The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,4

Enrico, charming and diplomatic; Salvatore Jr, competitive and ruthless...and Alessandro. My husband—loyal, protective and willing to go to any lengths to protect the Outfit.

We all seemed to have the same thoughts, sharing glances and looks, sizing each other up. Who would be the next don? Who would rule the Rocchetti Dynasty?

I took a bite of my bread roll.

Let the games begin.

T he piercing sound of the alarm shocked me out of sleep.

“Shit!” Alessandro rolled off the bed, landing on his feet.

“What is going on?” I asked, yawning.

“Someone tripped the alarm.”

Dante began crying not seconds after, his sobs matching the sound. I scurried over the covers, untangling the blankets from my legs.

The sound of my son’s distress had smacked me out of any grogginess.

Across the room, my husband grabbed his gun and ordered me, “Stay here!” and then he was gone.

I stumbled out of bed, going straight for my son’s bassinet. His little face was scrunched up in misery, already flushed red from wailing.

“Shh, shh.” I swept him up, holding him to my chest.

Polpetto flashed by my ankles, nearly pushing me over.

“Polpetto!”

Dante’s cries grew louder at my yell.

“Hush, my darling.” I rocked him. “Polpetto, come here! Polpetto—”

The little white Volpino Italiano disappeared under the bed. I cussed softly before hurrying to the saferoom. Hidden behind a row of clothes, the door was pressed into the closet wall—

The alarm stopped.

I paused in my closet, still rocking Dante.

What had happened? Was Alessandro okay? Was somebody in our house?

The series of panicked questions that ran through my head only made me grip my son tighter.

Seconds later, Alessandro called out, “It’s safe, Sophia. It’s Nero, and he wants to talk to you.”

Nero?

I frowned, exiting the closet. Alessandro stood by the doorway, still holding his gun—not looking as worried, but still not happy.

Dante began to quiet as he noticed the alarm was gone. As soon as I went to place him down in his crib, he let out another furious wail.

“Don’t cry, my darling.” I held him close to me. “What is Nero doing here?”

“He is here for you.”

A midnight visit from the Outfit’s assassino was a horrifying thought in itself. But a surprise visit from the Outfit’s assassino?

I swallowed. “Can you hold him?”

Alessandro took Dante carefully, holding him to his bare chest. He cupped his hand under Dante’s bum, the other pressed softly onto his little back.

I slid on my dressing gown, unable to tear my eyes away from my husband and son.

For a man that was always so rough, so restless, a sense of calm seemed to settle over him when he held his son. Alessandro made a conscious effort to speak softer, to slow his movements, when Dante was with him.

If I sharpened Alessandro, then Dante softened him.

It made my heart melt.

As I moved to the door, Alessandro passed Dante back to me. “I need both my hands,” was all he said. I didn’t need him to elaborate on why he needed full mobility, as the palming of his weapon told me all I needed to know.

All the lights in the house were on, and I could see glimpses of the soldati through the windows. They were probably in a disarray after the house alarm had been tripped. I imagined Alessandro would have words with them tomorrow. None which would be appropriate to repeat.

In the foyer, at the bottom of the stairs, the familiar face of the Outfit’s assassino stared up at me. He wore all black, face dark with irritation.

I almost asked why he was so annoyed, considering Alessandro and I were the ones who were awoken, when I spotted her.

Nero was gripping the arm of a young woman, still in nursing scrubs, with honey blonde hair scraped back into a low ponytail. She was giving Nero a furious look, tugging at her caught arm and calling him names that made me cover Dante’s little ears.

“I got your nurse,” Nero barked.

The woman snapped her head to me and paused. Her eyes darted to Alessandro, who was looming behind me, and she paled slightly.

“Nero,” I gritted out, “did you kidnap her?”

“He did!” The woman hissed, turning her anger back to Nero.

Nero looked completely unconcerned. “You asked me to fetch her—fetched her, I have.”

I started down the stairs, sighing through my nose. Nero had just needlessly complicated this entire situation with his brashness and now I had to untangle it—at midnight.

“I am disappointed that you tripped the alarms,” Alessandro said. I cut him a look, but he was frowning at Nero. “Did any of