The Bloody Bride (The Rocchetti Dynasty)

by Bree Porter

  Anthony held out the gun, pointing straight at Gavin. There was a slight tremor in his hands.

  Nausea rose up in me. But this was the way of the Outfit, of the mafia. This boy would become a Made Man to replace his father and this was how he would do it.

  This might be your son one day, a strange voice echoed in my mind.

  I turned my head to the side, pressing my face into my husband’s shoulder. Alessandro’s comforting smell surrounded me.

  Alessandro did not force me to turn around and watch. But I did feel his body tighten in anticipation for what was to come.

  There was a second of silence, of stillness.

  Then the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the church.

  On instinct, I turned towards the noise and felt my heart drop in my chest.

  Laying on the podium, in a pool of his own blood, Gavin Gallagher stared up at the Heavens. Mary Madonna stared back from her stained-glass window.

  Anthony still held the gun in place, his face slack with shock. For a minute, I thought he would vomit—I certainly would of—but then Don Piero clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder and his voice rang out above the crowds. “Anthony Scaletta, Made Man of the Outfit.”

  A tender clap ran throughout the church.

  Men got up to go and congratulated Anthony, while the rest of us stayed in our seats. I felt both numb, sick and triumphant. The triumph was a very small part of me and had more to do with the deaths being avenged than Anthony’s induction. Perhaps it was bad taste, but I couldn’t help it when I looked down at Gavin’s broken body.

  That man had helped kill innocent people. Helped kill people I had known my entire life, my family in all ways but blood.

  After that, things started to become slow. A blanket was tossed over Gavin’s body so the children and women could leave the funeral without being more scarred than they already were. Anthony was passed around like a prize trophy, everyone wanting to shake his hand.

  I separated from the Rocchetti’s and went to help Mrs. Scaletta. She was pale but there was a sated glint in her eyes. Vengeance had been served for her husband’s death and her son would take care of her now.

  Mrs. Scaletta held my hand tightly as we walked down the steps of the church. It was freezing outside, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “Mrs. Scaletta, can I please convince you to put on your coat?” I asked again.

  She shook her head. Her black veil caught little snowflakes. “No.” She muttered. “Where is my son?”

  “He is inside. Shall I fetch him for you?”

  “No, he is busy.” Mrs. Scaletta searched over the gathered people. “My Tony is dead.”

  “I know, ma’am. I am sorry.”

  She flickered her dark eyes to me. “Why are you sorry, Mrs. Rocchetti? You did not do it.” A wistful look came over her again. “La sposa insanguinata.” The Bloody Bride.

  I smiled despite my stomach tightening.

  One of her relatives came to collect her and Mrs. Scaletta was escorted to her car. People were beginning to leave, heading to the graveyard to bury Tony Scaletta.

  I made my way to Oscuro, who was parked near the front of the building, but something caught my eye.

  At the end of the street, was a car. It was a black Dodge Charger. Snow did not cover the car, showing it had been in use recently.

  How odd, I thought, there was the exact same car in front of the church when I got married here.

  “Ma’am?” Oscuro called.

  I realised I had been staring and quickly headed towards Oscuro. “I’m sorry. I got lost in fairyland for a moment there.”

  “It is a very difficult day.” He answered in response.

  I glanced back at the car on the street. Perhaps it belonged to one of the surrounding shop owners? But why would they park in the street instead of in staff parking?

  With one last look, I got into the car.

  Still the uneasy feeling followed me all the way home.

  Chapter Eight

  The 14th of February came with an impressive vengeance.

  Already I had been married for nearly three weeks. They had been perhaps the most stressful three weeks of my life, filled with torment and death and so much blood. The brightest memory of my marriage so far was Polpetto, who was getting bigger everyday.

  In order to ensure there was no doubts behind our marriage, Alessandro and I had to go out for Valentine’s Day. A weak marriage was a bad representation onto the family, and could make Alessandro look like he didn’t have things under control.

  I was dreading the dinner and spent the entire day feeling close to fainting.

  Beatrice tried her best to soothe my nerves but we both knew it was a hopeless case. Although she was instrumental in helping me to choose out a dress to wear.

  The dress I chose was a long white silk dress, fashioned like a dressing gown but with a revealing chest. It had originally belonged to my stepmother but once she had seen it had caught my eye she had given it to me. Of course, I had been too small to wear it then but it was a favourite formal dress of mine.

  I paired it with silver strap heels, a plain diamond necklace and matching earrings. My hair was over my left shoulder, perfectly sculptured into waves and my makeup was pristine.

  It had taken me hours to perfect the look and a few meltdowns in front of the mirror when my mascara smudged.

  Eventually, it was time to go. I held my clutch and coat in a death grip as I waited by the clock for it to turn to six o’clock.

  “I have to go now, Polpetto. Be good, yes?” I gave his head a scratch. He wagged his tail excitedly.

  I was nervous about leaving him home alone but he should be alright for a few hours. I had left his bed downstairs, with all his toys and dinner. Plus, his puppy mat was in the downstairs bathroom.

  He’ll be fine, I told myself. But you won’t be if you make Alessandro wait.

  Alessandro told me to meet him in the underground garage. Perhaps I was just lucky he didn’t make me meet him at the restaurant.

  By the time I reached the garage, my grip on my clutch had grown shaky.

  You can do this, I told myself. Just make casual conversation with him. Do not say anything that could be taken as a threat or opinion. Smile, act dumb and do not let him give you a reason to punish you.

  As soon as I took a step out of the elevator, I saw them. Oscuro was standing tall, with Beppe beside him. Both wore dark clothing with big combat boots and guns tucked into their waistbands and holsters. Security for the night then.

  Before I could greet them, I caught sight of Alessandro and felt the words die in my throat.

  He looked spectacular, leaning against the hood of the car with his arms crossed. He wore a well-fitted tux, with a silver ascot in his pocket. His shoes were shining and the watch on his wrist gleamed in the light. He had brushed his dark hair back, and a single loose strand escaped onto his forehead.

  When he heard my footsteps, he snapped his head up and met my eyes.

  I couldn’t even manage a hello.

  “Sophia.” Alessandro said. His eyes travelled down my dress, but lingered heavily on my expose chest. “Nice.” Was his answer.

  Nice? That’s it? I felt like plucking his eyebrows and telling him they only looked ‘nice’ afterwards like he wasn’t tearing up from the pain.

  Instead, I smiled politely.

  Alessandro gestured for me to get into the car before I could engage Oscuro and Beppe in conversation. The car was so low to the ground I nearly had to do a parkour move to navigate it with my heels. His favourite car, I had learned over the weeks, was his black Lamborghini. The doors opened oddly, which was the only piece of trivia I knew about it.

  He came around the front of the car and got into the driver’s seat.

  I glanced around. “Are Oscuro and Beppe not joining us?”

  Alessandro pressed a button and the doors shut. “They will be following us in the Range Rover.”

  The engine roare
d to life and Alessandro zapped out of the garage. I tried to hide the fact I was gripping the seat for dear life but Alessandro noticed. He laughed darkly.

  “Sport cars are not made to go slow.”

  “Not even when reversing?” I squeaked.

  Alessandro zoomed onto the main road, only slowing to avoid a collision. Behind us, the Range Rover struggled to keep up.

  Chicago was filled with couples for Valentine’s Day. Everywhere I looked I saw people holding hands. The park was filled with picnics and the restaurants up to the brim with patrons. Trees had been decorated with pink and white lights, brightening up the snow and streets.

  I watched the couples. Most of them held hands, their faces bright. The young couples kissed at every corner, whereas the older couples seemed happy to exist in the same area as the one they had chosen to live their life with. I saw a senior couple sitting on a bench, heads pressed together, grey hair twisted together. They looked to be in their own little world.

  How odd, I thought, I will never be any of those couples.

  Alessandro pulled into the restaurant.

  The valet opened the door for me and I gave him a grateful smile as I shuffled out of the car.

  “Welcome to Nicoletta’s.” He said warmly. As soon as he saw Alessandro, his eyes nearly dropped out of his head. “Mr. Rocchetti, sir.”

  “Lucas.” Greeted Alessandro as he came around the car. He passed the car keys to him. “Usual rules.”

  “Yes, sir, yes.” Lucas gulped before scurrying to the car.

  Alessandro pressed a hand to my lower back. I stiffened. I was thankful I had worn a dress with a back or else the skin to skin contact would’ve made me faint. Feeling his warm touch through the fabric was bad enough.

  We caught the elevator up to the restaurant. Nicoletta’s was a beautiful high end restaurant that was owned by the Outfit. The restaurant was round, with views from all angles of the city below. It centred around a fake citrus tree. Along the walls beautiful paintings of Italy were shown and the roof was painting with a mural of the Heavens.

  “Mr. Rocchetti.” Squeaked a voice beside us. “Your usual table is this way.”

  We followed the waitress throughout the restaurant. I felt eyes draw up to us and settle onto Alessandro Rocchetti, the Principe of Chicago. Then their eyes went to me. I felt the realisation settle over the crowd. That’s Sophia Rocchetti. Alessandro’s wife.

  I lifted my chin up.

  Alessandro pulled out a chair for me and I took my seat. Our table was located near the back, giving us a sense of privacy. Beside us, a huge window stretched out, showing the tinkling city below.

  I pulled out the menu to avoid conversation.

  I lasted about seven seconds. “Where are Oscuro and Beppe?”

  “Scouting the area.” Alessandro said. “Don’t worry, I can protect you.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean—“

  “I know you didn’t.” He sounded irritated suddenly.

  I buried myself back into the menu.

  The waitress came by with a bottle of wine before quickly leaving. She almost spilt the wine from how much she was shaking.

  To try and stop myself from talking, I looked around the restaurant. I saw faintly familiar faces, having probably seen them on television or they were associated with the Outfit somehow. As I looked around the room, I caught a few eyes. Like they had been watching me first.

  They all quickly looked away.

  I turned back to the menu.

  “What are you thinking of ordering?” I asked.

  Alessandro didn’t look up. “You didn’t even last two minutes.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Of silence.” He met my eyes. I could’ve sworn he looked almost…like he was going to smile? Or maybe he was going to sneer? “You couldn’t last two minutes.”

  I blushed. “My father says I can talk to the birds in the trees.”

  Alessandro nodded in agreement. He didn’t say anything else.

  “Is Nicoletta’s family owned?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said as he stared down at his menu. “Don Piero built it not long after my grandmother died.”

  “Romantic.”

  Alessandro made a noise low in his throat. Either in agreement or he was laughing at me.

  I fiddled with the menu. All around me happy couples were enjoying their dinner and conversation. Even some couples which did not look happy were talking to each other. But none of them are sitting with the Rocchetti prince, a voice in my head said.

  “Why are you fidgeting?” He asked.

  I stopped. “I’m worried about Polpetto. He’s never been home alone for so long before.”

  Alessandro looked like he was going to roll his eyes. “I’m sure your mutt is fine.”

  The waitress came before I could respond. She kept glancing nervously at Alessandro and took our orders quickly. As soon as we confirmed it, she took off like a deer in the headlights.

  I watched her go. “Everyone here is terrified of you.”

  “Including you.”

  I looked back to Alessandro. He regarded me coolly. I didn’t know how to answer—I was afraid of him. But perhaps living in quiet harmony with him had reduced some of it. I slept with my back to the door and wasn’t afraid to knock on the study to ask if he wanted dinner.

  Yet still…when he looked at me. Or moved towards me. I felt a jolt of terror, of anticipation.

  I sympathised with the waitress immensely.

  “Nothing to say?” He mused. “Not like you.”

  I took a sip of my wine.

  A predatory look grew over his face. Alessandro was eating me up with his expression, like he was tearing my clothes off in his mind. “Are you afraid of me, wife?”

  I gulped. “Yes.” My voice was so soft I could barely hear it over the sounds of the restaurant.

  “You should be.” Was his answer.

  I met his eyes. So dark and intense. My heart sped up and my stomach tightened. I felt very hot all of the sudden. “Excuse me, I need to go to the powder room.” I stood up so fast I jolted the table.

  Alessandro didn’t move. Only leaned back and smirked.

  I tried not to flee screaming through the restaurant. Heads turned as I strode through the tables and whispers ensued.

  The bathrooms were tucked around a corner, half-hidden by a fake citrus plant. I ducked into the ladies. Like the restaurant it was Mediterranean themed, with landscapes of Italy across the walls and golden grape vines crawling around the mirrors.

  I darted into the first empty stall.

  I didn’t even need to go—and going in this dress would be a pain. I leant against the wall and took a deep breath.

  You can do this, I told myself. Do not give him a reason to hurt you.

  The bathroom door opened and voices poured in.

  “—I heard he keeps her in a cage and only lets her out when he needs her.” A high voice said.

  “Really?” Exclaimed her companion. “You think that’s true?”

  “I think he’s terrifying.”

  “They all are.” Sighed one of them. “Johnny said he saw Enrico Rocchetti in the lobby with his mistress.”

  “Yeah, well, tell him Alessandro Rocchetti is enjoying his wine two tables from us.” Muttered the one with a high voice. “Elizabeth—you know? Who I work with—is cousins with a girl who is friends with Nina Genovese. Elizabeth said that her cousin said that Nina Genovese said that a rival gang attacked their wedding and Alessandro Rocchetti apparently hung them up by their heels.”

  “You really believe that?” Her friend asked.

  “Definitely. He looks like a sadist, don’t you think?”

  I leaned closer to the door.

  “Yeah, a cute one.” Her friend giggled.

  “Don’t be so shallow. He’s a killer, through and through. I don’t know why the cops don’t just arrest the whole lot of them.”

  “So corrupt.” Agreed her friend.

  Th
ey moaned about the corruptness of the Chicago government agencies before making their way out of the bathroom. As soon as I heard the door shut, I let out a deep breath.

  Perhaps being kept in a cage would’ve been more comforting. At least then I would’ve know what to expect.

  When I got back to the table, Alessandro barely noticed my approach. He was staring coldly out the window, like he was about to catapult out of the glass and into the city.

  “Is Nina Genovese married to the Underboss, Davide?” I asked.

  He cut his eyes to me. “Yes. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason. I wanted to ask her out to lunch and didn’t want to use the wrong name.”

  “Liar.”

  I tried to hide my guiltiness.

  Alessandro turned his attention from the city below and trained it all on me. Did every woman feel like this when his intense eyes settled on them? Did they too get a pounding heart? Clenching thighs?

  “Why were you asking?” He crooned.

  At that moment, the waitress came with our meals. She placed them in front of us with no limit to her shaking before fleeing.

  I quickly ate up to avoid answering his question. I paused and licked the roof of my mouth. There was an almost metallic taste to the food. I drank some wine to try and wash away the taste but it remained.

  No longer wanting to eat, I looked up and met my husband’s gaze.

  Alessandro watched me with heavy eyelids. He looked like he was going to eat me alive, bones and fear as well.

  “Ah, Alessandro.”

  We both lifted our heads at the voice. Enrico Rocchetti approached our table, beautifully dressed and in his late-forties. At his side was a breathtaking woman, at least a decade younger than him, dressed in a long red gown. She had such pale delicate features she could’ve been mistaken for a porcelain doll.

  Alessandro rose and shook the man’s hand. “Uncle.”

  “I don’t want to disturb you and your wife.” He said. “I only came by to say hello.” He smiled at me. I rose and allowed him to kiss my cheek. “Sophia, you look gorgeous.” Enrico’s eyes fell down to my stomach. “Still not pregnant?”