6. The Last Stop Before Italy

ROCCO

Barcelona felt like a temporary relief, but the real test was still ahead. I navigated through the crowded streets, heading straight for the private airfield. Diana couldn't tear her eyes away from the window, drinking in every detail like she was seeing a real city for the first time.

“Almost there,” I muttered. More to myself than her. The Maserati hummed along, but I could feel her curiosity buzzing beside me.

“Oh my God, did you see that three-story Chanel?” She finally looked at me, eyes wide. “You know, before we head to Italy, we could totally catch a soccer game. I mean, we're in Barcelona.”

I shot it down without looking at her.

“No time, Diana.”

She started in. Grabbed my arm. Shook it.

“Rocco, please! Just one game! I've never seen one live!”

I rolled my eyes. Regretted giving her any room at all.

“Diana, there's a plane waiting for us. There is zero chance we're going off course for a soccer game just because we're in Barcelona.” Came out sharper than I meant.

She pouted. Kept shaking my arm.

“Just a little bit of the game! Promise we won't be long.”

Heavy sigh. Tried to focus on the road. Ignore her. She was getting under my skin.

“I said no.” Came out as a growl. She pulled back, eyes wide.

She could've shut up. But no.

“Ugh, you're so boring!” Arms crossed. Exaggerated huff. “Just a little! We could see Messi play!”

I stared at her. Disbelief.

“Messi? He hasn't played for Barcelona in years.”

“What about Cristiano Ronaldo?”

I looked at her like she'd grown a second head. She didn't know the first thing about soccer.

“Jesus Christ.” I exhaled hard. She laughed. Shrugged.

“Have you ever actually watched a game? On TV?” Suspicion creeping in.

“Of course I have. Just... during the World Cup. And not often. My mom hated sports. Never had them on at home.”

Irony. The late Don Leonardo's wife, hating games. The king of casinos. Made me even more curious about how Diana was raised. Her mom must've been from outside the life.

“What did you like to do? Before you came here?”

She thought about it.

“When I wasn't in school or ballet, I watched medical dramas. You know I could probably perform surgery just from watching those shows?” Eyes lit up.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I once saved a nun who choked on a communion wafer during mass. Did first aid I learned from a show.”

“Impressive.”

“I wanted to be a doctor because of it. Then I realized I can't stand the smell of blood. Makes me too sick. So I gave up.”

“And that's when you realized getting married and making love every day was the better option?” Couldn't resist.

Glanced at her. Cheeks flushed.

“You're going to hold that against me forever, aren't you?”

I shrugged.

“Maybe.”

Her cheeks got redder.

“Anyway. One day you're taking me to a soccer game, Rocco. And I bet we'll have a lot of fun.”

“We'll see, Diana. We'll see.” Back to serious. Didn't want her getting the wrong idea.

Silence the rest of the way to the airfield. Sunset painted Barcelona orange and pink as we drove. The city lights faded behind us, the road getting greener. Tree shadows stretched across the asphalt—almost dreamlike.

Pulled up to the terminal. Stopped near the runway where the plane waited. Killed the engine. Turned to her.

“Stay in the car.”

Got out. Slammed the door. Night air hit me. Hands in pockets, walked toward the co-pilot waiting by the plane.

“Sir. Pilot's almost here.”

“Right. I'll wait in the car.”

Walked back. Annoyed. Got in. Turned to Diana.

“Pilot's on his way. Gotta wait.”

She looked at me. Curious.

“What happened?”

“Running late. Shouldn't be long.”

“And you're mad, aren't you?” Smile playing on her lips. “Bet you're counting the minutes until you're rid of me.”

“Never said that.”

“But I know you are.”

I smiled. Looked ahead.

“See? You smiled. You're such an asshole, Rocco.” Pointing at me.

“Never said anything.”

“A smile's worth a thousand words.”