Relief flushed through me. From the looks of it, Oscuro and Beppe were okay.
We were okay. My husband, my son, Polpetto, myself.
I buried my face into Dante’s bald head. His skin was soft and smelt of his baby oil.
Carefully, I slumped back into the passenger seat, gripping my son, and just held him. He relied on me for everything, from protection to nourishment. And for the first time, I wondered if I could actually give those things to him.
Should we have waited to bring a baby into this world? Not that Dante had been at all planned—in fact, lots of measures were taken to ensure he was never born
And yet, my son had come into the world. He had been born the same day Don Piero had died and at a week old, he had been in his first dangerous car chase.
I smoothed down his hair, kissing his little forehead. His cries had quieted, now his face was scrunched up in annoyance.
“It’s going to be okay, my baby,” I whispered. “Daddy and Mama are going to keep you safe.”
Polpetto poked his head from beneath the seat. He leaped up beside me, burying into my legs.
“Oh, my brave Polpetto,” I nearly laughed.
A few minutes passed and Alessandro called my name. He approached the passenger side, face dark. “Would you like to see them?” he asked.
I held Dante closer to me. “Yes.”
Alessandro nodded curtly. In the distance, I could hear sirens growing closer and closer, but my husband did not look concerned in the slightest. What were the Chicago PD going to do? This city belonged to the Rocchettis.
Oscuro and Beppe had pulled out both of the perpetrators, taking their guns and pushing them to the ground.
I glanced around the street. No one had taken their phones out or tried to approach. Most people had begun to disperse, with the exception of a curious few who kept their distance.
Neither of the men looked familiar. Both had similar pale features with pale, watery blue eyes and crooked noses—brothers, perhaps? Tattoos peeked out from under their dark clothing, pledging allegiance to their organisation.
Oscuro tossed Alessandro two wallets. “French names.”
Alessandro scanned the two driver’s licenses, his jaw tightening.
“Corsican Union?” I asked.
“So, it seems,” he confirmed, his dark eyes dancing to me.
Police cars began to arrive, the blue and red lights flashing over the crash scene. A few officers paused when they saw Alessandro and looked to their superior, unsure how to proceed.
“Let’s go,” Alessandro said to me, pocketing the wallets.
“Are we going to take them, boss?” Beppe asked.
“Not in broad daylight,” I interrupted. “Let the police take them, and then watch, because whoever comes to claim them issued an attack on our lives.”
Alessandro grinned at me. He instructed Beppe and Oscuro, “Leave them,” before leading me back to the car.
I buckled Dante back in, who was not pleased in the slightest, but managed to not scream the car down.
We decided to forego the picnic, instead returning to the safety of the gated community.
When the police chief of the Chicago PD called to confirm who had paid the bail for the two Corsican Union men who had attacked us, Alessandro was out of the door before he had even hung up.
“Alessandro—oh, these men!” I hurried out of the kitchen. “Teresa!”
Teresa popped her head up from over the stair bannister. “Mrs Rocchetti?”
“Can you watch Dante for five minutes? I think my husband is going to commit a felony—before lunch!”
“I have him,” she confirmed. Teresa never missed an opportunity to spend some time with Dante. “Go, go. Before he kills someone.”
I raced after Alessandro. He was already halfway down the street, his lengthy strides eating up the sidewalk.
“Who bailed them out?” I called but he didn’t seem to hear me.
Alessandro beelined straight for Enrico’s mansion and it hit me.
She has ties to the Corsican Union.
“Oh, Saison,” I half-pleaded, hoping it wasn’t true.
I reached Alessandro as he got to Enrico’s mailbox. He turned his dark eyes to me, not looking surprised to see me.
“Are you sure you should be running so soon after giving birth?” was the first thing he said to me.
“I’m fine.” A lie. I was in a considerable amount of post-partum pain. “What are you going to do? There is no point rushing in there without a backup plan.”
My husband smiled briefly. “This is no longer a strategic situation. Now, it is time to handle this like a gangster, which, if you remember, is my specialty.”
“I know, I know. It just feels so brash...”
The front door opened and Enrico stepped out, scowling. He was dressed in a simple pair of khakis and sweater, but I could make out the outline of his weapon at his side. Behind him, a delicate face appeared, Saison Ollier. From the way her eyes widened when she saw us, I knew immediately who had sent the guns after us.
Alessandro stepped forward, me at his side. “We met your mistress’s cousins, Uncle,” he said. “Unfortunately, they were not very nice.”
I linked my arm with Alessandro’s. To an outsider, it would look like I was a little afraid and seeking comfort. But from the quick look Alessandro gave me, he understood why I did it.
We were a team, husband and wife. There was no part of my partner that I did not see and did not love. Whether the man who called me beautiful when I first woke up or the bloodthirsty gangster. This man was mine and I would support him through anything.
Including confronting his power-hungry uncle and his mistress.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Enrico hissed, “but I would suggest you get off my property, boy.”
“Two Corsican Union members attacked my wife and son,” Alessandro growled. “And guess who paid for their bail, Uncle? You. Enrico Rocchetti.”
He scowled. “I did no such thing. I have been home all—” Enrico fell silent, his eyes drilling through Saison. Saison stared back at him, her expression growing paler and paler. “You had my credit card.” He didn’t sound like he believed it.
“Oh, Saison,” I said.
She flicked her eyes to me, then back to Enrico. “I did it for you!” she blurted out, knowing she was caught and pleading was the best way to get out of this. “You should be the don. I was getting rid of your competition—”
I felt a sliver of embarrassment. I had been prancing around, so focused on my own ambition, my own inability to fit into the mold of a traditional mafia woman, that I forgot about the other women around me. Of course, they, too, burned with ambition and used their men like pawns in this patriarchal world.
I had learned a valuable lesson in underestimating the woman around me. Even the ones I hadn’t expected, who had never really been a true part of the Outfit, or seemed too cowed to ever do something so daring.
It was a shame I only just learnt this about Saison. We might’ve bonded over it—or at the very least, I could’ve used it to my advantage. Because, now, unfortunately, I didn’t think Saison was going to be around for much longer.
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” warned Enrico. “Violence is not the only currency in this world, especially since killing Alessandro would still leave Sophia.”