Chapter XVI: Storming Nights

Four days of nonstop working and investigation, and it all led nowhere. Arcangelo and Vincent had dealt with every possible person--hell, they even interrogated anyone that may have the slightest possibility of being involved--yet, they were nowhere close to finding the mole.
They used every possible method in the book. They went through every single video feed leading up to the day of Rosalie's assault, and it was all a dead end.
The fourth day of their investigation was coming to an end, and the weather perfectly mirrored the conflict brewing inside.
The night was dark with the moon hidden away, rain pelted down like rocks as lighting cackled overhead followed by the deafening roar of the thunder. Every so often, the intensity of the rain would increase, and one knew, a minute spent outside would mean being soaked to the bone within seconds.
Arcangelo stared outside as the lighting struck far away, the rumble of thunder following shortly after. He heaved a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.
This was frustrating, and he just needed some good news to combat this lack of success. However, he wasn't getting that anytime soon. Even now, as the rain poured outside, he would generally find himself enjoying its intensity; but today, he just didn't feel like it at all.
Vincent stepped into the room, silently taking a seat as he threw back his head, heaving a heavy breath as he felt just as useless as Arcangelo at the moment.
"Wanna grab a drink?" Arcangelo suggested from beside the window, knowing that a drive and some whiskey should lighten the mood.
Those plans, however, seemed to be shot down by the delay in Vincent's response.
"I would love to..." Vincent trailed uncomfortably as he knew what this meant. "But I gotta get back to Alyna. She's waiting up for me and-"
"-Yeah, no. I get it." Arcangelo nodded, momentarily having forgotten the professional set up between them which Alyna had forced them into when Vincent informed her that he was being reinstated.
Arcangelo had never hated his sister more than he did when he was told that they would either be purely business or Vincent wasn't coming back. It was like taking his best friend away from him without him being dead. The blonde haired man hated it just as much as the taller one did.
It all just felt so foreign. The formality, purely business, no jokes or light-hearted banter. It was sickening, because this was the man he came to consider his brother, and now they were nothing more than business partners with an employer-employee relationship.
"Head on home, Moretti," Arcangelo stated monotonously. "Leave before the weather outside worsens."
He heard the rustle of fabric as Vincent stood from his seat, momentarily hesitating and shuffling before bidding his boss a goodnight and walking out of the office. An uneven breath escaped him as he braced himself against the window pane, feeling the cool glass beneath his palms.
Without thinking, he grabbed his car keys from the desk before making his way out of the room.
"Sir?" Major called in surprise when Arcangelo walked passed him and down the hall. "Sir."
He didn't acknowledge his calling as he stepped out into the rain, Major's voice muffled and distant to his ears. The rain was cold and harsh against his skin and within seconds his shirt was clinging to him. Getting in the car, he didn't care if he was spoiling the interior or ruining his designer clothes, or the fact that he might fall sick.
He just needed to leave.
Leave and get away.
As he drove aimlessly, Arcangelo realized that he wanted hot chocolate. So, he spent the majority of the time driving around and looking for an open cafe or dinner. But due to the weather, and the time, everything was closed.
Without much thought, and with no actual purpose, he parked the car.
Stepping out, he walked across the street and made his way into the apartment complex, glancing at the sleeping clerk before riding the elevator up.
Arcangelo knew he was drenched from head to toe and had Goosebumps all over his body as well. He even acknowledged the fact that he was shivering and felt the way his clothing clung to him.
His shoes made a squelching sound as he walked down the hall and glanced at the camera, knowing that his men understood what he wanted. Slightly shivering, he wracked his knuckles against the wooden surface and waited.
When he heard nothing, an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach before he glanced down at his watch, his eyes widening slightly as he realized it was past midnight.
"This was a mistake..." He muttered to himself shuffling back and getting ready to leave.
Before he could even take a step away from the door, he heard the lock click before the door was opened slightly, showing Rosalie peek her head around to get a look at the person. Seeing Arcangelo, she threw open her doors as he was left gawking. She stood before him in a white satin nightdress that reached till the middle of her thigh, held up by two thin straps as she had a cream-colored robe covering her.
"Arcangelo," She gasped as she took in his condition. "You're drenched!"
"Can you make me hot chocolate?" He asked, ignoring her words as she gaped at him.
"Get in here and out of those clothes! You'll fall sick!"
"I'm fine."
"You're shivering!" Rosalie shrieked as she closed the door behind them, starting on unbuttoning his shirt as he tried to tell her otherwise.
"I'm fine, really. I just want hot chocolate."
"You will take a hot shower and get changed into some dry clothes, you hear me?"
"I'm-
"You are freezing, you are shivering and you are soaked to the bone." She interjected. "Do not tell me you are fine because you are not. Go take a shower."
Arcangelo stared at her in silence for a moment, wondering why he was allowing her to talk to him in this way. No one had the audacity to speak against him, and here he was arguing with her whether he was well or not. He would have set her in her place if he hadn't looked into her eyes.
God, her eyes.
They were azure blue that shone in the lighting of the interior, specks of green scattered across her irises as they held determination and ambition in them. But most of all, it was all overpowered by the soft glow of concern shining behind the strength. The blue was still the same blue, but for some incomprehensible reason, they glowed like the dying embers of a hearth.
Perhaps it was the sincerity that was in her eyes, or maybe it was the concern she had, maybe it was the moistness of unshed and unwanted tears that had him say what he did.
Or maybe it was just...her that had him say what he did.
"Okay."
Arcangelo had one of the men retrieve his overnight bag form his car as he went and showered. He had to admit; the warmth of the water brought back the color of his skin and brought back his body temperature. Turning off the water, he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped into the living room from where he could see Rosalie making a drink in her open concept kitchen.
Without saying anything, he walked over to the bag lying on the couch and took out some clothes he could wear. Pulling on his sweatpants he rummaged around for a shirt.
"You're done showering, great," Rosalie spoke with her back to him just as he found a t-shirt. "Here is your..." she trailed as she turned, catching him pull on the shirt, the momentary glimpse of him shirtless having her flush a deep pink as she turned away her gaze.
"Thanks." Arcangelo appreciated as he plucked the mug from her hand, making his way over to her sofa before settling down and taking a sip of the drink, a small smile making its way onto his lips at the familiar taste of the hot chocolate.
After a moment, Rosalie came and settled down on the couch as well, her knees pulled up to her chest with her back against the armrest, her position allowing her a clear view of Arcangelo's side. 
They drank in silence as she observed him, a realization hitting her.
"I didn't know you had tattoos." She spoke like an intrigued little child.
Almost instantly, Arcangelo's movement halted as he glanced down at his inked skin, seemingly realizing that as well.
"Oh, yeah,"
"May I?" She inquired as she shuffled closer, putting down her mug. 
Giving her a nod, she grasped his wrist in her hand as she looked at the tribal design in fascination. The other arm had a compass and arrow hybrid on the forearm.
Arcangelo looked at her intrigued expression for a moment before looking away, seemingly uninterested.
"They're..." Rosalie trailed as Arcangelo downed the remainder of his drink in one go. "They're very cool."
Halting for a moment, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye before acknowledging her words with a nod.
Another silence descended upon them as Arcangelo stared off into the distance, leaving Rosalie to admire his profile and ponder on her thoughts.
"You look sad." She noted quietly, also finished with her drink.
Arcangelo turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised as it was obvious he was thinking he heard her wrong.
"You look quite sad when you think no one is looking." Rosalie continued as she kneeled beside him. "It's okay to be sad, you know. Just don't let it get you down too much; there is a lot of things that can make people happy."
"My mom told me that it's good to be sad every once in a while. Sounds strange, I know. But look at it in this way; if you are sad, and you know how it all feels, you can appreciate everything in a greater light. I didn't understand it at first, but I get it now. It's even okay to break down and let yourself cry because tears just show how long you remained strong."
Rosalie smiled at him as she said those words, leaning forward she placed her palm against his prickly jaw, lightly rubbing her thumb over his cheek as she turned to look at his eyes. The ones that were a beautiful shade of cerulean blue, a color much deeper and richer than her own.
It always pained her to see them so...detached. Emotionless. Because she knew, that this man was capable of so much and felt so much, yet he never let it to the surface, always locked it away behind a stoic expression and a cold aura.
He terrified her.
But most all...
He made her alive with the simplest of touches. And that scared her.
"I was taught young how to be stone-cold, self-reliant, to hold myself high and poised, with a conniving mind and a manipulative tongue that could conquer the world," Arcangelo spoke lowly, causing Rosalie to be drawn into every word that left his mouth. Without warning, he pulled her forward, forcing her to straddle his lap as she stared at him with a gaping mouth and slightly wide eyes. "So I learned from early to only cry behind closed doors, on dim lights, without sound, to howl in pain silently, to break down without anyone knowing, and to never ask for help."
"Because when no one sees you suffering, do you really suffer? Much like, when a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? I can always just pretend that whatever pains me never happened, and I can always go back and face the world pretending I'm okay. Then why should I cry? Why should I allow myself to be sad? Why should I break down? It doesn't make sense, does it?"
"After all, feelings are nothing more than chemicals."
Rosalie stared at him in silence for a moment, the dimness of his eyes, all those hidden secrets, all that pain and sorrow, buried away and suppressed.
Why? Because feelings are nothing more than chemicals that are benign and meant to be passed off as nothing.
Wanting to prove him wrong, Rosalie connected her lips to his. 
The suddenness of the action caught Arcangelo by surprise, but it didn't last for long before he responded. Deepening the kiss as he pulled her closer, her fingers slipping into his black tresses. A small groan escaped him as she pulled away, their faces flushed with their chests heaving and their eyes alight with everything and nothing.
"Tell me you felt nothing." She panted. "Tell me that this...did not make your heart race, your mind want more, did not make you react the way you did. Tell me it was all the work of chemicals and none of the desire."
Arcangelo stared at her in silence before she grabbed his hand, placing it against her chest as he looked at her in surprise. "Feel my heartbeat and tell me why it's so fast."
Suddenly, he noticed that her heart was racing. Rapid, quick, relentless. The beat rhythmic against his palm as he looked at his hand placed on her skin before looking up at her flushed expression.
And he realized why.
Why it was beating so fast.
Because of him.
Without warning, he stood up with her wrapped around his waist, her expression giving away the surprise and confusion she felt at his action as he walked them over to her bedroom
"Your heart may be beating fast." He growled lowly, gently laying her down on the mattress as she stared at him with shining eyes, her lips parting in anticipation as a small moan escaped her when he unbound her robe, resting his palm against her side, and leaning down to brush his lips against her's with every word that followed.
"But I want your heart to beat a lot faster for me."