by Bree Porter
Alessandro grunted in agreement.
We meandered through the guests, with me doing most of the talking. Alessandro said a few words to the men, but didn’t bother with small talk. I, however, was a small talk goddess. When we stumbled into the Rocchetti’s, Don Piero gave me a big hug and kiss, claiming it was such a shame I didn’t get an engagement party. Most of the family was here, with the exception of a few.
Someone said that Narcisa was here, and we all turned to watch her entrance. The doors at the end of the ballroom opened and in strode Sergio, with Narcisa de Sanctis hanging onto his arm for dear life.
What a pair they made, I thought. Sergio was huge and terrifying, a tattooed enforcer. While Narcisa was thin-boned and delicate, like a porcelain doll.
The crowd erupted in cheers and we all clapped as they walked into the room. As was custom, the pair went to Narcisa’s parents first. Benvenuto gave Sergio a hard friendly clap on the back, while Tina and Narcisa shared a quiet tender moment. I watched the women hold hands and felt a quiet dull ache.
Once the parents had been appropriately greeted, the couple-to-be had to speak to the don. They came over to our group, Narcisa wide-eyed and terrified, whereas Sergio looked like an angry mountain.
“Such a beautiful couple!” Don Piero said from where he sat. “Don’t you think so, Carlos?” Carlos Snr just grunted.
“It was good of Benvenuto to go through with his end of the bargain.” Enrico said.
The group nodded in agreement. Narcisa looked like she was going to faint.
I placed a gentle hand on her arm and she snapped her head to me. “You look beautiful, Narcisa. You must tell me who did your hair.”
A blush spread over her cheeks. “Um, Auntie Chiara did it for me.” “Of course. Auntie Chiara is very talented.” I laughed. “She refuses to touch my hair because I complain so much when she pulls.”
Narcisa nodded, smiling shyly.
I felt pity for Narcisa. I understood her situation, but I did not have the words to try and comfort her. It might be okay, I probably would’ve said. Alessandro is good to me and he is The Godless. Maybe Sergio will be okay, also….Instead of saying that, I just expressed my excitement for her nuptials and complimented her pretty engagement party.
The night grew on and Alessandro was growing antsy. He had little care about small talk and civility.
“Come dance with me, before you jump out of your skin.”
Alessandro obliged and swept me to the dance floor. He pressed a hand to my back, holding me tightly against him. Heat ran up my neck. We moved in time to the music, and he looked calmer.
“I think it’s socially acceptable for us to leave soon.” I told him. “I know you hate these things.”
His dark eyes gleamed. “I shouldn’t complain. You’re not allowed to drink and still suffering valiantly through this ordeal.” “I like a good party. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I like to talk.”
A whisper of a smile crossed over his face.
During the dance, I had to tug up my dress. My belly was hidden, but my growing boobs refused to be contained. I regretted not having straps. But I forgot all about my annoying dress, when Alessandro snapped his eyes down to my chest. A predatory look gripped his face.
My heart began to sped up.
Sometimes it was easy to pretend we hadn’t had sex after the attack, that it was just a figment of my imagination. But then Alessandro would look at me in such a way that all I could do was remember the way he held me, the way he thrusted into me. The memory held me captive.
“I like your dress.” He told me.
“Thank you,” I said, flushing.
Alessandro’s hand tightened on my back, bringing me closer to him. He dipped his head down to my ear, his warmth breath tickling my sensitive skin. I shivered in his arms.
“You’re causing quite the scene.” I breathed. It wasn’t socially acceptable to be so intimate on the dance floor.
I felt Alessandro smile against my ear. “Oh? Are we going to get into trouble?” The old word that I had said all those nights ago hovered in the air between us.
“We might do.” I was feeling hot, flushed. “Our family isn’t known for their progressiveness.”
Alessandro swayed us from side to side. “Perhaps we should be a little more progressive.” “Blasphemy.” I whispered. “Don’t let anyone catch you saying that.”
He flashed me a quick wicked grin. “You’re so scared of getting in trouble.” His voice was amused. “What if I promised I’d protect you?” “Are you sure you could go up against Nina Genovese?” I asked “She is quite the formidable woman.”
“Indeed. You and Nina are friends, aren’t you? That’s why you wanted me to spare Nero for Davide.”
I shook my head, bringing our faces closer together. “We are allies, family. I am the highest ranking woman in the family but still very young and inexperienced. She’s…taken me under her wing.”
Alessandro made a low sound of agreement. “I’m sure you will surpass her with ease.”
“Men,” I laughed. “So competitive, so eager to beat everyone around you. Why would I want to alienate myself from the women by being so combative? Sometimes allies are better than enemies.”
“Your ideology would not go very far as a Made Man.” He said. Alessandro pulled me out for a spin, before drawing me back to his warm chest. I had to physically stop myself from laying my head against his heartbeat.
“Lucky I’m not a soldati, then.”
Alessandro ran a hand down my side, nearing my more sensitive areas. For all the layers it was offering me, the dress may as well not been there. I could feel the zapping heat from his touch straight to my bone. “Mm, lucky, indeed.” He purred. Goosebumps rose along my neck.
His gaze was too intense, too much. I felt like he was one word away from taking me down to the floor and I was completely ready to let him, despite being in the worse location possible. With a strength, I didn’t know I had, I pulled away from his gaze. But my body wouldn’t let me go and I laid my head on his chest, listening to the soft thrum of his heartbeat.
Alessandro leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of my head. “Hiding, Sophia?” I flickered my eyes around the room, catching sight of Sergio and Narcisa. He was talking to Gabriel D’Angelo, looking fierce and proud. Whereas Narcisa was a quiet presence beside him, almost one with the shadows.
“Do you think Sergio and Narcisa will make a good couple?”
I felt his lips curve into a smile. “I think Sergio will have to go through some growing pains in his new role as husband.” “Did you have to go through growing pains? Or were you a natural?” “A natural.”
“I know a wife of yours who might disagree.”
Alessandro laughed. “Do you? Ask her if she enjoys her credit card.”
On instinct, I looked up at him, smiling brightly. “She enjoys it very much.”
We met each other eyes, both entertained. As soon as I met his dark eyes, my heart began to pick up again. Did everyone feel like this? Did everyone’s heart beat rapidly when they looked into Alessandro Rocchetti’s eyes? Did they, too, have to clench their thighs and ignore the building ache in their breasts? I always felt so hot, so seen, when I was with Alessandro.
“Sophia,” he breathed.
I nodded, too far gone for words. “Oh, my Sophia.” Alessandro pressed his forehead against mine, his hands tightening on my hips. Then he said the most surprising but sweetest thing he could’ve said, “If you really want an engagement party, I will throw you one.”
A smile found its way up my lips. “Maybe you should give Sergio some tips about his new role.”
Alessandro smiled briefly. But then a strange look took hold of his face, as if he felt bad about laughing with. “Sophia,” he said, “there is something I need to tell you.”
The abrupt change in his tone confused me. “Is everything okay?” “There is something you need to know. It’s about your sis—“
<
br /> A sharp voice cut through our haze, “I will take Sophia for a dance now.”
We both turned and Alessandro’s grip on me tightened. Don Piero was standing not a metre away, his face friendly but his posture tense. I immediately flushed as the sounds of the room came back to me—Alessandro and I were in public, but flushed up against each other without a care in the world.
Alessandro didn’t relent his grip. “I am allowed to dance with my wife.”
“So am I.” Don Piero said.
Sensing a fight, I laid a soothing hand on Alessandro’s arm. “You should go and talk to Sergio. Give him your well-wishes. We can finish our conversation later.”
Alessandro did not looked pleased but stepped away. Cold air seeped into me.
Don Piero gave Alessandro a warning look as he went to walk off. Why was Don Piero warning Alessandro? What could he possibly be warning him about?
“One dance.” Was all Alessandro said. “You get one dance.”
Don Piero and I swept into the dance together. From the sidelines, my husband watched like an angry big cat. He stalked us as we twirled and I was glad for his protection. Don Piero always made me so nervous. But he behaved himself and we spoke about light but empty topics as we danced. The most prominent topic was the marriage between Sergio and Narcisa, which Don Piero seemed very interested in.
As the song ended, Don Piero said, “I thought you would be a good wife.”
The words sent me into a tailspin of worry. Was I not playing my part well? Had I done something? Was I in trouble? Was I in danger?
He continued, “You are beautiful and not very bright. Obedient but charming.”
I bit my lip. “Why are you telling me this?” I tried to keep my voice as steady as possible, but there was an undercurrent of fear that Don Piero definitely wouldn’t miss.
“I am telling you this because I know that you’ve become the adored by the Historical Society. Mayor Salisbury asked about you the other day, as have many others.”
“That is very kind of you to say.” I said lightly.
Don Piero continued to spin me, despite the song having ended. No one told us to move. “They still don’t like me. Of course, they pretend and fawn. But you…they like you.” His dark eyes held me in place.
I swallowed against my dry throat. “Do you…do you still think I am a good wife?” I doubted Don Piero had the patience for a subpar wife and would probably get rid of me the way he had with the other Rocchetti women.
“Now,” he said, “I think you are a good Rocchetti.”
I looked up in shock but Don Piero had let go of me, excusing himself from the dance.
When it was over, I found myself in a group of the Rocchetti’s. Roberto offered me some cheese but I politely declined. I wasn’t allowed soft cheeses as a pregnant woman.
Alessandro came back to me, wrapping a light hand around my waist. I found myself feeling more comforted with him beside me, despite being stuck in a middle of dangerous Rocchetti’s. Maybe I was getting braver…or maybe Alessandro was scary enough that I trusted him not to let the Rocchetti’s toy with me.
They spoke about aimless topics and I found my eyes dancing around the room. People were laughing and drinking, couples had taken to the dance floor and swayed to the song. Plates clattered together, drinks were poured.
I turned to my husband. “Alessandro—“
The sound was so familiar that for a moment I thought we were back in the Church all those months ago. A huge thundering bang shuddered through the ballroom. And for a moment, there was a silence.
Then the doors burst opened.
Swarms of dark dressed men with guns swarmed into the room. Cries erupted from the crowd, and people ran back, collapsing into each other.
Oh, God, the Gallagher’s are here, I thought.
“DOWN, DOWN, DOWN!” They hollered.
Alessandro grabbed my waist and yanked me behind him. “DON’T SHOOT!” He thundered.
Don’t shoot? I gripped the back of his suit jacket. What did he mean don’t shoot?
I glanced at the attackers. Across their chests the word SWAT was written.
A lump began to grow in my throat. Chicago police and the Outfit had an agreement, but there was no such agreement with the Feds.
The SWAT team fanned out around the ballroom, guns pointed at the guests. Made Men had been reaching for their guns but stopped at Alessandro’s command. The SWAT team blocked all the exits, making it clear we were not to leave.
I gripped onto Alessandro harder.
The wall of SWAT moved and out walked a familiar man. Special Agent Dupont strode towards Alessandro and the Rocchetti’s, gun in hand and the initials FBI across his chest.
Alessandro turned his head to me. “Go, Sophia. Sneak out.”
“I’m not leaving you.” I hissed.
An unreadable expression flared over his face. He lifted his head and jerked his chin to someone behind me.
Enrico approached me. “Let’s go, Sophia.” He said, not unkindly. “This is no place for a woman.”
I held tighter to my husband.
“What is the meaning of this?” Don Piero demanded, stepping forward. He commanded the room and look undeniably pissed.
“Piergiorgio Rocchetti, you are under arrest.” Agent Dupont said. “Come quietly and your family will be unharmed.”
Don Piero flickered his eyes to Alessandro, and then down to me. His jaw tightened. “There is no need for violence, Agent.” He said. “You have my full cooperation.”
Agent Dupont smiled sharply. “Alessandro Rocchetti, Davide Genovese, Enrico Rocchetti, are also all under arrest.”
“For what charge?” Alessandro asked darkly. He didn’t bother acting civilised, unlike his grandfather.
“For ties to organised crime.” Came a voice from behind the SWAT team.
I frowned. I knew that voice…
“Sophia,” It was Roberto yanking at me, Enrico having given up. “Now.”
The SWAT team bodies shifted once more and a feminine figure slipped through them. Like the other FBI personnel, she too wore a bulletproof vest with FBI written across and combat boots. Around her shoulders, guns were in holsters, ready to be fired at a moment’s notice.
But…
Her hair was my colour, her eyes were mine. Her face was one I had known since birth. Her hands had been use to push me and hug me, and those fingers on those hands had used to braid my hair and mark my homework.
“No…” I stumbled. Alessandro caught me. “No, no.”
She stepped towards me, so familiar, so alive.
This was impossible—this wasn’t real. I was imagining of this, I truly was going crazy. I was asleep or drunk or a victim of pregnancy brain.
But there was no way— “Soph,” she breathed.
Her voice…oh, God, her voice. That nickname. I had heard it over a billion times in my life. Soph, she use to laugh. Soph, she use to cry or yell. I was never Sophia, always Soph.
A noise worked its way up my throat. “Cat,” I said. “Cat.”
I gripped Alessandro. My sister’s alive, I wanted to say. But then I took in his expression. There was no surprise, no shock.
I turned my head and caught Don Piero’s expression. He wasn’t shocked either. Neither was Enrico or Santino or Roberto or Carlos Snr. The guests looked shocked…but Oscuro wasn’t. Sergio wasn’t.
I sought out my father. His daughter was back from the dead—and he didn’t look shocked or surprised at all. Instead he was staring at me, agony in his expression.
I released my grip and stepped away from Alessandro.
“You knew.” I said. “You all knew.”
Chapter Twenty Two
The interrogation room was freezing. It was square grey room, with a single window across the back wall and a lonely table and chairs. I stared at the window, my expression reflected back at me. My hair was falling down from the pins, my eyes were red and swollen and there was a grey tint to my complex
ion.
You knew. You all knew.
My mind was tumbling over itself as it linked things up together. Instances ran past my brain, making me feel stupider and stupider as realisation hit me.
The abrupt marriage…There had been no engagement party, no announcement. It hadn’t been about love or money, it had been to keep me close.
Papa’s resignation. I had hoped for someone softer for you.
Why Alessandro hadn’t sought me out the nights after the wedding.
The Rocchetti’s had been suspicious of me…they hadn’t wanted me to get the Anti-Mafia certificate or overhear their conversations.
Papa getting drunk, his plea to God for his girls to be safe.
Dupont approaching me.
Papa and Alessandro’s desire to keep the pregnancy secret. Even Dr. Li Fonti had given me pregnancy tests to try and give myself some more privacy.
When I had seen Cat at the graveyard, Oscuro had waved me off.
Even the attack…the attacker had mentioned my sister.
Everything ever said to me had been a hint. Every warning, every comment had been a hint. Papa had lied to me, lied straight to my face and had sold me off to the bunch of monsters. Don Piero had used me, Oscuro had lied to me.
And Alessandro…Alessandro, who had been so insistent on my honesty, who had been the first person to truly see me and not balk…he, too, had known.
I buried my face into my hands, a scream working its way up my throat.
The door to the room clicked. “Soph?”
I snapped my head up. My sister stepped into the room, folder in hand. She wore a blue-button down and black slacks. A FBI badge was on her belt.
“How do you feel?” She asked, her voice soft.
Stupid. Tired. Humiliated. Nauseous. Betrayed. “Why?” Was all I could ask. “Why have you done this, Cat?”
Cat covered her mouth with her hand. “I…I had to get out.”
“Did you? Did you truly have to get out?”
She pressed her lips together. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” My sadness, my tears, seemed to shift into something redder, something hotter. “I imagine the perspective of a person who would fake their death and then join the Federal Bureau of Investigation would be a hard one to understand.”
