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I am still surprised by how much I like the engagement ring he picked out, it genuinely isbeautiful. Walking out of the reception with Rocco was like an emancipation from being Sophia Falcone, she had been left in the ashes of my old life.
“Don’t you like them?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.
“Who said I didn’t?” I reply, smiling slightly.
“You told me you had expensive taste, so I honored your request.”
“I’ve never seen a red diamond before.” I say softly.
“Red diamonds are rare, plus I like to be different.”
“You picked this out yourself?” I say, surprised.
“You seem surprised,” he says, lighting a cigarette.
“I just figured you had somebody do it for you.”
“I don’t want to stare at an ugly ring every day, plus I don’t want your family saying I cheaped out on the engagement ring.”
“You have good taste; red is my favorite color.”
“I know. It wasthe color you were wearingon my birthday.”
There is an awkward moment as I look at him, shocked to which I can tell he is slightly pleased about.
“That feels like a long time ago.”
“It was. A lot has changed since then. What happened to Angela?” I say, swallowing. “I hope you didn’t hurt her?”
“Would it matter if I did?” he says, staring out the window.
“She doesn’t deserve it. Sometimes you can’t help who you fall in love with,” I mumble.
I look up at him, and he has turned back towards me. His eyes narrows at me dangerously, the temperature between us dropping to below freezing.
“Rocco?”
“It’s not your concern,” he says curtly.
“But—”
“Subject closed,” he says icily before turning back to gaze outside the window.
She likes the ring. I can tell by how she’s turning it around on her finger. For the amount of paper I spent on it, she fucking should. I didn’t need her mama to tell me what her favorite color was or what kind of ring she would like, I had it figured out already. I picked it out myself because, for some reason, I wanted to. I knew she would ask me about the ring because she was the type to be so pedantic that she would need a story behind it—some kind of anecdote to tell. I know so much about her, yet still so little. I couldn’t deny how much it pissed me off when she started making excuses for Angela and rambling about how you couldn’t help who you loved.
The softening of her face and eyes at that moment told me she was still in love with whatever guy she was fucking before Paolo put six rounds in him, A vindictive pleasure overcomes me, knowing that he can never come back to claim her. He will never challenge me for her. She doesn’t know that I wouldn’t lay a finger on Angela. I couldn’t promise the same for Don Rossi. His dour face from the church today told me that he wouldn’t entirely forget his daughter’s betrayal as quick as everybody else seemed to have.
We arrive at one of my penthouses in the city; I don’t trust hotels. The security is lax, and I don’t want any other guests in my business or bothering us. This way, I can have my men on different floors and have my own privacy. Sophia keeps her gaze low as we enter the elevator to the penthouse, and I can tell our conversation in the car still preoccupies her. I dismiss Damon and Dominic as we reach the top floor, and she lets out a little gasp as we enter. “I told you I had good taste.”
“It’s beautiful,” she says stroking the marble countertop.
“The bedroom is through there,” I say quietly. My tone of voice makes it clear that I am not here for pleasant conversation of any kind.
The bedroom is just as opulently decorated as the rest of the penthouse. The huge cream and gold headboard match the silk sheets. I sit down shyly waiting for him to come in, my mouth drying into the Sahara. I try to reach the back of my dress but there are so many buttons it is nearly impossible.
“Need some help?” he asks, leaning on the sliding door.
“Yeah,” I say slowly turning around.
