The Rocchetti Queen - Bree Porter Page 0,7

the ring with my fingers, tucking it away. A few times she had noticed my wedding ring and seemed more perplexed than distressed by the discovery. But for hours afterward, she often kept staring down her blank fingers, at the empty strip of skin where the ring once had been.

“Won’t you play for Ophelia?” I tried to distract Nicoletta.

It worked. Nicoletta glided over to the piano, sitting down as if she was performing for an entire theater. Despite her memory slowly deteriorating, the muscle memory in her fingers had never faltered and she played the instrument with talent and perfection.

Ophelia watched this all with interest.

“Any questions?” I asked her in English.

She frowned slightly and gestured to the door. “Will that Nero be around?”

“Not often,” I replied. “I will warn him you are off limits.” Not that it would likely ever stop the assassino from claiming his prize.

But Ophelia looked slightly relieved. “Thank you,” she said. “Men like that are nothing but trouble.”

I laughed. If only she knew...

“A re you excited to leave the house for the first time?” I asked Dante as I strapped him into his car seat.

Dante didn’t respond.

“I’m excited,” I told him. “Your dad and I are going to take you to the park. And Polpetto’s joining us.”

“Is he talking back?” came Alessandro’s voice.

I shot him a look over my shoulder. “He won’t learn how to speak if we don’t speak to him. I read it in a book.”

My husband bowed his head, but still look incredibly amused.

A few days had passed since Nero showed up with Ophelia, marking exactly one week since Dante had come into the world. It was strange to think that Don Piero had only been dead for a week, that his funeral had just been the other day. Especially in my post-partum haze, when time seemed to be slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

Today was a strangely warm October day, the sunlight bouncing of the red and orange leaves. Alessandro didn’t have to work, so he was joining Dante and I on our first trip out of the house. I knew Alessandro had things to do, but after expressing my anxiety about leaving the house with Dante, he had magically become available.

Our little family got into the SUV, joined by an obnoxiously large picnic basket and two bodyguards in the vehicle behind us. Polpetto sat on my lap—I didn’t trust him in the back with the baby.

My phone buzzed and I checked it.

“Why are you frowning?” Alessandro asked as he pulled out of the street.

“Chiara di Traglia texted me.” She had invited me to lunch with her, but I knew it wasn’t my company she sought. “The di Traglias are not happy about Adelasia. They’re desperate for information.”

My husband rubbed his mouth. “I know.”

“Has Nero had any more luck?”

“No. It’s like she vanished into thin air.”

I scratched Polpetto’s belly, and his tail wagged happily in response. “Has your brother said anything?”

“If he has, it hasn’t been to me. I imagine he is trying to find her as well, so he can marry her and legitimize the baby.”

Having an heir would give Salvatore Jr another leg-up in the competition. That was the only reason why he had turned his attentions to poor Adelasia.

“Do you think Salvatore has a chance?” I asked. “Of being the next Don?”

Alessandro tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You and I will be the next Don. So, it doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not what I asked,” I reminded him gently.

“What do you think?” he asked.

I thought about it. “Well...Salvatore Jr has been in charge of security for years, hasn’t he? Meaning the soldati know him probably the best out of all the Rocchettis. They may very well offer him their support.”

“You’re right,” Alessandro said. “We’re going to change that.”

I smiled, unable to stop how warm my heart felt whenever he listened to—and agreed with—my opinion. “I’ll handle the wives. I already know most of them.” I held up Polpetto, who vibrated in my hands from excitement. “Isn’t that right, my darling?”

He yapped in delight.

We left the gated community. In the rear-view mirror, I could make out Oscuro and Beppe following in the Range Rover.

“I have a meeting with the Historical Society next week. Hopefully, Salisbury will show his face.”

“Has he still not left the house?”

“He has a delicate ego,” I laughed. “Are there any leads on who shot Don Piero?”

The atmosphere in the car grew heavy quickly. I hadn’t meant to point out the Outfit’s failure, but the