Page 77 of Sasha’s Secret

“I came straight into this job from my last one, so Nick’s given me a generous amount of extra leave. I know I’m asking a lot, but will you come to Sicily with me? It’s time I made my peace with Da—with my father.”

There was only one answer she could give him. Resolutely ignoring the myriad questions for which common sense demanded an answer, she propped herself up on her elbow to look the man she loved in the eye as she gave him her decision.

“Rocco, I’ll go anywhere with you. Tell me when, and give me thirty minutes to pack.”

Epilogue

The weather was amazing, and perfect for a glass of Dario Equizi’s best vintage. It was a pity it wouldn’t be passing over her lips again any time soon. Sasha took another sip of mineral water, before setting the glass down on the low table beside her. She settled more comfortably on the oversized lounge chair and scooped up her book again. With the latest Susan Stoker paperback to shield the lower half of her face and her sunglasses concealing her eyes, she could drink her fill of a shirtless Rocco working at his father’s side. Just watching him as he helped to roll casks into the winery’s barrel room made her insides writhe with impatient, unfulfilled need.

With Nick Blackmore’s ready agreement, Rocco had deferred his vacation for a few weeks, so they could travel when the weather was warmer. They’d made the journey to Sicily almost three weeks ago now, although it hardly seemed possible. Time had flown by—more so, once Rocco and his father had had the heart-to-heart conversation they needed. A couple of nights into their vacation, sensing something important was in the wind, she’d left the two men here on the terrace.

Hours later, Rocco had returned to their room, quiet and subdued to an extent that had her fearing the worst. He’d joined her in bed, taken her in his arms, and she’d waited until he was ready to talk. Eventually, in the small hours of a Sicilian late-spring morning, he’d told her his feud with Dario was finally over. She didn't ask for details—if he wanted to talk about it, he would when he was ready—but from the way he and his father had greeted one another over breakfast the next day, the air was well and truly cleared between them. Since then, on a daily basis, she’d witnessed the two of them gradually growing closer once more.

Watching them together, Sasha was overcome by a profound sense of family, the feeling enhanced by her own parents’ welcoming reaction to Rocco when they’d visited her family home before leaving for Europe. Having reconciled with Dario, Rocco seemed so at home here now—so very different from the cool, distant, focused killing machine she’d first met.

He glanced in her direction, his smile becoming even broader as his gaze meshed with hers. The quick wink teased her lips into an answering smile, but it was the play of his muscles as he resumed rolling the latest cask that did crazy stuff to her lady parts.

Baby-making crazy stuff, and she already had proof of how well it had worked, in the three sticks she’d peed on that morning, and which were currently stashed in a dark corner of their bathroom. Rocco had left her alone in their bed to make a start on helping his father, unknowingly giving her plenty of privacy to try one of the pregnancy tests she’d impulsively and sneakily bought from a small pharmacy during a trip to the nearest town. When it gave a positive result, she’d assumed it was a fluke and tried a second. It had taken the third to convince her fully, and in a happy daze, she’d hugged Rocco’s pillow and daydreamed about the previous evening, the riotous dinner with all his extended family, and how relaxed and carefree Rocco had been in the company of his cousins and their families, and his beloved and formidable Nonna.

Rocco had looked so natural with Raffaela in his arms. The little girl was the daughter of one of his many cousins, and as he’d danced around the courtyard with her, she’d giggled wildly, and Sasha had fallen in love with him all over again. Laughter had been the last thing on her mind when he’d been inside her later that night. She’d wished for what should have been impossible, little knowing it had already happened.

Just once without protection, and Rocco’s little swimmers had scored a direct hit.

Still, at least her job wouldn’t get in the way of anything now. Since she no longer had a reason to watch over Linzi, Sasha had resigned before she and Rocco had left for Europe—the handover to her rigorously interviewed and thoroughly vetted replacement had gone well, and Sasha hadn’t received any hysterical phone calls from either her or Linzi.

In addition, the loose ends had all been tidied up. As she’d explained to Linzi’s godfather, Scott Monroe was now in place as her head of security, and one of the first items on his agenda had been the overhaul of Linzi’s security arrangements, with Rocco acting as a consultant until the job was done. Alilah Corday and Leah Bennett were awaiting trial—their permanent replacements were now in post, having gone through the same process as Sasha’s successor. The extent of their dishonesty and theft had been staggering, and with the evidence initially uncovered by Nick Blackmore plus what had come to light in the ensuing official investigation, their fate had been inevitable.

As for the Schofields, due process had taken care of them, and they’d never again be a threat to Linzi or her family. Even after all Sasha had witnessed during her career with the agency, a biting chill still swept through every cell in her body when she thought about what could have happened.

A kiss to her forehead broke the hold of the recent past. Rocco was standing before her, a towel draped around his neck as he used one end to wipe the sweat from his face. The concern in his dark eyes preempted his opening question.

“The sun is shining, we’re on vacation, and we don’t have a care in the world, so I can’t help but wonder why you look so preoccupied, amore.”

She was definitely slipping. There was a time when her expression would have revealed nothing of what was going through her mind. Still, it was an opening, although she wasn’t sure the timing was quite right.

If not now, when?

“Hey, soldier! Come and sit beside me.” She glanced at the vacant half of the lounge chair.

Rocco lifted his arm and sniffed. “I stink. Let me take a quick shower—”

“I’ve told you before—I don’t care. Come here.” She patted the space.

He shrugged but once he’d removed his dusty work boots, he stretched out beside her, legs crossed at the ankles. Sasha rolled onto her side and slipped neatly into her place beneath his raised arm. He was wrong—he smelled delicious, all Sicilian sun and good, honest work. The first time he’d come to her like this, she hadn’t expected the overwhelming sense of calm that had wrapped itself around her, but was now as essential to her soul as breathing was to her body.

“So, what’s all this about?” Rocco asked.

There was a forced lightness in his words she didn’t like. Almost as if he were troubled by something and trying to keep it from her. Sasha laid her palm on his abdomen, hoping it would be enough to reassure him. She was trying to reassure herself too, because she wasn’t sure how best to tell him her news.

We lost the coin-toss that time when we couldn’t wait for you to suit up, and now I’m pregnant.

I hope you meant it when you told me you like babies, because a few months from now…

His arm tightened around her. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“Rocco, I…”

Anguish was tearing her apart. Why couldn’t she find the words to tell him?