The Bloody Bride (The Rocchetti Dynasty) Page 11

  I shook my head.

  “For such a perfect wife, you lie an awful lot.” He leaned closer. Our noses pressed together. Being this close to him was overwhelming, I could barely get air into my lungs—“Why were you quiet on the way home if you were not upset?”

  “I-I don’t—I’m not upset.” I spluttered.

  Alessandro’s eyebrows rose. “You know I could always force you to tell me.” A dark emotion sparked in the depths of his eyes. “I can be very persuasive and you would not be hard to break.”

  My mouth dried up. Torture. He was talking about torturing me. I didn’t live with my head under the sand so I knew it was a common technique used to get information out of people. Papa use to come home covered in blood and it wasn’t hard to figure out what he had been doing.

  “Are you going to hurt me?”

  He frowned. Then he gave a big sigh. “No, Sophia. I’m not going to hurt you.” I almost collapsed with relief. “But I do want to know why you lied to your father and why you’re upset.”

  I swallowed. Surely there was no harm? Cat was dead and Papa couldn’t punish her. Maybe Alessandro could avoid telling him. “You can’t tell Papa.”

  “Alright.” He eyed me.

  “In Cat’s stuff,” He leaned closer, “I found a college diploma.”

  Alessandro frowned. He looked confused. “A what?” The words came rushing out. “She always wanted to go to the University of Chicago but Papa said no. Girls don’t need college, he said. Especially since she was not going to be allowed to work, you know? But I found a diploma that said she had gotten a bachelor in law and it was from UC—”

  “Why did that upset you?” He demanded.

  “Because she didn’t tell me.”

  “What?” Alessandro looked tired from asking me to define what I meant. I stumbled over the words. “Cat and I never kept secrets from each other. We were inseparable. But she…she got a whole degree and didn’t mention it? That’s four years. They take four years right? Degrees?”

  “They do.” He agreed. His dark eyes ran over me. “You were upset because your sister didn’t tell you she got a college education? That’s it?”

  I flinched. “That’s it.” I said quietly.

  Alessandro stared at me for a moment.

  “You’re not going to tell my father are you?” I asked softly.

  “Would it matter? Your sister is dead now.”

  I looked down at the floor. “I think it would hurt an already stale situation. My sister is…not coming back. There is no point hurting my father…with the fact that Cat betrayed him.” Alessandro made a sound low in his throat. He looked almost disappointed. What had he expected me to find? He had probably wanted it to be a body or something.

  “Is that all?” I tried to sound calm but it came out as a squeak.

  He brushed a hand over my neck, letting go of my hair. Our dinner conversation came back to me.

  I’d much rather eat you.

  Alessandro smiled arrogantly like he knew exactly what I was thinking about. “Are you feeling healed, wife?”

  I couldn’t answer.

  Very carefully, Alessandro untied my dressing gown. It fell down to my sides, revealing my pyjama shorts and top. With a gentleness I never thought him capable of, he lifted the side of my shirt and inspected the wound.

  The heat from his fingers, the roughness of his callouses, was making me feel incredibly lightheaded.

  The gunshot wound itself was basically healed. Now I only experienced phantom pain from the little pink scar. Dr. Li Fonti said the shock of being shot was going to be more of a problem than the wound itself.

  Alessandro lightly traced the pink scar. “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  His dark eyes flickered up to me. It was becoming very hard to breath. “Lying again, Sophia?” He clicked his tongue mockingly. “A nasty habit of yours.”

  I was too afraid to answer.

  Alessandro looked slightly disappointed. He pressed down on the scar lightly. It didn’t hurt. But the feeling of his warm fingers pressing into my sensitive skin…It was almost too much. His touch was stimulating and I could do nothing but react. Little goosebumps began to crawl up and down me, and my breath came out faster.

  “Does this hurt, Sophia?” He asked lowly.

  I sucked in a breath. Very slowly, I shook my head.

  His dark eyes gleamed. He pressed down harder. “And now?”

  The pressure of his fingers held my attention much more than the dull pain did. I shook my head.

  Alessandro drew his fingers back slightly. I tensed, ready for him to latch at the wound with full force. But instead he hovered his hand over my skin.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, wife.” He snapped. “Stop tensing.”

  “I don’t believe you.” The words came out on their own accord.

  Alessandro frowned. “I haven’t hurt you yet. Why would I start now?”

  Maybe he wanted to lull me into a sense of safety. The catch was probably more satisfying when you had to work for it.

  “Sophia?” He repeated. “I’ve told you I’m not going to hurt you. Enough with the fear.”

  Easy for him to say. Alessandro knew how to fight back, knew how to both attack and defend. My only skill was talking until ears started bleeding. If he came at me, I would have no choice but to succumb.

  “Say something.” He snapped.

  I parted my lips. “You are The Godless. Principe of Chicago. My husband. I eat food you paid for and live in a house you own. My clothes are bought by you, the bed I sleep in was bought by you.” I stared at him. “I am completely at your mercy. Why wouldn’t you hurt me?”

  Alessandro stared at me with a calculating look. Then he drew back from me. Cold air rushed to the places where he had been touching me. I almost reached out to him but held my hands back.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” He said. “Abuse in the home means there is lack of control. And as you said so yourself, I am very much in charge of this household.” Alessandro eyed me doubtful expression. “You still don’t trust my word?”

  “You don’t trust me either.” I murmured.

  “No, I suppose I don’t.” Alessandro took another step away from me, signalling his finality with the conversation. “It is the Don’s birthday next week. He expects us to join him and the family for dinner.”

  The change in conversation came so suddenly that I had to take a second to process what he said.

  “Of course,” I said, my nerves itching up my throat. “Whatever he wants.”

  Alessandro made a grunting noise as he walked away. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

  Chapter Ten

  Don Piero’s birthday was a very anticipated event in the Outfit. Though for me, my anticipation was more akin to dread.

  Even Alessandro seemed to be more on edge. He was harsher than usual, distant and came home every day the week leading up to the dinner, covered in blood and smelling of violence. I kept out of his way, not willing to risk his wrath. Despite his past assurances that I was safe from him.

  However on the day of dinner, I stood outside his study and knocked tentatively. I had done so many times to ask if he wanted dinner but never when he was in such a foul mood.

  “Yes?” I heard him snap from inside.

  I poked my head in. Alessandro sat at his desk, working on his computer and surrounded with papers. His wore a frozen expression of anger.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” I stuttered quickly. “But I brought you a tie for tonight.”

  He stared at me for a moment. Then he pointed at the desk. “Leave it there.”

  I had never been inside his office, only to the doorway, but his tone didn’t leave room for arguments.

  Alessandro’s office matched the rest of the penthouses cold modern aesthetic, a mix of light browns and dark greys. Except this room had touches of him in it. The shelves were lined with books, and small photographs lined the walls.

 
I leaned closer to one. It was of a beautiful woman with light brown hair and pretty dark eyes. She wasn’t smiling, but she didn’t look upset. The woman was sitting in a chair, hand on her swollen belly. There was a familiarity to her, to the curve of her chin and eyes. Danta Rocchetti, Toto the Terrible’s wife and Alessandro’s mother.

  “Are you done ogling?” Snapped Alessandro.

  I blushed, realising I had been staring. I quickly placed the box on his desk. “The tie matches my dress.”

  He didn’t respond.

  I quickly left.

  I didn’t see him for the rest of the day, allowing me to get ready in peace. Polpetto sat on my bed and watched with a wagging tail as I pranced around my bedroom. I was beyond nervous about being alone with all the Rocchetti’s. Would I be ignored? Or worse, the centre of attention?

  I prayed that I would be able to slip through the night like a shadow.

  But knowing my inability to be quiet and my proneness to break silence, I doubted my prayer would come true.

  My dress was dark blue with a simple one shoulder design that clung to me as it fell to the ground. It had little design, the finest thing about it being the sheen of the silky fabric. In order to try and make it seem more elegant I added teardrop earrings and a matching necklace.

  I couldn’t decide what to do with my hair so I left it down. Hopefully, it wouldn’t become ratty by the time I reached Don Piero’s.

  I surveyed myself in the mirror. You look like a mafia wife, the perfect representation of her husband’s wealth, said a familiar voice in my head.

  Polpetto followed me downstairs. I think he had figured I was leaving without him and did not seem to be happy with this fact.

  “We won’t be long.” I scratched his head. “I’ve put all your toys downstairs and you’ve had your dinner. If you get lonely, bark at the window.”

  Polpetto didn’t respond.

  Alessandro was already downstairs and the sight of him made my heart speed up. He wore one of his best suits, paired with the blue tie I had given him. He always looked so dashing when he dressed up, even if it was akin to placing a bowtie onto a wild animal.

  He looked up as I entered and frowned slightly. Alessandro looked as he always looked, but there was something off about him…He kept tugging his cuffs and straightening his watch. Was he nervous?

  No, I told myself. Alessandro didn’t get nervous.

  I leaned against the bannister as I put on my heels. “Are you okay? You look…jumpy.” Jumpy sounded less accusatory than nervous.

  Alessandro gave me a dark look. Glad to see his earlier mood has not changed, I noted. “I was waiting for you.” He snapped. “You take forever to get ready.”

  “Sorry.” I said with no real weight behind it.

  Alessandro just huffed and strode for the elevator. I followed behind him, but not before giving Polpetto a goodbye kiss. In the elevator, he was quiet and broody. He didn’t say anything as I mentioned the traffic, only scowled at me until I fell quiet.

  Oscuro and Beppe were already waiting for us in the garage. Both gave Alessandro a wide berth and got into the car as soon as he approached.

  The only sliver of his remaining civility was when he gestured for me to get into the Range Rover first. Though I’m sure there was a practical reason behind that and he did not act like a gentleman out of the goodness of his heart.

  Alessandro was just as fidgety in the car. He stirred irritably and snapped directions. He reminded me of a caged animal pacing in its prison. Up and down, up and down. More frustrated with each repeated movement.

  I didn’t want to risk his mood but I felt bad for him. I knew how nervous one could feel when going to deal with the Don of the Outfit…and family.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I leaned close to him and murmured softly, “Do you want a drink before we go in?”

  Alessandro cut his eyes to me. “I’m not jumpy.”

  “Of course not.” I gave him a perfectly innocent look. “But I am and I hate drinking alone.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not one of your little friends, Sophia. I don’t need your pity drink.”

  “Of course.” I leaned back into my seat.

  Outside my window, the city flashed past. Eventually the skyscrapers became fewer and the houses popped up. We entered the gated neighbourhood where Don Piero and most of the Outfit members made their home. Such beautiful and grand houses, Cat use to say as we walked around, and yet such nasty inhabitants.

  That’s not fair, I use to reply. You love many of these people.

  There was already a few cars parked outside of Don Piero’s when we arrived. I didn’t recognise any of them but it was obvious they belonged to the other Rocchetti’s. Loitering around the cars were muscle men and they all stopped to look as we pulled up.

  Alessandro got out first and held open the door for me. He didn’t spare me a look as I jumped down to the ground and found my footing.

  “Try not look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.” I told him gently.

  He snapped his eyes down to me. He didn’t say anything but his wild expression was subdued and he straightened into a relaxed posture.

  It was like switching on a light. With a click, Alessandro had changed his entire rough demeanour.

  Alessandro pressed a soft hand to my back as we neared the house. The musclemen all nodded respectively to Alessandro and gave me wide-eyed looks.

  As we neared the large door, my nerves began to prickle. It had been easy to ignore my growing fear when I had been distracting myself with Alessandro but now I face to face with the prospect of being served as dinner to the Rocchetti’s.

  I gulped. Surely they wouldn’t eat me…

  Alessandro leaned down to my ear, his hot breath tickling my cheek. “Try not to look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

  I gave him a wiry smile. “Good one.”

  He didn’t bother knocking, only opened the grand door and stepped us into the foyer. Immediately, a beautiful white dog with long fur came running over to us in greeting.

  I grinned in delight and scratched the dog’s head. “Oh, aren’t you a beauty?”

  “This is Florence. She’s a Maremma Sheepdog.” Alessandro told me. He patted her flank and she turned to him in interest.

  “Ah!” Came the familiar booming voice of Don Piero. We both turned to see him standing in the doorway of the parlour. “My grandson and his beautiful wife. Come in both of you.”

  Don Piero was looking dashing in his suit and I told him as such when he kissed me on both cheeks.

  “You’re too charming for your own good,” He laughed, a great burly sound. He gestured to Florence and winked at me. “Gorgeous, isn’t she? How about I get you another present?”

  “There is no more room in our house for another dog.” Alessandro cut in.

  Don Piero flickered his eyes to Alessandro and gave him an intrigued look. “Very well.” He mused. “Perhaps when you move out of that little apartment. I am sure your kids will need more room.”

  I smiled politely at him despite my twisting insides. He hasn’t touched me since the first night of our marriage, I felt like screaming but very wisely didn’t.

  Alessandro pressed a hand to my back. “We will deal with that when we come to it.”

  There was something about their tone that made me feel like they were talking about something else, but decorating their true meaning with pretty words.

  “Of course.” Don Piero gestured for us to follow him. “We’re having drinks at the table.”

  The dining room was a fine room, decorated with heavy dark furniture and a brilliant chandelier. Like the rest of the house, the room fit into the aesthetic of a Federal Colonial trying to modernised but not trying very hard. Don Piero probably preferred the house to look older—I bet he would hate the contemporary style of the penthouse.

  Most of the seats were filled with Rocchetti’s. They smoked and drank, all in heated conversations. Bu
t as soon as Alessandro and I entered, they fell silent and casted their dark eyes straight to me.

  I was really the only woman in this room—and I knew I wasn’t truly welcomed.

  Alessandro slid his hand along my back and rested it on my hip. He gave the room a dark look.

  “We’ll have to be on our best behaviour tonight.” Laughed Don Piero. “We have a lady in our midst.” He gave me a rough smile.

  I smiled at him but was too afraid to say anything.

  Alessandro and I took our seats close to Don Piero, separated by Toto the Terrible. My father-in-law rose as we approached and gave me a grin. However, there was nothing warm or friendly about it. Like his son and unlike his father, Salvatore didn’t bother with civilities.

  “Sophia,” He mused. “Still intact, I see.”

  “Quiet.” Snapped Alessandro.

  Toto the Terrible rose to his son’s tone like a snake to the flute.

  “Salvatore.” Don Piero cut in. He gave his son a warning look.

  Alessandro pulled out my chair and practically pushed me into it. He took the seat next to his insane father, ignoring him. Beside me was Roberto, Don Piero’s nephew. Big Robbie—as he was affectionately known as due to his impressive height—did not look pleased with his seat.

  Each man looked at me with interest or annoyance. None of them seemed to know what to make of me.

  They really hadn’t had a woman in the family for two decades, I thought. And I bet they were counting down the hours until I was gone.

  I turned my head and spotted Florence laying on the floor. It was really just Florence and I against all these men.

  Don Piero commanded their attention. He ruled over the table with an obvious iron fist, not bothering to dim his patronage of the Rocchetti’s with friendliness and civility like he did with the world around him. Here, he was the Don, no questions asked.

  I sat back quietly as they discussed Anthony Scaletta’s ascension. They debated where to assign him. Many agreed he should be kept with his family and complete jobs in Chicago, whereas the other side disagreed and thought that separating him from the city early in his life as a Soldati was for the best.