The Rocchetti Queen (The Rocchetti Dynasty Book 3)

by Bree Porter

  “When have you ever been concerned about being part of a scandal?”

  His gaze grew hot, “Never.”

  He met my lips, hot and rough. I felt his hands come around my back, holding me tightly to him.

  The sounds of the ball disappeared around us, from the guest’s voices to the melody Nicoletta was playing. In that moment, all I cared about was Alessandro’s lips on mine, the strength and warmth of his body, what we could do when we got home—

  Alessandro broke away, breathing heavily. “God, I wish we were at home.”

  I was about to offer that we should go and disappear into a supply closet when a familiar group of people began to arrive. I had invited Sunny Days Care Home, since they did have one of the highest percentages of Alzheimer’s patients at their facility, and they were an important part of the community. I had told them they could bring whomever was interested.

  When I caught sight of little Eloise Pelletier, frail as a bird, shock darted through me. What was she doing here? Would she start a scene?

  Alessandro’s hand came to my lower back and he murmured, “Is that who I think it is?” He knew it was, but he was giving me a chance to explain myself.

  I never got the chance. The director of Sunny Days swept me up in a conversation, thanking me for my contributions to the community.

  Like she was trying to unnerve me, Eloise Pelletier came to stand by the director, her expression lucid.

  “Thank you so much for coming,” I said to the director.

  “Thank you for inviting us.” This was Eloise. Her airy voice split the conversation into two and caused my husband to stand taller. “I love a good party.”

  “I only hope you enjoy yourself.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “I will.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  The Sunny Days group spread out into the ball, their team of nurses taking good care of their patients.

  From the corner of my eye, I checked on Nicoletta and Ophelia. Nicoletta was sitting down at the piano, playing a beautiful tune, with Ophelia hovering by her side, eyes alert for anything that could upset her.

  A few feet away, half-cast in shadows, was Nero. He didn’t move, didn’t fidget. Just leaned against the wall and watched, almost indistinguishable from the potted plants beside him.

  “I didn’t invite Eloise,” I told Alessandro as soon as we were alone. “She is a frail old woman. What threat could she actually pose?”

  His posture did not relax. “We will see, won’t we?”

  I thinned my lips but dropped the subject. “I’m going to call Dita and check on Dante. Your boys are over by the bar.”

  On my way to the bathroom, I spotted Salisbury. He was sitting in the middle of a group of people, his hands moving widely as he told a story. From the charmed look in their eyes, it must have been a good one.

  I had expected Salisbury to need some time before slipping back into his cheesy nature, but I underestimated the politician in him. Seconds after entering the ball, he had commanded nothing but positive attention and been his most charismatic self.

  At least someone is having fun, I almost laughed.

  It took me a few tries to get to the bathroom, since I kept being dragged into conversations. Everyone seemed to want to speak to me now my scary husband wasn’t by my side, and while I was happy to smooch up to Chicago’s elite, I really wanted to check on my son and waved most of them away.

  Later, in a minute, I kept saying, almost wishing Alessandro was there to scare them off.

  My husband had taken himself across the room to the bar and was now standing with Gabriel and Sergio. No one dared approach them.

  To my surprise, I found Narcisa Ossani in the bathroom. She dried her hands, not really paying attention to her surroundings.

  “Narcisa, darling, how are you?”

  She looked up at me but didn’t look afraid, just surprised. When she noticed it was me, she smiled in greeting. No bleating, no fear. “Sophia, hi.”

  “Are you having fun?” We kissed on both cheeks. “I see your husband has taken to the bar.”

  Her cheeks pinked but she replied, “I’m having a lovely time. And yes, Serg has decided he cannot take anymore small talk.”

  Serg? Not Sergio? I almost grabbed her hands and jumped for joy, excited that her and her husband seemed to be growing closer, but held my tongue.

  “I can’t say I blame him.” I stepped away. “I have to check up on Dante, but I will see you back out there.”

  We said our goodbyes and I finally managed to call home. Dita assured me that my son was alright, still sleeping exactly where I had left him. I had wanted to bring him tonight, but Alessandro advised against it, since my attention would already be divided between the guests, and adding my son to the mix might ruin the night.

  Perhaps I would feel a little more relaxed if Dante hadn’t been fussy today. He had slept badly last night, since the poor thing was fighting off a cold. I’d spent the entire night counting his breaths and repeatedly cleaning his nose, until Alessandro had taken over and let me have a few hours of restless sleep.

  “He is fine, Sophia,” Dita reminded me, her voice almost disapproving. “Go, enjoy yourself, have a night off.”

  “Are you sure he is okay?” I asked. “He will need some more medicine in forty-four minutes.”

  “I know. I have your list.”

  I knew that. I knew everything was under control. And yet I couldn’t shake the guilt, the cramping of my stomach.

  Dita was the one who hung up on me, and when I called her back, she didn’t answer. They’re fine, I told myself. Completely fine. Raul and Beppe are with them. Nothing is going to happen.

  Chanting my reassurances, I left the bathroom, stepping back into the lion’s den.

  As soon as I did, I was pulled into fifteen different directions. Time passed quickly as I chatted, laughed, and chatted some more. Everyone wanted to talk to me, and not just about the charity. People wanted to hear more about my son, and Nicoletta, who up until recently had been presumed dead.

  I soon found myself with Nicoletta and Ophelia.

  “You two are both okay?” I asked, then added in Italian, “Nicoletta, do you have everything you need?”

  She smiled and nodded, “I do, I do.”

  Ophelia agreed. “We’re fine over here. Except for Mr Creepy in the shadows.”

  I glanced over her shoulder at Nero. He caught my eyes and jerked his head in annoyance, like I was giving away his position, not the fact that he was 6’3” of menace.

  To Ophelia, I said, “Shall I get one of the boys to kick him out?”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said stiffly. “Nicoletta is convinced he—”

  “What is she doing here?” Nicoletta suddenly snapped.

  I turned to where she was pointing. Eloise Pelletier had also seen Nicoletta and was heading through the crowds toward us.

  Uh oh.

  Nicoletta rose from her piano, almost like she was getting ready to fight Eloise. Both women could hardly get out of bed without help, so I couldn’t imagine they could do any real damage to each other. But still, I tried to diffuse the situation.

  “Nicoletta, how about you—”

  Eloise reached us, cutting me off. “Filthy Rocchettis,” she hissed in English.

  I turned to Nicoletta, ready to translate, but in perfect English, she said, “Filthy Pelletiers. How dare you show your face in my husband’s city?”

  “You can speak English?” was the only thing Ophelia could focus on. She was ignored by both women.

  “Your husband’s city?” Eloise barked a laugh. “As long as I own Jean’s Bend, this city will never fully belong to him.”

  He’s dead, I wanted to point out, but didn’t.

  “Mark my words, you French bitch,” Nicoletta hissed, her Italian accent abruptly strong. “The city belongs to the Rocchettis and no Pelletier will ever threaten that—not again.”

  “We’ll see,” laughed Eloise.
“My brother took your daughter and he will take the rest of you. He’s out of jail, now, does your son know that?”

  Nicoletta looked to me like I could confirm this information.

  Don Piero’s voice skidded through my head. Pelletier’s son has just got out, he had said in that tape. He got a reduced sentence for ratting out the Union.

  Does Toto know that? Carlos Sr had asked.

  You can tell him, brother, had been Don Piero’s reply.

  What had Eloise screamed the first time we had met? Get out before my brother kills you—just like he did your no-good sister!

  The words hadn’t really sunk in, since I was too busy trying to calm her down.

  My brother took your daughter...

  To Eloise, all us Rocchettis must be the same. I doubted there were in-laws in her mind. Just people who were Rocchettis and people who weren’t.

  I could feel the pieces beginning to fit together, the image becoming clearer.

  I heard from the maid in Toto the Terrible’s house that she was involved with a French man! When the Outfit was at war with the Corsican Union, Dita’s voice flew through my head.

  This wasn’t going to end well.

  I reached out to Nicoletta, grabbing her gently but firmly by the shoulders. “That is enough now, ladies,” I murmured. “This is a public event, not the parking lot of a supermarket. Let us separate and cool down.”

  I tried to signal to some of the Sunny Days staff to come and help, but none of them seemed to notice.

  Eloise stepped forward but I held up a hand. “Save your threats, using your traitor of a brother, for somebody else.”

  Her nostrils flared. “My brother is no traitor.”

  “He is a rat who sold out the Union for a reduced sentence,” I told her, not unkindly. Finally, one of the Sunny Days nurses spotted us and came bustling over.

  Nicoletta went to say something, but I tightened my grip on her. “That’s enough, Nicoletta,” I said.

  Her eyes flickered to me, a strange look in them. “Okay,” she said like she couldn’t really believe she was saying it. Her eyes went to my wedding ring and her brow furrowed but she didn’t say anything.

  I hid my hand in my skirts.

  “Nonna,” came the familiar voice of Alessandro. His eyes met mine, despite him calling for his grandmother. Everything okay? they seemed to ask.

  I nodded. “Nicoletta, how about you show Alessandro your new song?”

  The Sunny Days nurse was trying to coax Eloise to step away, but the fierce French woman was not moving.

  She set her jaw, eyeing me coldly. “My brother is no rat,” she said. “He was a murderer but not a rat.”

  In this world, being a murderer was much more preferred than being a rat.

  The next moment, my assistant came running up to me. “Ericson is here!”

  I let go of Nicoletta. Of course, Ericson was here! Why wouldn’t he be? Everyone else in Chicago seemed to be content to show up—invitation or no.

  Alessandro went to step forward but I caught his arm. “I will handle that.” I jerked my chin to Ophelia. “Don’t let Nicoletta near Eloise.”

  Eloise was being carted off by a nurse, but her eyes promised retribution. Ophelia tried to distract Nicoletta with her piano but the matriarch of the Rocchetti family refused to take her eyes off the French woman.

  I sighed through my nose and went off toward the entrance, my husband by my side.

  No one dared approach me with Alessandro beside me. In fact, they stepped away, casting their eyes down. Anything to stop the future Don of the Chicago Outfit from noticing them.

  The contrast almost made me laugh. When I was alone, people rushed up to speak to me, but with my husband, I could have very well been a leper.

  I didn’t particularly like one more than the other. But I did prefer having Alessandro’s warm presence beside me, large and protective. And terrifying.

  My skirts swirled with my strides but flew to halt when I dug my heels into the ground. Before me, talking to some of security, was Mayor Alphonse Ericson.

  “I do not remember inviting you,” I said calmly. To my surprise, Alessandro kept quiet, his hand pressed to my lower back.

  “I am the mayor of Chicago,” Ericson hissed.

  “You say that like it means something,” I replied. “You are not king, merely a representative of some people who decided they didn’t have any other plans on voting day.”

  Ericson flushed in anger. “You cannot kick me out. The scandal could ruin this little side-project of yours.”

  The charity was not my side-project. In fact, at the moment, my side-project was wondering how I could kill Ericson and get away with it.

  “You are here without invitation. I do not think my reputation is the one that would take the hit,” I said.

  A few curious onlookers had stepped closer, making this a lot more public than I wanted it to be. Not inviting Ericson would cause for some gossip, but my support of Salisbury had always been public enough that hopefully kicking out the mayor wouldn’t gather too much attention.

  Hopefully, they just saw it as a political issue.

  “I am—”

  “Trespassing,” Alessandro said smoothly, always prepared to play the bad guy and save me from doing it. “Leave on your own accord or ours. But you will go.”

  Ericson may not be afraid of me, but he was afraid of my husband. I saw him pale slightly at Alessandro’s rough tone and begin to contemplate his options. Either way, he would be humiliated—he should have thought about that before he showed up uninvited.

  Obviously, Ericson was taking too long to make his decision. Alessandro waved a hand, and soldati formed from the shadows. They stepped close to Ericson but made no move to grab him.

  The mayor’s own security turned white at the sight of them.

  Mayor Ericson straightened, trying to claim back some of his dignity. “I only came by to say hello,” he said stiffly. This was all for show; the look he gave me as he turned to leave promised revenge.

  Get in line, I wanted to gloat, but held my tongue. Instead I just smiled.

  That only seemed to make him angrier.

  When Ericson had left, I kissed Alessandro on his rough cheek. “Thank you,” I murmured. “That could have gotten very ugly and very public quickly if you hadn’t frightened him.”

  Alessandro squeezed my back, making no move to wipe the lipstick I had left on his face off. “Of course, my love,” he said. “Hopefully, next time, it will get ugly. These things are so fucking boring.”

  Despite all the people leaning in, I laughed, the sound bouncing off the lights and walls, almost louder than the sound of Nicoletta’s piano playing.

  T he day it began to snow, Alessandro decided he was taking us away for the weekend.

  “Is this really the time to be leaving Chicago?” I asked when he told me the news. “Your father and brother are still vying for the throne, Ericson is causing trouble, and the FBI are so quiet it’s scary.”

  “Exactly why we need a holiday,” he told me. “It’s just for three days, my love. If you really cannot handle not being a mobster wife for seventy-two hours, then we will come home early.”

  “Hilarious.”

  However, I was glad for the break. The end of November signaled the beginning of the holiday season. It had never crossed my mind until Nina warned me, but I was in charge of the Christmas, Thanksgiving and New Year’s. The Rocchettis would host them all—and by Rocchettis, I meant me.

  I didn’t mind, not truly. After all, being seen as the hosts of the Outfit could only help Alessandro and I gain more favor. And with the leadership still being in the air, and the Outfit still divided over who they supported, bringing everyone together to celebrate could only be a good thing.

  In saying that, Alessandro had sat down with me and discussed security for all the dinners and parties. There was a very good chance a fight would break out at least one of them, and my husband wanted to make sure the d
amages would be minimal.

  I may have been hoping the holiday season would bring harmony to the Outfit, but my husband was readying for conflict.

  On the same Friday he told me his plans, we packed up the car and left. It was easier to go without alerting too many people. Not only because it would protect us better, but also so we didn’t have to bat away too many questions, or deal with family members inviting themselves along.

  It would be nice to have some time with my boys alone...and with Oscuro and Beppe, who followed behind us in their Range Rover.

  Dante had developed so much in these past few weeks. Now at one month old, he was awake more and showing more interest in things. He could focus on his surroundings better and was becoming more accustomed to smells and sounds. He had picked up both Alessandro and I’s voices, now turning his head in our direction whenever he heard us.

  However, on the downside, he was fussing and crying more. Most days I could barely step out of his line of sight without inciting a meltdown.

  Even now, in the car, I was holding my hands over the back of his seat, reminding him I was here and had not abandoned him. Dante kept grabbing them, but his gripping skills hadn’t really formed so he kept letting go and trying again.

  Alessandro checked on him in the rereview mirror, his lips forming into a grin. “Are you bossing your mother around, my boy?” He laughed.

  I huffed a laugh. “You’re just jealous because he doesn’t mind when you leave.”

  My husband cut me a look but the humor in his eyes told me he wasn’t angry. “Maybe I am. I’ll never say.”

  It took us a couple hours to reach the Rocchetti family retreat. Situated in the country, the house had been bought for when the men in the family needed some peace and quiet. Built from red bricks and covered in leafless wisteria, it looked almost haunted, especially covered in a thick layer of snow.

  “It’s going to be freezing,” I told Alessandro as he parked on the icy driveway.

  “It warms up quickly,” he assured me.

  We got out of the car, Alessandro unbuckling Dante. Polpetto jumped out, then felt how cold the ground was and quickly got back into the car. I laughed and picked him up, holding him protectively to my chest.