Page 18 of Bound By Honor

Finally, he stiffens, a deep groan tearing from his chest as he reaches his climax. His essence floods my mouth—hot and pulsating. Slowly, I ease back, making sure to clean him meticulously with gentle laps of my tongue. His hands stroke my hair soothingly as he catches his breath.

“I love you, Sofia—my beautiful doll. Every minute we share makes me love you more than the hour before. After this war ends and the dust settles, I will make you my wife,” Rocco whispers between kisses, and my heart races with joy.

“Are you asking me, Don Leone?”

Rocco’s full lips curve into a wicked smile, and he shakes his head once. “No, I’m not asking. I’m telling you outright, without reservations, that you will marry me and make me an honest man.”

I chuckle softly, struggling to disguise the tears welling in my eyes. “A hundred rings couldn’t make you an honest man, but I promise I’ll spend the rest of my days trying.”

15

ROCCO

I've always disliked this part, the double-crossing and the chirping of family secrets like sparrows in the morning. But here I am, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dante Serpico in the dimly lit corridor outside my kitchen, each of us wearing expressions more suited to a funeral than brunch. Sofia’s Saturday morning ritual of preparing a feast is about to be interrupted by the worst news, and I have no idea how she’ll respond.

"We have to tell her, Rocco," Dante mutters under his breath, not meeting my eyes. It’s rare to see him uneasy—the man's usually as impassive as steel. But today, there’s a tremor in his voice, a slight shake that says this betrayal cuts deeper than usual.

"I know," I reply, stepping toward the kitchen before hesitating an inch from the swinging door. "But how do I say it? 'Hey Sofia, your father got himself killed by betraying the Bellos?’”

Dante frowns and runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "There’s no need to be so blunt, but sugarcoating won’t doher any favors either. She thinks she needs to avenge her father, but he made a deal with the devil and made himself a target.”

I finally let my hand push against the door, clearing my throat to announce our entrance. As we step into the kitchen, Sofia turns to look at me, her gaze growing wide when she sees Dante by my side. Her dark eyes flick between me and Dante, searching our faces for a hint of what could have possibly happened. She always knows when trouble's stirring—smells it on the wind or reads it on my tightened jaw.

"Sofia," Dante starts, stepping forward slightly. "We need to talk."

Sofia nods slowly, pulling her short robe tighter around her as though shielding herself from what’s coming next. "We do?" She steps aside and gestures toward the nook.

"It's about your father,” I blurt out before Dante can weave any preliminary threads. Sometimes, it’s better to rip off the bandage fast. “And the Bello family. Your father kept secrets from all of us, and they eventually came back to haunt him.”

Her brow furrows slightly—pain flashes across her features so quickly I almost miss it—almost.

“Ten years ago, your father led the charge against Ludovico Bello, Antonio’s father.” Dante's voice holds a tinge of reluctance as he speaks. “He accused him of conspiring with the Russians and even suggested he was behind a string of unsolved murders of made men. Last evening, we discovered your father was the one working with the Russians.”

A long silence fills the room—a thick, suffocating silence that piles up on your chest until you can hardly breathe. Finally, Sofia parts her quivering lips. “What does that mean? Does it mean?—”

“Your father betrayed Ludovico and let him take the fall for his crimes.” I interrupt Sofia but keep my tone sympathetic. No one wants to hear that their flesh and blood is a despicabletraitor. “Antonio and his brothers were kept in the dark until recently and sought revenge for the betrayal of their father’s.”

“But how can you be sure it’s the truth?” Sofia whispers, the sound barely audible as she turns away, pretending to busy herself with the stove. Her actions are a mere cover for the tears threatening to spill from her beautiful eyes. This revelation seems to have left her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“Multiple sources in your father’s inner circle and contacts within the Russian Bratva in Little Odessa have confirmed it to be true. Even Alphonso, blinded by loyalty until the very end, confessed after we left the warehouse. He couldn’t bear to tell you to your face out of twisted devotion to your father’s memory.”

Sofia looks away momentarily, and I see her jaw clench before she turns back to face us again, her clear resolve solidifying in her gaze.

"What do you need from me?" Sofia finally asks, her words dripping with resignation and understanding. "If this is true," she continues with an air of disbelief, "then I have no vendetta to quench." A sigh escapes her lips as she waits for an answer.

I fix my gaze on her, taking in the sudden steeliness that has hardened her eyes. Valentino’s betrayal hangs heavy between us, suffocating the once-warm air and replacing it with a chilling coldness. The atmosphere has shifted, becoming thin and brittle, as if it could shatter.

"We need to be cautious," I begin, my voice low, matching the seriousness of our predicament. “You may not need revenge any longer, but Antonio still wants to see you dead.”

“Does he know I had nothing to do with it?” Sofia’s lashes flutter with confusion. “He must know I wasn’t part of my father’s organization then.”

I take her hand in mine, knowing how much her family means to her. “You know that has nothing to do with it. You areyour father’s daughter, and he wants revenge for his family and everything they had to endure after their father was disgraced.”

Dante Serpico nods in agreement, his hands clasped in front of him as he leans forward on the table. "He's right, Sofia. We might also consider this an opportunity to plant misinformation about your whereabouts and see how Antonio Bello’s crew handles it. You’re in more danger than ever. He knows the families can’t seek retribution against him for avenging his father. We can warn him to stay away, but with this information, your family’s place on the council is forfeit."

Sofia's expression hardens further, her mind working over each scenario as she considers our next move. “Then exile me to Italy,” she says slowly, “I’ll leave tonight and return to my family’s home in Puglia. We have allies there that can protect me.”

“You’re not leaving,” I growl with anger. “You have my protection—now and always. We can marry as soon as possible. If the Bellos ever want to regain their status, they’ll stay away from you. As a don’s wife, you would be untouchable.”

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