Page 43 of Sin City Obsession (De Salvo Empire #1)

Chapter twenty-one

Separation

Rocco scowled out the window as Las Vegas slowly came into view. They would be back on solid ground in a comparative handful of minutes and he ought to have been grateful. But he had too much on his mind.

As soon as they landed, things were going to happen fast. It was the only way to hopefully keep the war he’d never wanted from becoming some long, drawn-out thing that marred his entire reign.

He recognized that. He recognized that that was the reason behind the choices he’d made over the past twenty-four hours.

But already he could feel an emptiness growing inside him.

Cristiano lowered back into the seat across from Rocco and clicked his belt into place. “Your face says you’re having second thoughts.”

Rocco bit back a sigh. “No. This is the best way.”

Cristiano made a low sound and turned his head, watching as the jet began its descent. “Distance is hard,” he said after several seconds. “Even when the reason is solid.”

Rocco cut his eyes back to the larger man.

Cristiano met his stare. “You just have to remember it’s temporary.”

He wasn’t wrong. Rocco had every intention of going back to Newark when this was over, just so he could personally reclaim the woman he’d left behind. She would probably still be furious with him, but he’d take that. He intended to take all of her.

What he truly regretted was deciding not to ask her, formally, before running off to slaughter the Sobols.

In the moment, he’d thought it was the smarter choice.

He’d justified to himself that if the worst happened—which was the whole reason he wasn’t letting her return to Vegas with him—it would be easier for her to move on, to move forward, if she never fully grasped what they should have been. He’d viewed it as protecting her.

The moment the jet had rolled into motion, effectively forcing him to stick to that choice, Rocco had realized he’d made a mistake.

He should have proposed before leaving, not so she might know what could have been, but so she would be reassured while she was relegated to sitting at home on the other side of the country and waiting.

Instead, he’d left her with nothing but a kiss and a promise. Words.

He should have given her the fucking ring, not kept it hidden in his pocket.

It’s too late for that. Rocco blew out an aggravated breath as the jet touched down. All he could do was see this plan through, as quickly as possible, and return to her. If he had to get on his knees to convince her of his apology after, so be it.

No one in the cabin spoke until the jet came to a full stop. The seatbelt light went dim and the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Your car is approaching now, sir. Welcome back to Las Vegas.”

Rocco unbuckled, and a series of clicks assured him the cabin-full of men around him were doing the same. He’d need more than a single car for this off-load, but Ugo knew that. The pilot knew that.

Em stepped up to his shoulder, leaving space for him to rise.

Cristiano met Rocco’s stare and dipped his chin in deference.

The man was De Salvo, but he understood this was not his turf.

Rocco hadn’t worked with him directly when he’d come to Vegas years earlier, but he remembered his father had been impressed.

And Dante had been confident that Cristiano was the man Rocco needed for the job.

Cristiano, and the dozen hand-picked soldiers of his choosing.

Rocco re-buttoned his suitcoat before leading the way off the jet. The men he’d returned with fell in behind him, two hulking shadows directly at his back .

Ugo stood in front of one of their standard SUVs, chin raised high, looking almost like a butler. The type of butler with scars on both the inside and the outside who was wholly capable of slitting a man’s throat without blinking.

Just behind the SUV was a stretch Hummer in sleek black, with oversized tires. It was exactly the kind of obnoxious looking vehicle anyone might expect to see touring the streets around The Strip. The sight of it in front of them was still enough to give Rocco pause, even if he understood.

Ugo inclined his head when Rocco neared. “Welcome home, Don Cavallo.” His gaze flicked past him for a singular beat. “Ms. Adimari…?”

“I didn’t want her caught up in this,” Rocco said. “I’ll bring her home when it’s done.”

Ugo nodded and gestured to the Hummer. “Unsightly though it is, this will allow us to get closer to the target with minimal suspicion.”

A whistle of appreciation came from the group behind Rocco, followed by the voice of the ex-yakuza man Rocco had once spoken to on Alessa’s phone. Ryōma. “Can’t say I’ve ever ridden in one of those.”

Rocco eyed the vehicle briefly before nodding. “I want to get straight to it.” He met Ugo’s gaze again. “Have I missed anything I should know first? Did you bring what I asked?”

Ugo inclined his head and turned enough to indicate the standard SUV.

“The munitions are here, Don. As for what you should know… There was a small incident at the hospital on Saturday night. Ignazio and the other guard on duty were able to handle it, and your father’s room has been changed.

The at tacker confessed to being Sobol before managing to force one of the responding officers to shoot him down. ”

Rocco cursed. “And my father?”

“Never saw a thing. The incident stayed in the hall.”

“Good.” He glanced over his shoulder, toward Em. “Let’s arm up. I want these fuckers out of my city.”

Landed safe. Miss you already.

It was such a short, arguably impersonal text. Alessa didn’t know why it made her eyes well with tears. She understood better why it, and the whole situation, made her want to scream. Anger was something she was familiar with, on an almost concerning level.

She’d been so angry after Al’s death.

She’d harbored anger, low and simmering, for years after her father was injured.

She’d spent plenty of time angry at herself, for various reasons.

She was constantly surrounded by it in some form.

Her colleagues were angry about the price of gas, the cost of groceries, the general state of life.

Maybe one was angry about an order they’d been given, or that had been given to another when they’d wanted it.

Then of course, there were the De Salvo men themselves.

They hid their anger better, but when it truly manifested, it was unignorable.

And she’d known them most of her life, so she’d seen it more than once.

So, anger she was comfortable with. She could sit in that. It was the hurt, the sadness, the feeling of rejection that rolled in alongside the anger that she didn’t know what to do with.

Alessa curled up on her sofa, her body vibrating with too many feelings for any one to linger.

She wanted to run to Rocco, to smack his stupidly gorgeous face and then kiss it until she couldn’t breathe.

She wanted to pull him to her, so tight that he couldn’t help but hear the wild beating of her heart, until he understood.

Then she was going to stomp on his foot and make him sleep on the couch while she hogged the entire bed for herself, surrounded in the scent of him.

She was so mad that he’d left her behind.

But she was also scared, terrified, that he would simply disappear from her life.

That their half-argument at the airport would be the last time she saw him and the text he’d sent twenty minutes earlier would be the last she heard from him.

Did he really miss her? Would he forget about her?

Would he decide she wasn’t as necessary as he’d previously thought?

Her heart clogged her throat and a tear rolled down her cheek. What if he … loses?

He was such an asshole. He should have taken her with him. She wasn’t useless.

“I can’t take the risk of anything happening to you, beautiful. You’re safer here, just until this is over.”

Alessa gasped and let her head fall back, a senseless scream of pain and rage tearing from her. It felt somehow more violent for the way the sound ripped through the otherwise silent apartment. It wasn’t satisfying at all. She wiped at her face. “How do you think I feel, you ass?”

Her phone buzzed again, but this time the text was from Ryōma.

Thought you’d wanna know, we’re hitting up the Russians within the hour. You might not hear anything for a bit.

He was an asshole too, in general, but she recognized he was trying to brace her for radio silence and she told herself to be grateful.

She even made her fingers type a short message of gratitude into the phone and send it off.

Within the hour? She had known Rocco’s plan was to hit the Sobols hard and hit them fast, to try and end the war before it truly became one.

That was part of why Dante had agreed to send so many people at once, despite their own battle.

Alessa scrubbed at her face, doing her best to wrangle her emotions under control, and looked at the time stamp on her phone.

Time zone differences didn’t matter as far as ‘within the hour’.

And she understood that even if they opened fire five minutes after that text came through, it could be hours—or days—before the fighting was truly done.

That jerk thought he could tell her to sit back and wait at home, and probably thought he could just apologize with pretty words and searing kisses when it was over. But he had to know her better than that. She was not the wait-at-home woman .

Alessa shoved off her sofa, stomped down the hall, and ten minutes later she was out the door. She called her mother from the car.

“Are you coming for dinner?” Stella asked, the slightest whisper of tension in her voice. It was a tone she often carried when she knew Alessa was liable to be in a sour mood.

“No,” Alessa said. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I’m heading out. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Out?”

“Of town.” Alessa drew a breath. “I’m going back to Las Vegas.”