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“In any case, Rocco will stay here until I can arrange the meet with Ricardo. The two of you, along with my men, can listen in.” He nodded toward the room next to the office. It was just a small room with a twin bed, but you could hear everything from it. I used to sneak in there and listen in on my father’s business meetings. “We need to talk more about Rocco Moretti, but we’ll do that after we figure out what’s going on with Ricardo Gallo. Enzo and I have been on good terms for years now, so I don’t think he knows about Ricardo, but we’ll see.”
“You’re willing to risk it?” I asked, frowning.
My father shrugged. “That’s the life we live,carissima. You’d do well to remember that.”
I’d left the office to get back to Matteo, but then when Rocco was leaving the house, I had to go and stop him. After our argument, I didn’t know what to do. I stood outside the door, hearing him punch it and wincing with each punch. I knew I should leave, go to Matteo, explain things, but I felt like my feet were glued to the floor. Matteo had to be confused by the man in the doorway, the way Rocco and I had acted in front of him. I felt like I was failing as a mother, especially after my father’s words. Maybe I was wrong to keep Matteo from Rocco, and maybe Rocco was half-right—I had kept him a secret. But I hadn’t kept him secret because I was ashamed of him. I just didn’t want my father to judge him. And he was already judging him being Matteo’s father, although he’d taken it better than I’d thought.
I closed my eyes briefly and put my hand on the guest room door. I twisted it, hoping it wasn’t locked, and the door swung open. I scanned the room but Rocco was nowhere to be found, and then I realized there was the sound of a shower running. I swallowed hard. It wasn’t like it was anything I hadn’t seen before, right?
I stepped into the bathroom and called Rocco’s name. He turned off the water instantly and slid the shower curtain back. “Allegra? Didn’t I tell you to leave me the hell alone?” he barked.
I looked down his body at his bruised ribs, the red wounds from the chest tube on his right side. His muscles were still defined but he looked a little pale. I wondered if he’d recovered from losing too much blood, after all. I didn’t allow myself to look down further, already feeling my skin heat up. Rocco was even more attractive now than he had been ten years ago, and in the hotel rooms with the lights dim, I hadn’t been able to see his body very well. I’d been so focused on taking care of him that I hadn’t noticed how amazing his body was. But that didn’t matter now.
“You weren’t my dirty little secret,” I said softly. “I wanted to tell everyone how much I loved you, wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but you know how wiseguys are.”
“How’s that?” he asked, stepping out and slinging a towel around his hips.
I looked away, not wanting to admit that my father, that my people, could be prejudiced. “If you’re not full Sicilian—”
“Then you’re nothing,” Rocco answered for me bitterly. “So youwereashamed of me,stellina.” The pet name used in this context made a pang of guilt shoot through me. There might be some truth to what he was saying, but I didn’t realize it at the time.
“I’m not,” I admitted. “I mean, I wasn’t.”
Rocco took a few steps toward me, his dark hair slicked back from his forehead, his green eyes looking even more intense than usual. “If you weren’t ashamed of me, why did you keep my son from me?” he demanded to know.
I looked up at him. “You don’t have to do anything, Rocco. I can take care of Matteo on my own—”
He scoffed. “So you have money, therefore he doesn’t need to know his father?”
“That’s not what I said!” I cried.
He stepped even closer. “All I’m good for is a nice lay, is that it, Allegra?” he asked softly, staring down at me with a hot look.
I shivered at his words, feeling so many emotions I could barely control myself. I didn’t know if I wanted to hit him or kiss him, but I didn’t have to decide. Rocco tilted his head and kissed me, exploring my mouth with his tongue, and I couldn’t think anymore. I clutched at him and his towel fell between us, landing on the floor.
He picked me up and took me into the bedroom, but instead of putting me down on the bed he pressed me up against the wall, and I had a moment to be grateful that I’d shut and locked the door. He pressed against me and his hardness pressed against my thigh. I moaned into his mouth, wrapping my arms around his neck, my fingers playing in the wet hair at the nape of his neck. This, Rocco and I were good at. This was the one thing we always agreed on. Even when we were together all those years ago, there had been fights, Rocco accusing me of being ashamed of me, or jealous I was talking to someone else. I’d never cheated on him, but he’d always been so jealous. Now, though, I felt like he knew I was all his, had always been his. I’d never been with anyone who made me feel like Rocco did, and I had his child.
“I’m yours,” I whispered, wanting him to know it, feeling like I had to tell him.
“You’ve always been mine,” Rocco responded gruffly, ripping down my shorts and underwear and spearing into me, my back sliding up against the wall.
“Fuck,” I cursed, clutching at his neck as he thrust up beneath me. The wall was hard against my back and ass but Rocco’s arms held me up, his body pinning me against the wall. There was no foreplay, no buildup, just rough and desperate, and something about that made me feel slick between my legs, lubricating him as he rolled his hips into mine.
He grunted. “Maybe I am your dirty little secret, but you like the way I fuck you, don’t you,stellina?”
I wanted to tell him it wasn’t like that, to tell him it wasn’t just the sex, but I couldn’t seem to breathe, rocketing toward my orgasm. “I love it,” I gasped. “Love the way you make love to me.”
“This isn’t making love,” Rocco barked, and I shuddered all over as I came around him with a cry of his name. He clapped his hand over my mouth. “Wouldn’t want your Papa to hear, would you?”
My eyes rolled back into my head when I came again, him ramming into me. He moaned long and low when he spilled inside me, and my thighs trembled with the aftershocks of my orgasms. “Rocco,” I said shakily, and he picked up my clothes, all but threw them at me. I caught them and began to put them on, embarrassed.
“Don’t,” Rocco said, looking away from me. “We’re not friends. We could never be friends.”
“Don’t say that,” I pleaded. “Rocco, I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“This is all we are,” he said. “Just a rough fuck up against a wall.”
“What about Matteo?” I asked.
