“Nice jacket,” she said when he let her up for air. “Is that your idea of following Nico’s instructions to dress like an underboss for the funeral?”
“Yes.”
“You’re missing the suit pants, shirt, tie and Italian leather shoes.” She patted his lapel as Tom moved a discrete distance away. “Look at Nico and Luca over by the trees. No jeans. No T-shirts. No boots.”
Rocco scowled. “I’m a De Lucchi. I dress how I want to dress. Nico should be pleased I even went this far.”
“I like the look.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Nothing says sophisticated badass like Gucci over Guns and Roses.”
Rocco growled deep in his throat. “Nothing says ‘fuck me now’ like Grace wearing a dress made of material I can shred with my bare hands.”
“We’re in a cemetery,” she warned.
“Then I’ll fuck you to death.” His hand slid around her waist and he yanked her against his hard chest.
“How was your meeting with Father Seamus?” She tried to distract him in case he got carried away, a distinct possibility because he hadn’t made it back to her place until the early hours of the morning and then had to leave at the crack of dawn, which meant the intervening hours had been spent asleep and not engaged in the activity he liked best.
“He found the old records. Sunnyville was my orphanage. He even remembered me as a boy. The only thing he didn’t have was a record of my last name or where they found me, but he’s got some leads he’s going to follow. He has a vague recollection that it was an Italian name.” He puffed out his chest. “Maybe I’m actually a Gamboli or a member of one of the five founding families in New York.”
“Or maybe your last name was Smith.”
Rocco huffed in indignation. “I’m not a Smith, bella.”
“Hey. I know some very nice Smiths. Ethan, for example. He says thanks for returning the shredded jacket, by the way.”
His satisfied growl made her laugh. “He is very welcome. I’m sure he got the message.”
“The only message he got was not to lend you any more jackets. You’ll have to buy your own now that you’re an underboss and you’re going to be running the Stardust.”
He bent down and brushed a kiss over her ear. “And the vocalist of my headlining band will be singing without a mask.”
“About that…” She grimaced.
“No mask.”
“It’s not the mask. It’s just…”
“What?” His brow creased in a frown.
“Well, since New York has washed its hands of us, and it’s full-on with the war between Nico and Tony, and Tony’s still crazy angry that you threw a knife into his shoulder, and the club is underground in a basement where it’s kind of dark…”
“You don’t think I can keep you safe?” He gave her an incredulous look.
“No. It’s not that. Maybe … you could turn on the lights when I’m on stage.”
“You want to sing with the lights shining on your beautiful face? There will be no light unlit in the whole goddamned club.”
“You say such romantic things.”
Rocco grinned. “It’s my Italian blood.”
She looked up at him, studied his face. Beautiful and breathtaking. His sculpted lips were full and sensual, and his whiskey-brown eyes so dark they were almost black, but there was a softness in his face that she’d never seen before, a warmth that made her heart pound.
Once upon a time those eyes had looked into her soul, and those lips had touched every part of her body. Once upon a time all that beauty had belonged to her, and then the mob had stolen it away.
Now she had taken it back and it was hers forever.
“Say something else romantic.”
He wrapped his arms around her and sang the last verse of Frank Sinatra’s “Strangers in the Night” softly in her ear, taking her back to the first time they’d met when she’d found her soulmate in the words of a song about a love so right it would last forever.
“You stole Sinatra’s words,” she teased.
“He stole my words. He knew one day a man would meet a girl and fall in love the first time he met her, so he sang a song for us before we were even born.”
Grace melted against him, safe in his strong arms. “Did he know that love would last even though we were apart?”
“I knew it, Gracie.” Her pressed a kiss to her forehead. “When I fell in love with you, I fell in love forever.”
EPILOGUE
One year later
The wedding had been perfect.
Outdoors. Wildflowers. Sunshine. Friends. Family. Good Italian food. Great music. Everything his Gracie had wanted.
Rocco got what he wanted, too. Grace was his. Forever.
Tom had walked Grace down the aisle. A fully-recovered Mike had been Rocco’s best man. He had a scar across his throat that had turned him into a chick magnet. Every time Rocco saw him he had a woman on his arm and a smile that went from ear to ear.
Squeezed into a tux, Rocco had almost lost his shit when he saw Grace in her curve-hugging white dress with some kind of beaded corset on top and a long layered skirt made of that easy-to-shred material he liked. She had a crown of flowers in her hair, and when she walked down the aisle she looked so goddamm beautiful he’d choked up and Mike had to thump him on the back so he could recite the words the priest asked him to say. Grace had written some beautiful vows, but when it came time for him to make his pledge, he had only three words to say. Three words from the heart. Three words he’d known from the first day they’d met.
Apparently, they were sufficient, because ten minutes later she was wearing his ring and they were walking down the aisle and his heart was full to bursting because the girl he had loved since she was ten years old had become his wife.
Then the party started.
That had also been perfect. When the Toscani crime family was involved, nothing went wrong from the tent to the food, or from the entertainers to the booze. Grace had coordinated everything and he had been happy to cede control to see the smile on her face. Security, however, had been his domain.
Weapons had been checked at the gate of the estate the Toscanis had recently acquired from a man who had come up three hundred grand short on the loan he had been given to keep his used-car business afloat. Rocco had been in a good mood after a night of sexing up his bride-to-be so he’d given the dude a choice of broken legs or giving up the three acres of prime real estate near the glistening waters of Lake Mead. Although he no longer worked as an enforcer, old habits died hard, and sometimes messages were more effective when bones were involved. He didn’t share his occasional forays back into enforcement work with Grace, but even if he did, she wouldn’t ask him to change. It was part of the job and she accepted him for who he was.
And right now, he was a man on a mission.
He spotted Grace talking with Father Seamus near the stage where Stormy Blu was getting ready for their next set.
“When do I get my wedding present?” He smoothed a suggestive hand over her ass, out of view of the priest, his mouth watering in anticipation of the gift he’d been waiting for all year. He had kept his end of the bargain, but she’d held firm on her promise despite his frequent attempts to change her mind. He wanted to own every inch of her beautiful body and tonight she would be his in every way.
“Rocco. Not okay.” Grace slapped his hand away. “Father Seamus was just telling me the adoption papers will be ready to sign next week. He says Matthew is so excited about coming to live with us, he’s already got his bag packed and waiting at the door.”
Rocco’s throat tightened at the thought of the boy they had decided to adopt. Matthew was around the same age he had been when Cesare had taken him from the orphanage, but the life he planned to give Matthew would be nothing like what he had endured. He wanted to give a child the one thing he had so desperately wanted all those cold, lonely years he’d spent in Cesare’s house—the gift Grace had given him—love.
&n
bsp; He glanced over at the wedding tent where Matthew was running around the dance floor with the other Toscani crime family kids. He’d been the ring bearer in the wedding party, but his little suit jacket and tie had long since been discarded. Rocco didn’t blame him. Unused to ties of any form, he felt like he was choking to death. All the more reason to get Grace alone so they could take off their clothes and get down to the giving and receiving of presents.
“Father Seamus wants to know about the house.” Grace gave him a gentle nudge, pulling him back to the present. “Olivia told him you had some friends help with the renovations.”
Rocco bit back a laugh. Grace knew exactly what kind of “friends” had helped fix up their new ranch house in Henderson—men who owed him favors and were happy to help him out instead of losing a few fingers.
“The house is all ready,” Rocco said. “I did the final inspection last night.” They had bought a house with a big back yard for the rescue dogs they planned to adopt as soon as Matthew had settled in, and for the children they would have starting nine months from today after he got Grace out of that dress.
Father Seamus smiled. “I have good news for you, Rocco. I won’t share it today because I think you have enough to celebrate, and there are a few documents you’ll need to check over at my office first.”
“You found my family.” A statement. Not question.
“I did, but we’ll talk tomorrow.” Father Seamus clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I think you’ll be very happy with what we’ve uncovered.”
“We’re going to have a proud Italian name, bella.” He puffed out his chest as Father Seamus walked away. “An honorable name.”
“Or we might become the Smith family,” Grace said dryly.
He slid his hand down her back and squeezed her ass. “When do I get my present, Mrs. Smith?”
“When the party’s over, Mr. Smith. Now go and enjoy yourself.” She wiggled against him and he bit back a growl. He was seriously close to firing a gun in the air and shutting the whole thing down. Although he enjoyed having his friends and around, he wanted to be alone with his wife, hold her in his arms, and lose himself in the miracle of a dream come true.
But more than that he wanted her to be happy. So he waited. They danced. He drank. He put Matthew to sleep in the back of Father Seamus’s SUV. He talked business with the boys, ate too much good Italian food, and watched Olivia and Tom sneak off into the night. He had waited for her since she was ten years old. He would wait for her forever.
Fortunately, forever came at 1:15am.
“Ready to go?” Grace walked into his arms and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, her lips curled into a smile.
“Was it everything you imagined, bella?”
“It was perfect.”
His wife in his arms. His friends around him. A boy he could love. She was right. It was perfect.
And so was the present he got later that night.
Also by
SARAH CASTILLE
Rough Justice
Beyond The Cut
Sinner’s Steel
Chaos Bound
Nico
Luca
Available from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Praise for Sarah Castille’s Sinner’s Tribe series
“The exploration of the hardcore society of a motorcycle club (MC) is fascinating and chilling. Strong personalities populate this world and take no prisoners. Crafting a love story out of this combination is admirable.”
—RT Book Reviews (4 ½ stars) on Rough Justice
“A sexy and dangerous ride! If you like your bad boys bad and your heroines kicking butt, Rough Justice will rev your engine. A great start to a new series!”
—Roni Loren, New York Times bestselling author
“Put your helmet on and hold tight for the ride of your life!”
—Romance Reviews Today on Beyond the Cut
“Castille continues to raise the stakes in her visceral, violent series, offering her biker heroes plenty of pulse-pounding action, and giving readers the compelling romance they crave.”
—RT Book Reviews (4 ½ stars) on Beyond the Cut
“Castille takes the MC genre and lights it on fire! I want my very own Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club bad boy!”
—Julie Ann Walker, New York Times bestselling author
“Castille emphasizes the darkest aspects of motorcycle gangs in the gritty Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club [series] … for the reader who doesn’t believe bad boys need redemption and hungers for the story of a couple whose love survives despite dangerous times.”
—Publishers Weekly on Sinner’s Steel
“Raw, rugged and romantic … you’ll feel the vibration of the motorcycle engines in the pit of your stomach, smell the leather, and fall in love…”
—Eden Bradley, New York Times bestselling author
“Awesome! Sarah Castille ripped my heart out with this book. It is a vivid and powerful story of love, loyalty, lust, and redemption.”
—Night Owl Romance (A Top Pick) on Sinner’s Steel
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sarah Castille is an award-winning author who writes contemporary romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them. Her books have appeared on the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists. Visit www.sarahcastille.com to learn more. Or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Also by Sarah Castille
Praise for Sarah Castille’s Sinner’s Tribe series
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ROCCO
Copyright © 2018 by Sarah Castille.
Jacket Photograph: Shutterstock
All rights reserved.
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eISBN: 978-1-250-10408-3
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / January 2018
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Rocco: A Mafia Romance (Ruin & Revenge) Page 32