The Bloody Bride (The Rocchetti Dynasty)

by Bree Porter

  “I joined the FBI before.” “What?” “Before I faked my death.” She clarified. “I was approached by them in college. I went to college—“ “I know. I found your diploma.”

  Cat nodded. “I agreed to join them…They help people, Soph. They fight injustice. All the people that think they can get away with breaking the law, with endangering innocent people, we teach them they can’t.”

  I shook my head. “The government is not interested in justice.” “You have been conditioned to believe that.” She insisted. “But it’s not true—“ “So your FBI is clear of all charges?” I demanded. “You’re brainwashed, Catherine. You work for a money-making institution, for politicians who only care about reelection.”

  Her eyes flared. “I’m not here to fight with you.” She said.

  I raked my nails over the table. “No, if it was up to you, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

  “What’s that suppose to mean?” Her nostrils flared.

  “You left me.” My voice broke, anger evaporating momentarily. “You left me. I thought you were dead. I mourned you. I spent every day for the past two years carrying your ghost with me.”

  Cat turned her head to the side, blinking rapidly. “I asked you if you wanted to join me but you said no.” “You never asked me—“ “I did.” She insisted. “When we were discussing going to college. I asked you if you wanted to leave but you said no, remember?”

  I stared at her, flabbergasted. “I thought you were joking!”

  “Your answer was no, Soph. You said no. I wasn’t going to pull you kicking and screaming from your life.”

  I rubbed at my watering eyes. That night had been so long ago, such a blip in my memory. I had even told Alessandro about it, waving it off as dreams between two little girls. But for one of those little girls, it had been a very real idea.

  “I’m sorry I left you alone with those monsters.” Cat spat. “But I knew you would be okay. You don’t rock the boat, don’t get into trouble.”

  “Unlike you.”

  Cat didn’t reply.

  I met her eyes. “That day in the graveyard…That was you, wasn’t it?” “It was.” She said softly. “I like to check up on you. Your wedding I was there—and if Tristan hadn’t held me back, I would’ve come and got you. That I can promise.”

  I lifted my eyes to hers. “You were there? When the Gallagher’s attacked? When I killed a man?”

  Cat’s jaw hardened. “I was.”

  “The FBI…was outside when all those innocent people were attacked? You had to means to help those people and you didn’t? Tony Scaletta, Paola Oldani and Nicola Rizzo all died, Catherine. We have know those people our entire lives.”

  She just stared at me.

  A manic laugh escaped me. “You’re FBI is so innocent? So worried about injustice? You’ve just left one crime family for another one.” “That’s not true.” “It is, Cat. I’m sorry to tell you, but it is.” I leaned close to her. “Leave the FBI. I won’t tell the Outfit where you go, as long as you leave.”

  Cat laughed mirthlessly. “I was about to make you the same deal.” “What?”

  She opened the folder. A small cottage was pictured. It looked nothing like the beautiful manors that Alessandro had shown to me. “Witness protection program.” She said. “We will protect you. You will be safe from the Outfit, from anyone who wishes you harm.”

  I met her eyes.

  “You can be free.” She urged. “You can go to college or get a boyfriend of your own choosing. You could coach cheerleading or not, I don’t know. But you could be free, Soph. Free of being Papa’s pawn, your husband’s property.”

  I placed a tender hand on my abdomen. My baby rested in there, completely unaware of what was going around them. They were safe and tucked away, busy growing and worrying about themselves.

  Good, I thought. I’m glad they’re in there and not out here.

  How strange, I had thought my child would never get to meet their aunt. I had mourned that fact. Now, they might get to meet her, but they would be on opposite sides.

  Cat and I would be on opposite sides, I realised suddenly.

  “Please, Soph.” Cat said. “You…you don’t have to be owned.”

  I traced the cottage house. “How would I survive?”

  “What?” “Things cost money, Cat. I have no college degree, I barely passed high school. How would I provide for myself and my baby?”

  Cat blinked. “Baby?”

  I nodded. “I’m nearly eleven weeks along.”

  She didn’t congratulate me. Just said, “You would start with a small fund from us and then you would figure out—“ “So I would live paycheque to paycheque? I would worry about money and work for the rest of my life?”

  Cat scowled. “Stop being so materialistic. You could be free.”

  “And alone.” I added. “I wouldn’t be able to see our family ever again.”

  “So?”

  “So I love them and I’m not going to leave them.”

  “You’re being stupid, Soph. So goddamn stupid. What kind of life do you think waits for you back at the Outfit? Your husband betrayed you and used you. Papa lied to you. Your entire worth is based on your appearance. You do your husband’s bidding, cook and clean for him—“ “I use to cook and clean for you.” I said. “Has it been an adjustment?”

  “Yes,” she said reluctantly. “I didn’t know how to do anything. I couldn’t even iron.”

  I felt a tiny sense of smugness.

  Cat narrowed her eyes at me. “I know you did that on purpose. You always did shit like that. Papa wouldn’t function a single day without you. And I bet your husband is becoming dependent on you, too.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Cut the bullshit, Soph.” She said tiredly. “I remember what you were like. I loved you, but I remember. Everyone adored you. Dita considered you in charge and our stepmothers gave you gifts for your love. You were beloved at school, always head cheerleader or on the party planning committee.”

  It felt nice to be so known once again. Cat was pulling me apart, unraveling my like string, but there was no acceptance, no love. She may not like me but she knew me.

  Cat knew me.

  But I knew her too.

  “I remember what you were like, too.” I said. “Always too smart, always better than all those around you. You angered Papa at every chance you got, with little worry about how it impacted the other people around you. You stormed through life, breaking shit without a care. Then you left, you faked your death and betrayed your family. You left and betrayed me.”

  A muscle in her jaw twitched. “I did what I had to do to protect you, Soph. Now, I am in a position where I can protect you. Where I can free you.” “I don’t want freedom.”

  “What do you want?”

  I thought about it. What did I want? What did I crave for? What was the first thing I thought about when I woke up? “I’m not sure.” I said. “But I know you can’t give it to me.”

  Cat looked like she was going to cry, but she didn’t. Just jerked to the door with her chin. “The Outfit lawyer is outside for you. He’s causing a fuss.” I rose, red dress sliding to the floor. There was so many more questions at the tip of my tongue…but I didn’t want to know the answer to some of them. I wanted to hold my sister’s image in my mind as I had done for the past two years and not let it be contaminated with this new version of her.

  As I reached the door, she called out to me.

  “Soph…” She said. I kept my eyes forward. “This is the only chance I have to protect you. Because we’re coming. We’re coming for the Outfit and anyone else with ties to organised crime. That will include you.”

  I opened the door and walked out.

  The Outfit lawyer, Hugo del Gatto, was in the hall. He was arguing with two FBI agents, but when he saw me, he seemed to calm down fractionally. Both the FBI agents stared at me, their jaws set. One of them slipped into the interrogation room, concern on the
ir face. For my sister, I thought.

  “Mrs Rocchetti, are you okay?” The lawyer asked. “If you said anything—“ “I didn’t say anything, Hugo.” I said, tiredly. “I know how to lie.”

  He didn’t seem to have a response to that.

  “Right, well, this way.” Hugo led me through the grey halls. It was more sterile than the penthouse.

  We reached an opening where a group of familiar men were. FBI agents loitered around them but all of them seemed slightly uncomfortable. With the way Sergio was looking at them, I couldn’t really blame them for feeling a bit nervous. My eyes went straight to Alessandro, leaning on the wall, beside his sitting family. Don Piero sat in the middle, handcuffed, but still terrifying.

  My father stood up as we approached. His whiskey-coloured eyes were wide. “Sophia—“

  “I am going to talk now.” I said quietly. “And you are going to listen.”

  Papa looked like he was going to say something but closed his mouth.

  “I did everything I was meant to do.” I said. “I was a dutiful daughter and obedient wife. I ran your house, and you never came home to a problem. I played my role as daughter well and when it was time for me to be sold off to a monster, I did not complain.” I flickered my eyes to Alessandro. His expression was hard. “And I was a good wife. I, once again, ran the household. I patroned politician’s societies and went to Church every Sunday. I spread my legs and got pregnant with no resistance. I represented you and your family better than you have ever been represented. I did not cause any trouble.”

  I glanced between them both. “I thought playing my role meant I was safe, that I wouldn’t be punished. I thought it was smarter than fighting against the rules at every turn. But despite doing all this, despite sacrificing myself to all your traditional values and whims, despite following my duty, I still have been betrayed and hurt and punished.”

  My eyes flew down to Don Piero. He met mine. “And when you die, Piergiorgio, I will dance on your grave.”

  His eyes widened.

  I turned away from the group, my heart hurting and my throat closing. Down the hall, I saw Cat between two agents. One of them had a protective arm wrapped around her.

  I turned on my heel and left the building.

  Oscuro was waiting outside by the cars. When I saw him, anger ran up in me, hard and fast. But I didn’t act on it. Just got into the car, silently, and ignoring the world around me.

  Exhaustion weighed heavily on me but I didn’t feel ready to sleep. I just felt like I was going to cry.

  When we arrived back at the penthouse, Oscuro opened the door for me. He was silent as I adjusted my skirts, but eventually said, “Ma’am…” “You were just doing your duty.” I said, unable to look at him. “Duty is inescapable.”

  “Yes, it is.” He replied.

  Oscuro followed me into the apartment building and up the elevator. He stood away from me.

  I stared at my hands. Nothing marked them, they were totally bloodless. Against the red of my dress, they looked abrupt, almost too clean.

  I dropped them into the skirt’s folds.

  The elevator doors dinged.

  “Sophia…” I turned my head to Oscuro in surprise. It was the first time he had ever said my name. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I truly did not want to hurt you.”

  I stared at him. A Made Man, a bodyguard of impressive value. “I don’t believe you.” I said, almost sadly. “But for what it’s worth, I really wish I did.”

  Oscuro just nodded and closed the elevator doors.

  The apartment was dark and silent, totally untouched since we had left. When I had left this afternoon, I had been oblivious. To me, my sister was dead and my husband was becoming more trustworthy, more of a companion.

  Little footprints tottered towards me and Polpetto came bouncing around the corner. He launched himself at me, yapping happily.

  I fell to my knees and held him to my chest. “Polpetto,” I sobbed, “oh, my Polpetto.”

  I buried my head into his soft fur and cried.

  Soft hands brushed at my hair. “Shh,” soothed a familiar voice. “Don’t wake up. It’s just me.”

  I was lifted up and held to a warm chest. Consciousness came to me slowly as I was carried through the apartment and up the stairs. “Why?” I slurred.

  Lips pressed to my forehead. I felt his words as he said them. “I’m sorry.”

  Alessandro laid me down on a soft surface, and pulled a blanket up over me. I felt the mattress dip under his weight as he sat beside me.

  “Why?” I asked again.

  “It is what I am.” He sounded almost sad. “You have known what I am since the very beginning. I am a monster, the Godless and a Rocchetti.”

  I tried to open my eyes but exhaustion held them tightly together. “I trusted you.” I whispered.

  Alessandro brushed at my hair, his rough fingers gentle. “I know.” He said. “I know you did.”

  “Why did you marry me?”

  “We had to keep an eye on you…We knew your sister would try and contact you first. We thought if you were married to a Rocchetti, she and the FBI would be forced out to the light.” “Were you right?” “We were. We were right.”

  I scrunched my eyes together, tears welling up. I still couldn’t look at him. “It all makes sense now.” I whispered, my voice wet. “Why you didn’t seek me out after the wedding, your anger over the baby, our lack of engagement party. We don’t have a real marriage, I wasn’t really meant to be your wife.”

  Alessandro’s hand stopped moving, resting lightly on my head. “There is no such thing as a real marriage, Sophia.”

  “I forgot you are a heathen.” I whispered. “You follow no god, respect no higher power or deity.” I pulled open my sticky eyes and met his dark gaze. “What do you worship?”

  He leaned closer to me, our lips brushing lightly over each other. “You, Sophia Rocchetti. I worship you.”

  I closed my eyes. “Get out, Alessandro. Just…leave.”

  Alessandro rose, his warmth going with him. “Get some rest, Sophia.” I heard the bedroom door click behind him as he left.

  Sleep did not come to me, not without his body beside mine. I eventually gave up and left his room—he hadn’t bothered to put me in my own. I tiptoed down the hall and to the spare bedroom. I could hear Alessandro yelling to someone on his phone in the study but couldn’t find it in myself to care about what.

  The spare room was dark, except for the dull lights of the city below. I went straight for the window, staring down at Chicago. Would the new house make me feel so strong when I looked down at the people below?

  Would I ever feel strong ever again?

  I glanced around the spare room and my eyes landed on the two porcelain dolls, Dolly and Maria Cristina. My heart clenched—Cat and I had loved those dolls.

  I picked Maria Cristina up. Dolly had nail polish on her toes and lipstick smudged on her face, but Cat had always taken really good care of Maria Cristina. The doll looked the same as the day she had got it.

  Everything rose so suddenly…so violently.

  I threw Maria Cristina against the wall and she hit it with a loud bang. Satisfaction sat with me for a second before I hurried over to check the damage. It didn’t feel fair to punish the doll—

  Maria Cristina’s head had come off, rolling away from her body. But sticking up from her neck were papers, shoved inside her.

  I crouched down and tipped the body upside down. Papers fluttered out, as well as USB sticks. They clattered to the floor.

  I joined the FBI before, Cat had said.

  I unraveled one of the papers. It was blueprints for a small store that had underground tunnels, built during the prohibition for secret booze…like the speakeasy Don Piero owned. I unfolded the next piece of paper. It was a transcript of a phone conversation with Papa and Don Piero. I unrolled another paper, which gave a detailed overview of the security system the Don used.

  There was photos
, too. Photographs of the Rocchetti’s and other high-ranking Outfit members. Some of them were at our childhood house’s dinner table, whereas others were leaving buildings or getting out of cars.

  This is what they had been after…the robbery at Papa’s house to the man who had attacked me in the penthouse. This information was Cat’s work that she had completed while she was undercover in the Outfit.

  I stared at the papers, the documents, the clear and utter proof that something against the law was going on.

  Then I shoved them back into Maria Cristina and secured her head back onto her neck. I placed her back down next to Dolly, the pair reunited.

  But Cat and I would never be reunited again.

  I had the deep but undeniable feeling we had both chosen our side and neither of us were on the same one.

  About The Author

  Bree Porter

  Bree Porter is a new and upcoming romance writer who has a skill for telling love stories for all the things that go bump in the night...

  For more from Bree Porter, go to @breeporter.author on Instagram or find her on patreon at Bree Porter!