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.

“Sit,” Rocco snaps at him.

“Not quite the reception I was hoping for,” Prince Fuckface says, straightening out the sleeves of his suit jacket. He continues to stand, much to Rocco’s frustration, judging by the huffing and puffing he’s carrying on with.

“What did you expect? A fucking welcome parade?” I wave my hands around. “Oh, look! The man you were going to marry is back after abandoning you and ruining your life!”

“Don’t be like that, sweet pea.”

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ sweet pea me.”

“You were seriously gonna marry this prick?” Rocco says as he moves closer to him, and strategically places his inked arms across his puffed-up chest.

The prince looks down his nose at Rocco. “Who the hell is this?”

“Someone who’ll back up Soph, so watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

I try not to smile, because I’m not happy that Fuckface is here. But bearing witness to this protective side of Rocco … I like it. No, I love it. I can’t remember the last person who came to my aid in a situation like this—not that I need it now. I can handle this slimy piece of shit myself.

“What the hell are you here for?”

“I need to do this with an audience? Really?”

“Yes, really. Spit out whatever the fuck you have to say, and make it count because I’ve got a short fuse.”

“I want you back.”

He what?

Mouth agape, I reach for the ceramic fruit bowl on the table and aim for his head.

“Suds,” Rocco growls, and dives at me just before I throw, sending the bowl and fruit to crash to the ground. Porcelain shatters in every direction and oranges roll every which way across the floor.

“Don’t,” I plead as I grapple to slice my fingernails down the prince’s face.

Rocco grunts as he wraps his arms around my middle and takes me back a step. I fight him with all my strength, tearing at his shirt, pulling his arms to let me at this fucker.

“Calm down,” Rocco orders.

I could ring his neck, I’m that mad. How could he even think I could take him back after what he did?

“Are you serious? Do you know what kind of hell you’ve put me through?” I yell as I drill him with daggers.

“I’ve come into some money. I’m going to pay it all back …”

Say what now? He’s going to make good on his debt?

I free myself from Rocco’s hold, sit down at the table and rest my head in my hands. I can’t help it. I cry. Like a big sissy girl, overwhelmed by every emotion that has haunted me since the day he left. With the hem of my long-sleeved shirt, I wipe the tears from my eyes.

“I want you back,” Fuckface repeats.

Why?

“Say what?” Rocco says, his voice deep and barely controlled. I look up at him as his hand curls around my shoulder. He squeezes me tight, to the point where it becomes painful.

Placing my hand over Rocco’s, I draw in a deep breath. “Can you give us a minute?” I ask Rocco, pleading with my eyes for him to step down. His grip relaxes but he doesn’t let go.

“Sit,” I shout at the man who shattered my dreams.

He sits opposite me and reaches for my hand, but I snatch it away and tangle it with my other hand in my lap instead. I’m not about to go get cosy with him.