The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,12

so scared on your wedding day.”

“I think most brides are.” I sighed. “I’ve meaning to ask, what do you want off the registry?”

“To not get married.”

“Everyone wants to get married,” I joked.

Irritation flashed over her elfin features. “Perhaps in this world,” she retorted.

The rebellion in her voice made me tense.

Elena caught it immediately. “Don’t worry, Sophia,” she almost laughed. “I’m not going to pull a runner. I’m not your sister.”

I smiled slightly, my only sign of my relief. “How temperate of you.”

“Speaking of Cat...”

“Were we?” I took a sip of my tea, hoping the caffeine would help my eyes stay open.

Elena didn’t bother showing me any pity. She had grown up with Cat, too, and had taken the betrayal to heart. That was the thing about Elena; once you wronged her—no matter who you were to her—you were dead to her and she never forgave.

What had happened to her father was proof enough of that.

“Has she been causing problems?”

I had told Elena about the last time my sister and I had spoken. We had said our goodbyes, both preparing to enter our new lives full force. It had been devastating at the time, and led me to crying in Alessandro’s arms, but time had begun to heal the wound.

As had distraction—in the form of my son.

“Not yet. But it has been a week since Don Piero was shot.”

The FBI had been unnaturally silent. Our spies and scouts hadn’t seen anything, hadn’t heard any movement.

“Do you think it was the FBI?” Elena asked, unable to contain her curiosity. “Or somebody else?”

I pinched my nose. “I have no idea.”

“Well, I guess it was lucky it wasn’t you or Dante.”

You or Dante.

In an unprecedented move, my entire body suddenly convulsed into a sob.

I leaned down into my hands, shaking. Unable to speak, to think—

“Oh my God, Sophia!” Elena’s thin arms came around me, holding me to her. “Shh, hey, it’s okay. I’m such a bitch. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. You’re fine, you’re baby’s fine...”

Another sob crawled out of my throat.

“Shit, Christ. Oh, uh… Your baby is safe, Sophia. Dante is fine and safe.”

Dante is fine and safe.

I pressed a hand to my heart. “For how long?” I hissed. “The day he was born, someone was assassinated in the same room as him! Then not even at a week old, he was involved in a deadly car chase! What’s next? Should I expect him to be kidnapped when he is a month old? Or a bomb to go off at his first birthday party?”

Elena stroked my hair, the movement awkward but appreciated. Her eyes implored me to keep talking, to be honest. And for the first time, I was.

“I did not expect...this, Elena. I knew I would change, knew my life would be different, but I did not expect to become unrecognisable to myself. I...I can go days without showering or sleeping. I am either ravenous or disgusted with the idea of eating. I record my body like a lab technician: how much milk am I making? How much blood am I leaking? I look in the mirror and I don't see Sophia Rocchetti, I don't see me.

But I... I am addicted. I did not expect my brain to change like this, my psychology to be turned on its head. I think about Dante all the time. What is he doing? Is he happy? Sad? Is he comfortable? Breathing? Even when he is in my arms, I am paralysed with worry. But...I love him so much. It hurts how much I love him. Every day I don’t think I can love him more and then he looks up at me and I—”

I sucked back a sob, wiping at my eyes. Get it together, Sophia, I told myself, you are the Principessa of the Chicago Outfit.

Once I had calmed down, I said, “I’m sorry, Elena. I shouldn’t have broken down.”

She stared at me, green eyes slightly perplexed. “Your honesty is the greatest wedding gift you could’ve given me.”

Out of all the things in the world I could’ve expected her to say, that certainly wasn’t on the list.

I looked at her. Her features were open and honest, her true thoughts never hidden from the world. Had Elena just praised me for my honesty? Surely, I had heard that wrong...

“What do you mean by that?” I asked her.

She smiled slightly. “I mean...you’ve always had everything figured out, you know? Even in high school or on the playground, you carried yourself with a