Page 24 of The Bratty Heir

Rocco bit his lip, suddenly unsure. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just know I don't want it to end."

Victor turned Rocco to face him, cupping his cheek with a soapy hand. "It doesn't have to," he said softly. "What we have... it's more than just this place, Rocco. If you want it to be."

Hope bloomed in Rocco's chest, fragile but persistent. "I do," he whispered. "Want you. All of you."

Victor's smile was tender as he leaned in for a gentle kiss. "Then you have me, baby. For as long as you'll have me."

They finished showering in comfortable silence, the air between them charged with newfound understanding. As they dressed, Rocco couldn't stop sneaking glances at Victor, marveling at the shift in their relationship.

"We should probably review those files your father left," Victor said, ever the professional. "Make sure we're up to speed on the latest intel."

Rocco groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. "Do we have to? I can think of much more interesting ways to spend our evening."

Victor's expression softened, a hint of fondness breaking through his usually stoic facade. "I know, baby. But we can't forget why we're here. The family is counting on us."

Guilt twisted in Rocco's gut. He knew Victor was right, knew the weight of responsibility that rested on both their shoulders. But a part of him longed to stay in this bubble, where the outside world couldn't touch them.

"Fine," he sighed, sitting up with exaggerated reluctance. "But you owe me a proper date night when this is all over. Fancy dinner, dancing, the works."

Victor's smile was tender as he cupped Rocco's cheek. "Anything you want, little one. Sky's the limit."

They spent the next few hours poring over financial reports and surveillance logs, piecing together a clearer picture of Bianchi's recent movements. As the night wore on, Rocco found himself struggling to focus, his mind drifting to the events of the day.

The shrill ring of Victor's cell phone shattered the peaceful atmosphere. Victor cursed, fishing the device from his pocket with a scowl.

"This better be important," he growled into the receiver. His expression darkened as he listened, jaw clenching tight enough to crack teeth.

"Understood. Lock it down. We'll be there in an hour." He ended the call, meeting Rocco's questioning gaze with grim determination. "Get dressed. We need to move."

Rocco's stomach dropped, dread coiling in his gut. "What happened?"

Victor's eyes were cold, all traces of post-coital softness gone. "Bianchi made his move. The Casino Royale is under siege."

Panic clawed at Rocco's throat as the implications sank in. The Casino Royale was one of the family's most lucrative operations, a cornerstone of their empire. If Bianchi had taken it...

"My plan," Rocco whispered, horror dawning. "He must have found out somehow. This is all my fault."

Victor gripped Rocco's shoulders, forcing him to meet his steely gaze. "Listen to me. This isn't on you. Bianchi's been gunning for us for months. But we're going to handle it, you hear me? Together."

Rocco nodded, drawing strength from Victor's unwavering confidence. As they hurriedly dressed and gathered their weapons, Rocco couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change. The quiet interlude of the past few hours felt like a dream, a stolen moment of peace before the storm.

Whatever came next, Rocco knew one thing for certain: he wasn't letting Victor face it alone. They were in this together, for better or worse.

As they peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing in protest, Rocco's mind raced with possibilities. The Casino Royale wasn't just a source of income—it was a symbol of the Rossetti family's power and influence. Losing it would be a devastating blow, one they might not recover from.

But more than that, Rocco worried about the collateral damage. How many of their people were trapped inside? How far would Bianchi go to prove his dominance?

Rocco glanced at Victor's profile, etched in grim determination. The older man's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. In that moment, Rocco saw past the gruff exterior to the man beneath—loyal, protective, and utterly devoted to his duty.

As they sped towards an uncertain future, Rocco made a silent vow. Whatever it took, whatever sacrifices he had to make, he would see this through. For his family, for Victor, and for the chance at a future he was only just beginning to imagine.

The storm was coming. And they would weather it together.

CHAPTER 10

LINES DRAWN

The Casino Royale loomed before them, its once-glittering facade now marred by shattered windows and bullet holes. Rocco's stomach churned as he took in the scene, the flashing lights of police cruisers casting eerie shadows across the chaos.

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