by Bree Porter
Don Piero’s and my father’s continued questioning about Alessandro and his men was suddenly becoming clearer. Perhaps the soldati that followed Alessandro were all monsters that they didn’t want around me…or more likely, they were all monster’s that could seriously sway the pendulum of power in my husband’s direction. Don Piero had to look after his own power and my father was one of Toto the Terrible’s men.
“You and the assassino seem close.” I noted.
A flicker of amusement crossed Alessandro’s face. “Nero is not close with anyone.”
“You and him are just two peas in a pod.”
He picked up on my tone immediately. “I take it you’re still mad at me for speaking to your father.”
“He’s still not speaking to me because of you.”
“I’m surprised you care. I always thought you never really liked him.”
Alessandro was both wrong and right. “He’s my father. I love him.”
“People often love who they don’t like.” He said.
We reached the gate surrounding the warehouse. Oscuro had come up behind us, silent and swift as always. He glanced at me briefly before turning to my husband.
“Forgive me, sir—“
“I know how the Don is.” Alessandro said. “I want to speak with Sophia.”
Oscuro took the hint and disappeared back the way he had came. No doubt he was watching us but he would give us a semblance of privacy by not listening.
I rubbed my arms. “The moon’s really big tonight.”
Alessandro stepped around to face me, blocking the moonlight. “You carried yourself well in there. Despite all that was happening around you.”
Had Alessandro just given me a compliment? Surely, I had heard that wrong. “I was too surprised to react.”
“Do you want to see something else?”
I glanced up at him. Shadows paned over his cheekbones, making him look like a handsome devil. A smile tugged up my lips. “Okay.”
Alessandro led me through the warehouses, keeping us to the shadows. We reached one near the back, and he unlocked it.
“Don’t worry,” he said into my ear. “There’s no illegal drugs in here.”
I shivered.
We stepped into the darkness. Alessandro reached over me, his arm brushing me. He flicked a switch and the room brightened, illuminating to rows and rows of vehicles. Cars from the 19th century all the way to the 21st were on display, gleaming in the light. I spotted a red 1951 Ferrari, with its 2014 counterpart beside it. There was a row of Fiat’s and Bugatti’s and blue Lancia Stratos’s.
I looked around and felt laughter bubble up my throat. “You said you didn’t like cars.”
“I am not too crazy about racing, but I enjoy a well-made vehicle.”
“Are they all yours?” I strolled over to a rose gold Bugatti which had caught my eye.
“No.” Alessandro followed me. “A few belong to my family and my brother. He likes Maserati’s. Says they’re suitable.”
“Salvatore has enough emotional capacity like something?” I ran my fingers over the bonnet’s.
I heard Alessandro huff in amusement behind me. I turned and caught his bright eyes. “I can’t say for sure he does.” He mused.
“Why do you keep them here and not at the penthouse?”
“There isn’t enough room.” Alessandro continued to meander behind me.
“And you have your Lamborghini, anyway. You can only drive one car at once.” I stopped by a gorgeous vintage Alfa Romero, with huge headlights and an open top. “This is my favourite.”
Alessandro stepped up beside me. “The 1958 Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider. Good choice.”
I peered inside to the untouched leather seats. It still smelt like a new car. “Can I take it for a drive?”
“No,” he mused. “These cars are to be looked at, not driven.”
“The whole point of a car is to drive it.” I ran my fingers over the windshield. “Why would you own something you can’t use?” Alessandro flickered his dark eyes to me. “Unlike my big brother, I enjoy beautiful things.”
My cheeks heated. “Even if they’re useless?” “Nothing I own is useless.” He said lowly. “Except maybe Polpetto.”
I laughed, surprised by his joke. “Polpetto is the protector of the penthouse. Without him, we would very well be under attack.” “Perhaps.”
I turned to him, leaning against the car bonnet to see him better. Alessandro’s expression didn’t look harsh or wild, instead there was a slight humour to it. “I know you like Polpetto. Even if you try to hide it.”
He rose an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”
I met his eyes. “I can hear you talking to him.” When Alessandro’s expression hardened slightly, I hurried to add, “Don’t worry, I think it’s very cute.”
Alessandro looked at me strangely. “Cute?” He said the word as it if gave him a bad taste in his mouth. “No one has ever call me cute before.”
“I was talking about Polpetto. But sure,” I grinned unabashedly at him, “you’re cute, too.”
He didn’t reply, just eyed me. My smile faltered. Had I totally misread the situation? I thought we had been having fun.
I opened my mouth to apologise for any disrespect but Alessandro cut me off with a, “You better not be apologising.”
My mouth closed.
Alessandro looked irritated. “I thought I had told you that you don’t have to apologise every time you voice your opinion.”
“Old habits die hard.” I said. “And you only say that when you don’t feel threatened by the opinion.” His eyes snapped to me. “Was that enough of an opinion for you?” “Worse things have been said about me.”
I could only imagine. “Why do you tell me to do that? To share my opinion? The opinion of a wife is not something a Rocchetti Capo would usually concern himself with.”
Alessandro didn’t look angry with my question. Instead, he leaned back onto the car opposite me. I was both glad and upset about the space—it allowed me to think clearer, but also meant I was cold without his radiating warmth. “I’m not interested in having you playacting happy but stupid wife. It’s annoying as fuck.”
A small part of me doubted that wasn’t the entire answer to my question but I didn’t question him further. I may just’ve been imagining it.
“Maybe that’s just my personality.” His dark eyes flashed. “Well, then you have a very annoying personality.” “More annoying than your own?” The word came out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Primal delight flared in Alessandro’s expression. “You have called me both cute and annoying within the same conversation. Perhaps you’re a little braver than I thought.”
“Are those the worse things that have been said about you?”
He smiled, low and dark. My heart began to race. “Cute is up there.”
“With what?” I pulled myself off the bonnet and stepped towards him.
His eyes tracked my movements. “All sorts of things.”
“Like…The Godless?” I took another step closer.
“Worse.” His eyes never left me.
“Husband?” Another step.
“That one’s not too bad.”
“Bastard?”
“Worse.”
“Son, then?”
A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “Worse, but not by much.”
“Grandson?” I was right in front of him, my neck tilted up to see him. We were so close, our bodies a hairbreadth apart.
Alessandro’s eyes were ravenous as they took me in. “Worse.”
“You must’ve been called some pretty terrible things.” I tried to make my voice sound even but it came out breathy and quiet.
“Indeed.” He replied, voice husky.
Our faces were so close I could feel his warm breath against my cheeks, his eyelashes brushing my skin, the phantom touch of his soft lips against my own. His familiar and musky scent overwhelmed me, cutting off all coherent thought.
<
br /> All I could think about was the kiss in the kitchen. The flush of our bodies, the hunger, the need.
Alessandro must’ve been thinking about the same thing because he asked, “Will I need to make another deal with you for a kiss?”
“You’re not very good at making deals.” I whispered.
“Rocchetti’s are not dealmakers.” He said back, just as quietly.
We were the only two people in the warehouse but in that moment, we could’ve been the only two people in the entire universe.
Alessandro stared at me for a moment, then pressed two hands to the side of my face. He stared at me with such intensity and hunger that my throat closed. Then he leaned down, hovering, and I leaned up closer until—
The kiss was not the raging fire that ran through me.
Alessandro’s lips were soft against mine. So so soft. We played with each others mouths, mirroring movements and just seeking comfort in our connection. His hands ran up my backside, and I copied the movement. I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.
I didn’t want soft. I wanted to feed the wildfire that was tearing through me.
I deepened the kiss, brushing my teeth over his lips, and a deep growl emitted from low in his throat.
Alessandro spun me and pushed me up against the car. I reached up with a leg to hold myself closer to him. Hot and rough and hard. It began to alter something deep underneath our skin. Something that I couldn’t name but I knew to be weary of.
His rough hands slid up my dress and I purred in anticipation. Higher and higher, until he was brazenly close to me, separated by the fabric only. Alessandro smiled at my reaction.
My head tipped back on its own accord and his mouth went straight to my neck. Lips and tongue and teeth. Scraping and kissing me down the length of my neck.
I could hardly think, hardly breath.
“Alessandro.” I moaned.
My husband lifted me up on the car, adjusting me in a better position, with him in between my spread legs and my ankles hooked behind him. I ran my hands up under his shirt and he hissed with delight at the contact. His skin was so bold beneath mine, and I could feel the cut of his soldier’s body, the scars and the muscles. My Capo.
Alessandro found my lips again and laid me down on the bonnet. He lifted himself up, bracing himself on either side of me. The car groaned beneath us.
I laughed at his action and he caught my mouth as if trying to swallow the sound.
Arousal was a thunder between my thighs and my breasts had become heavy. I needed him—I needed him to be closer.
Alessandro growled low in his throat and rubbed himself against me. Hard and ready—
“Alessandro…” I tightened my legs around him, needing him closer.
He pulled back, allowing me to reach for his belt. But then he stopped for a moment. Hands braced on either side of my head, legs around his waist, flushed to the bone. I could imagine what I looked like.
Alessandro’s eyes completely swallowed me. As they had always done. But now such lust held his body and face captive. He looked…starving. Looked at me like he was going to eat me alive.
Yes, yes. I wanted to be eaten, to have him on me and in me and—
“Sophia.” He breathed. Like he couldn’t quite believe I was there.
“Alessandro.” I repeated back to him.
Suddenly, Alessandro drew us both back. So he was standing before me once more and I was sitting in front of him. Alessandro peeled his hands off me and stepped back. Instantly, cold air seeped into me, replacing the warmth he had once provided.
“We can’t do this.” He said darkly.
My heart was beating so loud I almost didn’t hear him. But he had said…”Can’t? Why?” I sounded completely flabbergasted.
“Because I said so.” Alessandro straightened. He yanked at his cuffs and ran a hand through his hair. “Sort yourself out. Oscuro will take you home.”
I had the strangest feeling that I was going to cry. I felt humiliated. I had all but thrown myself at Alessandro and he had rejected me.
My eyes glanced down to his pants, where obvious signs of his arousal were pertinent.
I slid off the car and hurried out of the warehouse, adjusting my skirt as I went. When I reached the door, I turned back to Alessandro. He stood with his back to me, hands in pockets and head tipped up to the ceiling. He looked deep in thought, he looked troubled.
Part of me wanted to ask him what was wrong but embarrassment closed my throat.
So I left him alone with his thoughts and went to nurse mine.
Chapter Eighteen
I avoided Alessandro like the plague.
Every time I felt over my initial embarrassment, I remembered the feeling of being rejected and continued to stay out of his way. I had never had a boyfriend, never even really had a crush. I had known since I was young that boys were not something I was permitted to, in case my virtue was ever called into question. Sometimes it had got annoying but seeing Cat and Papa fight viscously over the No Boys Rule had made me keep quiet.
So the humiliation of being rejected was not something I was use to or even had any experience with.
Hopefully, I would get over it. Then Alessandro and I could go back to living side by side, existing with each other in the same ecosystem.
Until then, however, I was going to avoid him. Lucky for me, the warmer weather had allowed me many more options when it came to getting out of the house. I spent most of my time with Don Piero at Sunday Service or handling the Historical Society and their demands. But a welcomed break was the luncheon Nina Genovese was holding for women of the Outfit.
The Genovese’s lived on a stunning residence in the gated community and the fertility of Spring had woken up the property. Flowers bloomed everywhere and I swear I spotted more than one baby bird trying to learn how to fly as I walked up to the front door.
The luncheon was held outside in the warm weather with long dining table having been set up outside, positioned under a patio where wisteria was growing. She had decorated the area with beautiful flowers and lacy napkins. Nina had even brought out her finest silverware and bottles of wine for the lunch.
A few ladies sat with Nina at the table. When I walked through the backdoor, they sprung up and trotted over to greet me. Nina got to me first.
“Sophia, I’m so glad you could make it.” We kissed each other on both cheeks.
Nina Genovese was the wife of the Underboss of the Outfit, making her perhaps the most constant female presence in the Outfit. For as long as I could remember, she had been hosting the luncheons, dinners and Christmas parties. For her luncheon today, she wore a pretty pastel blue blouse, paired with cream khaki pants and matching shoes. She had pinned her loopy grey hair back with a sparkling clip, showing off her intelligent brown eyes.
“Thank you for the invitation.” I answered. “You look gorgeous.”
“As do you,” Nina relinquished her grip on me and we pulled out of the embrace.
I had worn a knee-length floral dress that I had brought for a horse derby but never worn. It showed the outline my stomach, but lucky I hadn’t begun to show yet. Like I often did now, my hair was over my shoulders, covering my breasts. My humble attempt at trying to hide their growth.
The other ladies all stood up to greet me with kisses and hugs. I hadn’t seen this much extended family since my wedding.
Chiara di Traglia, to my great delight, had brought her gorgeous granddaughter with her. Portia, affectionately nicknamed Baby Portia, was dressed in a gorgeous little pink dress and seemed perfectly content on her grandmother’s lap. She had grown heaps since I had last seen her, and could now support her neck by herself, we were told by an excited Chiara.
After I had greeted the ladies, Nina waved me over to the seat beside her.
Nina wanted me to sit next to her? I thought, shocked. Usually, I sat in the middle, near an older woman of my family. I had never been invited to the more elitist part of the t
able, because I was unmarried and also not the daughter of a man of very high rank. Papa was not slumming it, but he also wasn’t the Underboss.
But…now I was a Rocchetti. I was the wife of a Capo, daughter-in-law of the acting boss and granddaughter-in-law of Don Piero. I belonged to the reigning family.
That meant I got to sit at the top of the table.
I smiled as I sat down next to Nina, who as the host got the head of the table. “You’ve decorated the place so beautifully, Nina.”
“Thank you, darling. Would you care for something to eat?”
I took Nina’s suggestions of what to fill my plate with. Lunch hadn’t been served yet, but after eating bits of pieces of everything, I was feeling full already.
More women began to arrive, including Beatrice. I hugged her tightly. Beatrice sat a few seats away from me, unfortunately, meaning we couldn’t have a direct conversation. But we promised to catch up more at the end of the luncheon when everyone was free to move around.
Joining Nina and I at the top of the table was Nina’s sister-in-law Berenice Genovese, Ornella Palermo, wife of the Outfit’s Consigliere, as well as Angie Genovese, Nina’s daughter-in-law, and Rosa di Calbo, wife of Don Piero’s enforcer, Red Ricky. Besides Angie, the women were a lot older than me and had known each other for decades. Their familiarity with each other made it slightly harder to join in, but not by much.
They all seemed very interested in the new—and female—Rocchetti.
“The Don joined Davide and I for dinner the other night and had only lovely things to say about you, darling.” Nina told me.
“He’s probably glad to have a calmer presence,” laughed Ornella. “I imagine it gets tiring running after those boys of his all day long.”
Many women made agreeing noises.
“Don Piero has been nothing but wonderful to me.” I said.
“I see you two in Church, and you look like such a beautiful pair.” Ornella continued. “Don’t they, Nina? Look like such a gorgeous pair?”
“They do.” Nina agreed. “A beautiful pair.”
“Not like you and your husband. You two make a gorgeous couple.” Ornella said. “Imagine how pretty the bambino’s will be.”
