The Legend of de Marco

Back in Rocco’s apartment, Rocco advanced towards Gracie, who was standing obediently at the wall overlooking Central Park—from the other side now. She shivered with anticipation just watching him take off his jacket and bow tie, opening his shirt. He came close and the air vibrated between them, and then he took her by surprise and kissed her so sweetly on the mouth that she put her hands to his chest.

When he broke away and just looked at her Gracie suddenly wanted more than just the physical. Softly she asked, ‘How can you stand socialising with people like that all the time?’

Rocco went still. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well … like that woman. She was so rude.’ Gracie flushed. ‘And Honora Winthrop was rude.’

Rocco took Gracie’s hands and pulled them down. He stepped to her side and rested his hands on the wall. Subtle tension radiated out from his body.

‘Helena is not too bad, actually. A lot of her manner is bluster. She was one of the few people who helped me when I first came to New York as a green negotiator.’

Gracie frowned. She couldn’t imagine Rocco ever not being completely experienced and in control.

He slid her a glance. ‘She liked you. She said you’ve got spunk.’

Gracie smiled tentatively. ‘Okay, so maybe I was wrong about her. But I wasn’t wrong about Honora.’

Rocco’s face got serious. ‘No. She’s an out-and-out bitch.’

Gracie looked up at him. ‘So I don’t understand how you could have ever contemplated marrying her?’

Rocco said nothing for a long moment, because he was wondering how he could explain that he’d never intended to take a wife for romantic reasons. Then he gestured with an arm towards the dark park. ‘For this. You have to be accepted into this world to be really successful, and the only way to achieve that for someone like me is to marry into it.’

Gracie went still inside. ‘What do you mean, for someone like you? Don’t you come from this world too?’

She turned around so she was facing Rocco. After a long moment he shook his head. He gestured down to the pavements far below. His voice was tight. ‘That’s where I’m from. Exactly like you.’

/>

Something deep inside Gracie was slotting into place. She’d always suspected there was more to Rocco. ‘What do you mean, exactly like me? You can’t mean that you grew up—?’

He looked at her and his eyes were fierce. ‘On the streets? Struggling to survive in a hostile environment? That’s exactly what I mean.’

Rocco looked away again and cursed violently in Italian. Gracie realised in that moment that she’d rarely, if ever, heard him speak his native tongue.

After a long moment he said, ‘I don’t have to talk about this.’

Gracie took a metaphorical step into the dark. Feeling her way. ‘Why not?’ I won’t be around for much longer, she wanted to add, but it hurt too much.

Rocco stared into the black space of the park as if it held answers she couldn’t see, and then he started talking in a low, emotionless voice that told her a multitude of things. He told her how he had been born and had grown up in the worst slum in Italy, in one of the poorest cities. He told her of his mother, who had been a prostitute, but a high-class prostitute—which was how it came to be that his father was one of the city’s wealthiest men.

‘My mother spent every penny on feeding her escalating drug habit. She had targeted my father on purpose to secure a future for herself through me. She’d even been smart enough to get a swab from him, so that she could do a DNA test as soon as I was born and have proof of his paternity. But my father didn’t want to know. He had two daughters and he was a megalomaniac. He didn’t want a son appearing on the scene to threaten his rule. And he especially didn’t want a son by a prostitute who came from the slums to sully his perfect respectable world and reputation.’

Gracie could see Rocco’s hands tighten on the wall.

‘You can’t even begin to imagine what that world was like. The constant noise, the calls from block to block that were code for rival gangs—a murder, a drug-drop. All day and all night. They used me as a lookout for rival gangs.’

His mouth twisted.

‘We didn’t have a call for the police. They never came. They were as corrupt as we were. There was no social services for us. I hated the brute force of that life, the lack of intellect over chaos and destruction. My mother lurched from one passionate crisis to another. I craved a more ordered world—without that constant drama and uncertainty, the ever-present danger.’

Gracie could feel shivers of shock going through her body. ‘What happened to your mother?’

Rocco went very still. ‘I found her dead with a needle sticking out of her leg when I was seventeen.’

Gracie put a hand on his arm. Her voice was choked. ‘Oh, Rocco….’

He shook her hand off and speared her with that black gaze. ‘I’m not telling you this for sympathy. I don’t need sympathy. I never have. She didn’t love me. She was too in love with getting her next fix or a wealthy patron.’