Page 2 of The Bratty Heir

"Careful," Victor murmured, his breath hot against Rocco's ear. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

Rocco's heart raced, desire coiling low in his belly. He was achingly aware of every point of contact between them—Victor's broad palm splayed across his back, the firm thigh wedged between his own, the scratch of stubble against his cheek. He wanted to melt into that embrace, to let Victor take control and quiet the chaos in his head.

But old habits died hard, and Rocco had never been good at accepting help. He shoved at Victor's chest, struggling to put some distance between them. "I'm fine," he snapped, hating how breathless he sounded. "I don't need you hovering over me like some overprotective nanny."

Victor released him, taking a step back. But his eyes never left Rocco's face, dark and assessing. "Is that what you think I am?" he asked, voice low and dangerous. "A nanny?"

Rocco swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. There was nothing paternal about the heat in Victor's gaze, nothing gentle in the way his hands clenched at his sides, as if fighting the urge to reach out and touch.

"I don't know what you are," Rocco admitted, the alcohol loosening his tongue. "But I know you're always fucking watching me. Following me. It's like I can feel your eyes on me every time I leave this goddamn tower."

Victor's expression didn't change, but something dangerous flickered in the depths of his eyes. "It's my job to keep you safe," he said, each word measured and precise. "Even from yourself."

Rocco laughed, the sound sharp and bitter. "Safe?" he repeated, gesturing wildly at the opulent surroundings. "I'm suffocating in here, Victor. Trapped in this golden cage while dear old dad grooms me to take over his precious empire."

He took a stumbling step forward, jabbing a finger into Victor's chest. "But you know what? I don't want it. Any of it. I never asked to be born into this fucked-up family."

Victor caught Rocco's wrist in a grip like iron, holding him in place. "Watch your mouth," he growled, voice pitched low in warning. "You have no idea how lucky you are.” Victor's grip on Rocco's wrist tightened, his eyes flashing with barely contained anger. "You have no idea the sacrifices your father has made to give you this life. To keep you safe."

Rocco tried to wrench his arm free, but Victor held firm. The older man's strength was intoxicating, making Rocco's head spin in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his system.

"Safe?" Rocco scoffed, forcing bravado into his voice. "Is that what you call this? Being watched every second, never allowed to make my own choices?"

Victor's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. "You think you know everything, don't you?" he growled. "But you're just a spoiled brat playing at rebellion."

The words stung, hitting too close to home. Rocco lashed out, shoving at Victor's chest with his free hand. "Fuck you," he spat. "You don't know anything about me."

In a blur of motion, Victor spun them around, pinning Rocco against the wall. His bulk pressed Rocco into the smooth plaster, one thigh wedged between Rocco's legs.

"I know more than you think, little prince," Victor murmured, his breath hot against Rocco's ear. "I know how you crave structure, discipline. How you push and push, begging for someone to push back."

Rocco's breath caught in his throat, desire warring with indignation. He squirmed against Victor's hold, but there was no real force behind it. "Let me go," he demanded, voice cracking.

Victor chuckled, the sound dark and knowing. "Make me," he challenged.

For a long moment, they stayed frozen like that, locked in a battle of wills. Rocco's heart raced, torn between the urge to keep fighting and the desperate need to surrender.

Finally, Victor stepped back, releasing Rocco from his grip. "Go to bed," he ordered, voice brooking no argument. "We'll discuss your behavior in the morning."

Rocco sagged against the wall, suddenly exhausted. The fight drained out of him, leaving behind a confusing tangle of emotions he was too drunk to parse.

"Fine," he muttered, pushing off the wall on unsteady legs. "Whatever you say, boss."

He stumbled towards his room, hyperaware of Victor's eyes on him the whole way. Just before he reached the door, Victor's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"And Rocco?" The use of his first name sent a shiver down Rocco's spine. "Don't even think about sneaking out again. I'll know."

Rocco didn't turn around, didn't trust himself to meet Victor's gaze. He just nodded once, sharp and jerky, before disappearing into his room.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Rocco leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. His skin still tingled where Victor had touched him, his body thrumming with unfulfilled need.

What the hell was happening to him?

With a groan, Rocco collapsed onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow. Sleep claimed him quickly, but his dreams were haunted by stormy eyes and strong hands that promised both punishment and salvation.

CHAPTER 2

MORNING SHADOWS

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