CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I turned to face Rocco on the bed. He swept my hair aside, his fingertips lingering near my swollen eyes. “I hate to see you cry. I’m sorry, Bella.”
My gaze lowered. “Don’t be. I tried too hard—”
“I said that in anger. I was wrong—”
“No. I tried to turn you on so we’d have sex, hoping you’d stop hating me.”
“Hate you?” He reached over and laid his palm on my lower back. “I love you. Yes, I love having sex with you, but that’s not why I love you.”
“How could you?”
“Easy. You’re easy to love. I never want you to doubt that.”
My heart ached with guilt and self-loathing. Easy? After what I’d done?
After the way he’d treated me? I may have done the wrong thing, but his version of love was confusing me. He had found it so easy to simply leave me alone and treat me like I meant nothing to him.
And sadly, I knew I deserved that.
Love had never brought me peace or strength.
It had always been a tool to control me.
My father used my love for my mother and brother to silence me, reminding me that my words could destroy our family if I spoke out about his secrets.
I couldn’t risk revealing his actions to protect them from harm.
My grandparents, too, used my love to force me into an arranged marriage, telling me that obedience was the only way to keep us together.
Even after marrying Rocco, there was no relief from the pressure.
Their voices never faded; they echoed in my choices, urging me to bend and hide my real feelings if it meant keeping the family together.
But what I hadn’t counted on was truly falling in love.
And hurting the person I loved the most. Tears started falling from my eyes and onto his chest.
“Hey. Hey. Come here and talk to me.” He tugged my waist, moving me to lie on top of him, and wrapped his arms around me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I squeezed my eyes shut for a few heartbeats, trying to brace myself against the pain as shame pressed down on my chest. “You were right about what happened. I…I’d been careless with the birth control, but it was my intention to see a doctor about it.
But I also thought about having a child early to solve our problems. It was wrong and selfish.
I’ll never do it again, but I hope you’ll forgive me.
” I sobbed as I trembled against him, waiting for his rejection, but Rocco soothed me in his arms, cuddling and kissing me.
“Thank you for admitting the truth. Believe me, Bella, when I say I forgive you.”
“How can you? I can’t forgive myself. Your distance was unbearable . . . you couldn’t even kiss me. That doesn’t suggest I’m easy to love, Rocco. It reinforces that I’m easy to withdraw from. My father used to ‘discipline’ in a different way—”
“Your father is a piece of shit. I’m sorry about the distance.
I wasn’t trying to discipline you, Bella.
I’ve never been married before, so I’m learning how to navigate this too.
” He kissed my forehead. “After watching that video, and giving it more thought, I know you’ve been pressured by your family and mine, and I sympathize.
Even Luca pressured you, too, and it annoyed me.
Like you, I don’t like having my choices taken away from me, but I’m sorry you felt abandoned by me too.
I also know now that Luca was scared of dying. ” He exhaled.
“I miss his wisdom and guidance. They’re what made the man I am today. He taught me to work for my success. Not to become addicted to the ease of our money. I thought I was smarter than him and could get it all, the inheritance and studio, without doing what they wanted.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not your fault, it’s the way our families work. They started on you years ago.”
“Yeah, but I’ve come to realize that somewhere along the way, it became what I want, too.
I love and admire my grandmother, and all she and Luca had done for me.
Having a child doesn’t feel like a burden to me.
” Grandmother had truly grown on me over the years, and though she was strict and harsh, I loved her dearly now.
Grandfather’s desire to continue his legacy seemed only right.
He went still beneath me “Constance’s legacy won’t end, I promise you,” Rocco spoke with sureness. I don’t know how I’m going to feel when we get the results, but if you are pregnant, I’m going to be happy because it’s our child and I love you. We will move on and raise our family together. Okay?”
I sniffled, and he squeezed my waist. “You’re very warm. Are you feeling sick?”
“No, just exhausted.”
“Let’s go back to sleep.”
“Rocco?”
“Yes, Bella?”
“Will that guy really sue?” I asked. My mind replayed the man holding the torn shirt. What was on that grainy video Isla mentioned?
“He’ll try to sue me for assault and damages, but he’ll lose.” He seemed sure, but I could hear the unease in his voice.
“But that won’t end it?”
“No, Bella. No one wins in a scandal.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, some people will never believe our side of the story. I can handle it myself, but I don’t like anyone hurting you.”
“I can handle it, Rocco. I’m not afraid.”
“I can’t, Adelina. I can’t handle anyone being cruel to you.”
Rocco had hurt me with his distance, and I forgave him. Yet, with everyone else, all I could feel was disdain for the lack of privacy in our lives. “It’s so unfair.” If the public turned on him, would he lose his celebrity and the reputation he worked so hard to build?
“Bella, I feel you’re worrying. Please don’t. You’re safe in my arms, and that’s all that matters to me.”
I shifted back on the bed and curled onto my side for sleep. He settled behind me, his hand sliding around my waist to rest gently on my stomach.
“So, we’ll know if I’m pregnant soon?”
“We will, and we’ll figure it out together.”
I let myself relax into the warmth of his embrace, feeling his steady heartbeat against my back. Rocco pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder and whispered, “I’m here. Always.”
I reached for his hand resting on my stomach, lacing my fingers through his. In that quiet, gentle moment, all the fear faded to a future with love and hope.
I woke up in the middle of the night and checked online. Rocco’s movie was still getting press, though there was a headline that caught my attention.
Rocco Marini Crashes Out. Brawling at Nightclub Sparks
New Pregnancy Rumors
Rocco’s night at the club with his wife spiraled into chaos when he lunged at a man dancing with her. Adelina unleashed her own fury, tearing a shirt in the fray.
I stared at the screen in disbelief. The glow from the monitor made my eyes burn as my heart pounded in my chest. That’s a complete lie. Why would the press print such lies?
“He came out of nowhere, grabbing and punching,” recalls Louis Staton, the unfortunate owner of the ruined shirt.
And yes, readers, it’s that Louis Staton, fresh off his win at Milan’s Strut Your Stuff.
Louis claims he was injured, though he wasn’t admitted to the hospital.
Rocco’s team refused to comment, but his twenty-two-year-old bride had already let slip her secret pregnancy last week.
Was Rocco defending his wife or just another privileged hothead losing control? Leave your take in the comments.
My stomach twisted, warning me to look away, but I scrolled through the comments anyway.
RoccosSexyAbs: Luv the guy, but he shouldn’t have taken his pregnant wife to a nightclub. It’s on him.
Mindy232: exactly! He shouldn’t have taken her there or went to the VIP lounge. I can’t believe he bodied a man in public. What happened to him?
EvelineWalks: Adelina is the problem. Rocco never had bad press until he ended up with her. Look what she did to her own dad? He’s homeless with a pregnant wife because of her violence. Save your sympathy for them.
In a matter of minutes, this narrative was clipped, edited, and looped across gossip sites, transforming the incident at the club into sensational headlines, and each comment stung more than the last. Do they really see me as violent? What do they know about my life?
I did a quick search online with my name.
Sure enough, there was a photo of me from the police agency as a teen.
There I was with the skull haircut, sunken cheeks red with bruises, a black eye, and a cut lip.
I knew it was leaked by my father, showing off his power to control the narrative, trying to get my attention.
It was clear the public didn’t question or care why I was hurt.
Yet, behind the bruises, there was another story in my face: my wild expression, the light in my eyes, the smirk on my lips.
I was proud I stood up for Mama and me. Back then, I’d even been happy to spend time in juvie because it meant I hadn’t let myself be weak.
I fought back for both of us. But the public read me as a bad seed.
Judge Colby really believed I’d run and pay him over it.
And just what was he up to? I typed my father’s name into the search bar.
Judge Eric Colby stepped down from New York City’s 2nd Circuit.
Judge Colby, Billionaire Adelina Marini’s father, puts house up for sale to pay his legal bills.
Eric Colby, Father of Adelina Marini, HelpFund
I pressed my hand to my mouth. Is it true? Could I sit by and leave his pregnant wife to struggle like we had to? That would be cruel. The words buzzed in my brain, lifting a memory. I was standing with Mama by the refrigerator in a dilapidated rental in Queenstown…
“Can you get me a piece of meat from the refrigerator?” Mama calls from her side of the table in the kitchen.
I cross the room, open the fridge, and hand her a hamburger patty. She presses it to her swollen face, the bruise darker than before. She can’t hide it.
“But you have a job at the bank. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll call out sick.”
But we both knew her boss’s warning: no more sick days, not while she’s on probation. He would fire her.
“I’m calling the cops,” I hiss.
“Then he’d be out of a job. Your dad left, all right? He needs to look after himself. We can’t ruin his life. That would be cruel. She put the meat down. “Go turn over your brother.”
I stomp out of the kitchen and march to Jacob’s cot in the small bedroom, kicking the wood back into place that kept the door closed, and trip.
Falling to my knees, I steady myself.
My hand brushes against something smooth under the bed.
I look and curse under my breath.
Judge Colby forgot a pair of his polished Louis Vuitton shoes…
I seethed, thinking back on the cheap clothes we always had to make do with while he always gave himself the best. He never cared about wrecking our lives. And how was he able to afford to fly himself and his wife to Rome?
The press didn’t investigate what really happened at the nightclub and only cared about sensational headlines. He’s grifting the public, and besides that, why should I believe social media when they lied about me?
My hand pressed down on the lid of the laptop.
You won’t win this time, Judge Colby.