The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,11

unfortunately, I didn’t think Saison was going to be around for much longer.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” warned Enrico. “Violence is not the only currency in this world, especially since killing Alessandro would still leave Sophia.”

I was kind of flattered Enrico considered me another threat to deal with.

Saison was flushed. “Please, Enrico. You don’t understand. I love you. I want you to be king—it’s what you deserve. Not some crazy idiot or a dressed-up savage—you.”

“Enough,” Enrico snapped. To Alessandro, he said, “I will deal with this matter privately. Get off my property.”

“This matter became public as soon as my wife and son were threatened, Uncle,” Alessandro warned. “I will not let such an insult go unpunished.”

Enrico paled slightly. Which just confirmed my suspicions that he would not be strong enough to rule the Rocchettis.

“Very well,” Enrico gritted out. Saison let out a cry of dismay.

I squeezed Alessandro’s arm. He nodded his head. “There is a way Saison could be spared,” I called. “Alessandro and I would be prepared to forgive the insult if...if we were duly compensated.”

Enrico caught on pretty quickly. He glanced between Alessandro and I, then at Saison. I could see him weighing his ambition up against his soft spot for Saison.

He swallowed loudly. “I ask...I respectfully ask that you spare Saison. In exchange, I will give you my full support as Don of the Chicago Outfit.”

Alessandro smiled slowly. “I accept your offer. Sophia? What do you think?”

Surprise flickered in Enrico’s eyes. “I accept, as well. Let us all be family once more. And if I ever see Saison in Chicago again, I will have her killed.”

The words fell off my tongue with a surprising amount of comfort.

Enrico bowed his head, dragging Saison away from the front door.

“That went well,” I mused to Alessandro.

“It couldn’t have gone better.” Unlike me, Alessandro didn’t sound sarcastic.

When I looked up to meet his eyes, he was already staring down at me. Pride and triumph shone in his expression.

“One down,” he said, “two to go.”

Two to go, I mouthed.

“Y ou look tired,” Elena said.

“Thanks,” I replied.

She cringed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Dante was down for a nap, but instead of joining him, I was entertaining Elena. Elena was leaving for New York in a few days, so she had come to say her last goodbyes.

It felt weird to know that Elena would be miles away. We had known each other our entire lives. Been each other’s allies in high school and closest confidents. To not have her snarky remarks and intelligent honesty would be strange, but I did still have Beatrice, which was a small mercy.

I didn’t need to perform for Elena: make tea and offer little muffins. She was comfortable sitting next to me on the couch, cross-legged and eating from her plate with her hands.

“I heard about the car chase,” she said. Her green eyes skimmed over me. “You good?”

“I’m alive.”

Elena snorted. “Oh, well, now I’m relieved.” She licked some crumbs off her fingers. “How’s the charity?”

“I haven’t been into the office yet.”

“That’s probably for the best. You just had a baby.” Elena gave me a scrutinizing look. “You’re taking a break, aren’t you?”

“This is not the time for breaks,” I muttered, closing my eyes. Just a few minutes...Elena might not even notice if I...

“What is it like being married?”

I opened my eyes, taking in Elena. She always held her head high, clung to her sarcasm and honesty like a shield. But now, her eyes were wide and face pale.

“Being married?” I repeated.

“Yeah...what it’s like? I mean, Pietro adores Beatrice, so they’re an anomaly. But everyone else I know, they hate each other. My mother hated my father, my aunt hates my uncle, my cousin hates her husband.” She looked thoughtful. “You and Alessandro have grown used to each other and now have a baby. The perfect couple.”

“We’re not perfect,” I mused. “And everyone adores Beatrice. Pietro was no exception.”

Elena didn’t smile but her eyes brightened.

“Marriage is...” What was marriage? I supposed it meant different things to different people. In this world, marriages were arranged and viewed more as alliances than love matches. Our world was built on duty, violence and loyalty—how we viewed marriage showed that.

Alessandro had once told me there was no such thing as a real marriage. Had his opinion on the matter changed?

“We’re partners,” was all I could think to say. “He is my teammate. My heart. The father of my child.”

“I remember when you were terrified of him,” Elena said. “You were