A bright green flower truck drives past, and all I can think about is the jelly. Just to be a smart arse, I send Rocco a text.
Me: You’ll eat the jelly, and you’ll love it
Rocco: I love EATING things other than jelly
Of course the mention of eating has me picturing his soft lips and that goddamn tongue … stud and all. The phone beeps again.
Rocco: Jelly is NOT food
I choose to ignore the innuendo in his first text, and reply to the second.
Me: I beg to differ
Rocco: I wish you’d beg for something else
His words cause a quiver between my legs. My poor sex-deprived vag. Rocco hasn’t even said anything dirty to me, and I’m ready to shove my hand down my pants. I don’t know whether we should be playing this game.
Me: Like what? Clean your black stubble out of the bathroom sink? Put the toilet seat down?
Rocco: Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean …
Me: I’ll see you at home soon x
No! I put a kiss at the end? What the hell am I thinking? Clearly I’m overexcited. Surely he won’t read anything into it.
As much fun as this banter is, I need to remember that this living arrangement is a short-term thing. Now that I have a good job, I need to start looking ahead. Rocco’s brother will be out in a few months and he’ll need his room back.
When I get inside my car, I pat the steering wheel and smile. Thanks to Rocco’s generosity, I still have a vehicle. He’s a good guy deep down, whether he knows it or not. Now that I have this new job, it won’t be long before I can start paying him back.
****
When I get home, the first thing I do is check my emails.
As Julie promised, there’s an email from her. I read through the employment package and am astounded at what I’m being offered. For a junior position, it’s a higher salary than I expected, and they’re giving me two weeks paid study leave to finish my degree. It really is a dream come true. I reply with a very formal acceptance of the offer, and give her a few times around my shifts in the café to meet up and sign the paperwork.
I dial Tony’s number, and it goes straight to voicemail. Rather than resign in a voicemail message, I let him know I’ll send him an email. Then I type a very courteous letter of resignation, thanking him for the opportunity and giving four weeks’ notice, noting that he had already approved a few days annual leave for when I go overseas.
My phone buzzes. I jump up and down on the spot and then answer the call.
“Babe,” I squeal.
“Soph? What’s happened?” April says through a chuckle.
“I got the job, like a proper job in recruitment.”
“That’s incredible, babe. I’m so happy for you.”
I prance around my room as I tell her all about where I’ll be working and the study side of things. Saying it all out loud makes it that much more real. I can’t wait to get started.
“You’ll do us all proud, McKenna. Love ya,” April says before we say our goodbyes. I can’t wait until I see her next so I can squeeze the crap out of her. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy and excited about something.
I get changed into a pair of black and grey tartan leggings, and team it with a black singlet top and a semi-see through knitted jumper over the top. I even leave my bra on, because, well, I don’t wanna look like a slob. Not that Rocco seems to care any other time—in fact, I’d say he’d actually prefer me bra-less.
I let my hair loose and iron out the kinks from my hairband, fix my eyeliner and then paint my fingernails and toenails black. Once I’m feeling a little more put together, I make my way to the fridge, grabbing a spoon on the way. I sneak a scoop of the jelly, savouring the sweet zesty softness as it rolls around my mouth. Because I’m in a playful mood, I take a couple of noodle cups and a bag of microwave popcorn and place them in the centre of the kitchen bench. Just for Rocco.
As much as I love my staples, I’m curious to know what Rocco will bring home.
Three loud knocks echo from the front entrance. Wow. He’s earlier than I thought.
“Did you forget your keys?” I sing out on the way to the door. On second thought, he’s probably laden with bags of shopping. I run the last few steps and yank open the door.
“I’ve sampled dessert and it’s—”
Whoosh!
The air rushes from my lungs as I take in the form in front of me.
It can’t be …
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SOPHIE
“Ah, it is you, Sophie. You’ve grown more beautiful as the years have passed.”
I don’t hesitate to smash my balled up fist into his cheekbone, connecting with his nose.
“What’re you—”
My right fist connects again, followed by a strong left hook to his jaw. His knees buckle and his arse hits the tiled floor. His palms slap to the cool surface as he tries to steady himself. As he looks up, blood streams from his nostril over his lip, and then it splashes on the lapel of his silvery grey suit.
No! He’s not meant to bleed everywhere! I swallow down the unease rising from my gut.
Don’t be a pussy, Soph. You’ve been waiting for this day.
“Fuck,” I grunt out as I crack my knuckles. I fling out my hand in an attempt to ease the pain radiating from it. I should have picked somewhere softer to hit him. I’ll save that for my next strike.
He holds his hands defensively in front of his face as I lean down and drill him with a look of pure evil.
“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, coming anywhere near me.”
Heavy thuds echo up from the bottom of the stairwell, growing louder. Plastic rustles and something glass smashes. I don’t care if I have an audience. I’m doing this—to hell with the consequences.
I grit my teeth and pull my fist back, preparing to strike. This time, I mean business.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a gruff voice echoes. Rocco jumps over Fuckface and loops his arms around my ribs, stepping me back into the open apartment door.
“No! I’m not done,” I cry out, clawing at De Luca’s toned biceps, causing him to grimace. I choke on my own breath. Breathe, Soph.
“Who the fuck is this?” he growls in my ear, loud enough for only me to hear.
“Meet Prince Fuckface,” I announce, loud and proud. Of course, this is the first time I’ve had the pleasure of saying it to his face.
“This is him?” he says, turning and eyeing him from head to toe as the arsehole rises to his feet.
“Well, that’s charming, Sophie,” the prince says, as he takes a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at the claret which continues to stream out of his nose. I swallow down a mouthful of acid. Gah!
He stuffs the bloodied material into his pocket and extends his hand to Rocco. “Gregory Chase.” How is it that he can still look this sharp in a suit?
Rocco ignores his outstretched hand, grabs him by the elbow and drags him through the doorway. “Get the fuck inside.” He leads him through the lounge room to the dining table and yanks out a chair. The legs protest as they grate across the timber floor.