The Rocchetti Queen (The Rocchetti Dynasty Book 3)

by Bree Porter

  Sergio, Nero, Toto and Oscuro all looked away.

  My husband cast them hard glares, before saying to me, “Konstantin told me recently he’d had a change of heart.”

  “A change of heart? A change of heart! That is an acceptable thing to say about buying shoes, Alessandro. It is not okay when discussing removing families from power,” I hissed. “Especially when one of those families is allied with us, via marriage!”

  “I know you are worried about Elena,” he tried.

  My temper was rising hard and fast. The stress of what had I just done, paired with my depleting adrenaline, had left me angrier than usual.

  I didn’t want to snap in front of Alessandro’s men, but their opinions of me didn’t really matter. They had to respect me due to my connection with Alessandro. They weren’t Chicago politicians or socialites, just my husband’s soldati.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I demanded. “We are meant to be teammates. Did you think I wouldn’t notice when we went to visit Konstantin and there are a bunch of Falcone bones on the driveway? Or perhaps that when Elena told me her entire family had been murdered, it wouldn’t occur to me that Konstantin had anything to do with it? It was just a bunch of coincidences.”

  Alessandro worked his jaw, then barked, “Out!”

  All his men jumped to their feet and disappeared further down the plane. My father-in-law gave me thumbs up as he went.

  If I had been in any other mood, I would have laughed.

  When they were gone, Alessandro said to me, “I didn’t tell you because I knew you were nervous about coming to Washington and sneaking into the FBI’s headquarters. I had every intention of telling you after.”

  “It is not your job to pick and choose what I can and cannot handle.”

  His eyes flashed. “Yes, it is. I am your husband. I will always be your husband before your partner in crime.”

  I jabbed a finger at him. “If anything happens to Elena, I will hold you personally accountable.”

  “This is what being king is, Sophia,” he warned. “You have to make hard decisions. Decisions that hurt the people you love and care about, in order to protect them from greater threats.”

  “And what greater threat am I protecting Elena from, Alessandro?” I asked him. “The Falcones? The Tarkhanovs? Us?”

  “Konstantin has promised not to touch a hair on her head,” Alessandro replied. “She will be returned to Chicago immediately. She will not be a wealthy widow—Konstantin will take Thaddeo’s assets—but she will have her life and safety.”

  That calmed me down. Like water on fire. “Can we trust him?”

  “He gave his word. He also knows that if he harms her, I will take it as a direct attack and act accordingly.”

  I leaned back in my chair, breathing deeply. I realized slowly that I needed to pump, which was just great. On top of everything else, I had to pump.

  I sighed. “I’m going to go and cool down. Don’t—” I said when he began to rise, “follow me. I just need five minutes.”

  Alessandro’s eyes were dark. “I would have told you, my love. We both agreed not to keep secrets; I have not broken that deal.”

  I knew that. I really did.

  I had acted irrationally, embarrassingly so. The first sign that Alessandro had been leaving me out, keeping me out of the loop, had sent me into a tailspin. After years of struggling with my ambition, I had finally gotten into a position where I could flourish—all thanks to Alessandro.

  Perhaps I hadn’t gotten over my childhood of hiding my true self as easily as I thought I had. Or perhaps being so close to my sister had upset me in ways I couldn’t identify.

  To show him all was forgiven, I kissed his head, running my fingers through his hair before leaving. I could’ve sworn I saw him visibly relax.

  When I returned, all five men were leaning over a laptop.

  “Anything interesting?” I asked.

  Alessandro lifted his head, eyes flashing. I smiled at him. We’re good.

  He nodded. “We’re going through the documents you stole from the FBI. There are a few things we didn’t know. Like where their lair in Chicago is situated.”

  “Anything about Adelasia?” I came around Alessandro’s back, loosely wrapping an arm around his neck. He squeezed my wrist.

  “No, nothing.”

  Toto spotted Alessandro casually holding my wrist, a strange look flashing over his eyes. Almost jealous, but not quite. Did he miss being able to hold someone? Toto was not celibate by any means, but a casual hook-up was not the same as building familiarity with somebody, a relationship.

  Like he’d had with Aisling.

  I was still in contact with Aisling, our conversations brief and awkward. The longer I went without telling her about Toto’s request, the more it weighed heavily on me.

  It’s not your place, Alessandro had told me when I’d asked him about it. Let my father figure out what he wants to do with his mistress, alone.

  I know, I replied. I just feel like they’re purposely trying to be miserable.

  Let them.

  Mean.

  His eyes had flashed and dipped down to my lips. So I am.

  That conversation had led to hours of moans and sweat and—

  Sophia, this is not the time, I warned myself, already feeling myself flush. Alessandro being so close and smelling so good did not help.

  “There were files with Dante’s birthdate,” I said. “Let’s have a look at those.”

  “Perhaps Catherine is feeling very aunt-like these days,” Nero pointed out.

  Sergio snorted.

  Alessandro shot them both hard looks. They sobered immediately.

  My husband scrolled through all the files I had copied, a wealth of information. He found the file called 27th of October and clicked on it. A single file popped up—a video.

  He clicked it.

  The screen stretched, showing a grainy image. The camera was situated high up on a building, looking down at the familiar Chicago streets. I could make out the roof of a building, as well as a hospital to the side.

  It was daytime.

  The video moved quickly, already edited to speed up the playback. Soon, a figure moved into the frame, carrying a heavy suitcase, comically fast. The figure moved around the roof a few times, buzzing from place to place like a bee. They looked like they were trying to find the perfect spot. Eventually, they did.

  The figure crouched down and opened their suitcase. Their hands disappeared before coming back up, holding a huge gun.

  They readied themselves, pointing the sniper in the hospital’s direction.

  A cold feeling began to grow inside of me. I very much wanted to turn away, to seek comfort in Alessandro or hold my son in my arms. I felt like I was watching something bad begin to happen, like seconds before a car accident, but I couldn’t turn away.

  The sniper spotted their victim. Very carefully, they rested their finger on the trigger, waiting.

  Suddenly, there was a flash of blue and gold. A woman leaped out of the shadows, diving for the sniper.

  She collided with them just as they pulled the trigger. The gun moved with them both, changing direction.

  The sniper and woman hit the ground. They got the better of her quickly, revealing themselves to be a man–their face was so familiar, too familiar. Before he could lay another punch on the woman, a blond-headed man popped up out of nowhere and shot at the sniper.

  The sniper got away, swinging themselves over the side of the building.

  Instead of going after him, the man crouched down by the woman, dragging her to his chest and rubbing her back. The video ended with them locked in each other’s embraces, looking at each other like there was no one else in the world.

  Alessandro looked at me. “You okay?”

  “My sister saved me.” As soon as the words were said aloud, I knew I couldn’t take them back. “The sniper was going to kill me but...she stopped them.” And instead, Don Piero had been s
hot.

  “I know that boy,” Toto said, eyes still pinned to the screen. “That’s one of your brother’s soldati.”

  “Raul,” Alessandro said. “Raul Andolini tried to kill my wife.”

  I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. Another failed assassination attempt. I was either cursed or very, very blessed.

  My husband tightened his grip on me, like I was going to disappear into the past, the what-ifs.

  All I wanted to do was hold my son.

  “Why would your sister do that?” Sergio asked me, not rudely.

  “I’m not sure.”

  He twisted his lips but said nothing more. I saw his eyes go down to his phone, like he was expecting a message. But we were on a plane, so there were no new messages.

  I combed my fingers through Alessandro’s hair, the act comforting. “Let’s keep going through the files. I want to see if they have anything on the Corsican Union or Adelasia.”

  Alessandro clicked off the video and continued scrolling.

  Nero asked me, “Were there any photos of Union members on the FBI’s wall?”

  “I didn’t see any. But there were thousands of photos. I could have very easily missed them.”

  “It’s kind of creepy they’re keeping so many photos of us,” Nero said.

  “They’re not keeping photos of your ugly ass, Nero,” Sergio teased.

  Nero shoved at Sergio’s shoulder, but the two stepped back from each other when Alessandro shot them a warning look. Oscuro looked like he was trying not to laugh.

  It was strange to see the Outfit’s assassino and enforcer more relaxed. But then again, Alessandro wasn’t capo all the time, and wasn’t Principe of Chicago when he was with me.

  I suppose masks were a part of this life. We had to act a certain way, perform certain tasks. But didn’t everyone in the world? Did you cry on the subway or walk around naked at the supermarket? Different places—different people—dictated certain rules, certain actions.

  I was just lucky to find someone who I didn’t need to worry about all of that with. Someone who had seen straight through my mask and demanded I take it off. Not only to show him, but to show myself. To remind myself what I had kept hidden beneath the makeup and the manners and the smiles.

  Images of Dupont and Catherine flashed through my mind. How they had smiled, how they had looked at each other.

  And even though I wanted to wrap my hands around Dupont’s throat, I was happy for my sister. I was happy she had found someone to take her mask off with.

  Hopefully, she wouldn’t have any trouble finding another person to take her mask off with, when all was said and done.

  Perhaps I could set her up with the sexy FBI man, I thought, then said to the men, “I met someone weird in the headquarters.”

  Alessandro looked up at me, expression accusatory. “Oh? Who?”

  “A man. He was tall with blue eyes and black hair. He looked mid-thirties.” He was also gorgeous, but that wasn’t important to his description. “I could have sworn he knew who I was. He said that Chicago would grow boring soon, and that New York was the place to be.” At Alessandro’s hard look, I added, “Not in a threatening kind of way. More like...like he accepted our leadership?”

  “The only person I can think of with that description is Giovanni Vigliano,” Alessandro said. The other men nodded in agreement. At my questioning look, he clarified, “He runs the ports along the coast of Maine. Nothing comes in and out of the Northeast without him knowing about it. I don’t know why he would be in Washington, or an FBI agent.”

  Oscuro passed me his phone. The man I had run into stared back at me: blue eyes bright, even through the phone screen. In this image, the man was walking across the street, dressed in a sharp suit, phone to his ear. Two bodyguards followed him.

  “That’s him! Except, his hair is shorter.”

  “Did you look at him for a long time?” Toto grinned nastily at me, but it did not feel as malicious as it had in the past. Instead, it felt like it was his attempt at trying to tease me.

  In response, I gave him a mocking look, which only caused his grin to widen. My husband watched us both with a hard expression.

  “Does Giovanni have a twin?” I asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Alessandro said.

  “He’s one of Lorenzo’s bastards, isn’t he?” Sergio asked.

  Nero nodded. “One of them,” he snorted. “Lorenzo left bastards all over the States. Giovanni’s the only one with enough balls to claim the surname Vigliano.”

  Toto snorted in agreement. “I think Lorenzo even left a few in Chicago. Though I’m sure my father dealt with them. He never liked Lorenzo Vigliano.”

  I decided to let Toto’s bone-chilling words hang in the air untouched. To my husband I asked, “Is there nothing about where Adelasia’s baby might be?”

  We continued to sort through the information. A lot we already had, or was about other organizations. Useful, Alessandro assured me. But it was not what we wanted.

  A few minutes out from Chicago, we had gone through all the files I’d found. There was nothing regarding Adelasia and her baby.

  I couldn’t help my sense of guilt. I had gone through all that and still not found a clue to where our nephew was.

  I only hoped, unlike his mother, that we found him before we found his body. We had failed Adelasia; we couldn’t fail her son too.

  Alessandro told me that his brother was also at a lost as to where the baby was. I hadn’t been around when my husband had told his brother the news, but according to him, Salvatore Jr had showed little reaction.

  Even Toto the Terrible had shown some sort of reaction when he found out Aisling was pregnant. But Salvatore Jr merely cataloged the news like Alessandro had told him about the weather.

  That empty response to the world around him unnerved me more than I would ever be able to convey.

  “My love, did you say you saw a photo of Dupont’s mother on his desk?” Alessandro asked.

  I nodded. “I did.”

  “Nero, hunt her down,” Alessandro ordered. “If Tristan wants to fuck with our family, we will fuck with his.”

  “Are you going to get violent with her?” I asked. “She is an old woman.”

  “I don’t mind,” Nero said. He was ignored.

  Alessandro looked to me, jaw tense. “Threats do not always lead to violence. If you want, you can deal with her. I need to have a little chat with Raul, anyway.”

  My father-in-law looked way too excited.

  “I have her. You deal with Raul.” I pressed my lips to Alessandro’s ear. “Make him pay for almost hurting my son. I want everyone in Illinois to know what happens to those who dare touch our family.”

  “Don’t worry, my love,” my husband murmured. “His blood will water the soil of our dynasty.”

  Mrs Dupont lived alone in a retirement community between the border of Canada and the States, along the St Clair river. Her little home was neat and quiet, and only sign someone lived there was the rocking chair on the porch.

  I stepped up to the door, knocking loudly. Oscuro waited by the car, tense and alert.

  The door opened, revealing a short old woman with watery blue eyes and white hair. She blinked at me in surprise, “Hello?” There was a slight French tang to her voice.

  “Mrs Dupont?” I stretched out my hand. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you. I’m Sophia, a friend of your son’s. Could I trouble you for some tea?”

  Alessandro came back home in the dead of the night.

  I felt his fingers pass over my hair before he disappeared into the bathroom. The smell of blood wafted after him.

  I slid out of bed, wrapping my dressing gown around myself. Dante stayed asleep, but I made sure to shut the bathroom door behind me so the light wouldn’t disturb him.

  Alessandro had already slipped out of his shirt, not a cut to be seen, yet still blood soiled the fabric.

  “It’s not mine,” he said quietly, bent over the sink.
/>
  I came up behind him, trailing my fingers down his spine. “I know, my love.” I pressed my lips to his arm, a butterfly of a kiss. “Raul?”

  “Dead.”

  “Your brother...”

  “Behind it.”

  I sighed deeply. It was what we had expected, yet the news didn’t bring me any joy. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” he asked.

  “I was hoping for another outcome. For both you and your father.”

  He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Since I was a child, I knew Salvi was my biggest opponent. What will happen next has been written since the day I was born.”

  I slid in between the counter and Alessandro, flushed against his body. His hardness pressed into me, the thin silk of my dressing gown a scant barrier between us. The sink dug into my back.

  His gaze roamed my face, half-delighted.

  “What did you do to him?”

  Alessandro pressed his forehead against mine, breathing deeply as he remembered. “The same I do to all those that dare oppose me.”

  “He protected Dante, Alessandro. We...trusted him to protect our son.” I couldn’t stop thinking about it. All the chances where Raul could have hurt Dante, all he would’ve had to do was push past Dita and Teresa.

  “I know, my love. But our son is fine.”

  I pressed my lips against his collar bone, then lower, and lower.

  Alessandro tensed as I moved further down, scraping my teeth and tongue over his corded muscles. I traced his tattoos with my nails, following the lines of the oaths he had made to the Outfit and the Rocchettis.

  “My Sophia,” he murmured, voice low.

  “Mmm?” The bathroom tiles were cold against my knees.

  His hand came around my head, weaving into my hair.

  I unbuckled his belt, sliding down his pants, until all of him was revealed. I traced his happy trail down, smiling as I felt him tense beneath me.

  “Sophia,” he growled. “No teasing.”

  “Is that so?” I mused, replacing my fingers with my lips. Moving further and further down... “Where is that rule where you’re in charge?”