Principessa of Chicago, page 16
My suspicions were put on the backburner in favour of having dinner with Nina. Davide was away in the city for a few days and she had gracefully extended an invitation to me. So, I can make sure you’re eating enough, she had said over the phone, and pick your brain about the baby shower.
The Genoveses lived in a gorgeous house, one which had seen generations of Genoveses pass through. Davide and Nina were now empty nesters, with their first grandchild due early next year. I imagined my future grandchildren but found the imagery flat–would I even get to see them?
Nina opened the door before I knocked. “Oh, Sophia, how lovely you look. Come in, come in, out of the heat.”
The house was cool, thankfully, and Nina escorted me to the dining room. “Have you finished renovating the living room?” I asked. “I’m dying to see it.”
“It’s on hold for now.”
Nina had set out some starters and non-alcoholic drinks. All which tasted wonderful–even if I wasn’t really sure what was in them.
“How are you and Davide?”
“We’re fine. We were with Angie and my son near the pool–not so close to the...blast.” Her eyes roamed my face. “And you?”
“Completely fine.” I smiled. “Also, what is this? It’s divine.”
Nina excitedly explained a new recipe for hors d’oeuvre she had discovered. We spoke out everything and nothing, from Narcisa’s transformation as maiden to wife to what my plans are for my birthday party. I showed her the outfits I was planning on wearing and she politely complimented them all.
It wasn’t until dessert that my curiosity got the better of me.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, Nina, but what do you remember about Danta? My mother-in-law?”
Nina’s spoon stopped a millimetre above her ice cream. “Danta?” She asked, tightly.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” I went on, not wanting to risk hostility. “But I have no mother of my own–not really–and I am beginning to find motherhood quite daunting. I was hoping Alessandro’s mother might’ve had a bit more luck.”
“Oh.” Nina dug into her dessert. “Oh.”
I was quick to cover my ass. “You don’t have to answer. I shouldn’t have said anything–”
“It’s okay.” She forced a smile. “You’re curious. That’s completely fine. What would you like to know?”
Everything. “What was she like? The Rocchettis are so quiet about her. I swear they pretend she never existed,” I gave her a silly little smile.
Nina tried to replicate it but failed.
“Danta...” Nina struggled to find the right words. Part of me wondered if she would have the same description as Dita did: boring, mundane, not interesting. Or if she would agree with Toto’s description. “She was quiet. Polite, but not as extroverted as other women.”
Not a bloody whore, then? “Oh?”
“She was a good wife to Salvatore Sr. and a good mother to those two boys. She doted on those boys.” Nina’s ice cream was beginning to melt–I didn’t say anything. “But the match...the match was not good. Even Baccio saw that.”
Baccio? “Danta’s brother? Gabriel’s father?”
She nodded sharply. “Their parents died when they were both very young, so it was up to Baccio to match Danta. He chose poorly–or the Rocchettis strong-armed him in giving her away.”
Just like they had my father.
“Toto has never been right. There’s always been a cog that’s not working, you know?”
“I agree.”
Nina nodded. “I bet you would. But, Danta was lovely and obedient. She gave the Rocchettis two boys. She had done her duty.” The tone of Nina’s voice struck me. She sounded almost dismissive of the matter.
“Was he...rough with her?”
“I never saw any evidence of foul play.” She said. “But Danta wouldn’t have said anything if he had. She was secretive like that.”
“I doubt the Don would’ve allowed such behaviour.” Lie. “He dotes on the women in the family.”
Nina didn’t look convinced.
“I know it is a sordid topic, but I have to ask, do you know how she passed away?”
Nina’s expression revealed nothing, but the slight tremor in her hand told me all I needed to know. “According to the coroner’s report, she fell over and hit her head. She was fine–one of those ‘talk and die’ cases? But then she went to sleep...and well, never woke up.”
My stomach twisted suddenly. Fell and hit her head? “That’s devastating.”
“I don’t even know where she is buried.” Nina said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, I could tell she regretted it.
“There wasn’t a funeral?”
Her jaw tightened. “Apparently, it was immediate family only.”
I didn’t think in the entire history of the Outfit there had ever been a ‘immediate family only’ funeral. We considered everyone in the organization our family, blood be damned. A private funeral was nearly unheard of–nothing was private around here.
I could only imagine one reason a private funeral was held, that if Danta had perhaps died a dishonourable woman...
“I found one of Toto’s artworks.” I said, voice delicate. “He painted Danta in quite an appalling light. Did she have an affair?”
I knew I had gone too far immediately. Nina’s eyes darkened and she cut me a hard look. Stupid, stupid, I told myself. You’ve gone and ruined your only chance at finding out more about Danta.
“Why are you asking such things?” She demanded. “Danta was an honourable woman.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
Nina laid down her spoon, giving up on her melted dessert. It was now a pool of vanilla. “This topic is morose, Sophia. Let us talk of something happier. How about the wonderful news that Beatrice is expecting? Wouldn’t it be lovely if you had a boy and her a girl?”
“Lovely.” I agreed and did not push the topic of Danta any longer.
Despite not mentioning my mother-in-law again, my thoughts were filled with her. I couldn’t stop contemplating Danta and her actions. Everyone seemed to have a separate opinion, not all entirely flattering.
Maybe when you’re gone, everyone will have an unflattering opinion about you, a small voice whispered in my mind.
I stayed for a few more hours. Nina was always good company, even if she was still tense about me mentioning Danta. She sent me home with a bag of old baby clothes that she had dressed her children in. You can never have too many onesies, she told me.
As I stepped out into the night, I had a sudden intrusive thought. “Nina,” I said. “I heard something alarming the other day.”
“Oh?” She stood in the doorway.
“My husband’s assassino did a job for your husband a few months ago. I assumed it was Outfit business, but Nero told me the other day it was over a woman. Elizabeth Speirs.”
Her entire body paused. “What about it?”
“Why did you ask Nero to...handle her?” Alessandro had said Elizabeth wasn’t assassinated by Nero, but that didn’t mean she was okay.
“My husband required Nero’s assistance.”
“That’s not what Nero implied.” I said. “I’m not angry, merely curious.”
Nina held her chin up high. “You are still young, learning. You may be ambitious and successful, but you do not have decades of experience. There is more going on in the Outfit than you know–in fact, it may take years for you to know all.”
“Will you give me a leg-up by telling me about Elizabeth Speirs?”
“No.” She smiled tightly, her wrinkled cheeks creasing. “Have a good night, Sophia.”
“Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.”
I felt Nina’s intelligent eyes burning holes into my back as I crossed the street. It wasn’t until I was wiping my feet on the doormat that I caught sight of her shutting her front door. My thoughts were filled with Danta and Elizabeth and Nina.
However, my contemplations were quickly thrown out the window when I entered my house. It was a flurry of activity, with Alessandro shouting in the study to Oscuro and Raul scouring the halls. Polpetto was darting furiously through the house, upset by all the noise and chaos.
I beelined for Alessandro’s study and pushed open the door. The room was filled with his men, including Gabriel, Sergio, Nero and Beppe. There were others I recognised but hadn’t assumed they were allied with my husband, like Pasquale Schiavone and Cristian di Traglia.
My husband was standing behind his desk, hand in pocket, on the phone. He had stopped yelling and was now listening furiously to the person on the other end.
His eyes snapped to me immediately as I entered.
The soldati noticed his attention shifting and all heads turned towards me. They took me in with slight surprise, like they had forgotten I lived here.
A protective hand came around my stomach.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing, ma’am–” Someone began but Alessandro cut them off.
“The FBI have shut down our businesses. The Circuit, Nicoletta’s and the speakeasy included. They’re currently trying to get a warrant to search the places.”
“No Chicago judge would dare sign a warrant against us.” I said. “And what do you mean they have shut them down?”
“They’re no longer considered places of business. Their legitimacy is being reviewed and, in the meanwhile, we are not allowed to operate them.” Alessandro’s jaw twitched. “We’ve already lost millions.”
My stomach clenched. Millions? The Outfit might recover from that quickly, but if the FBI held the businesses for any longer, the recovery might become unattainable.
A phone buzzed and a moment later, Gabriel said, tentatively, “Sir, they’ve just frozen all accounts.”
“On what grounds?” Alessandro grounded out. They would’ve frozen the accounts to stop us from fleeing the country.
“The Don, your father, uncle and you are all suspects in the murder of Gavin Gallagher and disappearance of Angus Gallagher.”
The murder investigation wouldn’t make it to trial and if it did, the Rocchettis would be acquitted. We paid the lawyers enough to make sure we were never found guilty of anything. But it was the loss of money that was worrisome. The money would go first, followed by investors and our reputation.
We could be reduced back to the days of a dirt track and making illegal bets over the rusted stock cars.
My sister and her cronies were winning. The thought made my cheeks heat with humiliation and my stomach cramp in embarrassment. First her bomb and now this? Catherine had the upper hand–she was beating us. Even without the damning USBs and documents.
“What are we going to do?” Sergio demanded. “The prisoners have been moved through the tunnels, but the Feds could easily follow those to the safe house. We have hours, maybe, until they do. Warrant be damned.”
I opened my mouth before I could myself. “Give them to me.”
All eyes turned to me. Alessandro drew his phone down, giving me his full attention.
“The businesses.” I added. “Give them to me, put them in my name. I am not under any investigation and they can’t link me to anything. I’m not even a confirmed member of the Outfit. Under my name, they can’t go near those businesses without reasonable cause–which they will lose if I’m in charge.”
Silence.
“It will be temporary, of course. But to save our money, we need to get those businesses back in our care quickly. This is the best way to do it.”
All the men turned to Alessandro, most of their expressions making it clear they thought I was crazy.
Alessandro grinned, teeth flashing like fangs. There was a sliver of pride, of arrogance in his eyes. “I’ll ring my grandfather. We’ll start the paperwork tonight and send you to the bank tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help my own growing smile. “I’ll call Bill. He will make sure that nothing gets tied up in the bureaucracy.”
My husband inclined his head.
I left the room with my head held high.
The next day, I woke up bright and early with the sun. It was already warm by the time I got up, causing my hair to go frizzy. But nothing would dim my good mood, nothing could stop my growing smugness as I readied for the day.
The night before, I had been awarded documents. I had signed maybe a thousand things, until I wasn’t really sure what I was signing any longer. Don Piero and Alessandro had both seemed happy with the plan, but Toto and Salvatore Jr. had seemed unsure and quiet.
I was running low on maternity wear that was comfortable but found a pretty pastel yellow blouse and slimming khakis. I tried to look as business-like as possible, even if my wardrobe was a bit ditzy for a businesswoman.
Alessandro was waiting for me in the hallway. Polpetto ran up to greet him and my husband granted him a single pat and scratch.
“Hugo will meet you at the bank.” He said. “Are you ready?”
“Of course.” I swept my handbag over my shoulder. “Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“To lose your businesses.”
Alessandro slimed slightly. “You have to give them back eventually. This is only temporary.”
“What if I decide to keep them?”
“You’re more than capable of making something of your own. Why would you want to keep some second-hand businesses?”
I huffed and began my descent down the stairs. “I’m considering stealing the Historical Society from Salisbury. What do you think?”
Alessandro followed me down the stairs, my dog by his ankles. “You don’t even like history–and you like the mayor too much to ever do him so dirty.”
“Well, if Ericson wins the election, I might be forced to swap alliances. The poles are head to head right now. It’s going to be a close win.” Oscuro was waiting for me in the foyer, but pretended not to listen to Alessandro and I. “Who would you choose? Salisbury or Ericson?”
“I thought the point of the secret ballot was that I don’t have to tell you.” He mused. “I care little for politics. Who would you choose?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I’m still not sure what my sister’s angle was when she warned me about Ericson and Konstantin Tarkhanov.”
“We could always find out.”
“Oh?”
Alessandro turned to me, his attention overwhelming. “I will set up a meeting with him. Let’s see what the Russian wants.”
My attention spiked. “That’s a good idea. I trust him much more than I trust my sister.”
“The lesser of two evils,” he agreed. “Call me when you’re finished at the bank. I want to know how the meetings go.”
I only smiled in agreement. I couldn’t stop the little slip of smugness, of the ugliness beneath. But Alessandro made no comment. Only kissed my cheek and walked me out to the car.
Chapter Eighteen
The bank was a huge centuries old building with columns lining the front and people in flash suits crowding the steps. Inside was just as grand, with marble floors and paintings of American Wars decorating the ceiling. Vintage couches were bunched together at the front and desks lined up and down, little green Tiffany lamps illuminating them.
People swarmed in out, all of them dressed to utmost perfection. Even the receptionist was flawless, with manicured nails and not a hair out of place. When she spotted me, she smiled politely. I saw a flicker of unease in her expression at the sight of Oscuro, but she didn’t show it–she was much too trained for that.
“Good morning. How can I help you?” She greeted.
“Hello–” I took note of her nametag “–Karen. I’m here for a meeting with Mr. Balboa.”
“Of course.” She tapped her computer and her eyes widened fractionally. She looked up at me, “Mrs. Rocchetti for 9 am?”
“That’s me.” I said warmly. “Is he available?”
Karen shook her head. “Uh, not yet, ma’am. He is finishing up with a client right now. He won’t be long.” She gestured to the array of couches. “Can I get you anything while you wait?”
I scanned the couches and felt a woman catch my attention. “No, thank you.”
Oscuro followed me to the couches, his eyes narrowing as I made my destination clear. It would’ve been polite to pick a place on the chairs that wasn’t taken–social etiquette and all that.
The woman had her golden head stuck into a newspaper and was dressed in a simple button-down and khakis.
“Agent Padovino.” I greeted and sat down next to her. “You look like a cop.”
Catherine folded up the newspaper with ease. “And you, Mrs. Rocchetti, look like a mafia wife.”
“Thank you.” I crossed my legs. “What are you doing here?”
“I need a reason to come to the bank?” She asked.
“This bank is for people not on government salaries.” I mused. “You usually bring your colleagues with you to the bank?”
Both of us flickered our eyes to the other guests at the bank. I recognised one as Agent Tristan Dupont, with his blonde hair and too-bright eyes, but I didn’t recognise the woman beside him. Obviously, an FBI agent, but not one I had encountered before.
“You bring your bodyguards, I bring mine.”
I smiled slightly.
My sister’s eyes fell down to my stomach, round and protruding. “I heard you got caught in a bomb. You okay?”
“I heard you planted a bomb. You okay?”
“Don’t be difficult.” She told me sternly in her big-sister voice. (As a little sister, I would never be able to master the big-sister voice. One of my greater regrets in life). “I’m not here to see you–”
She fell quiet as a stranger passed. As soon as they were gone, she finished her sentence.
“–I’m here for work.”
I made a show of looking at her and her colleagues. “I don’t see any bomb-like objects. Did you leave it in the car?”
“Why are you at the bank? Your family missing some money?” She countered back.
Oscuro had sat on the couch near us and was making his anger at Catherine clear. His brows were furrowed and his mouth set.
I waved him off. Catherine noticed and smiled slightly. “Why would the FBI be interested in a bank? Especially one as prestigious as this.”
