The Rocchetti Queen (The Rocchetti Dynasty Book 3) Read online

  Fists flew, knees cracked.

  In the moments where there was a break, just a second where they weren’t trying to kill each other, I could see blood pooling from both of them and sweat covering their skin.

  Neither of them seemed to notice, too lost in the fight to care. Both were filled with such rage and hate and need to kill that it was jaw-dropping to watch them fight.

  They snarled and growled and roared. They punched, jabbed and swiped. Some moves were so fast that I didn’t know they had been made until I heard the thud, saw the flash of blood.

  “You want to play like this, little brother?” Salvatore Jr asked, wiping his bloody nose. He flicked his hand to the side, staining the white snow red. “Do you really think you can be king, Alesso?”

  “Do you?” laughed Alessandro, wild and filled with rage. “You are devoted to nothing, worship nothing.”

  “And I suppose you do?”

  My husband grinned ferally. “Oh, yeah, I do.”

  In another flash of movement, the two collided, going down to the snow. The crowd moved back as they neared, gasping as blood scattered, staining scarves and coats.

  I saw Salvatore reach back, clocking Alessandro straight in the throat.

  I gasped, covering my neck, the phantom pain shooting through me.

  Alessandro turned to me, in the middle of the fight, like he had heard me and met my eyes.

  The whole world seemed to pause.

  Those dark eyes took me in.

  All I could think about was our wedding day. When I had taken his hand, terrified for my life, and looked up into his eyes. The Rocchettis had been monsters to me, creatures of shadows and nightmares. But now I was one, I was married to one, I had birthed one.

  I had been so frightened. But now when I looked into his eyes, fierce love and devotion gripped my heart. This angry man had taken one look at the ugly creature beneath my beautiful golden exterior and fallen in love.

  And I knew in that moment, if Salvatore did kill him, I would kill him. I would abandon my plans and ambition. I would hunt Salvatore every day, haunt him and turn him insane. I would fold him inside out until he would beg me for mercy.

  I let Alessandro know this, telling him with my eyes.

  He mouthed something to me.

  Then he turned back to his brother, fists swinging, more violent than before.

  The crowd hissed as they made contact with each other’s flesh and cheered when they heard the snap of bones. It was difficult to know who they were rooting for, but it was clear, whoever won, they would accept as their don.

  Suddenly, Alessandro got the upper hand, so quickly, so abruptly, that I couldn’t even register as he—

  He punched Salvatore right in the temple, the sound of his skull shattering ringing through the gated community.

  My brother-in-law slumped.

  Alessandro, as quick as a whip, turned on his heel and strode over to me. I couldn’t say anything as he grabbed my wrist, took a gun from Gabriel and pulled me across the bloodied snow, to where his brother lay.

  Salvatore looked up at his, fighting for his life.

  Alessandro pressed the gun into my hand. “It is your life he has tried to take multiple times. From the attack in the penthouse to the sniper at the hospital.”

  That was true.

  “His death belongs to you, my love. Nobody else.”

  I stared down at Salvatore Jr, alarmed that, even in death, very little emotion passed over his face.

  I thought of all the pain and fear he had caused me. He had purposely relaxed security around me, tricked bodyguards into thinking I was fine, and left me exposed.

  Not only had Adelasia died at his hands, but so had Don Piero.

  I tightened my grip on the gun.

  The last time I had killed someone had been at my wedding. I remembered the feel of the knife piercing the flesh, the flush of hot blood pouring onto me.

  This time wouldn’t be so feral, so vicious. It was more relaxed, more controlled.

  Much more my style.

  To my husband, I asked, “You will forgive me for this?”

  Alessandro rested his hand on the back of my neck, bloodied and cold, but familiar and comforting. “Everything you will ever do, Sophia Rocchetti, has already been forgiven.”

  I held the gun over my brother-in-law, finger on the trigger.

  “I’m not sure I know how to do it,” I murmured.

  Alessandro came around me, holding my wrist firmly. In my ear, he said, “Yes, you do. There is nothing you don’t know how to do. No obstacle or challenge you have not defeated. Do you know why I was always going to be the don? Because I had you, my donna, my queen.”

  The strength of the gun recoiled through my arm, only Alessandro’s strong chest stopping me from flying back.

  Salvatore’s head hit the snow, blood pooling.

  Snowflakes continued to fall, delicate and peaceful.

  I breathed deeply. “Is it done? Did we win?”

  Alessandro kissed my cheek, “Take a look for yourself.”

  I turned around and met the eyes of the Chicago Outfit. All the women who I had spent hours with, all the men who feared my husband. These people who I had known as uncles and aunts and cousins, whom I had called family.

  Did you all fall for it? I wanted to ask. Did my pretty words convince you that I should be your queen? Has my self-discipline failed me?

  Do you worship me as much as my husband does?

  Toto the Terrible stepped forward, “To the Don and Donna of the Outfit! King and Queen of Chicago!”

  The Outfit roared in agreement, cheering for our reign, our leadership. Snow was thrown, kisses were shared. Their cheers were so loud that Heaven and Hell could’ve have heard them, would know now that Alessandro and I had won.

  I turned to my husband, the love of my life, pressing my lips against his.

  “To the Rocchettis,” he murmured.

  “To our dynasty.” I whispered back.

  T he soft chatter of the baby on the baby monitor woke me up.

  I rubbed my eyes blearily, half-listening to my daughter. She didn't sound in distress, just talking and singing to herself. I twisted my head back into the pillow, trying to fall back to asleep.

  Then, "Mamaa," she began singing. "Mamaaa."

  I sighed and lifted my head up. Fast asleep beside me, Alessandro was lying on his stomach, one arm around the pillow and the second around my waist. He was breathing heavily.

  He had gotten home in the early morning, smelling of gunpowder and blood.

  I brushed his hair lightly.

  "Mamaaa, Dadaaa," sung my little girl on the monitor.

  I twisted around, grabbing the monitor and turning it down. I wasn't going to get back to sleep and I would rather keep the kids away from their father so he could rest. With one last look at Alessandro, I carefully slipped out of bed, wrapped my dressing-gown around me and went in search of my daughter.

  The baby's door was open, her little voice floating out into the hallway. I peeked through the door, taking in the pink princess room, with a canopy over the crib and little toy princesses cast around the floor.

  Pia was hanging onto the side of the crib, swinging herself and singing. She wore a little onesie with patterns of butterflies. Her golden-brown hair was in two little space buns, held tight with pink hair bands. The awkward position of them told me her big sister had done it for her.

  "Hi, baby," I cooed, sweeping into the room.

  She cheered at the sight of me. "Mama! Morning, Mama!"

  "Good morning, Pia," I laughed.

  She stretched out, leaping into my arms before I even got a good hold on her. Pia clung onto me like a monkey, her warm little body pressing into me. The smell of baby powder washed over me.

  "Did you have a good sleep, baby?" I asked, hooking her onto my hip and holding her to me. I smoothed down her curly buns.

  "Mm." She reached out, little fingers clenching and unclenching. "Gubb
y!"

  "Oh, we can't forget Gubby." I leaned over the crib, grabbing her pink teddy bear that was missing an ear and eye. She clutched Gubby to her chest. I tried to hide her binkie from her eyeline, but Pia spotted it and pointed.

  I passed it to her, and she happily plopped it into her mouth, smiling around the pacifier.

  Pia Salvatrice Rocchetti was the youngest of all my children and perhaps the most like me. She was loud, charming and chatty, enjoying dolls and princesses more than anything. At the moment, she was going through a phase where she would only leave the house dressed up in a princess costume.

  "Should we go and check on your siblings?" I asked, leaving her bedroom.

  "Zozo?" she asked.

  I peeked into Enzo's room. He was half on the bed, leg hanging in the air and wearing no clothes (I had dressed him the night before, but he managed to strip into the nude every single night). His tongue was hanging out and golden-brown hair ruffled.

  I closed the door softly. "Enzo's asleep."

  Dante was also still asleep. He was tucked into his covers, breathing softly.

  "Dante's still asleep. Let's check on Caterina."

  "Cat, Cat," Pia sung.

  I peeked into Caterina's room, expecting to see another sleeping child, but Cat was tucked under the window, wrapped in her blanket, with a book in front of her.

  "Cat, Cat!"

  Caterina looked up at us, smiling. "Morning, Mama. Morning, Pia."

  Caterina Sofia Rocchetti was my second-born. Though her looks favored her father more than any of my other children, from her long straight dark brown hair to her olive skin, she was the calmest and quietest out of all my children. Intelligent, watchful and introverted, I was more likely to find her reading a book than playing with her toys.

  "Good morning, baby." I swept over to her, plopping a kiss onto her head. "Pia and I are going to make some breakfast. Do you want to help?"

  "Okay." Caterina climbed out from under blanket. “Nonno said Grandma is busy today so I can go with him to Evanston.”

  “We’ll see what your dad says.”

  To everybody’s surprise, Toto and Caterina were extremely close. Since the day she was born, Toto had doted on her and Cat considered her nonno one of her best friends. Toto was kind to my other children, but Cat was the least-childlike, so I could see why he favored her.

  In the kitchen, Polpetto greeted us. He was getting slower these days, and usually slept on the first story so he didn’t have to go up and down the stairs.

  “Hi, Petto!” Pia greeted, wiggling in my arms.

  “Gentle with Polpetto,” I told her.

  Pia was obsessed with dogs. All she had been asking for lately was a puppy. Alessandro had put his foot down—one of the rare times he did with one of his girls.

  I’ve got enough wild animals in this house, he had said when the children had been pressuring him about it. You will have better luck asking me for another sibling.

  That was something I had put my foot down on.

  My house looked a little different after nearly ten years. Though still beautiful, a few dents had appeared in the walls, toys and little shoes were shoved under furniture and I could spot a few little drawings Enzo had left behind on the doors. The damage they had wrought wasn’t the only change.

  Hundreds of photos lined the walls and every available surface. All my children’s births and birthdays. Family portraits of the six of us, as well as the other Rocchettis and their loved ones. All of us smiling, happy. Nothing like the house I had grown up in—that my husband had grown up in.

  When Pia’s wriggling became too much, I put her down, letting her toddle straight to my dog. Polpetto darted around her, heading straight for me.

  “Petto!” she cried.

  Caterina went to her sister. “He’s playing with you, Pi.”

  Pia brightened at her sister. Like most younger sisters in the world, Pia was obsessed with her big sister. Though Enzo was probably her favorite (they played together the most), my two girls shared a special bond. One I was glad to see, one that had led to me giving Dolly and Maria Cristina to Caterina.

  When Pia is older, we will let her play with them, I told my daughter. She is too young at the moment.

  Caterina had taken looking after the two dolls very seriously, keeping them dustless and on a high shelf.

  As soon as I started the pancakes, the smell wafting through the house, Enzo came downstairs. He bounced into the kitchen, wild and restless in everything he did.

  Before I could say anything, he heaved himself onto the counter, with little care for his own life.

  “Oh, Enzo! You know you have to ask before climbing.”

  Enzo Cesare Rocchetti had been a complete surprise, but that was just my second son, it turned out. He had been by far the most accident prone out of all my children, not because of bad luck but because he had gotten his father’s reckless nature. Everything dangerous was alluring to Enzo.

  My father-in-law laughed himself hoarse whenever Alessandro scolded Enzo. Apparently, Alessandro had been just as bad as a child, and only gotten worse with age.

  Something to look forward too, I mused.

  Polpetto rushed past, Pia rushing after him.

  “Get him, Pi!” Enzo cheered.

  Pia stopped when she noticed her brother, grinning goofily at him. “Zozo!” She held her arms up, wanting to sit at the counter with him. “Up! Up! Mama!”

  “You can sit in the highchair or keep running around.”

  “Noo,” she whined.

  Caterina crouched down and Polpetto ran up to her. She held him delicately to her chest, smart enough to know how to hold him without upsetting him. “Pia, come and pat Polpetto.”

  Pia’s attention shifted and she bounded to her big sister, fingers outstretched. “Petto!”

  Polpetto looked like he was going to shit himself.

  “Mama?” Dante came walking into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

  “Morning, my darling.”

  Dante, like Caterina, was a little more deliberate in his day to day life. He was very serious, to the point where he was almost constantly grumpy. Unlike Alessandro and I, Dante had not picked up a flair for dramatics or the wild side, instead he approached life soberly.

  He will make a fine Don one day, was a common compliment we got about his responsible harsh nature.

  He would, but right now he was only nine, and only needed to worry about school, playing, and his chores.

  When all four of them were together, it was easy to tell they were siblings. Though Caterina was the only one with dark brown hair, the other three managing to have a mix between Alessandro’s hair shade and mine, creating a golden-brown, they shared features and attributes.

  All four of them had also gotten the Rocchetti eyes. Sometimes it was startling when four pair of almost black eyes snapped toward you.

  The Rocchetti genes are strong, Alessandro had said years ago to me when Pia’s eyes had darkened. I had wanted at least one of them to have my whiskey-brown eyes.

  He had been right. All four of them carried very distinctive Rocchetti traits and characteristics, the second generation of our dynasty.

  Enzo slapped his hands on the counter. “Pancakes!”

  “What do you say?” I asked, unable to help my slight smile. I had never been good at discipline—Alessandro usually handled that. Especially with the boys. “You say please, don’t you?”

  He grinned cheekily. “Dunno.”

  “You don’t know?” I questioned. “Have I failed you?”

  “Yes, yes!” Enzo reached over the counter, going for the fruit bowl. Last time, he had opened all the bananas and created a food mural for us on the ground.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” I laughed, batting away his hands gently. “Do you want to help your mother?”

  “No,” he said.

  “I’ll help you, Mama,” Dante said, going to get the ingredients.

  “Thank you, baby.”

 
As soon as he saw that his big brother was helping, Enzo decided he wanted to as well. I helped him down from the counter chair so he didn’t break his neck. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he ran off after Dante, disappearing into the pantry.

  Caterina and Pia came around into the kitchen.

  “Pancakes!” Pia sang, jumping like a frog over the tiles. “Pancakes!”

  “What do you girls want on your pancakes?”

  “Maple syrup,” Caterina replied.

  Pia copied her sister, yelling “Syrup!” at the top of her lungs.

  I smoothed down her curls, laughing. “That’s so unhealthy! You don’t want any fruit?”

  “Nope!” Pia cried.

  Caterina nodded. “Okay, Mama.”

  Pia changed her attitude quickly. “Nana?”

  “Yes, you can have banana.”

  The boys came out of the pantry. Enzo was holding the flour, while Dante had everything else. Somehow, some flour had gotten onto Enzo’s face and hair.

  “Oh, my boy, how did this happen?” I licked my thumb and wiped at his cheeks. He darted away, but not before Caterina quickly grabbed the flour from him.

  “I don’t know, Mama,” Dante said. “I turned around and he was covered.”

  “It’s not your fault, baby.” I smoothed down my eldest’s hair as well. I clasped my hands together, overseeing my four children. “Okay, my babies, who wants to help me with the batter?”

  Dante and Caterina helped the most, while the two little ones grew bored eventually. They took off, giggling manically.

  “Don’t wake up your father!” I called after them.

  Enzo laughed in such a way that I knew they were beelining for our bedroom. It was him laughing back at me that stopped him from seeing his father’s legs, colliding straight into them.

  “You’re awake,” I laughed.

  Alessandro scooped Enzo up, swinging him around like a monkey. “It’s not even eight and my boy is already causing trouble!”

  Enzo laughed in his father’s arms. Even as a newborn, he had loved being thrown around (gently) by Alessandro. None of my other children had cared for it.

  Alessandro hooked him over his shoulder. “Oh, now, where has he gone?”

  Enzo was laughing so hard it took him a minute to say, “Here, Daddy!”