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Walk Away.
Repeat.
His father had given them all a masterclass in walling off your heart—he’d even pushed his own children away when they were hurting the very worst. Rocco had done what he could to hold things together, but it had never seemed like enough.
Yeah, he had his reasons for avoiding relationships.
Maddie was different, though. Her childhood had been similarly less than ideal, albeit in different ways. Her mother had abandoned her, but her grandparents had loved her and raised her with that love. And then what?
It was a bad breakup.
His frown deepened. She had remained tight-lipped about her ex—someone significant enough to still be at the forefront of her mind, even now. Someone who’d meant something to her. Whom she’d loved.
His gut churned with emotions that he didn’t fully comprehend—he knew only that they were darker than black.
Was that why she was single? Because of her ex? Because she still loved him? Or because he’d hurt her so badly? Neither answer gave him much joy.
A burst of applause caught him off guard and he blinked, as if coming to after passing out. For a moment, he’d forgotten where he was. But the reality of the wedding usurped all else, and he shook his brother’s hand, a smile plastered on his face, before moving to the bride to offer his congratulations.
She wrapped her arms around him, kissed his cheek, smiled up at him then shifted her attention to Marco, so Rocco expelled a sigh of relief. He wanted to be happy for his brother; he wanted to believe he’d made the right decision.
As the happy couple made their way down the aisle, his eyes scanned the crowd for Maddie once more—harder now, that everyone was standing—but he did find her, a little further back, as if she were getting ready to leave. And suddenly, despite what he’d said, he wasn’t ready for that. It wasn’t time—not quite yet anyway.
As soon as he was at liberty, he cut away from the bridal party, just briefly, moving to her. He recognized a few members of staff that had formed a huddle to watch from a respectful distance; he didn’t worry about them.
“Do you have a moment?”
Her eyes widened in shock, and her skin paled. She shook her head with disapproval. “No, sir,” she added extra emphasis to the title. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s important,” he insisted with natural authority.
“Don’t you have to do wedding photos?” she asked, thinking of the area she’d set up with even more elaborate arrangements, to form a perfect wall of flowers as a backdrop for the family pictures.
“They’ll wait,” he dismissed.
Maddie’s teeth pressed into her lower lip and his whole body reverberated with awareness.
“Please,” she whispered under her breath. “People are looking.”
“They’ll think I’m congratulating you on the exceptional floral arrangements.”
“Not if they know anything about you and your—lifestyle—they won’t,” she contradicted, with a quick shake of her head.
For some reason, that pissed him off, even when it also brought a small smile to his lips. “Don’t leave the property,” he said, aware that he was, indeed, required for the formal photographs. “I want to speak to you.”
Maddie’s heart was in her throat as she made her way back to the marquee. She hadn’t planned to leave right away, anyway. There was tidying up to do, and besides, it didn’t feel right to simply disappear. She’d poured her heart and soul into this wedding; she wanted to float on the success of that for a while longer.
But Rocco had somehow managed to take the shine off it. Or maybe it wasn’t that, so much as…he’d pulled on her, drawing her back to reality. When he’d stalked over to her, after the wedding, she’d wanted to be near him so, so badly, it had felt like she’d been drowning, and he’d thrown her a lifeline.
Except, she hadn’t just wanted to be close to him. She’d wanted to touch him. To be completely consumed by him, as she always was when they made love. She’d wanted to wrap her arms around his waist, lift onto the tips of her toes and claim his lips with her own. How badly she wanted him had terrified her. The fact she was wasting time, cleaning up slowly, waiting for him to come to her, made her ashamed of herself. This was all getting so out of hand—the only saving grace she could cling to was that it was almost, almost over.
Soon they’d be back in America, and this would all seem like a distant dream. A fantasy.
The formalities were never-ending. When all Rocco wanted to do was to escape and find Maddie, there were endless photographs to pose for, and then the party began in earnest. Before he could sneak off, he was absorbed into conversation with his aunt and uncle, and then his cousins, their wives, and his brother. Anytime he thought he might be able to extricate himself, someone else came to speak to him, so it was more than an hour after the photographs had concluded before he finally found some space and used it to liberate himself. He grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, and weaved towards the side of the garden, around behind the stage which had been set up for the band, and towards the staging area for wedding central. A series of marquees had been joined together—one for floristry, one for staff, one for food preparation. He made a beeline for Maddie’s, but once inside, he simply stopped.
And stood.
And stared.
