Page 11 of Bound By Honor

But I'm Sofia Ricci, and impasses are meant to be broken.

"An impasse," I echo, my tone mocking. "Or an opportunity."

I force a sultry smile, knowing full well the effect it has on Rocco. His eyes darken, and the atmosphere shifts as I enter hispersonal space. It's a dance we've both mastered—the push and pull of power and desire.

"Opportunity?" Rocco questions, skepticism lacing his deep baritone.

"Let me go back to my apartment," I say softly, almost a whisper, touching his arm. The fabric of his suit is smooth under my fingertips, but the muscle beneath is steel—unyielding, like the man himself. "Just for my things and my mother's mementos."

Rocco seems to consider this, his jaw working silently. He's close enough that I can see the faintest flicker in his expression, a crack in the stoic façade he presents to the world. I press further, tilting my head and meeting his gaze with a vulnerability I rarely show.

"Please, Rocco. They're all I have left of her." It's a low blow, using my past, my pain, as a weapon. But in my world, you use what you have. And I have always been my own best weapon.

He takes a deep breath, and I know I have him. Rocco Leone may rule Brooklyn, but after years of being alone, even he can't resist the call of something deeper.

"Fine," Rocco at last concedes with a growl. "But I'm coming with you."

"Of course." My heart triumphs with silent victory. Because I've just won the first challenge, though as I lock eyes with Rocco, I know this game is far from over.

I inherited my apartment from my grandparents, who bought the place in the 1940s before the Upper West Side became a place for the rich and famous. After my grandfather became a don of the Ricci family, securing his claim on Queens, he movedmy grandmother to a grand mansion in Forest Hills. And now, with my father's passing, that sprawling estate is rightfully mine. But this cozy little apartment has been my sanctuary for the past five years, the only place that truly feels like my own.

While Rocco busies himself securing the perimeter, I sink into the plush cushions of the antique armchair by the window. My gaze drifts to the bustling city streets and lights below. Amongst the sea of hurried figures, I know that someone is lurking, waiting for me, my father's assassin, biding his time, waiting to finish me off. I have no plans to make it easy for him.

"Be quick," Rocco warns from my front door, a shadow framed by the hall light.

I force myself to nod, my breath catching in my throat as I slowly inch toward him. Every step I take makes the floorboards protest, releasing an eerie creak that sends shivers down my spine. Wanting a moment of privacy, I close the door behind me, locking it to keep Rocco from interrupting or rushing me. My hand shakes as I reach for the top drawer of my dresser, hoping my mother's jewels are still where I left them. But before my fingers make contact with the wood, a loud crash and a sudden rush of air jar my senses. Instinctively, I drop to the ground just in time to dodge the bullet whistling past my head before burying itself deep into the wall behind me.

As I struggle to regain my bearings, a masked man crashes through the window from the fire escape, wielding a knife that misses me by inches. I roll over and spring to my feet, my heart thundering. Adrenaline surges as I face my attacker—a man with eyes devoid of mercy. I've no weapon but my will to survive.

"Stupid girl," my attacker hisses as he lunges toward me once more and narrowly misses.

The sound of Rocco's panicked shouts and pounding fists against the door gives me hope, but I can't count on him rescuing me. Now is my chance to save myself.

"Sofia!" Rocco desperately tries to break down the door, yelling my name over and over again.

My heart races as fear of death overwhelms me.

Without hesitation, I sidestep and deliver a powerful punch to my attacker’s chin, feeling the satisfying impact of my fist meeting his jaw.

The creep stumbles back, grunting and disoriented. Taking advantage of his vulnerability, I follow up with a swift kick to his groin. As he writhes in pain, I wrench the knife from his hands and stab him in the stomach, forcing him to flee. The action comes far more naturally than I ever expected. But there’s no time for remorse or celebration—he wasn’t alone.

"Rocco!" The name tears from my throat as a second assailant grips me, a cold blade kissing my neck. Fear chokes me, dark and suffocating. This is it. This is how I?—

The door splinters with a deafening crack, and Rocco bursts through, fury etched in every line of his body. Two strides, and he's on us, wrenching the attacker away. His fist connects with the assailant’s jaw, flesh on flesh, a symphony of violence that ends with the thud of a body hitting the ground.

"Dammit, Sofia!" Rocco roars. His chest rises and falls in heavy, ragged breaths as he turns to face me. "You could have been killed!" I can see the fear and frustration in his eyes.

I can see the fear and frustration in his eyes. "But I wasn’t!” I shout back, my own anger rising to match his. "I took down the first one, didn’t I?" My heart pounds in my chest, and adrenaline surges through my veins as I try to regain control of my breathing.

Rocco advances, hands reaching out, not in threat but in desperate need. My resistance crumbles as he pulls me close, his lips crashing against mine. The kiss is a battlefield, fierce and demanding, our frustrations and fears pouring into the clash of tongues and teeth.

"Stubborn woman," Rocco growls against my mouth, his hold tightening.

“Arrogant bastard," I retort, fingers digging into the fabric of his suit as we fall into each other's arms, a storm of passion amid our carnage. I could have died tonight, and the thought of meeting my end before I know how it feels to be taken by this gorgeous man would be a sin.

“I don't know what's holding you back from standing by my side, but I won't accept 'no' for an answer again." As Rocco’s men file in to deal with the aftermath of our actions, he gently takes hold of my hand and guides me to his waiting car.

It’s impossible to refuse him, not that I have any desire to do so. We’re in this together—in every possible way.

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