Page 18 of The Bratty Heir

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of handshakes and signed agreements. As the last of the men filed out, Rocco sagged against the table, the adrenaline rush fading and leaving him shaky in its wake.

"Holy shit," he breathed, running a trembling hand through his hair. "Did that really just happen?"

Victor's strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling Rocco flush against his solid chest. "It did," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of Rocco's ear. "You were fucking incredible, baby boy."

Rocco shivered at the praise, warmth blooming in his chest. He turned in Victor's embrace, tilting his head up to meet the older man's intense gaze.

"I couldn't have done it without you," Rocco said softly. "Thank you for believing in me."

Victor's eyes darkened, one hand coming up to cup Rocco's jaw. "Always," he growled, before claiming Rocco's mouth in a searing kiss.

Rocco melted into it, all the tension and fear of the day dissolving under the heat of Victor's touch. He pressed closer, desperate for more contact, more of Victor's intoxicating strength and warmth.

Victor's hands slid down to grip Rocco's hips, lifting him effortlessly onto the table. Rocco wrapped his legs around Victor's waist, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

"Fuck," Victor growled, breaking away to trail biting kisses down Rocco's neck. "Do you have any idea how hot you were in there? Taking charge like that?"

Rocco gasped, his head falling back to give Victor better access. "Yeah?" he breathed, a smirk playing at his lips. "Maybe I should negotiate more often if this is the result."

Victor's grip tightened, just shy of painful. "Careful, little prince," he warned, voice low and dangerous. "Don't start something you can't finish."

Heat pooled in Rocco's belly at the threat. He rolled his hips, grinding against the hard line of Victor's cock. "Who says I can't finish it?"

With a growl, Victor captured Rocco's mouth in another bruising kiss. His hands made quick work of Rocco's belt, yanking it free with a sharp tug.

"Hands behind your back," Victor commanded, his voice brooking no argument.

Rocco complied, a thrill of excitement racing down his spine as Victor used the belt to bind his wrists. The leather was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat building between them.

"Such a good boy for me," Victor purred, his large hands roaming Rocco's body possessively. "So obedient when you want to be."

Rocco whimpered, arching into Victor's touch. "Please," he gasped, beyond pride or pretense. "Need you, Daddy."

Victor's eyes darkened at the title, hunger and something deeper flashing in their depths. "Patience, baby," he murmured, fingers working at Rocco's fly. "Daddy's going to take care of you."

Just as Victor's hand wrapped around Rocco's aching cock, a sharp knock at the door shattered the heated moment.

"Boss?" One of Victor's men called through the wood. "We've got a situation. Marco Bianchi was spotted meeting with the Rizzo family after he left here."

Victor cursed, frustration evident in the tense line of his shoulders. He pressed his forehead to Rocco's, both of them panting heavily.

"Duty calls," Rocco said, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

Victor growled, clearly torn between desire and responsibility. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back, quickly freeing Rocco's hands and helping him straighten his clothes.

"This isn't over," Victor promised, voice low and intense. "We'll finish what we started later."

As they made their way out of the warehouse, the reality of the situation began to sink in. Rocco's mind raced, trying to process the implications of Marco's meeting with the Rizzos.

"What do you think it means?" Rocco asked as they slid into the waiting car.

Victor's jaw clenched, his expression grim. "Nothing good," he said. "The Rizzos have been pushing for more territory. If they've aligned with Bianchi..."

He trailed off, but Rocco could fill in the blanks. A war was brewing, and the Rossetti family was caught in the crosshairs.

As the car wound its way through the city streets, doubt began to creep in. Sure, Rocco had handled the negotiation well, but this was a whole new level of danger. Was he really cut out for this life? Could he really lead his family through the storm that was coming?

Victor must have sensed his unease. His hand came to rest on Rocco's thigh, a comforting weight.

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