“Guilty,” I said. “But they may make an exception. I am hosting a charity ball for Alzheimer’s research. I would be honored if you came to tell your story, or just enjoy the night. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”
“Charity ball?” She snorted. “I’ve been to my fair share of those. They’re nothing but an excuse for rich people to feel good for doing nothing but dress up and pass a check to somebody.”
“Perhaps. But that does not change the fact it is to support research and care.”
“I’ll probably have school.”
I paused. School? Did Sunny Days have classes? “Oh? When don’t you have school?”
Eloise gave me a weird look. “On Saturdays and Sundays. Where are you from?”
“Not here,” I said, not unkindly. “Perhaps another time then. I wouldn’t want you to miss class.”
She shrugged, like she didn’t really mind. “Papa says education is important, so I guess I better go.”
My father had never said anything of the type, but I smiled like I understood and rose to my feet.
“Thank you for your time, Eloise. I will leave you to your dinner.”
Oscuro heard my voice and stepped inside the doorway, blocking off light from the hallway.
Eloise didn’t look nervous. Instead, she eyed him, then me, then Oscuro again. Her eyes snagged on the tattoos peeking from his sleeves, then the visitor badge on my chest.
Then, like a switch went off in her brain, her eyes widened, and she spluttered, “ROCCHETTI!” With a flick of her wrist, she swept her dinner tray into the wall, the peas flying across the room, like little green bullets. She stabbed a finger at me, eyes fierce. “Get out, you filthy Rocchetti bitch!”
“Eloise, I mean you no harm.” I held up my hands, trying to appear nonthreatening.
“Get out before my brother kills you—just like he did your no-good sister! Out, out, out!”
I tried to sound calm but was slowly backing away. “I am not going to hurt you. I am only trying to help.”
“Papa!” Eloise screamed. “Papa! Kill her! Papa!”
A nurse flew into the room. “Miss, you have to leave,” she said to me. “Now.”
Eloise was still screaming as I quickly hurried out, her shrieks echoing through the hall. All the way to the gardens, I could hear, “Die, Rocchetti bitch, die!”
Alessandro was angry with me. He kept throwing scowls my way as I readied Dante for bed, and when I finally soothed him into sleep, my husband spoke up.
“Eloise Pelletier, Sophia. Really?”
I looked over my shoulder from my vanity, keeping my voice soft. If Alessandro woke up Dante, the Corsican Union would be the least of his worries.
“She wasn’t exactly armed, Alessandro,” I told him. “And I was curious.”
He neared me, obviously having the same thought about not waking the baby up. Sitting down and looking up made my husband appear even taller and more threatening. His dark eyes stared down at me.
“You should have called me,” he said. “I would’ve come with you.”
“Then who would’ve watched Dante?”
Anger flashed over his features. Not so much at me, but more at my actions.
“I took Oscuro with me,” I added. “I wouldn’t have done anything dangerous, Alessandro, you know that.”
Alessandro straightened, still radiating irritation.
Keeping my voice quiet, I said, “You will not be able to rule this family alone, Alessandro. No one can. Don Piero had his brother and sons, and you have me. Do not try to cow me into a wife and mother only. I am your teammate.”
“My queen.” His eyes flashed and he dropped a kiss onto the top of my head. The simple domestic action made my heart begin to race. “Next time, warn me.”
“Of course,” I said, with no intention of doing such a thing.
“Did you discover anything?” he asked.
I continued brushing my hair, fight averted. “No, nothing at all. Except for her dislike toward Rocchettis, but I suppose that is common knowledge.”
“Indeed.” Alessandro rubbed his mouth, eyes still hot. “Did she say anything about my mother?”
I tipped my head back, neck exposed. “Your mother? No. I don’t recall her mentioning her. Why?”
He bent down to my face, his hot breath tickling my forehead. “My father used to say she ran off with a French man. I was wondering if it was one we knew.”
Dita had said the same thing.
I heard from the maid in Toto the Terrible’s house that she was involved with a French man! When the Outfit was at war with the Corsican Union.
Perhaps there was more to that statement than just petty gossip.
“This family has decades of secrets,” I said, trying to approach the topic with as much grace as possible. If I had heard my mother had run off with a member of the Corsican Union, I would be upset.
Alessandro nodded, jaw tight.
A rare burst of anger bloomed up inside me. I felt nothing but fury at Danta’s actions. Now that I had Dante, I couldn’t imagine ever leaving him—especially for some French cock. I resented her for leaving Alessandro. He had spent most of his childhood with Don Piero, but Toto the Terrible was no easy parent and had left his mark on his boys.
Alessandro pressed his lips to my forehead. “Why are you frowning?”
I must’ve forgotten to put up my mask, hide my emotions. But I didn’t have to bother with Alessandro—–he could see right through my walls anyway. “Just thinking about your mother.”
“Don’t spare her another thought,” he murmured against my skin.
“Hopefully, she’s not locked up in some attic—like your poor grandmother.”
Alessandro huffed. “My father has a very different way of dealing with things compared to my grandfather.”
I could only imagine.
My husband was still posed above me, his lips against my forehead. The warmth he always seemed to carry with him was beginning to stretch its way through my body, over my skin and in my blood.
“And how do you deal with things, Alessandro?” I inquired, my voice coming out sultrier than I had intended.
His eyes darkened. “Careful. If you wake that baby up...”
“Hilarious,” I said, my eyes flicking up to his lips. So close...
Alessandro moved over me, our eyes now parallel. The deep darkness of his eyes seemed to swallow me whole.
It was growing to be too much, building up inside of me—the tightening of my stomach, the clenching of my thighs. I could already feel his scarred hands on my skin, feel his warmth entering my bones.
Before he could say anything else, I caught Alessandro’s lips with my own, awkward and upside down.
Alessandro came alive immediately.
He broke away, spun me, and then met my lips again. It happened so fast that it could’ve been a blip of my imagination.
The kiss was hot and fast, a rapid movement of our lips against each other’s and our tongues entwining.
Alessandro’s hands came up to my cheeks, holding me in place. I gripped the back of his head, holding onto his hair.
One of his hands slipped under my dressing gown, untying the ribbon. It came off easily, revealing my short nightgown. The silk bunched up as Alessandro gripped my hips, his hot hands flushed against my sensitive skin.