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“Fine. It’s none of your business.”
“I don’t accept that.”
“You are seriously starting to piss me off.”
“Am I? Then how about we walk a little way down memory lane, to a certain afternoon when you flew into London and practically beat me over the head with my own stupidity…”
That was true. At Portia’s request, Rocco had played an instrumental part in helping Dante wake up and see what was right in front of him. If he hadn’t, Dante would have let Georgia go.
Instead, Rocco had helped him see things clearly, and the rest was history. Except, Rocco was seeing things clearly—as was Maddie. Their situation was hopeless. He’d ruined any chance of a future with her—and that was even before he could say, with confidence, that he knew how to offer her that future. How could he give her promises when he had no idea if he could live up to them? He’d seen his dad break people apart, hurt them emotionally, and somehow, Rocco had always thought he’d be just the same. He went out of his way not to hurt the women he was with, but nor did he give them any part of himself beyond his body.
Until Maddie.
He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. And without even realizing what he was doing, he started to talk. He began at the beginning, funnily enough, describing his first meeting with Maddie. He spoke of her fiery hair and furious temper, of the way she seemed more alive and vibrant than anyone he’d ever met. He told Dante about their spark, about the way they couldn’t be together without connecting. But he also told him about all his misguided thoughts—his initial temptation to use their chemistry to convince her to sell, and finally, mortifyingly, his offer after the wedding.
Dante listened with only a hint of sympathy on his face. He said nothing in response; no judgement, no reassurance. He was just a wall to Rocco, almost as though he were talking to himself. Afterward, Dante simply stood up and poured two more measures of scotch, bringing one to Rocco with a grim expression.
“What do you want?”
Rocco frowned, not quite understanding his cousin’s question.
“Do you even know?”
Rocco’s eyes were hollow. His gut, more so.
“Listen, my friend.” Dante sat down once more, legs wide, elbows resting on his knees, his expression earnest. “Nothing about your life is normal.” Dante sipped his drink, thoughtfully. “None of our lives are, Georgia informs me. How can you be born into money like this and live a normal life? But my parents loved each other. They raised us to respect those values, to want love for ourselves. Your father did the opposite. In every way imaginable, he poisoned you to the whole idea. I have watched from the sidelines for years, as you did everything you could to keep people—women—at a distance.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Dante fixed him with a measured glance, but despite the provocation, he refused to be drawn into a conversation about the years he spent doing exactly the same thing.
“You love Maddie.”
Rocco jack-knifed off the chair, the words like a curse, or a whip. It was not the first time he’d heard them. Those same words had whispered through his mind and soul all week, perhaps, even, longer. But they were not words he trusted; not words he had faith in.
“There is no future there.”
“Perhaps not,” Dante agreed. “Not after the way you’ve treated her. I suppose you’ll never know unless you ask her.”
“She won’t even take my calls.”
Dante stood, pressing his fingertips into the table, eyes on Rocco with a hint of disbelief. “How many difficult—no, almost impossible—deals have you negotiated? Pushing people to listen to you—getting them to see your way—is your gift, Rocco. Do so now. Make her understand.”
“How? How can I explain?”
“By being honest. Tell her about your life. Your hesitations. Your pain.”
He flinched, not wanting to admit any such thing. Not to another soul, and especially not to Maddie.
“It won’t matter. Everyone has baggage—including her. She deserved so much better.”
“So, tell her that, too.”
He closed his eyes on a wave of frustration. “You make it sound easy.”
“Do I? That’s not my intention. I think it’s going to be almost impossible. But what’s the alternative to trying? To give up? To never see her again?”
Rocco’s heart thumped against his ribs. That idea was impossible to stomach. He swore loudly, dropping his head.
