Hidden Rocco (Hidden Alphas Book 5)

by Victoria Pinder

  Would this make her seem less leftover New Yorker, and more approachable? As she finished checking herself, her phone rang.

  Her oldest brother. Raphael had already tried to get her home, and failed. She picked up the phone and winked at Jacob as she said, “Gabriel. I hadn’t thought you’d call me.”

  Gabriel, four years her senior, always gave her more space. “You survived a storm.”

  The weather. There was no way he could know about Rocco, because this chalet was under the family radar. Neither of her brothers cared about the family business, so his call had to be about their parents’ quest to get her back to New York, fast. She added some blush to her cheekbones. “It wasn’t anything really. We’re fine.”

  “I don’t like you out there, on your own.”

  Mica knew how to run a company and shoot a gun, but she’d been unable to help her older brother when he’d married a horrible woman who’d made him unhappy. The love of a good woman had returned him to life and brought him back to the family.

  She put her makeup back on the counter in the bedroom area of her suite. Too much would be too obvious that she was trying. “I’m like you and Raphael. You both needed time to heal, alone, right?”

  His gruff cough was a signal that he wouldn't argue too much. “Aren’t you worried Ali’s family will come for Jacob?”

  She stood taller like she’d been challenged and said, “Yes, but I know how to shoot straight.”

  “That may not be enough. You can come to my house if you need to be safe.”

  And see him happy and in love when she was miserable? She sighed. “Gabriel, thank you for the offer. You and Raphael need to stop fretting. I’m always fine. I’ll be fine now.”

  A huge boom made her jump. She and Jacob turned to the big window as outside a green pine tree toppled near the mountain bottom that just missed her chairlift for skiing. She picked up her son as her brother asked, “What was that noise?”

  She glanced out and saw the downed tree heavy with ice and met Rocco’s gaze from her bedroom window.

  He’d been near it when it fell? Her heart fluttered with worry.

  He could have been killed. “A tree fell from the storm. Look, I’ll call you back.”

  She dressed Jacob in fleece pants and socks, then his snow jacket, wrapping him in a thick blanket to be extra warm.

  Mica threw a coat on herself and raced down the stairs. A few seconds later, she was in the back of her chalet in an outdoor area she’d designated for future cocktail hours and ran toward Rocco.

  He didn’t have a warm jacket, just new work gloves from her supply shed, and he lowered his head like he’d avoid getting too close to her. She had goosebumps, probably from the cold, not from being near him as they had nothing in common. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  He pointed toward the other tree in the back that had lost some of its snow and removed the gloves. “I saved the bird’s nest, ma’am.”

  He’d stood near a tree on the verge of toppling because… he wanted to save a nest? Birds rebuild. Her lips pursed. “The bi… are you okay?”

  He widened his stance and gave her a curt nod. “I’m fine, ma’am.”

  Jacob’s huge smile caught Rocco’s attention, and Rocco grinned back. Large snowflakes fell on them, not as thick as the storm had been, making the courtyard white. She glanced down and saw how her son beamed at this man.

  If she was honest, she glowed too. She moved Jacob's face toward her shoulder, out of the snow. “It seems my son likes you.”

  Rocco’s face paled and his lips thinned. “I thought the snow was done falling—should he have a heavier jacket?”

  Yes. Fair. She hadn’t intended to take her baby out, but she’d needed to see that Rocco was all right. “We’ll only stay a minute. Where did you put the nest then?”

  He motioned behind him toward her chairlift and the trees. “In that strong tree closer to your side of the mountain. I hope the birds find their eggs and that I didn’t ruin anything.”

  She glanced behind her and realized the window in the kitchen faced in the same direction so that must have what he have been looking at earlier. This wasn’t something she’d have ever noticed. Ever. Only people in movies noticed the small things. Or trees and how birds behaved. He could have been killed climbing that huge fallen maple tree she’d have to hire a crew to clean. They were from two different worlds, clearly. She headed toward the tree behind him and gazed up, not seeing anything as she asked, “Eggs?”

  He tucked his hands in his back pockets as they walked. “Yes. I was careful and used the gardener’s gloves I found in the shed so as not to add my scent to the nest.”

  Yeah, she hadn’t seen a nest or eggs.

  But then two blue birds with white stripes returned singing and flapping around as they searched the courtyard. Rocco pulled her back as the birds explored the second tree and went toward a branch. She narrowed her gaze and saw the birds land in a nest, chirping.

  Had Rocco seriously moved that there? He’d have climbed that tree another four feet. Her last landscapers would have needed ladders.

  She hugged her baby and backed up. “I haven’t paid for a gardener to start work. I was waiting till the inside remodel to finish.”

  He pressed his hand on Jacob’s bald head and covered it with the corner of the blanket to keep her son warm. She glanced at him and saw the shadows under his eyes. He must be worried so she decided fast not to ask him. Rocco was kind when he stepped backward and said, “Then I have time to return the gloves.”

  She joined him and he turned around, going to the hotel. Somehow this man stirred something inside her—he didn’t trigger her “hide” reflex that normally happened with men in New York. “You can keep them. I bought you work clothes.”

  He held the door for her as they retreated into the chalet. “You didn’t need-”

  “I did,” she interrupted. His jeans were too big and she couldn’t see his defined muscles. Her face felt hot for that thought. “As an employer, I need to ensure my hotel only gives off certain vibes. Please wear them when my clothes arrive for you.”

  He bowed again. Seriously she didn’t need to replay the master/servant role. “Yes, ma’am.”

  How to break through and find out more about him? Her son started his small song like sounds which meant he was hungry. She ignored the zip in her pulse and asked, “Come with me to put Jacob down in the playpen?”

  He put his hands behind his back and nodded. “If you wish.”

  Interesting phrase as that wasn’t quite true because wishes weren’t worth much. As they headed inside, the heat within the building warmed her face. Once the final mirrors were on the long walls, the hall would seem bigger than now. Either way, her wants weren’t being discussed. Mica took her jacket off and tossed it on a chair in the huge side room with the stone fireplace she wished she’d started already. She put her son’s playpen beside her.

  This giant room was designed for couples who wanted a quiet retreat while traveling. There were dark corners, the fireplace, the rug, and soon she’d ensure multiple bistro tables and a bar. At night, the windows near the bar would be dark and torches that led to her patio would be the only thing to see. Romance needed good ambience and this room was to give honeymooners a place.

  Jacob in the crook of her arm, Mica flounced her hair to get rid of any melted snow. “Tell me more about yourself, Rocco.”

  “There isn’t much to tell.” He stood like he was at attention.

  Yes, he’d been in the military. It was so obvious now. She wondered what branch, but didn’t ask. She unwrapped her son from his heavy blanket and placed Jacob in the playpen she’d set up for when she read down here. “I think a man like you has tons of mystery. Enlighten me.”

  Without being asked, he fetched a bottle of formula out of the bar refrigerator and ran it under hot water for a minute at the bar sink. “Nothing mysterious. I’m not important at all.”

  Hopefully he was ready now as she
placed the bottle for Jacob on his chest, not asking how Rocco knew to warm it. Mica avoided his gaze while she delivered her assessment. “You’re polite. You’re willing to stay in the background, but you have strength of character and interesting insights. You’re nothing like men I usually meet.”

  She went to the couch and pointed for him to sit. He took the side chair opposite her and folded his hands between his legs. She ignored the thrill that went up her spine as he asked her, “Who do you normally meet?”

  The opposite of good guys. Most men just wanted a notch in their belts or even worse, the right to her bank account without actually caring about her or her feelings. She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Puffs.”

  His gaze narrowed and it was like he stared right into her soul, past all her defenses. “Like, clouds?”

  She glanced out the window at spring snow piling up. Maybe telling Rocco about them would free her from ever talking to another one of those jerks again. “Yes, the men I meet are mostly like clouds. They block the beauty of the sky and tend to bring in the storms.”

  His eyes had wrinkles around the edges as he squinted and said, “That doesn’t sound nice, ma’am.”

  Perhaps he honestly didn’t know who she was or how much money she had at her disposal. She hadn’t told him her name or anything about herself. Maybe that was what she liked about Rocco. She leaned back against the couch. “Most men are afraid of a woman like me.”

  He relaxed but then stood suddenly. “There is nothing frightening about you. It’s refreshing to see that people like you exist.”

  He walked out the door behind the bar that headed to the kitchen.

  Her skin buzzed and she hoped he’d return as she called out, “People like me?”

  The door still swung. She slumped in her seat. What had she said that made him leave? She’d been nice, or tried to be.

  Her ears perked. She eyed the door as Rocco returned carrying two mugs in his large hand. She sat straighter as he offered her a cup of green tea and said, “Beautiful. Smart. Intelligent. Where I’ve been, women like you are often the stuff of fairy tales.”

  He already knew she liked green tea from checking the kitchen cabinets.

  No one had ever made an effort like that—yes, simple, but not in her world.

  In movies, or through friends, she’d heard women judge men based on what he might offer her, but since Mica had everything with the snap of her fingers, she’d never realized that it might be nice if a man actually did small things. Considerate things.

  The action made Rocco’s brown eyes even more warm and her stomach had butterflies as she sipped her tea, then put the mug down. Her skin was awake and aware of Rocco’s muscles as well as his sweet personality. “Where is that?”

  His face flushed, just a little. Again he was unique. Men never showed emotion other than desire for sex. “Where men don’t believe women who are smarter than them exist?”

  She scooted to the edge of the couch cushion and hoped he’d answer. “The puffs I mentioned earlier all believe they can run circles around me to fleece my money.”

  His intense study of her was like he saw deeper into her than anyone else before. She didn’t blink, half-afraid of what he saw and half never wanting this second to end. Rocco sat back. ”"You’re too smart for that, which is a good thing.”

  “I… tend to be competitive, and I think I trigger that in men for them to pretend they are more than they actually are.”

  “Life is too short for lying to ourselves.”

  “What about you? What’s important to you?”

  “I’m happy for the place to stay and the honest work.”

  A knock sounded at the front door of the chalet. She picked her son up from his playpen but he began to fuss. “Rocco… get the delivery truck.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He stood and headed out to the main room and front door.

  She hadn’t told him that half of her purchases were for him. Maybe underwear was too much? Too forward. Her face heated as she imagined telling him now.

  She put her son back in his bassinet, and checked that her son was comfortable, with his bottle in his mouth though he wasn’t sucking, and then straightened when Rocco returned. Her heart thumped as she noticed Rocco’s simple gestures to help with all those muscles of his as she asked, “ Are those my packages?”

  He offered her the bags he carried. “Mark Jacobs. Versace. These are addressed to you.”

  Warmth filled her. Rocco needed new clothes far more than she did. She pushed his hands back, with the packages, and a spark caused her fingers to tingle from where she’d touched his skin. The sizzle went straight through her. She shook her head and said, “No. It’s clear that your one outfit doesn’t quite fit right. Besides, you’ll need some work clothes. Consider these a small gift to help whatever your situation is to be a little easier.”

  His face paled and his body tensed. Finally he said, “I can’t accept these, ma’am. I don’t need designer.”

  Good clothes were the least she could do for a man who made her calm. He'd been nice and considerate of her. She gently squeezed his wrist which caused him to wince. He pulled free. Had she hurt him? She hadn’t been hard…she lifted her chin and said, “You can and you will. These are the stores I know well, that’s all. I’m looking forward to the day you call me Mica.”

  He reluctantly placed the bags near the door. “I’d rather think of you as my employer.”

  For now. She hadn’t expected to be attracted to anyone though she accepted it was passing lust that filled her thoughts.

  And it was his gentleness that stirred something kind in her.

  Near him, maybe she could be kinder too, if that was a quality that rubbed off. Anything was possible. She stood taller, comfortable in her position of giving orders. “I can still be Mica when I pay you.”" Or rather, his mother. "Why don’t you go change and then get lunch ready.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said at once.

  Orders weren’t going to earn his trust, and her lips might never know what his kiss was like if she didn’t stop bossing him around. She let out a sigh and continued anyhow. “And this time I hope you join me without jumping up to fetch whatever I want. I can get up to get my own condiments.”

  “As you wish.” He walked out, carrying the bags.

  Rocco already made her see the world a little different. Perhaps they both needed to know each other and she’d come to her senses. They were from different worlds. Maybe then she’d find out what his kiss might be like… not that she should have that thought or wonder.

  But her lips tingled as she absolutely did.

  Chapter 5

  Authorities report a prison break from Utah State Prison, two escaped prisoners remain on the loose. A dozen prisoners escaped the prison a week ago, and most were apprehended right away. The last two are considered dangerous and if they are spotted, call the police. Do not approach.

  The radio report made Rocco's blood freeze. A dozen the previous week stopped him just as much as the news about him. Of course he had bad timeing. He'd turned on the news as he prepared dinner in the galley kitchen, chopping tomatoes. Earlier he’d served chicken soup he’d made from scratch that she’d enjoyed.

  If Mica heard this new and figured out who he was, she had every right to turn him in.

  If he stayed here, he’d run a risk.

  If he ran, he was also at risk.

  And if he called his mother from Mica’s hotel, he’d be tracked to this Colorado location. He hadn’t asked for permission to call long distance, which was probably silly as he was now wearing Saks designer jeans--he figured these were the cheapest thing she’d bought.

  Rocco had to convince his mother to get treatment without getting caught somehow. Authorities would have her phone line tapped by now, if they were smart.

  And they usually were, except for tossing him in jail without caring if he was innocent or not. They looked one look as his brother’s rap sheets and just assumed he w
as cut from the same cloth.

  The clock read 1:30. He added the tomatoes to the food processor for a pesto, his movements rigid. What to do? The light voice of an angel in the form of Mica broke through his frantic thoughts. “Rocco?”

  He turned his head and looked into the face of the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen.

  His mouth watered.

  If he touched her, he’d ruin her with his bad luck—it was best if he stayed away.

  Rocco wished she had her usual armor, the baby in her arms, which also strangely calmed him down. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Can I ask how you were poisoned and why?”

  “Usual way, poisoned my food.” Her gaze followed his muscular arm to his abs and then lower for a second when she said, “The jeans look like they fit better.”

  “Thank you, ma’… Where’s Jacob?”

  She bounced in her step as she came closer and the room smelled like her floral perfume. “Asleep. I have the baby monitor on my phone that alerts if he stirs. I wanted to check on you and see how dinner was coming along.”

  Mica had a beauty that most women would never have. It wasn’t any feature on her face or body, but it was something she stirred in his soul. She was fierce, take-charge when she needed to be, but also kind. He returned to the stove as he said, “It will be ready in a half an hour.”

  She joined him and the air around him no longer just smelled of meat and onions. She made it sweeter. “Anything I can do?”

  She wanted to help? There wasn’t much to do except stir the sauce so he glanced at her and said, “I’m just minding the dinner at this point, but I’ll need to set the table.”

  She reached up into the cupboard above her head and took out the plates. “And get a bottle of wine. What do you prefer, red or white?”

  She placed the plates on the counter and stepped back.

  It had been a while since he'd had wine with dinner. Rocco shook his head and said, “I’ve not…”

  She lifted her eyebrows and then disappeared into a side room as she asked, “Beer? I’m sure I have beer. I probably have anything you might desire in beverages around somewhere.”