let me take you to South Africa. You’ll love it there.”
“Sure. If you come with me,” I counter.
Rocco’s frown deepens. “You know I wouldn’t be able to stay.”
“Because the Cartel is giving you such a headache? The Tunnel Snakes are acting up again, aren’t they?” I cross my arms. “Honestly, I’d prefer to take my chances with Amos Rubio than hide away here.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug. “You’re not as discreet as you think you are.”
“You mean you’ve been snooping in my office.”
“Because there is nothing else for me to do here!” I try again. “Please, Rocco. I came to Brooklyn to sing. I haven’t been on a stage in almost two months.”
“Cas, if anyone with fucking eyes sees us both at theCandelabra,they’re going to know we’re together.”
I scoff. “Is that really so awful?”
“I’m trying to keep you alive, Cas.” Rocco’s hands squeeze my thighs. “If anyone realizes how much you mean to me, you’ll have a target on your back for the rest of your life.”
I swallow my disappointment. “So that’s it? We can be together, but only if you keep me as your dirty little secret.”
He growls beneath me. “That is not what I want.”
“Then how the hell isthissupposed to work?”
The question hangs between us like a knife, the edge of which we’ve both been dancing along for weeks, begging for either one of us to acknowledge it.
“Cas…” But Rocco fails to come up with an answer.
