He couldn’t have been more grateful for Alessa’s presence at his side. She stayed, she offered comfort, she listened when the doctors gave him updates, and she refused to take any crap from family security when the less-educated men tried throwing her out.
It was sometime after one o’clock in the morning before she finally pushed to get him to sleep. To at least try.
Rocco blew out a haggard breath. “Today,” he began, his voice too quiet, too weak, “I was allowed to be a son worried about his father.” He lowered his stare from the motionless figure in the bed across from him and leaned forward, elbows onhis knees, fingers twisting together in a tight grip. “Tomorrow … I become Don Cavallo. Whether I like it or not.”
Alessa dropped to her knees in front of him, appearing almost as if from out of the shadows of the dimly lit room. She pulled his taut hands into her own, holding tight, rubbing her thumbs over his knuckles. “Rocco, listen to me.” She waited, immobile, until he met her patient stare. “The pain you feel right now is valid. No one can tell you not to feel it, no matter how long it’s been.” She gave his hands a squeeze. “But it’s important to also remember that your fatherlives. And by accepting your own rise a little ahead of schedule, not only do you honor him, you assure the entire family that the Cavallos remain strong. The Cavallos were not defeated, and the Cavallos do not yield.”
A lump formed in Rocco’s throat and he watched, overemotional and speechless, as she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his slackening fingers.
Then she straightened, the subtlest of smiles on her face, and added, “Tighten your circle. Rule asyouwould. And trust in the faith your father already has in you.”
As I would…Rocco slipped his hands from her grasp, cupped her jaw, and pulled her forward as he leaned down. Their lips met in a brief whisper of a kiss, too chaste and too soft for his usual preferences, but somehow enough to soothe him. When he met her gaze again, he grunted, “This place needs a couch, or a second goddamn bed.” He raked his eyes over her. “And that floor’s no place for you.”
Her smile turned teasing and she stood. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be right here, and we’ve got two men outside with fresh eyes.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Please, at least try.”
Rocco curled his arm around her waist and tugged her onto his lap. “Fine.”
Alessa relaxed against him at his agreement, and they lapsed into silence.
The sounds of medical equipment rapidly rushed in around them, familiar and abhorrent all at once.
Rocco leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He opened them again when a nightshift nurse came in, flicking on one of the main lights and moving around the room to check the various readouts. Nothing in the woman’s expression or demeanor revealed alarm, and Rocco closed his eyes again when she departed. Three more times this happened, the second nurse either forgetting or opting not to turn off the brighter light on her way out.
It wasn’t nearly his best night’s sleep. Definitely for all the worst reasons.
Em nudged him awake sometime later, when daylight seeped past the edges of the closed drapery. “Sorry to bother you, Rocco,” he said, his own voice coarser than usual.
Rocco blinked as his eyes adjusted. He’d finally crashed hard enough to tune out the revolving door routine, apparently.
Alessa stirred over him, her body shifting as she let out a soft groan. “Is it time?”
“Yeah,” Em replied.
Rocco almost opened his mouth to ask what they meant before it clicked.Time to step up.His eyes moved to the figurein the bed. Nothing looked different than when he’d finally relented and tried to sleep hours earlier. His father remained unconscious, attached to tubes and wires and a beeping machine quite literally announcing his status of life. The doctors were optimistic he would wake up, but had warned that even when he did, the road to anything resembling recovery would be long and unpleasant.
Rocco ground his teeth, drew a breath, and looked forward. “We need to freshen up, and I’m not gonna be worth shit without caffeine and calories.”
Alessa let out a soft laugh. “Ditto.”
Em’s lips twitched and he raised a small, reusable shopping bag. “Grabbed you some basics. There’s a change of clothes for both of you in the car. Sorry for the overstep. Breakfast will also be in the car.”
Alessa slid to her feet, accepted the bag, and looked back to Rocco. “I vote you keep this one. He might be loyal.”
Em scoffed.
Rocco felt his lips twitch. “I’ll think about it.”
Alessa stood with her back to the wall, Ignazio once again a statue at her side. He’d checked himself out against doctor’s orders the day before, stubbornly determined to do his part in standing guard over Cavallo’s hospital room. No pain showedon his face and the sleeves of his shirt covered any bruising from the shootout or the IV attachment, but he couldn’t hide the limp in his walk. Alessa was kind enough not to ask about that.
She swept her gaze over the room around them once more. They couldn’t use the offices at the hotel, of course, so Rocco had opted to commandeer an office at one of their alternate locations. Specifically, a gentleman’s club tucked just out of sight of The Strip. The office was decorated in dark tones with black paint, a dark mahogany desk, what appeared to be an entire bookcase using the Shou Sugi Ban technique, and furniture wrapped in strikingly deep maroon velvet. Whoever had designed the space was definitely leaning into the dark and sexy vibe Alessa had glimpsed throughout the club when they’d crossed through it.
The main issue, arguably, was that the office was neither intended to host quite so many people, nor for the purpose of video calls. The lighting was shit. But Rocco was making do. And she, Ignazio, and Emanuele were standing back, out of the way, quiet and watchful.
The club manager, a polished, sharp-nosed, lean man named Tino, the Cavallo family’sconsigliere, Ugo, and all four designated Capos were crowded with them into the club office. Including her, Rocco’s security, and Rocco himself, there were a total of ten bodies—most of them broad-shouldered, muscular or pudgy—crammed into the private office. Alessa imagined half that number would have fit comfortably.
Tino’s single, elongated, curve-screen monitor had been slightly repositioned in order to face Rocco and reveal as little else as possible. On the screen were three boxes, indicatingthree active lines. All of those represented heads of other families. Two were for the other local, smaller, but nonetheless established, Las Vegas families. The third window connected to a more distant, ironically more steadfast, ally … the Dragon. Alessa had already heard his familiar timbre rolling from the speaker when the call connected, so she knew with certainty it was him.
Movement in the forward part of the room sharpened her focus and she snapped her gaze back to the gathered men, seeing one of the Capos had shuffled half a foot forward. “Mr. Cavallo—”
