Hidden Rocco (Hidden Alphas Book 5)

by Victoria Pinder

  Alcohol hadn’t been on his mind or lips in years—but he’d escaped, across state lines.

  Anyone else would be celebrating.

  Fear for his mother kept him grounded, though even she would tell him to lighten up and take the offer. “A beer sounds good.”

  She returned with a six pack and put it in the freezer to cool in a hurry. “What are we eating tonight?”

  “Meatloaf.”

  It might not be the fanciest meal, but he’d craved a good meatloaf with onion and gravy since he’d been fed the prison version, which was gray and not fit for an animal.

  She pressed her lips together, clearly less enthused. “Intriguing. I haven’t had-”

  “I can make something else,” he interrupted, and headed toward the refrigerator.

  A woman like Mica would probably eat lighter fare. He should have guessed she’d hate meat and potatoes.

  She reached for his wrist and a spark rushed through him as she said, “I’m intrigued by your idea of comfort food. I’ll have a beer too.”

  Yet this wasn’t what she wanted. It was clear. He opened the refrigerator. “You don’t have to share with me. I can make chicken, or a big salad. I’m already uncomfortable wearing these clothes you bought.”

  If anyone spots an escaped prisoner, please contact the authorities. The pictures are on our website.

  The radio announcement blared in his ears and he turned it off fast.

  Mica should run from him.

  Or he should just leave now.

  She patted him on the back. “Rocco, what’s on the radio?”

  His life was over. Not that he had one anyhow. He was stupid and should run now. “The authorities were saying that there's been a prison break in Utah.”

  She pointed to the other side of the stove and the radio. “Next time, I’d prefer music while we get this in order.”

  This only delayed the end.

  He lowered his head. “As you wish, ma’am.”

  This might be his last meal—he had to chance calling his mother and convince her to get help, and a cure. She deserved to live a full life and not avoid treatment because she was… sad.

  Roger and Harry never should have known about his plan for Vegas and setting him up with their botched bank robbery left their mother with no one, not that they’d ever cared about her. Only he had, and their mother needed to survive this mess. She needed to stop appealing to the court on his behalf and focus on her health. He realized people weren’t evil; they just didn’t care about his plight.

  Mica’s light hand brushed against him and his hair stood on end as he turned and she asked, “Do you mean that? Anything I wish?”

  If he’d been smarter than his brother, he’d have proven his own innocence. But the idiot he was didn’t deserve a good woman. “Yes. Do you need something?”

  She came closer and every cell in his body flared alive as she asked, “Need?”

  He lowered his head and his lips ached to take her, kiss her, and never let her go.

  But he’d give her a life sentence and she didn’t deserve to ever be involved with a criminal. Rocco didn’t dare move. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She reached up and brushed her soft finger against his taut cheek as she asked, “Am I the only one fighting an attraction here?”

  His heart thundered in his chest. Every part of him ached to follow his desire for her, but he closed his eyes and said, “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  Mica ran her hands through his short hair. “Look, neither of us are eighteen. When I want something, I acknowledge my desires and go for it. And I want you. We didn’t expect to meet, but here we are.”

  If he followed through on that desire, he’d destroy her life and bring the authorities, danger, and his troubles to her door.

  His life was already ruined but he couldn’t take her down too. He backed away from her despite his temptation to haul her close. “I’m not good for you.”

  She pressed her hand to her heart. “I decide what’s good for me and what’s not.”

  But she didn’t have all the facts—if she did, she would run. He tucked his hands in his pockets unsure what to do. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Tears formed in her eyes as she said, “The last man that I had sex with tried to murder me. Would you do that to a woman, Rocco?”

  That man was a reason for life in prison. Rocco would murder him with his bare hands and he never raised his hands to anyone. He met her gaze. “Absolutely not.”

  She folded her hands in front of her, and that caught him off guard. “Then you more than qualify as “good”.”

  Confidence in herself would return. She was smart, beautiful and had one very bad experience. The rest of her life would be beautiful, as long as he kept his distance. He traced her arm, as she needed a friend, and said, “You aren’t making a smart choice by wanting me. I’m sure there are men who would be happy to wear these clothes.”

  She let out a small sigh like she released her frustration and stood. “They fit. It’s already better than what you showed up wearing. Your clothes were falling off you. I’ll keep my distance.”

  For her own benefit. But she needed an ear and he had those to offer so he picked up the plates and she followed, bringing their silverware. He asked, “How did you know my size?”

  Her gaze went up and down his body. He froze. Was she sizing him up like a man did to a beautiful woman on the street? His cheeks warmed. He put the plates down and she said, “My brother Gabriel served and he had your build. What branch were you in?”

  Observant was a great skill to have. Mica was pretty perfect in every way from what he could tell. He stood taller like he went to attention as he said, “Marines. But that was a long time ago.”

  She laughed, like she was happy despite everything. “He was too, and he says the same thing.”

  Even if he reminded her of someone she loved, she was nothing like any woman he’d known. None had made him wish he was worthy of her. “I’m sure he’s a good man.”

  She smiled at him, more like beamed her sunshine at him as she said, “As I’m sure you are.”

  “I’m not your brother.” His voice was more throaty than he had a right.

  The tingles in his lips to kiss her and take what she offered could never be satisfied.

  She reached out and brushed her fingers against his cheek. “You are absolutely not. Rocco, I want two things right now.”

  Awareness of her ripped through him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep in control but he asked, “What, ma’am?”

  She sighed and took her hand back, straightening her posture. “First, I need you to promise that no matter what number two is, you’ll stay at the chalet. I slept better knowing you were here to protect me. I probably shouldn’t have refused to bring security with me, but I never had a guard that I trusted enough to sleep through the night.”

  Guard. Yes. Right. Mica’s wealth was all around them. He just nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  She softened her stance as she said, “So number two…”

  His muscles were tense as she stepped closer. Every cell of his body wanted to grab her, kiss her and take her. Rocco stepped away. “I’m getting the meatloaf out of the oven.”

  She said in a quiet voice, “Number two. I’d like for you to kiss me.”

  He paused, then turned. So much for distance. This wasn’t good. His heart beat faster as his lips parted but he shook his head. “I don’t think-”

  “Look, if we don’t like it, then it’s best to know.” Her voice made his desire for her like a whirlwind about to swallow him whole. “It’s better than wondering.”

  Her lips puckered and everything inside him tightened up to somehow stop the desire that rolled in his veins as he said, “I don’t know-”

  “I see in your gaze that you want me too,” she said as that mouth of hers captured his every thought, making his own water even as he straightened to avoid kissing her.

  The pounding in his chest ca
ught him off guard. He couldn’t move. “I…”

  She came closer again and his body was pumped with adrenaline at the idea of kissing her, holding her. “Rocco, I’m so used to being spoiled and given whatever I want that it’s best if you-”

  The oven clock beeped, interrupting her.

  His head swam as blood surged through him. He needed to either satisfy this urge in him or find ice-cold water to drown himself in. “Dinner is ready.”

  She lowered her face and he saw her blush as she pressed her hands to her perfectly shaped breasts. “I don’t want to feel like the aggressor.”

  “Then let it be natural,” he said, like he had any right to correct her when all he wanted was to rip off her clothes and claim her.

  “What does that mean?”

  “If things happen, it should just happen, without thinking ahead.”

  She pressed the bridge of her nose. “You keep calling me ma’am. It’s driving me crazy.”

  This time he touched her and ignored the spark. “I don’t mean to make you crazy, Mica. You’re beautiful and kind and sweet.”

  “Rocco…” Her eyes fluttered and lips parted.

  Heaven help him because he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to taste her, to have her.

  And he lowered his head, tasting heaven itself.

  Her kiss only fueled his need for her—his body had never felt so alive.

  If he didn’t stop, he’d lose what was left of his common sense.

  So he ended the kiss abruptly, pulling away to reach for the oven. “Now go into the dining room so I can serve you properly.”

  Her hips swayed as she headed to the freezer and called out, “I’m getting the beers. I want this to be… special, like we’re celebrating being alive.”

  A date with a beautiful woman who rivaled angels in heaven wasn’t fair. He’d never asked for this. He never would because Mica was so far above him, and nearly perfect.

  She deserved a prince, not a prisoner like him.

  Chapter 6

  Mica checked her ponytail was still straight in the shiny steel of the refrigerator door, and that she had no appearance of being disheveled.

  Rocco’s kiss was hotter than anyone else’s ever.

  She’d been kissed before, plenty, though never with such intensity that her knees went weak.

  The cold of the freezer soothed her warm cheeks and she brought the beers toward the dining room.

  The frigid air hadn’t cooled her libido.

  Rocco was near the table he'd just finished setting and she met his gaze.

  Her lips parted.

  If only he’d kiss her again and not stop.

  However, the wail of her baby from the monitor interrupted and she stepped back. Rocco said the obvious, “Sounds like your son is awake.”

  So no romantic dinner for two. Mica knew better; she was a mom now. Gesturing toward the door she’d just stepped through she said, “I’ll go get him.”

  Rocco saluted her like a soldier. “I’ll get the playpen so Jacob can be next to you while you eat.”

  “Thanks.” She ran up the stairs.

  No one was that useful in her life, not even her parents. Julie took care of a few things but she didn’t automatically assume anything, waiting until she was asked.

  Her mother and father had complained when she’d asked for their help one time to babysit. She’d been so sick, but had to rescue her brother, their son, with her helicopter. Jacob, so young, had interfered with a fundraiser they’d wanted to attend.

  Rocco’s simple gesture to get the playpen struck a chord as she made the top step in her dash upstairs.

  What would it be like if she actually had a real partner without being a bother?

  Might her life be sweeter then?

  Jacob stopped wailing the moment she scooped him into her arms.

  He trusted her to take care of everything, and those big, brown eyes made her hold him tight.

  The one good thing from her messy past was him. She cradled Jacob to her and returned down the stairs, music reaching her ears.

  Rocco had chosen relaxing music as if caring what she might want over dinner conversation. As she entered the dining room, she stopped abruptly. Rocco had set up the playpen beside her seat, a blanket folded back invitingly.

  Seriously? Not only was he thoughtful of her, but Jacob. Her heart pounded with gratitude but she sat down in her chair and handed him the soft blanket from one of her friends in New York. “Here, please put this away.”

  Rocco folded it and set it on the empty seat next to him. “I thought he might be cold.”

  Considerate, and once she'd have thought the same. She smiled at him and explained, “Babies aren't strong enough to push back a blanket in their sleep. All the books say don’t give them one when they are asleep.”

  “I didn’t know.” He took the chair next to her and Jacob.

  This was what a real family must feel like. Dinner. Help with the children. Were Raphael and Gabriel doing this too, with their pregnant wives?

  She pulled her chair closer, getting a savory smell of meatloaf. “I’m learning as I go. I research everything.”

  He lifted the bowl of mashed potatoes and piled them on her plate. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

  Carbs were never her friend, but she held her tongue. Jacob rattled his small monkey like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Mica traded him for the warm bottle of formula Rocco had prepared and left on the table, and then picked up her silverware. “I was always a good student.”

  “I bet you were.” He winked and they ate a few bites in silence.

  Her son sucked his bottle and calm enveloped her.

  This moment was pretty perfect and she honestly never had this sense in her fast-paced life. She cut into her meatloaf and asked, “What about you?”

  Rocco finished his bite, raised his eyebrow and asked, “As a student?"

  Rocco relaxed her when she knew absolutely nothing about him. Rationally she should go slowly. She nodded. “Yeah. How were you in school?”

  He scratched his chin like that five o’clock shadow of his itched. “Well, my older brothers just made all my teachers put me in the troubled section. School was pretty boring.”

  She ate a few bites. In school she’d always been pressured for the perfect grades, the perfect life, never mind the unhappiness that went under the cracks of never living up to perfect. “You weren’t challenged?”

  He finished more of his food then set his silverware aside. “Look, your brother sounds like a stand-up guy. Mine… well mine weren’t. They were both… small-minded, and that eventually killed them. I joined the Marines to escape being like them.”

  Not everyone had her life and her means. She tasted his meatloaf which caught her off guard. It melted in her mouth with an explosion of flavors. Wow. She hadn’t expected this as most of the time meatloaf was… boring but then she’d only had it at conferences and never ordered it off the menu. “Well, the service is honorable.”

  She savored the last of her meat dish, never expecting it to be so tasty. He said, “They do well with troubled kids like me. Unfortunately I…”

  “You what?” She ignored how her heart was on pins and needles, wanting to know more about everything with Rocco.

  He stared at his empty plate. “I ended up a disappointment to them too.”

  Rocco took a swig of the beer but put it down fast.

  She sipped her own and stared at his lips. He was very handsome, kind, sweet, and considerate which was the opposite of disappointing. “Why? You seem like you learned…”

  He sat back and his face tightened like he didn't want to talk about this as he said, “I tried to help my brothers but they set me up, which is why I need to ensure my mother is okay now.”

  “Your mom is lucky she has you.” She reached out and tapped his hands, ignoring the zaps inside her.

  He lowered his shoulders, clearly upset as he shook his head. “Doubtful.”

>   Rocco was absolutely nothing like the prep school men she always met. He genuinely cared for his mother. “My parents love all things about New York. My brothers both disappeared during high school and left me running the family business after my father’s heart attack where he was ordered to give up stress.”

  He gathered the dishes. “So you were the good daughter, as I’d expect.”

  She helped with the silverware, but he took it from her as she said, “Not really. My mother still thought I should marry well, despite the fact I was running my father’s business—she introduced me to Ali.”

  He carried the dishes to the kitchen. “Jacob’s… sperm donor?”

  “Yes,” she called out but she lost sight of him behind the kitchen door.

  In another life she’d have trailed after him to continue the conversation, but Jacob was eating, and she wasn’t ready to leave her baby boy with those big brown eyes of his.

  Rocco returned balancing two small plates with a vanilla and strawberry cupcake on each of them. He'd baked too? Her eyes widened as he placed a dish in front of her and asked, “What made you fall for the guy? He was rich?”

  “My mother loved him.” She accepted the fork he offered.

  He sat down with his own dessert and scooted closer to the table. “So you fell for a guy your mother picked out for you?”

  She bit into the creamy and soft cupcake and once again had heaven in her mouth. Rocco was amazing. She swallowed the bite that reminded her of his sweet kiss. “Did your mother ever try to set you up with a woman?”

  His face froze like he’d just been doused with cold water but then he said, “No. She’d know that I would say no.”

  Must be nice. She’d always lived on wishing for parental approval. Perhaps that was bad but it was something she was changing. She finished her cupcake. “I was busy running my dad’s business, so I said fine to the date. And when we went out, Ali made me think I was the only woman in the world for him.”

  “But?” Rocco arched his brow.

  She sipped her beer and for once her heart didn’t feel hollow. Again Rocco made her feel calm, even as she admitted, “Apparently Ali had the routine down pat, and I fell for it like an idiot.”