The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,67

out his arm to me and I took it.

“Sister,” I said.

Catherine looked up at me, tears coursing down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything.

“Ericson is ours.”

Her lips trembled. “Whatever, whatever! Take him! I don’t care!” She turned back down to Dupont, murmuring his name over and over, hands pressed to his chest.

Alessandro and I left the church, arm in arm, his men following like a murder of crows. My sister’s howls followed us down the aisle and out into the snow.

“He will be fine,” my husband said. “He was shot in the shoulder. It looks worse than it is.”

“You should’ve killed him,” was my reply.

While Dante and Adriano slept, Alessandro and I went to city hall.

Like usual, Ericson was working late. And by working late, I meant entertaining his mistress. As soon as we strolled into his office, she shrieked, ducking under the table, bare skin on display.

Ericson looked furious at the interruption, limp dick hanging between his naked legs. “How dare you!”

“Tell her to leave.” Alessandro said.

The woman didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed her clothes, fleeing out of the office, squealing.

“I will call security—”

“Your security is busy,” I interrupted. “With our security.”

Ericson paled. He knew what that meant. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, we’re not here for you,” I said, smiling at my husband in camaraderie. Like we were strolling through the park. “But he is.”

Salisbury was pushed forward from the hallway, looking a little flushed and confused. Behind him, Nero watched, ready to block the doorway should he need to. Bill’s eyes widened as he caught sight of Ericson and he turned to me.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Alessandro pulled his gun out from his back, laying it down on the desk. The two politicians tensed. I caught my husband’s grin at their stress—he didn’t have a very high tolerance for politicians, but he had agreed to help me.

“Whoever kills the other, can be mayor of my city,” Alessandro said. “My wife trusts you will make the right decision, but I disagree.”

Ericson spluttered, “This is illegal! The FBI—”

“Are gone,” I interrupted. “Quite recently actually. They allowed me to keep you, which was very sweet of them.”

He paled.

I wondered if he was remembering the words I had said to him all those months ago, when we had stood in Sneaky Sal’s.

Your filthy husband isn’t here, and your father-in-law couldn’t give less of a shit about your life.

It’s not them you should be worried about.

Alessandro held his elbow out to me; I took it.

“Think of the power, gentlemen,” I called back as my husband escorted me out of the room.

We closed the door softly behind us.

I had gotten the idea driving back from the church, remembering Anthony Jr Scaletta and the blood he had spilled. It was a common act of the mafia to have young boys kill to become wise guys. After all, if they ever got too lippy, the Outfit could have them imprisoned on charges of murder.

Salisbury was challenging me too often. He needed to be kept on a tighter leash.

“Do you think they will do it?” I asked Alessandro.

“Of course,” he said. “Nothing fuels a man more than power and greed.”

In the shadows, Nero made a noise of agreement.

I leaned against the wall, listening.

There was a loud bang inside the office, which led to some scuffling. I could hear yelling and grunting.

Then, a gunshot.

Alessandro rose his eyebrows as the door open, a bloody Salisbury stepping forward, gun in hand.

“No one will ever know what you did,” I told him. “It will be our little secret.”

Salisbury paled.

As he walked past, Nero clapped him hard on the back, laughing. “You belong to us now, Bill.”

From the look in his eyes, Salisbury knew this. He turned to me, nostrils flaring, “Why—”

I cut him off, clucking my tongue. “No, no. That is not how I am addressed.” I smiled at him, nothing kind or friendly about it. “I’ll see you on Monday, Bill? The Historical Society is voting who they want to be their new director.”

I had already won—we both knew that.

And with that power, I now owned the all the historical buildings in Chicago in everything but name. Whenever a contractor wanted a piece of land, they would have to come to me, have to suck up to me.

I kissed Salisbury’s cheek in goodbye. In response, he passed out.

Alessandro grunted a laugh. “Politicians are little bitches.”

D ays later, I stood in the nursery, leaning against the side of the crib. Dante and Adriano napped side by side.