Page 51 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“I want to run.”
We do a five-mile circuit of the island, running the outskirts, past the entertainment and spa facilities, past several piers with hotel huts on them, past people playing volleyball andbeachgoers, past a bunch of Family men eating and drinking on the beach, until we finally stop, sweating and breathing hard.
Rocco grins at me. “Ready to talk?”
Ever since I was a kid, Rocco’s been the easiest to talk with. Uncle Eddy has always been distant, old school, and while I love my father, he’s cut from the same cloth. My godfather has always been more of a heart-on-his-sleeve type, though no mafiosi are what civilians would call emotional.
“It’s Siena,” I tell him. “Last night, we… well, you know.”
“Good for you.”
“But I think she regrets it,” I say. “And I’m growing wary. I know I should back off.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m thinking about what life would be like after this trip, when we’re back Stateside, free to date and possibly build something.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
I give him a look.
Rocco grits his straight white teeth. “The life,” he says.
“The life,” I confirm. “She doesn’t know who and what we are. If I wanted to be with her, really be with her, I’d have to tell her. I’d have to let her in.”
“Well… could you do that?”
“It would mean trusting her with everything. My freedom.”
“Say what you really mean.”
“What?”
“We both know if a civilian goes to the cops with stories of the Bianchi Family, we could persuade the cops to look the other way. What’s your real concern?”
I grind my teeth. He’s too damn good at reading me.
“What if I tell her who I am, and she can’t look at me the same way? She might want nothing to do with me. She might run as far and fast as she can. Could I blame her?”
“You won’t know unless you try. Do you want a life with her?”
I wipe the sweat from my brow. “Slow down, Rocco.”
“That seems to be what you’re saying.”
“I’m not saying I’m going to propose to her and declare my undying love. This isn’t Hollywood. But perhaps we could have a chance at something real. That can never be the case if she doesn’t know–and, hell,accept–who I am. Let’s not forget the fact that’d be a selfish thing to do.”
“Selfish?” He nods. “Ah, I get it. She might become a target.”
“The girlfriend of Dario Bianchi.” I sigh. “Anyway, none of this means a damn thing if she decides that last night was a one-off.”
“I wish I had all the answers, Dario.”
“Just airing it out is enough.”
“I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”
“I hope so.”
