The Bloody Bride (The Rocchetti Dynasty)

by Bree Porter

  Once I had finished my sandwich, I crept back upstairs, making more of an effort to be quiet. When I reached my bedroom, a small packet of Tylenol was laying on the bed.

  I blinked at it in surprise.

  Had it always been there? Or had Alessandro put it there while I was downstairs? I hadn’t even seen him do it.

  Then the strangest thought hit me: what if it was poisoned?

  Rocchetti women didn’t have the best track record when it came to being alive. Perhaps Alessandro didn’t mind adding his wife to those statistics. I hadn’t heard any rumours of poisoning in the family, with the Rocchetti’s being a little more hands on when it came to dealing with unwanted people.

  However, there was a first for everything.

  I picked up the packet and surveyed it. Then to my relief, I saw that it was unopened. The seal hadn’t been broken yet.

  I glanced nervously at the door.

  I didn’t really sleep again that night. Only stared at my bedroom door in the dark, clutching my wound and waiting.

  But he didn’t come back.

  When I came downstairs the next day, the house was empty.

  I had been up since the crack of dawn, giving up on sleep and instead unpacking all my clothes. Eventually my amusement in the bedroom had grown to boredom and I ventured out into the living area.

  Out the large windows, I could see Chicago waking up to another winter morning. Sunlight sparkled off the snow and roads were cleared for the morning traffic. I stood by the glass and overlooked the city below me.

  If I lived here when I was little, I would’ve fancied myself queen of the castle. Cat and I would’ve pressed our faces to the class and spoke in funny accents. We would’ve looked down at the people below us and considered them subjects.

  I stepped away from the window.

  But I was not little any longer.

  In fact, I was now a murderer.

  The childhood fantasy disappeared like the wind and I tried to banish it from my mind. I had much bigger problems at the moment than my useless hoping.

  Three people had died at my wedding. Three innocent guests.

  I knew there was relief that the kill count hadn’t been higher, but still the deaths weighed on me. It was a relief that weapons were permitted at the wedding or else there would’ve been a much different turnout, I imagined.

  In respect for those who lost their loved ones I wore black—despite hating the colour—and planned on visiting the families.

  However, I hadn’t even made it into the elevator when a familiar face arrived and stepped out of the small hallway separating the living space from the entrance.

  “Oscuro.” I smiled. “How are you feeling this morning?” “Well, thank you, ma’am.” He gestured awkwardly to my handbag. “You wish to leave the residence, Mrs. Rocchetti?”

  “Yes, I was on my way to the Scaletta’s.”

  “You have to have trusted personnel with you at all times, Mrs. Rocchetti.”

  I blinked and then laughed. “Oh, they’re just down the street, Oscuro. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  Oscuro actually seemed embarrassed. “Ma’am, forgive me, but I have orders from the Capo to be by your side whenever you leave the Rocchetti residence.”

  “I see. I’ve never had a bodyguard before.”

  Having someone follow me around sounded a little bit uncomfortable, but I doubt it was any better for Oscuro. Plus, the poor man looked like he was about to pass out at the very thought of not listening to his Capo.

  So I smiled in thanks and led him towards the elevator. “I doubt following me around will be as interesting as working with the Capo but I shall try my best to keep it interesting.”

  “On the contrary, ma’am…” I laughed at his expression. But my amusement quickly rushed away as we moved through the apartment building. It was beautiful and lavish, built for the richest of Chicago. The lobby was just as grand as the rest of the building, with beautiful high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers.

  There was no one at the front desk but the doorman nodded in greeting. “A taxi, Mrs. Rocchetti?”

  “Oh, no, thank you. I’m just up the street.” I stopped to talk to him. “I admit you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

  He brightened. “Fred, ma’am.” “Lovely to meet you, Fred. I’m sure I’ll be seeing much more of you in the future.” “Of course, Mrs. Rocchetti.”

  Oscuro and I made our way down the cold street. Snow was shoved into the street corners, away from the roads, and people in thick coats bustled by. I spotted the train going past and the clocks lined along the streets.

  We made it to the Scaletta residence. They lived in an apartment complex. It was a more traditional build than the modern one I lived in. Beautiful gold finishes and portraits of people long lost decorated the interior. A doorman with shoulder pads waited by the elevator.

  “Good morning. I’m here to see the Scaletta’s. Would you mind pointing me in the right direction?”

  The doorman glanced at Oscuro behind me before nodding quickly. Soon we were walking down a hallway, towards their apartment.

  Before I knocked on the door, I stopped and took a deep breath.

  “Mrs. Rocchetti, are you okay?”

  I passed Oscuro a tight smile over my shoulder. “As much as I can be.”

  What could I say to this family to ease their pain? Their loved one had died at my wedding. By an enemy that had wanted to use me to send a message. I still had so many questions about the attack but I knew it was unlikely they would be answered.

  Very carefully, I knocked on the door.

  A middle-aged woman dressed in black answered the door. Grief was evident in her face.

  God, I remembered how this felt. That desperate longing and anger and sorrow at the world and the people around you.

  “Mrs. Scaletta?” I prompted when the woman said nothing.

  She dabbed her at eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Rocchetti. Forgive my manners, please come in.” “There is nothing to forgive. I came to give my condolences.”

  Mrs. Scaletta led me into the living room. A few family members, all dressed in black, were cooped together. The funeral wouldn’t take place for another few weeks but the mourning process would take over a year, officially. However, you never stopped mourning a loved one, even when you weren’t required to wear black.

  I spent over an hour speaking to the Scaletta’s, trying to offer them reassurance. I knew they were trying to be polite asking me about my marriage and giving congratulations on it, but the words fell flat and eventually no one mentioned my marriage again.

  Their loved one, Tony Scaletta, had been one of the early casualties. When the Gallagher assailants had leaped through the windows, Tony had been shot by one of them as they had reached the ground. He had died at the scene, leaving behind his wife and son, Anthony. As a Made Men, Tony Scaletta was a respected man of the Outfit and his family would be looked after. Many of his male relatives also belonged to the Outfit, and I knew revenge was what they planned on doing.

  Would the Rocchetti’s seek revenge? It felt like a stupid question. Of course, they would. Revenge was as good as money as a currency in this world.

  When I left, I leant against the wall outside, breathing deeply.

  “Ma’am?” Oscuro asked worriedly.

  I waved him away and gathered myself. “Sorry, Oscuro. I just got a bit overwhelmed.” I smiled at him to show I was fine. “Perhaps we should go to the next household.

  “Have you eaten yet, ma’am?”

  My stomach reacted to Oscuro’s question, gurgling furiously. “I guess it’s time to eat.”

  Oscuro and I found a small café close to the river. Due to the weather, all the patrons were packed inside. I could hear plates clacking against each other and the soft lull of conversation, mixed with the smell of coffee and warm cakes.

  “This is perfect.” I told Oscuro, sitting down.

  He joined me, scann
ing the coffee shop with impressive focus.

  My eyes flickered over the customers. I didn’t recognise a single one of them, but would I? I had no idea about the Gallagher’s until yesterday and even now, I hardly knew anything.

  I ended up ordering a slice of strawberry shortcake and a sweet caramel latte, while Oscuro opted for just black coffee.

  “Are you sure you don’t want any sugar?” I asked. “Perhaps even some cream?” “No, thank you, ma’am.”

  I gave up. “You can call me Sophia, Oscuro. Truly I won’t mind.”

  Oscuro went a little bit pink. “I don’t think that would be appropriate, Mrs. Rocchetti.”

  Mrs. Rocchetti wasn’t any better than ma’am but I gave up with a smile. The waitress came over my food at that moment and I happily dug in. The shortcake was to die for and I gobbled it down before it even occurred to me to offer some to Oscuro.

  Though he had barely touched his coffee.

  Oscuro checked his phone again as I took a sip of my caramel latte.

  “You can’t stop looking at that phone.” I mused and wiggled my eyebrows. “Is it a special friend on the other end?”

  “No, ma’am. It is Mr. Rocchetti.”

  “Oh, is everything okay?” I placed down my coffee. “If you have to go, just say so. I know the rules of business.”

  Oscuro shook his head. “I am just updating him on your location, ma’am.”

  I paused. Surely, I misunderstood that… “Updating him on my location?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The Capo requires it.”

  I had never had my moves tracked and recorded before. Having a bodyguard was one thing, but having my whereabouts recorded was another thing. Papa had always been protective, but never to the point where he was basically tracking us.

  But I wasn’t a Padovino anymore.

  Now, I was a Rocchetti.

  The Rocchetti’s ruled the Midwest and I was their considerably new and weaker member. Perhaps it was necessary for me to have some extra muscle around me at all times. And for my husband to know where I was at all times.

  I tightened my grip on my coffee. “This morning you said I am not allowed to leave the Rocchetti residence without security personnel. Can you please expand on that?”

  “The Capo was very clear that someone is to be with you at all times, ma’am, and that your whereabouts should always be known to him.”

  “If I had another friend in the apartment, would I be able to leave the residence alone then?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “How about my father’s house?”

  Oscuro gave me a funny look. “The Capo was very clear. Though, I’m sure if you had a special request, you could just ask him.” I understood the meaning behind Oscuro’s words. He was just the messenger. I smiled in thanks and turned my attention back to the coffee.

  Eventually, I finished it off and we were back on the Chicago streets.

  The rest of my day I visited the other families devastated by my wedding. The two other casualties had been Nicola Rizzo and Paola Oldani. I tried my best to be as comforting as I could for the two families but there was nothing I could do to soothe their grief.

  On my way to leave the Oldani family, Paola’s Nonna grabbed my black coat and sighed miserably. “Only a Rocchetti bride would be wearing the colours of mourning so soon.”

  I didn’t know how to reply to that so I just squeezed her hand and promised to be in touch.

  We passed the Chicago river, which was covered with thin sheets of broken ice. I paused and stared down at the dark depths. Oscuro stood silently by my side.

  Cat and I use to walk along this river after Church. Papa would be handling business, and we would go and fetch lunch from his favourite Italian restaurant for him. We would tease each other about shoving each other in or going for a swim.

  I pressed a hand against the wound on my side. It just felt like dull aching now, despite how much it had bled.

  “Ma’am, is your wound hurting?”

  “No. It’s fine.” I smiled at him but it felt forced so I turned away.

  “Perhaps it is time for us to head home?” He prompted.

  The hint was clear so I consented to going home, but only after I had done the food shopping. Oscuro glumly followed me around the grocery store aisles, only grunting when I showed him what I was had bought.

  Since Alessandro was missing so much, I stocked up on basic essentials as well.

  When I made it to the check out, I realised I didn’t have enough money on my card.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Oscuro but—“

  Oscuro pulled a silver card from his wallet. “The Capo said this was for food shopping.”

  I took it gingerly from him. Alessandro’s name was printed on it.

  Soon the groceries were paid for and Oscuro helped me carry them back to the apartment complex. I knew he wanted to get a taxi but I refused, craving the cold fresh air. Being cramped up inside a taxi held little appeal for me right now.

  Fred the Doorman smiled at me as we approached.

  “Been busy, Mrs. Rocchetti?”

  “Indeed.” I laughed.

  He offered to take some of the bags and soon I had the two men following me up to the penthouse, hands fulled of groceries. They helped me place them on the counter before politely taking their leave.

  I offered to make Oscuro dinner but he kindly declined.

  “Just come back if you change your mind,” I insisted and he agreed to do so. But he left nonetheless.

  Once again, the penthouse was empty and I was alone.

  I quietly began putting away the groceries.

  The elevator dinged.

  “I knew you would come back, Oscuro!” I called.

  I was crouched in front of the oven, admiring my handiwork. The lasagna had browned perfectly and smelt divine.

  “Do you think it smells—“

  “Not Oscuro.”

  I started, springing to my feet and turning. Alessandro stepped into the living room and gave me a cool look.

  He was dressed in a simple black shirt and pants, with combat boots. Gun holsters were strapped to his chest and there was a knife peaking up from his belt. I could see a smear of red by his wrist, like he had tried to rub it off but failed.

  Anxiety twisted my stomach. Would he sleep with me again? Would he dominate me the same way he dominated all the women he has come into contact with so far?

  At least, they could leave. I had no way out.

  It was expected of me to have sex with this man to make heirs for the Rocchetti’s.

  Try and relax, I told myself, I don’t think he likes being your husband anymore than you like being his wife.

  Today I had almost been able to pretend I was not his wife. There had been an almost comforting isolation as I had moved around Chicago. But I wasn’t alone—I was a wife. A Rocchetti one at that.

  Alessandro began to stride forward, tearing my attention back to him. He paused by the end of the kitchen and eyed the lasagna in the oven. His eyes climbed over the ingredients on the counter and in the cupboard.

  “Did you get everything you needed at the shops?”

  “I did.”

  He nodded sharply.

  Behind me the oven signalled it was finished. I didn’t really want my back to Alessandro, so I hurried to take the lasagna out of the oven and placed it on the stove to cool down. I cut a knife deep into it, testing if it was cooked properly.

  “All good.” I said when I removed the knife. I turned and saw Alessandro was in the same spot I had left him. “Would you like some?”

  He rose a single eyebrow. “Very well.”

  I served two plates. Alessandro decided he wanted to eat at the bench so that was where we quietly ate.

  His presence made it very difficult for me to eat without feeling like he might turn around and choke me to death if the mood hit him. Heat radiated from him and I swear I could smell, beneath his cologne, the metallic tinge of blood.

&n
bsp; “Very nice.” Was all he said when he was finished.

  I watched as Alessandro stacked his dishes in the dishwasher before disappearing into the study.

  A breath of relief left me. I had survived another interaction—

  Alessandro stepped out of his office, a phone in hand. He placed it on the countertop in front of me.

  “Your new phone.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Oh, I already have a phone. You don’t have to—“

  “This phone is untraceable.” Alessandro cut me off. “As a Rocchetti, you have to take more precautions when it comes to privacy.”

  Because anyone could be listening.

  I smiled tightly. “Of course. Thank you.”

  Alessandro leaned back, watching me with a hard look in his eyes. There was a sense of him trying to size me up. He could probably break my bones with the pressure of his eyes. I didn’t want to know what he would find if he kept staring so hard, so I finished my dinner and quickly began packing up the kitchen.

  Alessandro prowled around but made no move to help me.

  “You’re very afraid of me.”

  I dropped the fork I was holding. It clattered loudly into the sink.

  He laughed, but there was nothing bright about the sound. It was a dark purr of a laugh. One meant entirely to intimidate.

  On instinct, I snapped my head towards his. His dark eyes met mine.

  “I’m not afraid.” I lied.

  Alessandro frowned. “Don’t lie to me, wife. I can smell that fear of yours.”

  I didn’t what to say. What if I said something that set him off? Perhaps silence was my best course of action—though I had never been good at keeping quiet. Papa had always said I could talk to the birds in the trees.

  “Did you find the Gallagher’s?” I blurted out, ignoring all rational thought.

  He leaned against the kitchen counter. “We already knew where they are.”

  “I meant the ones who attacked the wedding. The ones who planned it.”

  “Is that your business?” He inquired.

  I fought my scowl. Do not give him a reason to punish you. “No, of course. I’m sorry. I was with the families of the victims all day and could not offer them much consolidation.”