CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
R occo scowled, peering at his phone. “Fuck me.”
I took off my sunglasses. “What’s wrong?”
He handed the cell over and swiped down his face, letting out another curse.
We were up early, lying on lawn chairs on the deck of his yacht, only having just left the port in Nice, France. Our schedule was full back in Florence, with family due to arrive for our wedding preparation this week. Besides that, Rocco was ready to leave the festival. The article confirmed he had been right about the media on his ex, Marjorie’s, impromptu addition to The Age of Sin’s interview panel. The press went with the angle of gossiping about his old relationship instead of highlighting the movie’s success.
Marjorie Stormed her way back into Rocco Marini’s Heart: The Age of Sin premiere at Cannes Film Festival.
The torn lovers sparked rumors of a rekindled romance at the Cannes Film Festival premiere. The Patchworks actress surprised everyone by turning up for the screening of The Age of Sin. And from the cozy picture of Marjorie’s head lying lovingly on his shoulder and a smooch on the cheek, one can only guess where the lovers ended up after the panel. (Photos courtesy of Gertz images.)
I did a quick search online to lift his spirits. Unfortunately, the other top article headlines were no better:
Fiancée flees screening of The Age of Sin as sparks fly between Billionaire Rocco Marini and Actress Marjorie Storm.
Pending wedding on the rocks as the Marjorie Storm blows away the competition to Billionaire Rocco Marini’s heart.
Anyone who had seen the photo of them would draw the same conclusion—that they were back together. I placed his phone back on the seat next to him, but even it being out of sight didn’t lessen the pain in my chest or the embarrassment. The public is sure he dumped me already. But it all hurt Rocco, too. I wanted to soothe his disappointment after hearing about all the effort he put into the production.
I typed a search for the critic’s score and held it out to him. “Ninety-six percent fresh. That’s a winner.” I added cheeriness to my voice, though my hand shook when I held out the phone for him to take.
He put it in his pocket and came closer to me. The corners of his mouth turned down. “I had nothing to do with Marjorie after the panel. I promise.”
I cleared my throat. “Rocco, I know. It’s gossip.”
His phone buzzed. We glanced over at the screen. Morgan Steele.
Rocco cursed, and I snarled at seeing his name. He let the call go to voicemail. “Too late, man. I’ll deal with him later.”
Morgan had as good as admitted last night that he’d engineered the scandal to drum up more attention, but it had backfired and hurt his friend, and his work as an up-and-coming director. It surprised me how selfish Morgan and Marjorie had been. Our lives were similar in that respect. Are we all tools to use?
Rocco’s jaw ticked. “I hate how this all hurts you. I blame Isla for having you leave the panel—”
“I wanted to leave, Rocco.” I touched his arm. “That’s on me.”
The blame rested on me because I didn’t want to watch him with Marjorie.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Bella.” He kissed my swollen lips, his eyes boring into mine. My skin tingled, and I touch a sore spot on my neck, where he’d marked me. His gaze followed my hand, and from the heat in his gaze, I knew he was thinking of fucking me again.
He hadn’t gone easy on me, which had left me breathless. I now know what it means to be fucked hard all night long.
Cassidy had been right about Rocco. He lived his life with passion and speed, and I would now be the lucky recipient of that passion. She was right to be jealous. But I loved how she didn’t hold that against me. Unlike Rocco’s “friends.” I believed him that he wasn’t a man to cheat, especially because of how hard he’d fought for me to believe him. What I was also learning was that Rocco’s life was one of constant motion, something so different to my college life. But with the freedom and encouragement he’d already given me, I could see myself quickly adapting. I will keep up, because that will also make life easier for him. And just as he wanted me to be happy, I realized that I wanted the same for him.
I yawned, and Rocco squeezed my shoulder. “Let’s go back to bed.”
We left the chairs, and I slipped back on my sandals to walk down the deck and stairs. Two floors down was the large bedroom we slept in on our way to Cannes. I sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed.
Rocco bent down and removed my shoes.
“You know I can do that,” I told him.
“Yes, but my instincts tell me you like this, too.”
“Did they tell you I’d like to submit to you in bed?” I raised a brow.
He grinned broadly. “No, I just hoped, and I’m happy you do. I can’t wait to see what else you’ll do for me.”
He removed his shoes, stretched next to me, and pulled me on top of him. I couldn’t wait to go back to the house in Florence, curl up on a sofa, and read.
Rocco put his arm around me and held me. I added him to my fantasy of reading on the chair. Somehow, he had pulled a door open in my chest, bringing in his sun, and I lifted high. Right now, snuggled deeply in his arms, this life was becoming a dream I didn’t want to wake from.
Nevertheless, I listened to his heartbeat and soon fell asleep.
I woke before we docked and typed an email for myself on career ideas. Janus may not have been serious, but he had me thinking more about what I could do besides start a family.
“We’re docking soon,” Rocco called behind me. He came over and peered down at the screen. “I’m glad to see you’re moving forward.”
“It’s early, but I love to travel. I could use my ability to speak other languages. Janus wanted it to be more of a public persona, but I’m thinking more behind the scenes, like creating something I can oversee as a company? Art? Art therapy? Illustration? But that’s way far in the future.”
I held my breath, unsure what he’d think about me running a business.
Rocco nodded approvingly. “Yeah. Let’s look into it more.”
My head tilted back and up to his. “Seriously?”
He squeezed my shoulder. “Seriously. Let’s have the wedding ceremony and everything else first. Then, we’ll see what we can do.”
Rocco’s phone vibrated. He groaned, reached into his pocket, and smiled at the screen. “It’s my mom, which means she’s probably at the house.” He answered. “Hello, Mom…how was your flight? You, dad, and Siena are here. Where’s Salvatore? Oh yeah…Sure. We’re back in Florence, just docked…Oh? Okay. Don’t worry. We’re on our way.” He grimaced and put the phone away, his brows pulled together.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Not sure.” He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But we need to get moving. Everyone’s at the house.”
We quickly put on our shoes and left for the deck. The yacht docked, and Rocco went over to Zane to talk to him. After a few minutes, we all left.
Zane rushed ahead with his phone to his ear. A few minutes later, a Mercedes appeared with Rick behind the wheel. The rush to get into the car and the urgency of the drive had my head spinning. I clutched my stomach, which lurched. It reminded me of the night Mama and I had gone to my grandparents’ home. I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. Then again, no one thought me an optimist.
My hands fumbled into my purse as I checked for messages. Nothing.
When I looked across at Rocco, his eyes were clouded.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. He squeezed my hand but didn’t answer.
My focus remained glued to the window as the road to the villa finally appeared. I took a few quick breaths to slow my pulse and fought with my mind to stop the dread creeping into my thoughts. We’re worrying for nothing. Everything’s fine.
Yet, the closer we moved down the drive, the clearer it became that something was going on. There were at least five cars lined up outside. The second the car stopped, Rocco climbed out and half-jogged to the house. I rushed out to keep up with him.
“What’s wrong?” I called to his back, but he kept running.
The front door was slightly open, and high-pitched wailing came from someone inside. What was going on?
Rocco rushed forward, and I followed him to the source. To my surprise, it was Mrs. Marini. She was on her knees while Mr. Marini held her as she screamed.
Rocco’s sister Siena appeared and grabbed him. “It’s Grandpa. He’s gone.”
My head pounded rapidly as everything went blurry. No. They have it wrong. We just had dinner and laughed together. He was fine….
“Grandpa? Dead? It can’t be.” Rocco’s voice graveled. Siena let out a sob, and he held her tight.
“He passed away in his sleep, son. It was sudden,” Mr. Marini answered as if someone had asked.
I took a step back and then another until I was out of the room. Mr. Marini can’t be gone. A film rolled in my head of that night eight years ago when he’d called me over to use the heat lamps by the bench. I wasn’t sure where I’d go or what to do, but I’d walked over. He hadn’t known me at all, but he had cared. From that moment on, he never left. And I clung to every text, letter, or call because he made me feel like I was his family….
I fell to my knees and tears poured out of my eyes. A sob erupted, and Rocco was there. He held on to me as more tears wracked my body. I cried because no words would ever cover what he’d meant to me. Each tear mourned the emptiness inside my heart.
To Mama, I was a defender. To my grandparents, I was a pawn. But to Mr. Luca Marini, I was his dolce Adelina , and he just loved me, for me. And that made me weep all the more because I doubted anyone would ever love me like that again.