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“Don’t say things like that,” I said, looking away from him.
“Allegra,” he said softly.
“I’m going,” I insisted. “I have to go.” I took my things and moved into the guest bedroom, even though he called after me. I knew he couldn’t follow, couldn’t really get up other than to go to the bathroom. It was maybe a mean trick, but it was all I had.
I put my things, just my dress and a few clothes I had picked up on the supply run that had almost gotten Rocco killed, in the dresser in the guest bedroom. It was close enough to the master bedroom that I could hear Rocco if he called, so I could help him. It was as far away as I could get, given our situation.
I fell asleep but it was fitful, and I just kept dreaming about that night, about standing there in the snow, waiting for Rocco. I was so sure he’d come. I kept waiting and waiting until I was nearly frozen. Two hours passed before I walked back to my father’s house, sobbing so hard I almost threw up. I was going to tell him I was pregnant.
I woke with a start, dreaming about Matteo sleeping, how I’d told him stories about his father. I woke up with one thing running through my mind: I couldn't let myself fall back in love with Rocco Moretti. It was too dangerous.
It was only about seven in the morning but Rocco was up, probably in pain. He looked pale, but not pale and blue like he’d looked after the collapsed lung. “Good morning,” he croaked, reaching for the pills on the nightstand and taking only one. He was being careful, which was good, but I worried about him.
“We have to go home,” I said, still thinking of Matteo’s green eyes, looking up at me from the crib when he was a baby. “As soon as your chest tube is out.”
Rocco looked at me, and I thought he was going to tell me no, that he would tell me that we still needed to find out why Ricardo wanted us dead, but he just nodded slowly.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“What do you mean, that’s it?” he asked, not looking at me. “I took you to keep you safe. To make sure Ricardo’s men didn’t come after you. Now that they’re coming after both of us, you’ll be safer at home.”
“Why do you want to protect me so much?” I asked quietly, feeling somehow angry. He hadn’t wanted to protect me when he left me all those years ago. Rocco didn’t answer. I sighed heavily. “You can’t tell me, can you?” I accused. “You can’t say it.”
“Can’t say what?” he asked, tilting his head.
I groaned. “You’ve always been like this, Rocco. You’ve always kept your emotions so under wraps. It took you two years to tell me that you loved me for the first time,” I said, exasperated.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said firmly.
I rolled my eyes. “That’s how it’s going to be?” I asked.
“That’s how it’s going to be,” he said, an edge of defensiveness in his voice.
I took a step back, my heart heavy. “I need more than just your protection, Rocco. I need you to be open with me, to share your thoughts and feelings.”
“I can’t talk about this right now, Allegra,” he said. “There’s too much to be done.”
I looked at him for a moment longer and then walked out, shutting the door behind me. I laid in the guest bedroom bed, looking up at the ceiling for the longest time. I had to put some space between me and Rocco. I had to stop sleeping with him, for one, and I had to separate my feelings for him from what was going on right now. For God’s sake, hekidnappedme. I knew now he’d done it to protect me from Ricardo, and that everything had gone belly-up anyway, but still. It wasn’t like I wanted to be here, with him. Did I? I wasn’t exactly enjoying myself, but I had to admit that the sex was phenomenal. Rocco and I just fit together in the right way, like puzzle pieces.
I didn’t sleep that night, just taking an inventory instead of my complicated feelings. The next morning, I was determined to keep things as platonic as possible with Rocco. I walked into his room at about eight in the morning, and he was already up, wincing and reaching for the painkillers. “You need to eat something with those,” I told him, and before he could answer, headed to the kitchen to whip up some eggs, bacon and toast.
I brought him a plate and Rocco raised an eyebrow. “Breakfast in bed?” he asked playfully, but I didn’t respond, looking away from him. “You take such good care of me.”
“Someone has to,” I snapped.
He raised his hands as if in defense. “Damn, you got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he drawled, still in a teasing, playful voice. I didn’t know which way was up with Rocco. Ever since we’d been stuck in these odd places together, ever since we’d been in such close proximity, he’d been up and down, hot and cold. It was nearly impossible to gauge how he was feeling or what he was thinking. I never knew if he’d be in a good mood, teasing me and flirting with me, or if he’d be cold, distant, pushing me away.
Now that I thought about it, it had always been that way. Rocco had trouble expressing himself, especially when it came to emotions, and we’d had many fights where I felt like he was cold or pushing me away. He’d always reassured me, kissed me, told me how much he loved me and how much I meant to him. Now, I didn’t have that luxury. We weren’t in love anymore. We didn’t know each other anymore, not like we had before.
Once upon a time, Rocco Moretti had been my best friend and my lover all rolled into one, and I was the only person he would open up to. Things had clearly changed in the last ten years, and I knew I was a different person, too. The problem was that he was still familiar to me. The way he made me feel was achingly, bittersweetly familiar, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.
“You’re welcome,” I said finally, walking back out and heading to the terrace to get some fresh air. Being this close to him yet feeling so far away was beginning to drive me crazy.
16
ROCCO
Allegra all but ignored me the next few days. She didn’t really, of course. She brought me food and water, helped me get up when I needed to. Hell, she even bathed me again, but this time she didn’t even look at me, really. She wouldn’t talk to me, either. I’d try to start a conversation and she’d change the subject, talk about something else, mostly about going home. I didn’t want to take her home, but I really had no other choice. She wanted to go, and she certainly wasn’t safe here. I’d nearly been killed twice trying to protect her, so clearly I wasn’t the man for the job. I wanted to throw things, punch walls, but I couldn’t do anything but lie in this goddamn bed.
