Page 69 of Rocco

“The side of love, my man.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m serious. You’re a doctor. First, do no harm and all that bullshit. There are some skillful ways you could take care of the bastard and not get caught, but would you? Hell no, because you’re not made like that. Jemma doesn’t want to put you in that situation. She doesn’t know you have dangerous friends who’d dothe dirty work for you.” Dante grinned and pointed a finger at himself.

“Trust me, I’d have had no problem dealing with the bastard.”

“And that’s why being put on the sidelines is fucking with your head.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to give you some advice.”

“I don’t want advice. I want tequila.”

“If you’re crashing in my guest room tonight, the price to pay is listening to my unsolicited advice.”

“Fine. Please grace me with your wisdom.”

“You want her to trust you. It’s hard when you love someone, and it seems like they don’t.”

“Love?” Rocco balked.

“Don’t try to deny it.” Dante rolled his eyes. “I don’t think this issue with the guy from Jemma’s past has anything to do with how much she trusts you. I think this time, she needs you to trust her first. Question is … are you man enough to do that?”

Rocco slammed the tequila bottle onto the table and dragged his hands down his face. Could Dante be right? Despite everything he witnessed in the club between Jemma and that guy, should he trust her instincts and do what she wanted?

“Turn the lights out when you’re finished in here.” Dante rose from the table and walked down the hallway to his bedroom.

Rocco shook his head. “Love.”

Jemma meant the world to him, but he wasn’t in love.

Right?

How could he be?

They hadn’t spent enough time together to fall in love.

Grabbing the bottle of Patron, Rocco stumbled down the opposite hallway to the guest bedroom. It was going to be a long fucking night without Jemma to wrap in his arms.

Chapter 44

Rocco hadn’t come back.

That’s how pissed he was at her.

Jemma had spent the entire weekend alone, missing him.

Thankfully, The Two Carlas had kept her updated, letting her know Rocco had spent the night at the clinic on Thursday, then moved into Dante’s guest bedroom for the rest of the weekend. He was coming to work as usual but in a “mood.”

She was in a mood, too, wondering if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. Jemma gripped the covers and pulled them over her head. Rocco’s scent was infused within the sheets, soothing and haunting her.

Maybe she’d come on too strong, insisting he stay out of the situation with Nomar. Things were complicated. Trying to be Rocco’s handler, navigate her feelings for him, and hunt down Nomar was becoming too much. The typical strategic precision of her life had splintered. She was all over the place.

Nomar had to pay for Aurelia’s death.

The burden of making that happen was firmly on her, not Rocco.