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“I work for Dante, he runs the whole company,” she reminded Maddie. “And the family’s incredibly close. They discuss every aspect of, well, everything. Especially work. You’ve been making Rocco’s life hell for a good while now.”
Despite the tenor of her words, Portia was grinning.
“You think it’s funny?” Maddie asked but without any acid to her tone. She was simply interested.
“Well, kind of. I mean, I love this family, but let’s be real. They’re pretty blessed. I mean, tall, dark, handsome, filthy rich, powerful…it’s kind of entertaining to see them put through their paces.”
Maddie’s answering smile was spontaneous. “I guess I have been doing plenty of that.”
Portia’s eyes skimmed Maddie’s face. “Good. That’s good for Rocco. Only…”
“Yeah?”
She was aware of voices, not too far away, and knew they would be joined by others soon. Sure enough, she caught sight of Lilliana and Marcia just outside the marquee, locked in conversation.
“You know he’s going to win, right?”
Maddie bit into her lower lip. She’d accepted the reality of that, and yet it still felt like a betrayal. She blinked away quickly.
Portia’s hand covered Maddie’s, squeezing it. “He’s a good guy—one of the best. But when it comes to business, he’s truly one-eyed. He will not let anyone, or anything, stand in his way. Drive a hard bargain, Maddie. Get everything you want and need, and then walk away, without looking back. The best thing is to take the money and live your best life.” She squeezed Maddie’s hand again. “I’m sorry about the house.”
Maddie’s eyes were wide with surprise—both surprised at how much she liked this other woman, and how much her advice stung.
It was good advice, kindly given. A warning, in the face of what was inevitable. Rocco would get the house. Just like he’d gotten all the others. Rocco would win, but it didn’t necessarily have to follow that Maddie would lose.
Maybe she could strike a deal that really did make it worth her while to walk away. From the house…and from Rocco. Her gut churned as she forced herself to stare unflinchingly into that reality. No house, no home. And no Rocco to spar with; no Rocco to make love to. No Rocco, period.
She should have been rejoicing. A week ago, she would have been. But now, the very idea filled her with a sense of dread that infuriated her—and which she was determined to conquer.
How strange that she should have this epiphany whilst preparing for the lifelong commitment of another Santoro, to the woman he loved. They were planning for their ‘happily ever after’, and all the while, Maddie was realizing that after this wedding, she definitely couldn’t see Rocco again.
Because nothing was straightforward anymore.
She no longer hated him, and without that hate, other feelings were starting to swirl through her and to grow, to threaten to dominate. Feelings that complicated everything, that made her want to rely on him, to trust him, to put her faith in his hands—and if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that the risk of doing so with Rocco was too great. She couldn’t do it.
“You look exhausted.” Rocco stared at Maddie, without stepping into the hotel room.
She smothered a yawn as he watched, and something inside of him flickered. Regret? Because whilst bringing her to Italy to do the wedding flowers would be a boon for her professionally, he should have known Marcia would want her pound of flesh.
“Thanks,” she said, rolling her eyes a little, so he heard the comment and realized it might have sounded like an insult. But even exhausted, Maddie couldn’t look anything but bewitching. Utterly, and completely enchanting. She was beautiful, but it was so much more than that.
“I thought you might be hungry.”
Maddie’s lips pulled to the side. “I’m starving, actually. I was just about to order room service.”
Rocco had been thinking the same thing—a night in with Maddie, enjoying her, making love to her until the small hours of the morning, like he had last night—it was all he’d been thinking about for the entire day. But seeing her now, he realized she needed to sleep, more than anything else.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he decided, spontaneously.
“Come and let me cook for you; then, I’ll bring you back.”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t want to come in?”
It was too tempting. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her to him, kissing her slowly, even when his whole body wanted him to go fast. Wanted more. Needed with an intensity that almost overwhelmed him.
“I want to come in, very badly. But I suspect you’ve had a bit of a day and need an early night?”
She raised one eyebrow, her features difficult to read. “Why, Rocco Santoro…what happened to my nights being yours, whilst in Italy?”
