The Rocchetti Queen (The Rocchetti Dynasty Book 3)

by Bree Porter

  His arms came around me. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Come on,” he murmured. “We need to have a meeting.”

  I looked up at him, scanning the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “I think you should rest. You...You should...rest.”

  His eyes softened fractionally as he caught my second meaning, the slight fear behind my eyes. “They left me alone for a day and then asked me questions for another, my love. I’m fine.” Alessandro leaned down, brushing my lips with his.

  “Gross, boss!”

  I turned my head to the side to see Gabriel D’Angelo striding into the foyer, his face alight in humor. He bowed his head in respect when he saw me. “Sophia. Is the baby awake?”

  “No.”

  Gabriel looked glum. “Can I go wake him up?”

  “Definitely not,” Alessandro said curtly. “Go wait in the study.”

  Following Gabriel were the rest of Alessandro’s soldati. Sergio, in all his enforcer glory, Nero, the dark assassino, and Beppe, the bastard Rocchetti who was Nicoletta’s favorite. Pasquale Schiavone, Anthony Jr Scaletta and Pietro Tarantino were also in attendance. They shot curious looks our way before disappearing into Alessandro’s office.

  Alessandro pressed his forehead against mine, breathing deeply. “You’re not going to abandon me to those feral men, are you?”

  “What sort of wife would I be if I did that?” I asked, still concerned about the exhaustion in his eyes. Perhaps I could move the meeting along quickly. “I can go and get Dante if you want to see him.”

  “Later,” he murmured, brushing a hand down my hair. “When the riffraff is gone.”

  I couldn’t help my smile.

  All the men had made themselves comfortable in Alessandro’s office, leaning against walls, sprawling over the furniture and even taking up some space on the floor. Alessandro sat down at his desk with me leaning against him, supported by his heavy arm around my waist.

  Gabriel had his phone out, showing a familiar clip to the men in the room.

  I hadn’t seen the clip yet, but Aisling had called me afterward, both praising me and offering me sympathy.

  “When politicians act this way, they believe they are above the law,” came my voice from the screen. “Just days after the death of my grandfather-in-law and the birth of my firstborn, I am away from home, out in the cold, and trying to prove my innocence for a crime that hasn’t even occurred. As a woman who grew up in this city and calls it home, I am very upset to no longer feel proud of the people representing us.”

  As soon as I paused, reporters began calling my name.

  “Mrs Rocchetti, Mrs Rocchetti! Why do you think Salisbury lost the election?”

  “Well, I am no politician, so it would be arrogant of me to say I understand positive public opinion—or lack thereof.” The reporters laughed. “But I know Bill is a beloved member of his community, and even without the official title, he will continue to support his city. As we all should.”

  More voices piled up, yelling out to me. Someone asked, “Why do you think the FBI are targeting your family?”

  “Horrible rumors follow us everywhere. I have made peace with this and only pray it does not affect my son’s life. However, it does make a person wonder why the FBI are so caught up on tales when there are much realer issues out there—I suppose we all like fairy tales, no?”

  “How is Rocchetti Alzheimer’s Support?”

  That had been the question I had been waiting for and my voice rang out clearly, “The nonprofit charity has experienced so much support from the community—to which I am eternally grateful. This month, we are hosting a charity ball in order to raise funds for Alzheimer’s research. We have one of the best labs in the States, and I am beyond excited to be a part of their miraculous work and to help make the lives of thousands easier.”

  Before any more questions could be asked, I said, “Thank you all so much for your time—I know there are a lot more interesting people to speak to! I have to go home to my baby but thank you again for your time.”

  The interview ended, and the television hosts voices rang out in the office. “A touching interview with Sophia Rocchetti, CEO of Rocchetti Alzheimer’s Support and part of the Rocchetti family. Can you believe she had a baby over two weeks ago and is having to deal with another SWAT raid that led to nothing? As a mother myself, I really feel for her.”

  Gabriel paused the video, his eyes sparkling. He held up his phone so I could see, revealing the image of me talking to the reporters. I was tucked under Del Gatto’s blazer, hair unbounded and face drawn, but I kept my head up and spoke well, so I couldn’t find it in myself to be embarrassed.

  Alessandro squeezed my hip. “Perhaps you should replace Ericson as mayor.”

  “I do sound like a politician, don’t I?” I mused, pushing back some strands from his hair.

  “Just like one,” Nero sniped.

  I flickered my gaze to him, but it was Alessandro’s warning expression that made him quieten himself. Ophelia hadn’t mentioned him again after the first night, but from the way Nero’s eyes roamed over Nicoletta’s old room and Don Piero’s house, I knew Nero hadn’t stopped thinking about Ophelia.

  “Speaking of politicians,” Beppe interrupted, trying to keep the peace. “Ericson is causing some major issues. He must’ve gotten into Salisbury’s notes, found out where our merchandise docks, and has now put a permanent FBI detail there.”

  “He has also gotten one of our drivers kicked off the track, boss,” Gabriel added. “If sponsors start seeing their cars off the track, we’re going to have some major fucking issues. Like no-fucking-money issues.”

  I had known Ericson was causing problems, but I hadn’t known just how many and how severe. I had been a little out of the loop since Dante’s birth, but perhaps it was time my ‘maternity leave’ came to an end.

  “I think we should kill him,” Nero said.

  “We’re not going to do that,” Alessandro interrupted, rubbing his mouth. “Sophia will handle him.”

  I will? I rose my eyebrows at my husband. “My methods might not be as quick as Nero’s.” Or as violent.

  “I’m sure you will figure it out.”

  I smiled, pleased.

  Alessandro leaned back in his chair, a plush throne in which he reigned over the room from. “Nero, have you any news on Adelasia?”

  “Nothing.” In his defense, the assassino seemed genuinely angry with himself for his lack of success in finding Adelasia. “It’s like she disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

  “Impossible,” Sergio sniped.

  Nero turned his head to the enforcer. “Then you look for her, hammer.”

  “It’s common sense, Nero,” he replied. “Don Piero stashed her in a day. He couldn’t have swept her off the continent—or even to another state.”

  “I have combed through Illinois within an inch of its life,” argued Nero. “The only other possible explanation is that she is six feet under.”

  I froze.

  Surely, Don Piero wouldn’t have done that...He wouldn’t have killed pregnant Adelasia. No, she was carrying a Rocchetti. Yet...I wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps Adelasia had moved onto the next life and left us trying in vain to find her in her wake.

  At least in Heaven, she would be safe from the Rocchetti men.

  Alessandro felt my reaction and gave me a comforting squeeze. “Keep looking. I want her found—dead or alive.”

  Gabriel spoke up, his incredibly handsome face set in seriousness for once. “Do you think your brother is making any headway in his search?”

  Nero snorted at Gabriel’s question. “Salvatore’s scouts wouldn’t be able to find their own head if it wasn’t attached to their neck.”

  “My brother has been quiet about the search,” Alessandro said, “but I wouldn’t underestimate him.”

  The room nodded in agreement.

  “Have any more challenges been issued?” Sergio asked. “Enrico mig
ht be dealt with, but your brother and father still have their ambitions set on becoming don—even if they’ll be destroyed within weeks.”

  “No,” answered my husband. “My father will not plan his. He will see a crack in our armor and pounce. My brother, however, will be more meticulous. Watch your backs.” He directed his dark gaze to me. Including you, his expression said.

  I rubbed his shoulder. Salvatore Jr had been trying to kill me for a while now, I had discovered recently, and I doubted he would be successful any time soon. But it wouldn’t kill me to be wary of my brother-in-law. Especially since he was gearing up to be king, and if he would use poor Adelasia to get what he wanted, I doubted killing me would be too much of a hassle.

  “Any word from Tarkhanov?” This time it was Pietro speaking up. Beatrice’s husband was a quiet, stone-like man, but had never treated his wife with anything but care and respect. I had always liked him.

  I looked to Alessandro for his answer. I had seen Konstantin at the funeral and received a beautiful bouquet of flowers celebrating Dante’s birth, but that had been the end of our correspondence these past few weeks.

  “He is back in New York,” Alessandro said. “Getting ready to take down the Lombardis. He estimates he will be ready in twelve months.”

  “What will happen to Isabella when he does?” I asked.

  My husband shrugged. “Most likely he will propose a marriage, or she will be sent to live with other relatives in the country. Whatever will benefit him the most.”

  At least she was safe, I reasoned. The men in her family would not share the same kind fate.

  The baby monitor suddenly came to life, Dante’s little cries alarming the room.

  I untangled myself from Alessandro, grabbed the monitor and excused myself. Gabriel looked like he wanted to follow.

  As I left, deep voices continued to talk. I caught Sergio’s deep rumble, “The Alessandro I know would have fought that SWAT team off, tooth and nail. Why didn’t you?”

  “And risk my wife and son?” Alessandro replied. “Not a chance in hell.”

  I felt slightly more human than I had in three weeks.

  After being a slave to Dante and his needs, it felt nice to have a long soak in the bath, have my hair and face done, and wear a beautiful dress.

  The dress was silky and dark gold, wrapping around me at my waist and breasts. Patterns of flowers fell down the sides, from my hips to my knees. The best thing about the dress was how easy it was to pull my boob out for Dante.

  The day of Dante’s baptism was highly anticipated. Born on the same day that Don Piero had died, many had concluded (despite the mismatch in times) that Dante was Don Piero come again and would continue on his legacy.

  This, of course, meant that my son was under a lot of scrutiny from the Outfit, so the least I could do was make sure he looked his best.

  Dante was required to wear all white, so we tucked him into a baptism gown. All the other Rocchettis had worn this at their baptism, created by Don Piero’s mother to baptize her two sons, and now my son would wear it.

  Alessandro held his son up in front of the church, grinning as Dante kicked his little legs at the fabric. My husband was dressed in one of his best suits, and even though he had gotten dressed an hour ago, his tie was already loosened and his hair was mussed.

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t find it in myself to be angry at him. My son was being baptized today—nothing could ruin my mood.

  The church had been simply decorated for the baptism, nothing as extravagant as a wedding or funeral, but still an important occasion. White flowers covered most available surfaces, as well as small prayers for children and their times.

  The three of us waited by the alter, entertaining conversations with guests and the priest.

  When my baby begun to fuss, I took Dante from Alessandro and rocked him in my arms.

  “Are you excited to be baptized, my love?” I cooed.

  Dante barely passed me a glance. He kicked his legs up, yanking up his gown, and I pulled it back down.

  “No?”

  Alessandro huffed a laugh. “Look at his little face. He does not want to do this.”

  Dante did not look like this was where he wanted to be.

  “The last time Mama was here,” I whispered to him, “I was praying for you. Well, for safety. But I got you—so I know God listened to my prayers.”

  Dante reached out to grab me. I tapped at his closed fist.

  Familiar faces began to fill up the pews. Toto the Terrible looked surprisingly dashing in his suit, with a beautiful Aisling on his arm. Enrico followed, notably alone, as did all the other Rocchettis. The last Rocchetti to arrive was Salvatore Jr, who slid in beside his family without a glance toward us.

  The priest gestured toward Alessandro and I, and we took our places in front of everybody. The church quieted immediately.

  “We are here today to baptize Dante Antonio Rocchetti in front of God,” the priest called out to the church.

  We followed the priest as he led us through the prayers for Dante. We renounced Satan, and asked God to watch over our child. When the time came for him to be blessed with oils, Alessandro held out his son and watched as the priest made a cross on his little forehead.

  Choosing godparents had proven to be very difficult, but eventually we settled on Beatrice and Pietro Tarantino. Alessandro hadn’t wanted anyone in his family to take care of Dante if we passed, and Beatrice was close enough in family that it wouldn’t cause gossip to choose her.

  Pietro and Beatrice stood proudly in front of us, renouncing Satan and confessing their faith. Beatrice’s swollen stomach stuck out, but she’d held herself well, not falling victim to pregnancy symptoms like the rest of us did.

  When the priest took Dante from Alessandro, my heart clenched. Besides Dita and Alessandro, Dante was only held by me. I don’t know why such possessiveness rose up in me so suddenly, but it was Alessandro’s comforting hand on my back that stopped me from making a scene.

  Dante was held over the blessed water, and the priest poured it over his head three times.

  My son let out a cry as the cold water hit him, and by the time the priest was done, Dante was almost wailing in irritation. As soon as I had him back, he settled, but from the scrunched up look on his face, I knew he wasn’t happy with what had just happened.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I whispered, drying off his head with my finger. “No, it wasn’t.”

  My son looked like he disagreed.

  The baptism came to an end, cementing my son’s soul in Heaven.

  It was sad to think that one day he might very well be thriving in a life that would send him straight into Hell.

  Due to the November chill, the reception afterward was held inside my house. After a furious cleaning, my house finally looked back to the way it had before the SWAT team had made their untimely entrance. We had also decorated the space with white flowers, blue ribbon, and little cookies in the shape of crosses—everyone loved the cookies.

  I was heading to the kitchen to discover when the second wave of hors d’oeuvres would be ready when Chiara di Traglia caught me.

  After the Adelasia scandal had come to light, the di Traglias had been furious. They placed a lot of blame toward Salvatore Jr and were growing irritated with the fact that Adelasia had yet to be found.

  “Is there any more news about Adelasia?” Chiara asked.

  It didn’t make me feel great to tell her, “I’m so sorry, Chiara, but there isn’t. I promise you my husband has his best men on the case. They will find her.”

  Instead of looking disappointed, she just looked angry. “Three weeks and no word, Sophia. If you know something, you need to tell us.”

  “I don’t know anything more than you,” I leveled. “We are doing everything we can to return her safe and well.”

  “But still pregnant out of wedlock.”

  I pressed my lips together. “A marriage between—”

  “You’
re damn right they will be married. A marriage is the only way to fix something like this!” Chiara hissed. “The shame this has caused our family is insurmountable—and it came at the hands of a Rocchetti.”

  “I understand, Chiara.”

  “No, you don’t!”

  “Mama...” came a familiar voice. Simona headed over, baby Portia on her hip, eyes darting between us. “Mama, leave Mrs Rocchetti alone.” To me, she said, “I’m sorry if she disrespected you. she has been very tired—”

  “It’s fine, Simona. You don’t need to apologize for her.” To Chiara I said, “We are doing all we can to find her. As soon as there is even a hint of her whereabouts, I will tell you.”

  Chiara relaxed slightly, but still looked decidedly upset. Simona escorted her mother away, leaving me cold to the bone.

  Before I even took another step, Nina Genovese was approaching me, shining in a purple gown. Her eyes followed Chiara and Simona.

  “The di Traglias will cause some problems if they don’t have Adelasia back soon,” she warned me.

  “I know,” I sighed. “My heart goes out to them.”

  Nina inclined her head. “As does mine.” She gestured to my dress. “You look beautiful, Sophia. Have you been looking after yourself?”

  “I’ve been attempting to. Dante makes it difficult.”

  “Yes, they do not get any easier,” she mused, eyes gleaming. “When can we expect another little one?”

  I almost choked on a laugh but forced myself to just grant her a smile. “Not for a year or two.”

  “There is no rush. You are still young,” Nina replied. “How have you and Alessandro been? Having another person in the relationship can be tough.”

  It was always hard with Nina to figure out if she was asking out of care or because she wanted some gossip. Nina had never given me a reason to believe that, but I was suspicious of everyone these days.

  “He’s been wonderful. He loves having a son. I’m sure Davide was the same.”

  Nina and I chattered about children while I checked on the hors d’oeuvres. It wasn’t until we were back in the living room, enjoying some cutely shaped cookies, when the conversation began to change.