Eyes danced around the Rocchetti men, predicting who would be the next don—predicting who they should make their alliance with.
I smiled and entered the room.
Alessandro stood in the middle of the room, joined by an older dark-haired man and a young woman. I recognized him as the Don of the Lombardis, but the woman was unfamiliar.
My husband’s dark gaze settled on me and he stretched out his arm. “Sir,” he said, bringing me closer to him. The heat of his touch warmed my bones. “May I introduce my wife, Sophia? Sophia, meet Vitale Lombardi, head of the Lombardi Mafia, and his daughter, Isabella.”
New York was divided among five families, all of them ferociously fighting over borders and ports. The Lombardis were one of the Italian mafias, their territory stretching over Queens and Manhattan.
I couldn’t imagine brushing elbows with enemy families the way they did in New York. The closest family to the Outfit was the McDermotts, but they were up in Milwaukee.
“You are as beautiful as they say, Mrs Rocchetti,” purred the don, kissing my outstretched hand.
“You are too kind, sir,” I replied.
I caught a slight eyeroll from his daughter, and my attention moved to her. Isabella was a tall, slender young woman, with long dark hair and olive skin. However, pretty was too tame a word to describe her—her features were a collection of hard, sharp lines that created a striking beauty. One I had never been able to achieve.
She held up her shoulders at my attention, the fabric of her dress clinging to her. She looked much more comfortable in black than I.
Don Lombardi put a hand on his daughter’s back. If I was an idiot, I would have thought it was a reassuring paternal touch. But I knew it was a warning, and from the tightness of Isabella’s shoulders, so did she.
Isabella said, “My condolences for your loss.”
“Thank you. They are much appreciated.” I gave the girl a grateful look. No, not a girl, I reprimanded myself, she is the same age as yourself.
“It is a shame to lose such a strong mafioso, a member of the old guard,” Don Lombardi said. “Tradition is not as valued as it once was, but Piergiorgio always honored the old ways. Like we do in New York.”
My husband’s expression didn’t falter. “The Outfit will never fall prey to that New Age bullshit.”
Suddenly, voices rose. I turned my head, trying to distinguish the sudden source of excitement. I was greeted with the sight of Mayor Alphonse Ericson strolling into the room like he owned the place.
The Mayor wore a clean suit, with a little American flag pinned to the corner. His ever-present, arrogant grin made the hair on my neck stand up.
I excused myself from the Lombardis and graced Ericson with my presence.
“Alphonse,” I greeted. “I fail to recall sending you an invitation.”
“Don Piero was an important member of our community. I mourn him just as much as anybody else,” was his diplomatic response.
“Is that so?” Alessandro came up behind me, voice deep. He wrapped an arm around my side, tucking me to him.
I smiled at my husband. “This must be a new opinion of his, my love.” I cut my eyes back to Ericson. “Only a fool would dare step into this house believing anything else.”
A flicker of unease crossed over the politician’s face. From the tightening of my husband’s arm, he had caught it, and he was delighted to see it.
"At ease," came a familiar voice. We turned to see Salvatore Jr heading toward us, his dark eyes gleaming. "I invited him."
"And you forgot to mention it to anyone?" Alessandro asked shortly.
Salvatore Jr nodded his head to Mayor Ericson in greeting. "Thank you for coming, Alphonse. Please, make yourself at home."
An interesting offer on my brother-in-law’s behalf, considering this was not his home and he had no right to make such a statement. But I smiled graciously, hiding my annoyance, and gestured an arm to the tables of food.
Alessandro narrowed his eyes at me. I met his.
Salvatore Jr was making his first move. Inviting an enemy into someone else's territory. Hopefully, Salvatore Jr was smart enough to protect himself from said enemy.
Like he could read my thoughts, Alessandro smiled slightly—though there was nothing kind or friendly about it.
Slowly, Alessandro turned back to Mayor Ericson. "My brother will show you to the guestbook."
My husband and I left the mayor and Salvatore Jr.
"I do not like how that went," I told Alessandro quietly as we moved through the crowds.
"Neither did I," he admitted. "Salvatore seems to think he has an actual chance of being the next don."
"Does he?"
Alessandro thinned his lips, which gave me my answer.
I hid my uncertainty behind a pretty mask, greeting a few people as my husband and I glided past. It was a shame I wasn't drinking at the moment—I could do with some champagne.
"I think his attempt at building a relationship with Ericson will end poorly. Perhaps we should let that one handle itself," I said, unable to leave the topic alone. Salvatore Jr was my least favorite Rocchetti (with Alessandro, Beppe and Santino taking the leading positions) and he made his dislike for me clear.
Alessandro had not forgiven his brother for his several attempts on my life. Though I convinced him to play it smart, to let his brother relax, I couldn’t help my slight desire to see my husband tear his throat out. The only comforting thought was that Alessandro had completely taken over security, slowly pushing his brother out.
We reached the buffet. Alessandro passed me a plate, keeping his head bowed down to mine so we could continue to converse in private.
"Why do you think that?"
"Ericson does not like the Outfit. In fact, I believe he is working with the FBI... Well, Agent Dupont, at the very least."
My husband lifted his head, eyeing the other side of the room where Ericson and Salvatore Jr were politely chatting over a glass of bourbon. "That relationship could prove to be trouble. My brother will do anything to anyone to get what he wants."
Adelasia was proof of that, he didn’t have to say.
I nodded, piling up my plate. "I've been thinking of ways to get rid of him and replace him with Salisbury. Unfortunately, I never paid attention in Social Studies, so I've come up with nothing."
"We could always kill him," Alessandro said casually.
"No. Then his deputy would take over. She doesn't seem to be sympathetic to our cause either." I passed Alessandro a small loaf of bread and we left the buffet table.
Alessandro found us a spot on the couch to sit—well, by 'found', I mean, he gave the previous guests a foul look and they quickly scurried away. My husband balanced his plate on his knee, even making such a domestic act look threatening...and sexy.
I cringed at my rising lust. Sex was off the table for six weeks—doctor's orders! But the countdown had caused a few small anxieties to rise up in me. I knew, in the sane part of my mind, that Alessandro wouldn't be bothered by the stretch marks that Dante had left. Yet still...the nagging thought refused to leave me.
Pregnancy and childbirth had struck a major blow to my vanity. And though Dante was the beacon of my life, my body felt...as if it wasn't my own anymore. My hips and stomach and breasts were unrecognizable. No longer belonging solely to me.