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Rocco thought about that. It would be strange for him not to be there. This was the family home, the place they gathered and shared stories, talked business, connected. No matter where in the globe they were living or working, the Santoros could be found here. Except…Maddie. He thought about coming for dinner, leaving her to her own devices, and it was like being pricked by a thousand razor blades. He shook his head, feigning regret. “I’ve got a meeting I can’t reschedule.”
Dante’s lips formed a quizzical line, but before he could ask for more details, Rocco spoke. “You wanted to talk privately?”
Dante’s expression grew thunderous, and he looked around quickly. “I’m sure you can guess why.”
Rocco nodded. “The office?”
Dante gestured to lead the way, but before setting off in that direction, Rocco couldn’t resist one last glance towards the window. At first, he was thwarted, unable to see her, but then, his attentiveness was rewarded by the quickest glance of the back of one of her red sneakers. His gut tightened with anticipation and need, a heady combination that had him wanting to speed through this conversation and then go in search of her.
“You have to tell him.” Dante’s missive was low-voiced and to the point. As he spoke, he walked towards the side of the room and poured two measures of whisky into cut crystal glasses.
“You can’t be serious.”
“He deserves to know.”
Rocco’s lips formed a flat line. “To know what?” He demanded. “That she made a drunken pass at me one night when they were only first dating?”
“They’d been dating—sleeping together—for months, and she asked you to her bed. Does it matter she did not know you were related?”
Rocco stood firm, only shifting to take the proffered drink from Dante, and holding it without sipping.
“She was remorseful.”
Dante snorted. “Or acted like it.”
Rocco lifted the scotch to his lips and drank a small measure. “You and I feel the same way about her. I don’t like her, nor do you. But this isn’t up to us. Raf loves her. He’s loyal to her, for some reason. If either of us gets involved, he won’t forgive us for it.”
“He’s too nice for her.”
Rocco lifted a brow.
“Nice,” Dante repeated. “You know what I mean,” he waved a hand through the air, impatient. “You or I can handle someone like that. We’ve been in the world more. Raf’s…”
“He’s not as innocent as you think.”
“Oh, really?” Dante prompted skeptically. “Enlighten me.”
“Okay, he’s a good guy,” Rocco grunted. “But that’s more to the point: he’s marrying her. All we can do now is get on board and try to make nice.”
“With Marcia?”
“With Marcia,” he agreed. Then, finishing his scotch, he walked to the edge of the desk and placed it down. “She’s pregnant.”
Dante froze. “What?”
“That’s why he proposed. Or at least, it’s one of the reasons,” Rocco hastened to add. “Need I remind you what a powerful motivator that is?”
Dante’s cheeks flushed. It was no secret that his proposal to Georgia had come about because of her unexpected pregnancy. At the time, Dante had been determined to mourn his late first wife for the rest of his life and had sworn off any other commitment.
“Now imagine you’d been in a relationship with Georgia for two years,” Rocco said, slowly. “Would anything cause you to break off the engagement, with a baby on the way?”
Dante finished his own scotch with an emphatic, ‘damn’, then shoved the glass down on the table. “So, this is happening?”
“This is happening,” Rocco agreed. “We just have to smile and bear it.”
“I make no promises,” Dante muttered. “But I will tell you this. If she hit on you, how are you so sure she hasn’t done it to dozens of men, and with more success?”
Rocco had wondered that himself. “Raf’s not an idiot,” he said, after a beat. “And I think she truly loves him.”
