Page 8 of The Billionaire's Vow

His frown deepened. “We’ve arrived.”

I blinked rapidly, and my jaw dropped. “What? We’re in the United States?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

I squinted. “I slept the whole way?”

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked as my hands fumbled to fold the blanket, my pulse speeding up.

He took the blanket and placed his hand on my forehead. “You wouldn’t have slept that long if you didn’t need it. You’re still hot,” he murmured, grimacing. “I’ll take you to the hospital—”

“I’m sure it’s nothing more sleep can’t cure.” My stomach knotted, remembering my grandfather would be outside. “Rocco?”

He turned his head back to me. “Yes?”

“Uh…I…there’s something I need to tell you—” I stammered.

“—Rocco, can you come help me with this?” Olivia called over.

He stared at me, waiting, and my stomach knotted further. Telling him I was leaving to stay with my grandparents wasn’t something I could rush out.I should’ve gone against what Mr. Belfiore urged me to do and told him myself last night.

“Rocco?” Olivia called again.

He groaned.

I shook my head for him to go ahead. “Uhm, later, I guess.”

“We’ll be staying at my parents’ home tonight. It’ll be easier than having them call me to go over to their place.” He got out quickly before walking away.

I stood, and straightened my clothes and put on my sunglasses although, from a glance out the window, the sky was overcast.

Rocco returned quickly and clasped my hand. “Let’s go.”

I walked with him down the aisle and out the door.

Outside, security officers were holding back a small group of press and photographers behind a barrier near the Westchester County airport. I glanced up at Rocco.

His eyes widened. “What’s your grandfather doing here?”

I felt my neck grow warmer as I walked with him towards Mr. Belfiore, who stood in front of his Bentley. The other Marinis stopped to shake his hand before climbing into their Mercedes SUV.

I touched Rocco’s arm. “This is what I’d hoped to talk to you about….”

But my grandfather walked briskly over to where we stood with his hand outstretched. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Rocco. Luca was a…remarkable man.”

Rocco’s eyes moved between me and Mr. Belfiore as he shook his hand. “Thank you. What’s going on?”

I shifted my stance, my face warmed. “I—”

“I told Adelina I preferred to tell you myself.” Mr. Belfiore cleared his throat.

Rocco’s brows lowered. “About what?”

Mr. Belfiore straightened his spine. “I’m here to take Adelina back to stay with us.”

Rocco grimaced. “Absolutely not—”

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