The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,13

sureness that I will never have. It’s nice to know that you’re just as stressed as the rest of us.”

A laugh bubbled its way up my throat. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Elena replied. “And in exchange for your honesty—because I know how much you love deals—I will be honest with you in return.”

I leaned closer.

“I am terrified.” Her voice broke. “Terrified of getting married. I wake up in sweat from nightmares about Thaddeo and all the ways he could hurt me. But that’s not even the worst bit. I am petrified to leave Chicago, because I know I am never coming back.”

I grabbed her hand, squeezing it between mine, trying to hold back my tears. “I’ll talk to Alessandro. I’ll stop the marriage.”

“And what, Sophia? Ruin your relationship with the Falcones, jeopardize your power? Please. That’s going to happen.” Elena recounted the facts with ease and yet bitterly, “Do you really think my uncle is going to let this marriage fall through? This is the best thing to happen to him since his vasectomy.”

“We could arrange you with someone else. Someone more powerful. Your uncle wouldn’t mind that.”

“Does anyone like that exist?”

I fell silent. At the current standing, no. Eligible bachelors were easy to find, but one who had a high enough standing for Elena? Higher than a Don of New York? There was no one.

“I’m sorry,” was all I could think to say. “Perhaps...perhaps it won’t be so bad. Maybe you’ll like Thaddeo.”

“I barely like my family. I can’t imagine I’ll have much luck with my husband,” she muttered.

“I like my husband,” I tried. “Something neither of us suspected was ever going to happen.”

Elena looked thoughtful. “I don’t think I need a partner,” she said, addressing my earlier comment. “I just want to be left alone. Hopefully, we’ll be like the Roosevelts and just have our own lives.”

“Having a teammate is not so bad. Except he snores.”

Finally, Elena cracked a grin.

I found both my boys in Alessandro’s study.

Alessandro leaned back in his seat, eyes on his computer and holding Dante delicately to his chest. Dante was awake, blinking slowly and trying to make sense of his surroundings, all while sucking furiously on his pacifier. They both looked relaxed, safe.

My husband looked up at me as I entered, his dark eyes catching my puffy cheeks immediately.

“I just had a cry,” I said before he could ask. “Nothing to worry about. I’m going to miss Elena.”

“Is that really why you cried?” His tone implied he knew it wasn’t.

I came around the desk, standing next to Alessandro. With delicate fingers, I swept back his hair, trying to smooth the furious strands.

“I’m just tired. And stressed. And my boobs hurt, so I hope Dante’s hungry.”

Alessandro’s eyes softened. “You can pump tonight, and I’ll get up with him. You’ve barely slept all week.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have to work. This...I suppose, this is my work.”

He raised an eyebrow. “As well as being the CEO of Rocchetti Alzheimer’s Support? You’re busier than me.”

“You know that’s all in name. I barely passed high school; what do I know about Alzheimer’s?” But I did really want to go into the office and speak about the charity ball. I had to finalize some stuff...but I didn’t want to leave Dante. Nor did I really want to leave the house with him—not after last time.

Alessandro saw all that in my expression and grabbed my hand, squeezing tightly. “Sophia, go take a nap. I can take care of Dante for a few hours.”

“I know you can. But what if...”

“If something happens, I will wake you up. Or Dante will.”

I pressed my forehead to his, breathing in his scent. Warmth radiated from his skin, flushing my cheeks.

“You know, Elena and I were just talking about our wedding day.”

“You and Elena are married? I’m sad to have missed it.”

I mocked a bite, and he leaned closer to my teeth, laughing.

“No,” I mused. “Our wedding day. Elena’s worried about her own.”

“Thaddeo’s alright.”

“You know him?”

Alessandro nodded. “We’ve met a few times. He’s young for a don, but he’ll take care of her.”

I relaxed. “You’re certain?”

“The Falcones have never been known to be vicious to their women.”

“Unlike the Rocchettis?”

My husband didn’t smile at my joke. “Unlike the Rocchettis,” he replied coolly.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, then eyed his computer screen. “Are you still dealing with the will?”

“I may kill this lawyer.”

“You can’t kill Hugo. We would crumble.” I stroked his hair and scanned over the paper.

Don Piero had decided to leave a will that