The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,38
beginning of the holiday season. It had never crossed my mind until Nina warned me, but I was in charge of the Christmas, Thanksgiving and New Year’s. The Rocchettis would host them all—and by Rocchettis, I meant me.
I didn’t mind, not truly. After all, being seen as the hosts of the Outfit could only help Alessandro and I gain more favor. And with the leadership still being in the air, and the Outfit still divided over who they supported, bringing everyone together to celebrate could only be a good thing.
In saying that, Alessandro had sat down with me and discussed security for all the dinners and parties. There was a very good chance a fight would break out at least one of them, and my husband wanted to make sure the damages would be minimal.
I may have been hoping the holiday season would bring harmony to the Outfit, but my husband was readying for conflict.
On the same Friday he told me his plans, we packed up the car and left. It was easier to go without alerting too many people. Not only because it would protect us better, but also so we didn’t have to bat away too many questions, or deal with family members inviting themselves along.
It would be nice to have some time with my boys alone...and with Oscuro and Beppe, who followed behind us in their Range Rover.
Dante had developed so much in these past few weeks. Now at one month old, he was awake more and showing more interest in things. He could focus on his surroundings better and was becoming more accustomed to smells and sounds. He had picked up both Alessandro and I’s voices, now turning his head in our direction whenever he heard us.
However, on the downside, he was fussing and crying more. Most days I could barely step out of his line of sight without inciting a meltdown.
Even now, in the car, I was holding my hands over the back of his seat, reminding him I was here and had not abandoned him. Dante kept grabbing them, but his gripping skills hadn’t really formed so he kept letting go and trying again.
Alessandro checked on him in the rereview mirror, his lips forming into a grin. “Are you bossing your mother around, my boy?” He laughed.
I huffed a laugh. “You’re just jealous because he doesn’t mind when you leave.”
My husband cut me a look but the humor in his eyes told me he wasn’t angry. “Maybe I am. I’ll never say.”
It took us a couple hours to reach the Rocchetti family retreat. Situated in the country, the house had been bought for when the men in the family needed some peace and quiet. Built from red bricks and covered in leafless wisteria, it looked almost haunted, especially covered in a thick layer of snow.
“It’s going to be freezing,” I told Alessandro as he parked on the icy driveway.
“It warms up quickly,” he assured me.
We got out of the car, Alessandro unbuckling Dante. Polpetto jumped out, then felt how cold the ground was and quickly got back into the car. I laughed and picked him up, holding him protectively to my chest.
The key was beneath the welcome mat, and Alessandro had to shove at the door with his shoulder to open it. I wasn’t sure what I had expected inside, but the house surprisingly beat my expectations. Clean, vintage and homey, the holiday home looked like something out of a Christmas movie.
I put Polpetto on the ground and he instantly went exploring.
“I will get the stuff out of the car,” Alessandro told me, passing Dante to me. My son leaned his head against my chest, his little eyes looking around the new location with interest. “You go and have a look around.”
Like most buildings that belonged to Don Piero in his lifetime, the place was decorated with beautiful works of art. After taking a peek at the Rocchetti books, I knew a lot of them were stolen–some even being actively looked for Interpol.
When I asked Alessandro why Don Piero had refused to show the pieces off in a museum, he had laughed. My grandfather liked to keep beautiful things on display, but under his care.
The statement had hit a bit close to home. Don Piero did like beautiful things, liked to show them off, but only if they belonged to him. I had experienced that—as had Nicoletta.
I found the master bedroom and felt heat flush through me.
It was one day until the wait was