Rocco Read online

  “Nothing happens without my consent.” It was as much as he was going to tell her, and even that revelation came through gritted teeth.

  Her expression turned thoughtful. “Kink?”

  “Fuck no.”

  She wanted more, and he could see her internal struggle reflected on her face, but mercifully she held back and climbed into bed beside him. “You’d better not introduce me to whoever did that to you.”

  Her fierce expression and her threatening words made him laugh. “I will never believe you again when you tell me you’re anti-violence, cara mia.”

  “Not when someone I care about is hurt.”

  Damn. Her protectiveness made his heart squeeze in his chest. She cared about him. It was more than he had ever hoped for that night she ran away, more than he had dreamed about in the lonely years since.

  “Come here, Gracie.” A smile tugged the corners of his lips. “I have something else that hurts and you can kiss the pain away.”

  “Again?” She crawled across the bed and straddled his hips. “I didn’t think you’d—”

  “I would what?” He covered her breasts with his palms, squeezed them firmly.

  “Be able to do it again so soon.” Her legs widened and she rocked her wet pussy over his shaft, already rock hard and ready for her again.

  “Why not? I have the sexiest woman in the city in my bed. And if I remember correctly, that was never an issue before. You used to beg me to take a break.” He puffed out his chest, proud of his youthful stamina, as he reached over to the nightstand for a condom.

  “You’re … older now.”

  “What?” He froze with the condom packet in his teeth.

  Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down. “Well, you’re in your thirties now—”

  “Jesus Christ.” He ripped on the packet and sheathed himself, then lifted her, angling his hips so the head of his cock just breached her entrance. “You think I can’t keep up? I am everything I was then and more. Bigger. Stronger. Faster. And I can go all fucking night long.”

  Grace’s body shook, and he lifted her chin with one finger to see her laughing. “Little minx. You know just where to drive the knife.”

  “I love you like this,” she said, running her hands over his shoulders. “You are beautiful to me. No matter how old—”

  He cut her off with a kiss as he drove his cock into her warm, wet heat. Grace gasped into his mouth and he pushed her up. “Ride me, dolcezza. I want to hear you scream as your old man pleasures the fuck out of you.”

  “So romantic.”

  “Right now I am beyond romance. You are so damn hot and wet, I can’t think about anything else.” He lifted her and slid in deeper, his hips forcing her thighs apart.

  “It’s your fault.” She leaned back, grinding over his cock, her hands squeezing her breasts, and fuck wasn’t that the hottest thing he’d ever seen. “The way you touch me, the way you talk to me and look at me. Everything about you makes me hot.”

  And everything about her made him hard. He understood now why Cesare said women made a man weak. He would die for this—not just the act itself, but the connection with her that took the encounter from just a physical act to something that nourished his soul. Cesare was dangerous to his body, but Grace was dangerous to his heart.

  He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her gently, creating a steady, slow rhythm that threatened his self-control.

  Grace squirmed on top of him, her hard nipples rubbing over his chest. “We did it slow last time,” she complained.

  Yes, they did, but he was reluctant to let go the way he had before. He wanted to learn her body again before he took her the way he really wanted—hard and wild and with utter abandon.

  Sliding his hands down, he squeezed her ass as he pumped into her pussy. His middle finger stroking closer and closer to the cleft between her cheeks. When the tip of his finger brushed her rear entrance, she froze and her pussy clenched around him. He kept up the rhythm, waiting for her muscles to relax before he did it again. On the third pass, he slicked her moisture and drew gentle circles over her puckered opening.

  “Rocco?” Her voice was thin with uncertainty but heavy with desire.

  “I want you here, Gracie.”

  “We never did that before.”

  He didn’t want to ask the next question, but he needed to know. “You ever had a man in your ass?”

  Her voice was so quiet when she answered, he almost missed it. “No.”

  A satisfied growl escaped his lips. He had been all her firsts, and now he would be the first man in her most intimate place. Gracie would be his. In all ways, she could belong to him.

  “I’m going to make it good for you, the way I made your first time. You’re gonna love having me in your ass.”

  She gave him a half smile. “I like your dirty talking.”

  “I gotta whole lotta dirty waiting for my girl.”

  Grace pushed herself up and canted her hips, grinding her clit against his pubic bone as she twisted her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. “Your girl likes dirty.”

  His girl.

  Riding his cock.

  Wanting all the dirty he could give.

  It was too fucking much. He grabbed her hips, bucked and grunted as they ground together. When her cheeks flushed and her pussy clenched around him, he slid his thumb over the hard knot of her clit and rubbed her hard. Her low guttural groan set him off, and they came together, her pussy rippling around his cock as he pumped his release in a rush of white-hot heat.

  “Not bad for an old man,” she murmured, collapsing over top of him.

  “I’m not done with you yet.” Utterly spent, he smoothed his hand up and down her back, and willed himself to revive quickly.

  Neither of them spoke for a long time. Finally, he gently moved her to the side to dispose of the condom. When he returned, she had put on his T-shirt and was lying on her side. Rocco climbed into bed beside her and pulled her over his chest. He liked the weight of her, the warmth, the softness of her body against his.

  “You called me your girl,” she said.

  Rocco swallowed hard. “Yeah, I did.”

  “We never talked about…” She twisted her lips to the side. “I mean … I don’t know.”

  He felt her hesitation like a knife to his gut. “I’m not asking anything of you, Gracie.” His voice cracked, broke. “But to me … right here…” He thumped his chest. “You’ve always been my girl.”

  “And you’ve always been my man.”

  Rocco gave a satisfied grunt. “Your man wants you naked in bed.”

  “It’s kind of cold,” she teased.

  “I’ll warm you up.” He placed her hand on his cock, already semi-hard, and she laughed.

  “I take back everything I said about your age. You are a machine.”

  He wanted her again, but he was also content to just hold her, so he stroked his hand down her back and listened to the steady beat of her heart. “Your singing tonight was amazing,” he said. “Your voice has changed. It’s so much richer, deeper, and you’ve doubled your range.”

  “I took proper voice lessons when I moved here to help me land the radio gigs. I’ve also done some behind-the-scenes recording work. It was a way to keep singing without being in front of people.”

  Gently, he cupped her jaw and stroked his thumb over the scar. He remembered every brutal second of the knife slicing down her cheek, felt the searing pain as if it had been done to him. “And now, cara mia? Will you sing again?”

  “I don’t know. I might do local gigs if I can wear the mask. Ethan has threatened to play a recording of himself singing twenty-four hours a day unless I agree.”

  “You can perform on my stage anytime.” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. “If it helps you gain confidence, you can sing there every night. You can have your dream, Gracie. I’ll do anything to make it happen.”

  “I know being an enforcer was never your dream.” She pushed herself highe
r, giving him a tantalizing view of her breasts. “What about owning a jazz club?”

  “I’ll have to let you know. I’ve only had one day on the job.” He shifted her slightly, nudging her legs apart so his shaft was nestled at the juncture of her thighs.

  “I suppose I’ve only had one day on the job too.” She wiggled against him and fuck if he wasn’t fully hard again. “I never thought I could make it big. At best, I thought I’d sing in the evenings after I finished my day job. But after I got my degree, the day job didn’t happen. So I think in my heart I was secretly dreaming the impossible dream.” She hummed a few bars of “Impossible Dream” and he felt a rush of pleasure like nothing he’d felt before.

  “Sing it for me, dolcezza.” He lifted her hips and thrust up into her wetness. “Live your dream as I live mine.”

  He flipped them over and licked and sucked her nipples as he withdrew and slid home again, over and over as her beautiful voice filled the room. She made it to the part about the unreachable star and then he slicked his thumb over her clit and sent her there. And they fell back to earth together.

  FOURTEEN

  “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.” Grace squeezed her father’s hand. For the first time since the shooting, her father was able to sit up and talk coherently. She had rushed to the hospital after one of the nurses called to tell her they had stopped giving him the painkillers that kept him sedated and had moved him out of the ICU and to a private room on the recovery floor.

  “It seems I have a lot of unfinished business,” her father said, his forehead creased in a worried frown. “I decided I’d had enough rest. I’ve been on the phone already this morning with my capos and with Piero Forzani, who is still grieving his son’s death. Tell me what’s been going on.”

  “Tom has been missing since the shooting.”

  Papa paled. “No body?”

  “No, Papa. I’ve been trying to find him.” Grace filled him in on everything that had happened as well as the information Rocco had given her last night without mentioning Rocco by name—Tony hiring Albanians to hunt for Tom, her suspicions that Tony and his crew were responsible for the shooting at Carvello’s, and Nico’s efforts to keep him safe.

  “I owe Nico a debt,” her father said. “I was about to call him when you arrived. I’ve been trying all morning to get through to Don Gamboli to discuss this matter but I’m getting no answer.”

  “What about his consigliere, Luigi Cavallo?”

  “Nothing.” Her father shook his head. “I tried Don Gamboli’s bodyguard and his wife and brother, and no answer from them either. I’ve sent some of my capos in New York out to see what they can find.”

  “Rocco said Nico was trying to get in touch with them as well and had no luck.”

  “Rocco?”

  Grace swallowed hard. “Yes, Rocco De Lucchi. He was at the Carvello’s. One of the shooters shouted something about taking me alive and Rocco has been protecting me.”

  Papa squeezed her hand so much she thought he would break a bone. “Why was he there?”

  “I…” She sucked in her lips. “He came to see me. We were in—”

  “Did you invite him?”

  “No, Papa, but we—”

  “Did you tell him who we were meeting and where?”

  Grace twisted her hands together in her lap. “No.”

  Papa pushed himself up on the bed. “So he just showed up? When you were having dinner with your family and family friends? How did he find you?”

  Grace’s stomach twisted in a knot. “I don’t know. I guess he followed me.”

  “He followed you.” Papa’s voice rose to a shout. “Jesus Christ. He’s a De Lucchi. If he was there, he was involved. He probably had the contract on Tom and me, and he brought those men along to make sure the job got done.”

  “No.” She pulled her hand away. “He shot at them. He protected us, protected you and Tom. He turned over a table, and he shot one of the guys in the chest. Then he got me out of there and took me somewhere safe.”

  “Did he kill the man he shot?”

  Sweat beaded on her forehead. “No. Rocco said he was wearing a vest.”

  Papa snorted a laugh. “Was anyone dead when you left?”

  Grace’s mouth went dry. “No.”

  “Then they were his men. Have you ever heard of a De Lucchi leaving anyone alive?”

  She pushed her chair away from the side of his bed and stood. “He left you alive. And Tom. And me. He saved me. And he’s been helping me look for Tom.”

  “Helping you so you would lead him to Tom and he could whack him, no doubt.”

  “No. That’s not how it was.” Grace hugged herself, wrapping her cold hands around her body. “Nico’s wife and his underboss’s wife helped me track Tom’s phone to a trailer park. Rocco showed up with some of his men, and he went into the trailer. I heard shots, and he came out with blood on him. He said there were three Albanians inside, and he could get one of them to talk. He brought me Tom’s phone.”

  “Most likely they had Tom, too,” Papa said. “Did you go inside? Did you look for yourself if Tom was there? Did you see this Albanian who was willing to talk? Did you talk to him?”

  “No. I asked Rocco to”—her mouth went dry—“question one of them for me so we could find Tom, and he promised he wouldn’t kill him.”

  “Cristo santo!” Papa exploded, throwing up his hands and treating Grace to a string of choice Italian swear words. “A De Lucchi told you he wouldn’t kill someone, and you believed him.” Papa’s voice turned cold. “You led him right to your brother and took him at his word that your brother wasn’t there. And you let him convince you Tony was behind the hit. How naïve can you be?”

  “I trust him,” she said quietly.

  “Well, you’re the only person who does. The rest of us know who he is. He is a De Lucchi. They are not good men. A man is defined by the lines he won’t cross, but the De Lucchis have no boundaries. Once they have a contract they will do whatever it takes to fulfill it. They will pretend to be your boyfriend, your lover, your friend—they will use you, betray you, hurt you—anything to get the job done.”

  A shiver ran down Grace’s spine. “He’s not like that. I know him. I was…” She fisted her skirt, steeled herself to reveal a truth she had kept hidden for so long. “We were together before I left New York. For two years.”

  Far from being angry or aghast, her father waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. A teenage crush. You meant nothing to him. The De Lucchis don’t have relationships. Love, caring, empathy—all the emotions you seem to have too much of—are beaten out of them starting when they are ten years old. They are given things to care about when they are children, just so they can be taken away.” His face softened. “The De Lucchi boys all get a puppy when they are adopted, polpetto. I’ll bet you never saw him with a dog.”

  Grace’s eyes watered. “Don’t, Papa. Don’t tell me that.”

  “And you.” He shook his head. “Did you think Cesare wouldn’t know about you? If you were with him for two years, it was only because Cesare allowed it for the sole purpose of breaking him by taking you away. Is that what happened the night you came back to me with bandages on your face asking questions about who we were and who were the De Lucchi crew?”

  “Cesare said he would kill Rocco if I told you about what happened that night.” Her hand went to her cheek. “I believed him.”

  “He would never kill his son, because if he did, he would have to adopt another boy and start again. It is required under their code. He doesn’t have a son of his own. Few of them do, because it is not easy to find a woman willing to marry a De Lucchi, especially knowing that the relationship will be one without love.”

  “Rocco loved me,” she blurted out.

  “Maybe you loved him, but he didn’t love you, polpetto. The De Lucchis don’t know how to love.”

  “You’re wrong.” She trembled all over. “He did love me. I felt it.” She tapped her chest,
and a pained expression crossed her father’s face.

  “How many times do I tell you, those feelings you have, that your mother and the women in the family claim to have, are not real?”

  “I felt something was wrong when we got to Carvello’s,” she snapped. “Tom laughed at me. But I was right. Look what happened.”

  “Rocco De Lucchi showed up with a contract to kill your family is what happened.” Papa thudded the bed rail, wincing as he did. “And the comment about you being left alive … we don’t involve women in our affairs. Even a De Lucchi won’t harm a woman. No doubt he wanted them to take you out so there was no risk of you being shot.”

  “What about this?” She ran her hand down her face. “A De Lucchi did this to me.”

  Papa’s lips tightened. “I don’t have an answer, but once I get in touch with the don, you will be avenged.”

  Grace had never thought about revenge. She’d never once thought about making Cesare pay for what he’d done. All she’d ever thought about was Rocco, what he’d done that night at the creek, and how she’d felt sickened and betrayed. But now that she was with him again, knowing what he’d been through, she wanted Cesare to pay. Not for what he’d done to her, but for what he’d done to Rocco. Despite what her father said about the De Lucchis, she trusted her feelings in a way she hadn’t before. What she had with him now was real. What she saw behind the De Lucchi mask he was forced to wear was a man strong enough to withstand Cesare’s training. This time she would be strong, too. She wasn’t going to turn her back on him and run away.

  “What are we going to do about Tom?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “You’re not going to do anything. I’m able to think now that they aren’t pumping me full of drugs, and I should be out of here in a few days. I’ll ask Piero Forzani to coordinate a search for Tom, and I’ll speak to Nico about getting some of his capos involved. We will find him, and after we do, and an appropriate mourning period for Benito has passed, you’ll marry the Forzani’s younger son, Dino.”