Chapter Twelve #2
‘I don’t care about what made us rich,’ Rocco said. ‘You’ve tainted that legacy. Only you have the ability to make this good again between us. With Silvestri. I’ll show you out.’
Rocco strode to the door and pushed it open. Ushering his father towards the side of the house where there was a path that would take him out front. He only hoped to get him off the property before Lily and Carmella returned from their trip to the markets …
Except, standing at the back of the house on the rear patio where they ate their breakfast, stood Lily. Hand to her chest. Eyes wide. She wore a pretty floral dress that moulded her body. The small bump, unmistakable.
His father stopped, turned to Rocco. Pointed.
‘Who’s that?’
‘None of your business.’
‘You’ll be my business till my dying day because you’re my son.’
Lily’s soft voice interrupted the thick and angry space between him and his father. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘I’m just seeing Vito out,’ Rocco replied.
His father scoffed. ‘You’re not even claiming me as your father. I see what you’ve done. Bringing me home a bastard. What did I tell you?’
Rocco wheeled around to face his father. He wanted to push, to shove him out of the property if he wouldn’t leave of his own accord.
‘That’s my fiancée and my child you’re talking about.’
‘Here you are, making the same mistakes I did.’
‘My baby is not a mistake.’
‘Children can be a mistake,’ his father said with a bitter laugh. ‘I’ve lived with the consequences of mine for years. You are more my son than you know. Come back to me when you’ve learned your lesson.’
All Lily could do was watch the scene unfold.
The older man gave her a look of what she could only call disgust, then walked round the side path and disappeared.
She’d been about leave with Carmella earlier, when the man—Vito—pushed his way into the house and had walked through like he owned it.
Then the shouting had started. She’d been at a disadvantage, unable to understand a thing as they spoke Italian.
All she knew was that Carmella looked worried.
That was enough for her to stay. If a real fight began, she’d planned to call the police. At least it hadn’t come to that.
Rocco stood on the lawn, the magnificent backdrop of the ruins behind, looking like a gladiator who’d just finished a battle.
Fists and jaw clenched. Eyes closed as if trying to stitch himself back together.
It didn’t take her long to realise that he looked a lot like the man who’d just left, hinting at a family connection.
Lily knew how complicated families could be.
She walked down the stairs towards him. Aching to give him some comfort, like he’d given her.
To ease whatever burden was weighing on him.
He’d been her soft place to land, now she wanted to be his.
‘Who was that?’ she asked, reaching out and placing her hand on his chest. His heart raced under her palm. The whole of him taught as a string line.
‘My father,’ he hissed.
It came as no real surprise. Family fights were often the worst because the people who knew you the best were always the ones with the capacity to hurt you the most.
‘I know Italians tend to speak with passion, but that sounded a lot to me like an argument. Was it about us?’
Rocco shook his head. ‘I haven’t told my parents about you. Or the baby. Or our engagement.’
She reared back in shock. They’d had this conversation before, but she’d expected that by now, coming up to the twelve-week mark with the baby growing well, that he’d have said something. ‘Why?’
‘They kept secrets from me. I can keep secrets from them.’
She cupped his cheek and he leaned into her. ‘I know families are complicated, but maybe it can be fixed.’
‘I don’t know if it can.’
‘Why don’t you try me?’ Lily replied. She liked to think of herself as an expert on secrets, and dealing with families, even though she was estranged from her own.
‘Why would you want to know?’ Rocco asked.
It hurt that he couldn’t understand her need to help him, like he’d helped her.
The need to hold him, heal him, overwhelmed her.
The way it filled her heart, till it threatened to leap from her chest. This was more than passion.
It was something far bigger, all encompassing.
She realised with Rocco what being with a good man was like. One who cared and was caring.
‘Because we’re a couple. Because we’re going to be married, with a baby on the way …’
A knot of warning tightened in her belly, but she didn’t care.
They’d agreed that this relationship was practical, one of passion and nothing else, but why couldn’t it be more if she wanted it to be?
What was stopping either of them? Maybe the baby who brought them together was enough to make the impossible happen.
A man who made love to her like Rocco did, had to have feelings. He simply needed to admit them.
Lily looked up at him into his handsome face.
She’d never thought she’d feel like this again, yet she hadn’t realised the power of meeting the right person.
Her heart brimmed with emotion and elation, like she was soaring with the joy of it.
Hope. She had enough for the both of them.
It could carry them on its strong wings.
In this moment, Lily needed to tell him how she really felt.
‘Rocco, I want to know, because I love you.’
It was as if he’d been kicked in the chest. His father, and now this. Rocco took a step back, away from Lily. Her tempting touch that addled his brain.
‘You can’t love me. This was a practical arrangement. We had a deal.’
Lily winced, like she was in pain. ‘And you can’t tell me how I feel. I want the deal to change, because this doesn’t feel practical anymore.’
He turned his back on her and began to pace, trying to escape the feelings trapped inside of him that had no outlet. The rage, recrimination. Raking his hands through his hair. All of him trembling.
‘At least tell me what’s happening to you,’ Lily said.