I turn on him, my temper flaring. "Then what do you mean, Rocco? Because I'm tired of everyone speaking in riddles around me."
He stops a few paces away, his hand resting on his jacket where I know he keeps his gun. "The streets aren't safe for you right now."
"The streets aren't safe, or Emilio doesn't trust me not to run?" I'm furious that I can't even have a walk to cool my headwithout my uncle's hired hands chasing me down. I want my life back. I want privacy to dissect the things I’m thinking and find my way through the maze of worry and fear I'm feeling.
"Both."
At least he's honest. I wrap my arms around myself and continue walking along the perimeter of the estate. The stone walls rise on my left, casting long shadows across the narrow street. Streetlights flicker on as dusk settles over Rome.
"We should go back," Rocco says, matching my pace but keeping distance between us.
"We should mind our own business."
"Your safety is my business." The tool is relentless, and even when I pick up my pace I can't shake him.
"My safety or my obedience?"
Before he can answer, the screech of tires cuts through the evening quiet. A black sedan tears around the corner, headlights blazing, and slides to a stop directly in front of us. The engine idles, exhaust clouding in the cool air.
I recognize the car before the driver's door opens and my stomach drops. I did not plan to come out and meet him, but here he is, in the flesh, and I already sense Rocco tensing behind me.
Salvatore steps out, his movements controlled and purposeful. He doesn't look at me immediately. His attention fixes on Rocco, who has already moved to position himself between us.
"Step away from her," Salvatore says, his voice carrying across the narrow space.
"Not happening." Rocco's hand moves inside his jacket where I know the gun is, and for a moment I fear he will shoot Salvatore. I tense, body going rigid as I wait for the click of metal as he chambers a round in his weapon.
"I'm not asking." Salvatore steps closer, and I wince, almost closing my eyes.
"Neither am I."
The tension crackles between them. I take a step back, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Salvatore, don't?—"
"Get in the car, Rosaria."
"No."
He finally looks at me, his green eyes dark in the streetlight. "This isn't a request."
Rocco draws his weapon, keeping it low but visible. "Walk away, DeSantis. Now, or I will end you."
Salvatore laughs, a sound devoid of humor. "With what? A gun? You think I'm afraid of your little pistol?"
"I think you should be smart enough to leave."
"Smart would have been keeping her safe. But you let her walk the streets while men hunt her."
"What men?" I demand, but neither of them acknowledges me. I'm frantic now, desperate to ensure the man whose child I'm carrying doesn't die. At least not before he knows he has a child.
Rocco's finger moves to the trigger. "Last warning."
Salvatore moves faster than I expect. He lunges forward, batting Rocco's gun hand aside before my bodyguard can fire. The weapon discharges into the air, the crack echoing off the stone walls.
They collide in a tangle of limbs and violence. Rocco is trained, but Salvatore fights without rules. He drives his elbow into Rocco's ribs, doubling him over, then brings his knee up into his face.
"Stop!" I scream, but they don't hear me over the sound of flesh meeting flesh.
