Page 41 of The Bratty Heir

"How are you feeling, little one?" he asked, running his fingers through Rocco's tousled curls.

"Mmm, good," Rocco mumbled, burrowing deeper into Victor's warmth. "Floaty."

Victor chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "That's good, baby. You're floating nice and high for Daddy. Just relax and let me take care of you."

He reached for a bottle of water on the nightstand, helping Rocco take small sips. Then he grabbed a protein bar, breaking off little pieces and feeding them to Rocco by hand.

"That's it," Victor praised as Rocco obediently ate. "Such a good boy, taking care of yourself for me."

As the afterglow faded, Rocco slowly came back to himself. He blinked up at Victor, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For everything."

Victor's expression softened, his eyes full of tenderness. "You never have to thank me for this, baby. Taking care of you is my privilege, my joy."

They lay together in comfortable silence, trading soft kisses and gentle caresses. But as the night wore on, reality began to creep back in.

"We should probably start planning for tomorrow," Rocco said reluctantly. "Figure out how we're going to handle this new threat."

Victor sighed, pressing a kiss to Rocco's forehead. "You're right. But for now, let's just enjoy this moment. The calm before the storm."

Rocco nodded, snuggling closer. "Together?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

"Always," Victor promised fiercely. "Whatever comes next, we face it together. You and me against the world, baby boy."

As they drifted off to sleep, tangled in each other's arms, Rocco felt a sense of peace settle over him. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new dangers. But with Victor by his side, he knew they could weather any storm.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, a deceptive calm masking the tension that thrummed through the air. Rocco and Victor moved through their morning routine with practiced efficiency, stealing kisses and touches as they prepared for the day ahead.

As they sat at the kitchen island, poring over maps and intel reports, Rocco couldn't shake the feeling that something big was looming on the horizon. A storm gathering strength, ready to break at any moment.

"We need to be prepared for anything," Victor said, his voice grim. "Bianchi's crew might be down, but they're not out. And there are always new players looking to make a move."

Rocco nodded, chewing his lip thoughtfully. "What about reaching out to the Moretti family? They've been neutral so far, but with the right incentive..."

Victor's eyebrows rose, a proud smile tugging at his lips. "Look at you, thinking like a true strategist. I like it, baby boy. It's worth a shot."

As they continued to plan, the weight of responsibility settled heavily on Rocco's shoulders. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, he felt a sense of purpose. This was what he was meant for, what Victor had been preparing him for all along.

Just as they were wrapping up, Rocco's phone buzzed with an incoming text. His blood ran cold as he read the message.

"Fuck," he cursed, his face pale. "It's my father. He wants to meet. Now."

Victor's expression hardened, his body coiling with tension. "I'm coming with you," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rocco nodded gratefully, drawing strength from Victor's unwavering support. As they made their way to Giovanni's office, Rocco's mind raced with possibilities. Was this about their relationship? The family business? Or something even more sinister?

Whatever it was, Rocco knew one thing for certain. With Victor by his side, he could face anything. Together, they were unstoppable.

The storm was coming. But they were ready for it.

CHAPTER 16

ALLIANCES FORGED

The sleek black Bentley purred to a stop outside the Moretti compound, its tinted windows reflecting the opulent mansion before them. Rocco's heart raced, a heady mix of adrenaline and nerves coursing through his veins. This was it—his first solo negotiation, a chance to prove himself without Victor's looming presence.

"You've got this, baby boy," Victor's voice crackled through the earpiece, a lifeline of reassurance. "Remember what I taught you. Don't let them see you sweat."

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