Her Mafia Brothers

Rocco Still in Charge

"Why didn't you tell me you hit your head?" Rocco asked.

I shrugged. "It didn't seem important."

"Of course it's important," Rocco corrected me. "If you're hurt, we need to know."

"You hurt my butt," I reminded him. "Does that not matter?"

Rocco's trademark scowl returned to his face. "A spanked butt is different to banging your head. Show me where you banged it so I can check you're not badly hurt."

I bent my head forward so he could see, and put my hand on the sore spot. Rocco moved my hand away and parted my hair with gentle fingers, touching my scalp softly.

"There's quite a lump there, sis. You must have bashed it quite hard. I'll get you some ice for it. Do you want some painkillers as well?"

I nodded, and then pouted angrily.

"Funny how you're all concerned about my sore head but don't care about my sore butt," I grumbled.

"You be a shit, you get a sore ass. That's how it works in this house. You know that."

"So my head is more important than my butt, then?"

Rocco raised an eyebrow at me in a perfect impersonation of our oldest brother. A tremble ran down my spine at the warning in his stare.

"Your brain is in your butt, is it? Interesting. Maybe if I smack it some more, your brain might return to its rightful place?"

Rocco's eyebrow lifted even higher, almost disappearing under the hair that flopped over his forehead.

I poked my tongue out at him and turned away. "No wonder Logan calls you our grumpiest brother," I muttered, only half under my breath.

"Watch it," Rocco growled, a clear threat in his tone.

I decided I'd been hurt enough for one day so I smiled sheepishly at him and apologized. He didn't smile back, but he did soften his scowl a little bit.

He stood up and extended his hand to me, hauling me to my feet.

"Come on sis, we'll go and sit on the patio by the pool and get our work done, then after that we can go for a swim."

"What work?" I asked.

"I've got some study to do and you've got lines to write and maybe homework?"

I screwed up my face. "Ugh. Lines. I don't want to do stupid lines," I grumbled.

"You have to do them anyway. Come on. Bring the stuff you're going to need and I'll organize ice for your head and some snacks."

I was outside writing my lines at the table for ages by the time Rocco showed up and when he finally did, he was laden down with chips and dip, cans of coke, and a packet of chocolate chip cookies. He looked a bit sheepish.

"Damon gave the staff the day off, seeing as it's just us here," he said. "I didn't know what you want to eat so I had to guess. If you want something else, we can go find it."

He dumped the food down on the table in front of me and then looked at me.

"Oh yeah. Ice. I'll be right back."

I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but the truth was, my head throbbed. It hurt even worse than my butt, and I wouldn't have believed that was even possible, back when Rocco was whacking me. But now the stinging in my butt had eased to a dull ache and the pain in my head had intensified. Probably from all my crying on top of bashing it. So when Rocco came back with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel and another sheepish look on his face, I took it gratefully.