Page 30 of Blood and Redemption

“Look at her…” Rocco murmurs, voice thick. From here, it’s like he’s watching her get sent off.

I don’t tell him she’s beautiful. He already knows.

Having only ever seen this kind of scene in romantic movies, I’ve never felt such sweltering emotions fill my stomach at seeing another person experience such happiness. Knowing that Rocco will be able to move past what is haunting him, more happiness floods through me.

The vows wash over me like distant music.

I should be watching the bride—should be memorizing the way her hands tremble as she slides the ring onto her groom’s finger—but my gaze keeps snagging on Rocco.

I’m staring at the way his throat moves when she laughs.

At the quiet, devastating pride in his eyes as she promises forever to a man he knows will take good care of her.

My stomach swoops, butterflies taking frantic flight.

I don’t know the full weight of their history—don’t understand the fractures behind his muttered “complicated”—but this? This is unmistakable:

The way his jaw softens when his sister hiccups through her vows.

The way his thumb absently strokes my wrist, as if my skin is the only thing tethering him here.

He loves his family.

By the time the reception rolls around, I’m ready to replace these butterflies with a full hearty meal.

“When Santino plans a wedding, he makes sure to do it right,” Ren mutters as he watches hired help prepare the grand entrance of the home into an eating space. “I’ve attended a few of his parties in the past, so I’m not too surprised.”

“What kind of parties?” I ask as a man with a tray of glass flutes drifts past us.

Rocco frowns at Ren as he clears his throat. “Business-related parties.”

“I hope he doesn’t allow Camellia to get too involved in those.” Rocco sighs as he rubs the back of his neck. “I suppose we should find somewhere to sit.”

There’s a table dedicated to the groom and bride’s family, and I watch him glance toward it. He doesn’t consider moving in that direction.

Reaching out to grab his hand, I give his fingers a squeeze. “We can always ask. I feel like your sister would have asked for an extra chair for you.”

He squints at the table and shrugs a shoulder. “They didn’t know I’d be coming here with company. It’s fine. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”

Sounding more confident, he leads me over to a table, and we relax for all but a few minutes before men slide up next to Ren to chat in his ear about work. It’s easy to drown them out.

With Rocco’s attention still on that table, we take in Camellia and Santino as they smile at each other.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask him softly, struggling to read his face.

“Honestly? I’m thinking I need to stop being a pain in the ass to that guy, or Eliza won’t be the only one to hate me. Camellia loves him enough to make her feelings shift. She’s a Bertelli now,both of them are, and I can’t make enemies with my siblings. It’s already been that way for far too long,” he explains, sighing as he shoves his fingers through his hair. “Now I just have to figure out what I’m going to do with the Parada line.”

I squirm in my seat at the uncertainty in his voice. “Well, once we marry,I’llbe a Parada, won’t I?”

His eyes flick toward me, his mouth curving. “Yes, you will. Means I can’t let it die out, not just yet. Giving up on taking the Bertelli territory means I’ll have to make new enemies.”

Ren sputters on his flute, half-listening to our conversation. He flicks his hand at the men trying to keep his attention.

“No more picking fights,” he interrupts with narrowed eyes. “You’re moving to the city. Bring your men, too. If you’re not making friends with these guys, you’re going to helpmeexpand.”

I watch them go back and forth, not fully understanding the lingo they’re talking about. All I know is that by the end of it, both men are grinning.

“The city…” I murmur, thinking about it. Ren’s talking about buying out a whole building with a penthouse. I hope he doesn’t think all three of us will live up there, though. I’ll need my space with Rocco so we can have our own little fun without worrying about having an audience.

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