The Rocchetti Queen (The Rocchetti Dynasty Book 3) Page 5

  “No.” But clearly, he was doing something that was making Beatrice worry.

  “Everyone is on edge after the death of Don Piero,” I told her. “I imagine Pietro’s just worried about who is going to be his next capo dei capi.”

  She made a noise of understanding but didn’t ask anything more.

  “I’m going to miss Elena,” she said suddenly. “It is heartbreaking that we couldn’t go to the wedding.”

  When I had asked Alessandro if we could go to the Falcone territory to see Elena get married, he gave me a glare so hard it looked like his face was going to break. I imagine Pietro had a similar reaction to Beatrice’s request.

  “Me too,” I murmured. “I made her swear to call me as soon as she could.”

  “It’s not the same as being there,” Beatrice said. Then sighed. “But what can you do? Hopefully, he is kind to her. I’m sure she will make sure he treats her well.”

  “Alessandro said Thaddeo is a good man,” I assured her, trying to help ease some of her anxieties. “I’m sure he will be good to Elena.”

  That did make Beatrice feel better and she expressed her excitement over everyone in our little trio being wed.

  I was listening to her when I spotted a familiar, handsome gray head striding toward me. Pigeons fluttered furiously as the mayor disturbed them, the effect almost comical.

  “Fucking birds!” he snapped, then straightened his tie and continued toward me.

  “Beatrice, I’m going to have to go. I will call you later?” I hung up, eyeing the approaching mayor. In the sunlight, paired with his Botox and waxy smile, he looked like he could melt.

  From the corner of my eye, I spotted Oscuro walking toward us, his expression dark.

  “Can I help you, sir?” I asked, letting him know that I had seen him upset the pigeons and thought it was hilarious.

  Ericson smoothed down his gray hair, giving me a foul look. “I did not expect to see you here, Mrs Rocchetti,” he said. “Did we have a meeting that I missed?”

  Oscuro reached us, but I held up a hand, signaling him to stay back until I needed him. “I was meeting with the Historical Society, so no. No forgotten engagement on your part.”

  “Historical Society? How lucky. Is Salisbury still here?”

  Ericson knew very well that Salisbury had not shown up to a Historical Society meeting since his very public loss. According to his wife, the former mayor was still cooped up in his house, nursing his bruised ego. When I had told my husband this, he had rolled his eyes and told me all politicians were fucking useless babies.

  I was beginning to agree.

  “Salisbury is on holiday with his wife. The Bahamas, according to his last postcard,” I lied. Who was going to dispute it? Salisbury wasn’t leaving his house. “Did you not get a postcard?”

  Ericson did not approve of my attempt at humor. “Can I just give you my condolences again?” he asked, his tone sleazy. “Your brother-in-law tells me the family is taking it very hard.” Did he, now?

  “Chicago is taking it hard,” I told him. “Don Piero was a—what was it you said? A staple of our community.”

  “It will be very difficult to replace him,” he said. “But not impossible.”

  I smiled at the mayor. His tone implied that he thought he might be a better fit for Chicago. I bet his FBI contacts had fed that narrative into his brain.

  Did Ericson really think he would be able to replace Don Piero? Did the FBI truly think that?

  “No,” I mused. “Not impossible.” But it’s not going to be you. “I have places to be, Alphonse. So, if you’ll excuse me...”

  The mayor was not willing to let me leave so soon. “You should value these last moments in Chicago,” he mocked. “Because I’m the mayor now, Rocchetti wife, and I am going to make your family beg for mercy.”

  I couldn’t help my growing smile. “Oh, really? And how do you plan to do that? Steal all the prostitutes? Cause an STD breakout? I would love to hear your diabolical plan.”

  “You make jokes now,” Ericson snarled. “But the FBI knows more about your family than you know about them. And they’re gearing up to destroy you and your filthy little organization.”

  Oscuro stepped forward but I waved him back. Ericson by himself wasn’t much of a threat, but with the backing of the FBI? And/or Salvatore Jr? He could very well prove to be trouble.

  What had I said to him last time he had threatened me?

  It’s not them you should be worried about.

  “Of course,” I agreed. “Whatever you feel is best. You will forgive my organization if we do the same thing.” I stepped to the side, causing a pigeon stepping to the side to make way. “Take care of yourself, Ericson. Enjoy your last days as Mayor of Chicago.”

  I walked away before I could hear his irritating response.

  Rocchetti Alzheimer’s Support took up half a dozen levels in a huge sparkling skyscraper, situated near the middle of Chicago. The labs were always filled with chatter and intelligent scientists—all who despised being interrupted—so I spent most of my time in the offices, with those of us who weren’t smart enough to find cures.

  My office, chic and modern, overlooked the river. Though at the moment it was packed with maps and boards. I was at my desk, scouring through the guest list, while a few of my employees pored over the seating arrangements.

  I had almost grown numb to the list of names until one caught my eye. Pelletier.

  That name was horribly familiar. Charles Pelletier had been the boss of the Corsican Union in the 80s, and caused a lot of trouble for the Outfit. I had yet to be born, but Papa had never spoken about those days with anything but horror.

  Even the wives had feared the Corsican Union vs Outfit war ever happening again. It’s why they had been so wrapped up around the Gallaghers.

  I clicked on the name.

  Eloise Pelletier.

  There are hundreds, most likely thousands, of Pelletiers in the United States, I told myself. Not every single one of them is related to Charles Pelletier.

  But I couldn’t help my scrolling.

  Eloise Pelletier had been living in a care home for about six years, diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in her old age. She had no next of kin listed, though that probably wouldn’t be in public records.

  But the care home would have them.

  “Amy,” I called.

  My assistant looked up at me. “Yes?”

  “Add another name to the list. Eloise Pelletier from Sunny Days Care Home.”

  “Of course. Any reason why?”

  I eyed the name, mouthing the syllables. Pelletier, Pelletier. “I think she could be a benefit to the ball.”

  I was aching to go home and see Dante. Alessandro had sent me constant updates throughout the day. Little photos of Dante sleeping, taking his bottle or sucking his pacifier (he didn’t do much else). I missed him, but I couldn’t deny my curiosity.

  Oscuro sighed when I told him we weren’t going home just yet, but didn’t argue. He was used to me playing detective now.

  Sunny Days Care Home was located on the outskirts of Chicago, taking over a beautiful patch of green land. The first thing I noticed was the garden, a mixture of beautiful well-kept hedges and flowers. Enjoying their day on the grass, whether playing chess or croquet, were the Sunny Days residents.

  It looked quite peaceful.

  When I approached the receptionist, she narrowed her eyes. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. I’m here to visit Eloise Pelletier.”

  “Are you on her list?”

  “I’m an old friend. Sophia Rocchetti.”

  Once she heard my surname, the receptionist changed her tune pretty quickly. She apologized before handing me a visitor’s badge. Eloise, she told me, would be in her room watching daytime tv, and would be delighted to have a visitor. When she saw Oscuro looming behind me, she fell silent.

  I thanked her before leaving.

  Inside, Sunny Days Care Home was as lavish as the ext
erior. Beautiful marble floors and exquisite paintings, paired with chandeliers and crown moulding.

  When I was old, this was probably where I would be relocated. It was better than where Nicoletta had been stashed.

  Eloise’s name was printed neatly on her door.

  “Stay here, Oscuro, you’ll just frighten her.”

  He wasn’t pleased with my order but abided by it.

  The room was small but pleasant, with a view of the green gardens and a comfy bed in the corner. Before I noticed anything else, I caught sight of a beautiful painting. It was of a stretch of green land, with a small cottage. In the corner of the canvas, the words JEAN’S BEND could be made out.

  A sense of peace radiated from the image, most likely comforting to Eloise and her restless mind.

  I turned away from the painting and took in the natural light shining through the windows, lighting up a small, birdlike woman sitting in a chair, a meal set up in front of her. The television was on, but the old woman was more interested in her peas.

  “Ms Pelletier?” I asked.

  The woman looked up at me, with light eyes and wrinkled skin. “Are you the nurse?” She swept her eyes up and down my dress, handbag and manicured nails. “You don’t look like a nurse.”

  “No. I’m not a nurse. I’m here to visit you. Do you mind?”

  Eloise Pelletier frowned faintly. “Do I know you? I can never remember.”

  “We share mutual friends, but I am here to visit you.” I glided into the room, settling down on a spare chair.

  “I do not get many visitors,” she said. “In fact, I never get any. Except for Albert down the hall. But he’s a bit weird.”

  I smiled. “I promise not to be weird. I just want to talk.”

  Eloise did not look convinced. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “I didn’t. My name is Sophia.” I decided to leave my surname out. I gestured to her dinner. “Are you enjoying your food?”

  “No. It’s shit.”

  I coughed down my laugh. “Oh.”

  Eloise scrutinized me some more. “Are you sure we don’t know each other? You look familiar.”

  “I have one of those faces.”

  “No, you don’t,” she muttered.

  I crossed my legs. From the corner of my eye, I could make out Oscuro loitering in the hallway, probably scaring off poor weird Albert from down the hall. “I’ve actually come to invite you to an event I am holding.”

  “They won’t let me go. Papa says I am not allowed to leave.”

  “I was under the impression you could leave whenever you wanted.”

  Eloise cut her eyes to me. A watery blue, I noticed. “New around here, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty,” I said. “But they may make an exception. I am hosting a charity ball for Alzheimer’s research. I would be honored if you came to tell your story, or just enjoy the night. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

  “Charity ball?” She snorted. “I’ve been to my fair share of those. They’re nothing but an excuse for rich people to feel good for doing nothing but dress up and pass a check to somebody.”

  “Perhaps. But that does not change the fact it is to support research and care.”

  “I’ll probably have school.”

  I paused. School? Did Sunny Days have classes? “Oh? When don’t you have school?”

  Eloise gave me a weird look. “On Saturdays and Sundays. Where are you from?”

  “Not here,” I said, not unkindly. “Perhaps another time then. I wouldn’t want you to miss class.”

  She shrugged, like she didn’t really mind. “Papa says education is important, so I guess I better go.”

  My father had never said anything of the type, but I smiled like I understood and rose to my feet.

  “Thank you for your time, Eloise. I will leave you to your dinner.”

  Oscuro heard my voice and stepped inside the doorway, blocking off light from the hallway.

  Eloise didn’t look nervous. Instead, she eyed him, then me, then Oscuro again. Her eyes snagged on the tattoos peeking from his sleeves, then the visitor badge on my chest.

  Then, like a switch went off in her brain, her eyes widened, and she spluttered, “ROCCHETTI!” With a flick of her wrist, she swept her dinner tray into the wall, the peas flying across the room, like little green bullets. She stabbed a finger at me, eyes fierce. “Get out, you filthy Rocchetti bitch!”

  “Eloise, I mean you no harm.” I held up my hands, trying to appear nonthreatening.

  “Get out before my brother kills you—just like he did your no-good sister! Out, out, out!”

  I tried to sound calm but was slowly backing away. “I am not going to hurt you. I am only trying to help.”

  “Papa!” Eloise screamed. “Papa! Kill her! Papa!”

  A nurse flew into the room. “Miss, you have to leave,” she said to me. “Now.”

  Eloise was still screaming as I quickly hurried out, her shrieks echoing through the hall. All the way to the gardens, I could hear, “Die, Rocchetti bitch, die!”

  Alessandro was angry with me. He kept throwing scowls my way as I readied Dante for bed, and when I finally soothed him into sleep, my husband spoke up.

  “Eloise Pelletier, Sophia. Really?”

  I looked over my shoulder from my vanity, keeping my voice soft. If Alessandro woke up Dante, the Corsican Union would be the least of his worries.

  “She wasn’t exactly armed, Alessandro,” I told him. “And I was curious.”

  He neared me, obviously having the same thought about not waking the baby up. Sitting down and looking up made my husband appear even taller and more threatening. His dark eyes stared down at me.

  “You should have called me,” he said. “I would’ve come with you.”

  “Then who would’ve watched Dante?”

  Anger flashed over his features. Not so much at me, but more at my actions.

  “I took Oscuro with me,” I added. “I wouldn’t have done anything dangerous, Alessandro, you know that.”

  Alessandro straightened, still radiating irritation.

  Keeping my voice quiet, I said, “You will not be able to rule this family alone, Alessandro. No one can. Don Piero had his brother and sons, and you have me. Do not try to cow me into a wife and mother only. I am your teammate.”

  “My queen.” His eyes flashed and he dropped a kiss onto the top of my head. The simple domestic action made my heart begin to race. “Next time, warn me.”

  “Of course,” I said, with no intention of doing such a thing.

  “Did you discover anything?” he asked.

  I continued brushing my hair, fight averted. “No, nothing at all. Except for her dislike toward Rocchettis, but I suppose that is common knowledge.”

  “Indeed.” Alessandro rubbed his mouth, eyes still hot. “Did she say anything about my mother?”

  I tipped my head back, neck exposed. “Your mother? No. I don’t recall her mentioning her. Why?”

  He bent down to my face, his hot breath tickling my forehead. “My father used to say she ran off with a French man. I was wondering if it was one we knew.”

  Dita had said the same thing.

  I heard from the maid in Toto the Terrible’s house that she was involved with a French man! When the Outfit was at war with the Corsican Union.

  Perhaps there was more to that statement than just petty gossip.

  “This family has decades of secrets,” I said, trying to approach the topic with as much grace as possible. If I had heard my mother had run off with a member of the Corsican Union, I would be upset.

  Alessandro nodded, jaw tight.

  A rare burst of anger bloomed up inside me. I felt nothing but fury at Danta’s actions. Now that I had Dante, I couldn’t imagine ever leaving him—especially for some French cock. I resented her for leaving Alessandro. He had spent most of his childhood with Don Piero, but Toto the Terrible was no easy parent and had left his mark on his boys.

 
Alessandro pressed his lips to my forehead. “Why are you frowning?”

  I must’ve forgotten to put up my mask, hide my emotions. But I didn’t have to bother with Alessandro—–he could see right through my walls anyway. “Just thinking about your mother.”

  “Don’t spare her another thought,” he murmured against my skin.

  “Hopefully, she’s not locked up in some attic—like your poor grandmother.”

  Alessandro huffed. “My father has a very different way of dealing with things compared to my grandfather.”

  I could only imagine.

  My husband was still posed above me, his lips against my forehead. The warmth he always seemed to carry with him was beginning to stretch its way through my body, over my skin and in my blood.

  “And how do you deal with things, Alessandro?” I inquired, my voice coming out sultrier than I had intended.

  His eyes darkened. “Careful. If you wake that baby up...”

  “Hilarious,” I said, my eyes flicking up to his lips. So close...

  Alessandro moved over me, our eyes now parallel. The deep darkness of his eyes seemed to swallow me whole.

  It was growing to be too much, building up inside of me—the tightening of my stomach, the clenching of my thighs. I could already feel his scarred hands on my skin, feel his warmth entering my bones.

  Before he could say anything else, I caught Alessandro’s lips with my own, awkward and upside down.

  Alessandro came alive immediately.

  He broke away, spun me, and then met my lips again. It happened so fast that it could’ve been a blip of my imagination.

  The kiss was hot and fast, a rapid movement of our lips against each other’s and our tongues entwining.

  Alessandro’s hands came up to my cheeks, holding me in place. I gripped the back of his head, holding onto his hair.

  One of his hands slipped under my dressing gown, untying the ribbon. It came off easily, revealing my short nightgown. The silk bunched up as Alessandro gripped my hips, his hot hands flushed against my sensitive skin.

  The pressure of his hand drew me to my feet, pulling me against him. I could feel the strong press of his muscles up against my stomach, up against my breasts.