What did she expect me to say? That she loved Rocco. She knew she did, or she wouldn’t be bringing up his feelings for my wife.
I had no time to pull out hidden meanings, and I wasn’t my wife, empathizing my way through the world. But I knew Rosaria’s end game.
She wanted me to be eaten up with jealousy so that I’d forbid my wife from seeing my brother. She wanted Scarlett out of the picture. Me too, for that matter. Our absence would make her life much easier.
Scarlett had once told me Rosaria was capable of love. I wasn’t so sure. If she ever showed it, I didn’t doubt that Rocco would return it. He could be passionate to a fault. It was in our DNA when it came to women and those we loved.
Rosaria’s tough exterior was not only a show, though. She might have had her soft spots, but they healed fast. There was a reason why Luca suggested her as a bride for Rocco.
Coming to a halt before Rocco’s door, she situated me so that I could see in. The door was cracked, only my wife and brother visible.
Scarlett held his hand in hers, and he was holding on tight. She said something that made him smile and then laugh.
“They are better together,” Rosaria said, her voice a soft whisper. “You and I would have made a better match. You could have been content with a woman without having to experience passionate love.”
“Until I met her.” It came out blunt, sharp.
I heard the pop of her mouth, felt the breath rush through her nostrils and hit me on the top of the head.
My neck felt more vulnerable than it should.
“You ever sit and talk with him like that?” I nodded toward the room.
“No.”
“He ever sit and talk with you like that?”
“No. We do not.”
“Give it a fucking try sometime,” I said and pushed open the door. I was greeted with a warm smile from my wife.
Neither of them moved to break apart, their hands still clasped.
Jealousy burned me deep…all the teasing thoughts tempting to strike out, but I’d learned that with anything in life, I didn’t have to give in. I wouldn’t deny my brother this, not when he was in such a bad way, or deny my wife the chance to help family in need—as long as it stayed innocent.
The warm smile faded from her face. When she saw me struggling to go further, she put his hand down gently, making her way to the door. Before she swept me off my feet, though, she fixed me with a narrowed-eye stare, hands on her hips.
“You got out of bed without help?”
“I’m not crippled.”
“No, but you’re on a ton of medicine. What if you would’ve fallen?”
“I would’ve gotten back up.”
“Before or after more stitches?”
“Depends on where I hit.” I shrugged.
Her nostrils flared, and the heat in her eyes would have wilted a flower. “What about your chest? Your shoulder? You’re not supposed to be using either one!”
I blew out an exasperated breath. “You going to lecture me all day? Or let me in?”
Low laughter from the bed made my heart lighten a bit. “Do not make me laugh,” Rocco whispered. “It hurts.”
Scarlett went to scoot around me, stopping when she saw Rosaria. “Oh,” she said. “You rolled him?”
“I did not want to see him hurt.”
