Page 37 of The Bratty Heir

The doctor hesitated, glancing at Giovanni. But Rocco didn't wait for permission. He shouldered past them both, following the signs to the recovery wing.

Victor looked small in the hospital bed, tubes and wires snaking from his body. The steady beep of the heart monitor was both comforting and terrifying—a reminder that Victor was alive, but so fragile.

Rocco sank into the chair beside the bed, taking Victor's hand in his. "You scared the shit out of me," he whispered, voice thick with unshed tears. "Don't ever do that again."

To his surprise, Victor's fingers twitched in his grasp. Stormy eyes blinked open, hazy with pain and medication.

"Rocco?" Victor's voice was a rasp, barely audible. "You're here."

"Of course I'm here, you idiot," Rocco said, a watery laugh escaping him. "Where else would I be?"

Victor's brow furrowed, confusion clouding his gaze. "Your father... he knows?"

Rocco's stomach dropped as reality came crashing back. In the panic over Victor's injury, he'd almost forgotten the confrontation in Giovanni's study.

"I don't know," he admitted. "We didn't exactly finish that conversation. But... I don't care. Let him know. I'm not hiding anymore, Victor. Not from him, not from anyone."

Something softened in Victor's eyes, a vulnerability Rocco had rarely seen. "Rocco," he breathed, squeezing Rocco's hand weakly. "You don't have to?—"

"Yes, I do," Rocco interrupted fiercely. "I almost lost you tonight. I'm not wasting any more time pretending this isn't exactly what I want. What I need."

Victor's breath hitched, a flash of heat cutting through the haze of pain. "And what is it you need, baby boy?"

Rocco's cheeks flushed at the endearment, arousal simmering low in his belly despite the circumstances. "You," he said simply. "Just you. All of you."

Victor's eyes darkened, his grip on Rocco's hand tightening. "Come here," he growled, tugging Rocco closer.

Rocco went willingly, careful not to jostle Victor's injuries as he perched on the edge of the bed. Victor's free hand came up to tangle in Rocco's hair, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

It was messy and desperate, tasting of antiseptic and fear. But beneath it all was a current of need so strong it made Rocco's head spin. He moaned into Victor's mouth, pouring every ounce of pent-up emotion into the connection.

When they finally broke apart, both panting, Victor's eyes were clearer than they'd been all night. "You're going to be the death of me, little one," he murmured, thumb brushing over Rocco's swollen lips.

Rocco nipped at the digit playfully. "Not if I can help it, old man. You're stuck with me now."

Victor's laugh turned into a pained groan, his face contorting. Rocco pulled back immediately, guilt twisting in his gut.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have?—"

"Don't," Victor cut him off, his voice rough but firm. "Don't apologize for this. For us. I meant what I said before, Rocco. You're it for me. No matter what comes next."

Rocco's heart soared at the declaration, even as anxiety gnawed at him. "But my father... the family..."

Victor's eyes hardened, a hint of the dangerous man he truly was shining through. "Let me worry about that. No one's going to keep you from me. Not even the great Giovanni Rossetti."

The possessive growl in Victor's voice sent shivers down Rocco's spine. He wanted nothing more than to climb into that hospital bed and show Victor exactly how much he appreciated that sentiment.

Throwing caution to the wind, Rocco leaned in, capturing Victor's lips in a heated kiss. Victor responded immediately, his hand fisting in Rocco's hair to pull him closer.

"Careful, baby boy," Victor growled against Rocco's mouth. "Don't start something you can't finish."

Rocco pulled back just enough to meet Victor's smoldering gaze. "Who says I can't finish it?" he purred, trailing his hand down Victor's chest.

Victor's breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire. "Rocco," he warned, but there was no real heat behind it.

Emboldened, Rocco let his hand drift lower, ghosting over the substantial bulge in Victor's hospital gown. "Let me take care of you, Daddy," he murmured, voice dripping with need. "Please?"

A low growl rumbled in Victor's chest. "You're playing with fire, little one."

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