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1
ALLEGRA
My eyes widen. “What do you mean, Rocco Moretti is coming to the meet?” I demanded to know. Not many women in thefamigliacould ask that kind of question without backlash, but things were different for me. I’m my father’s only child, and therefore I’ll be inheriting the Rossi family business. My father had always treated me like an equal, and that didn’t change once I became an adult.
“He’s back in town, it seems,” my father said casually. He didn’t know my history with Rocco because I’d kept it to myself…especially after how he left 10 years ago. Even though my father treated me well and like his equal, he was protective, and so when it came to my love life, I kept things under wraps for the most part. He knew I dated, of course, but I didn’t usually let things get serious, so my beaus never met my father. That actually worked out fine, because as a rule I didn'tdorelationships. Especially with wiseguys. There was too much baggage.
Rocco Moretti, on the other hand? That had been different. That had been something. I thought it had been something real. But I was wrong about that, and I wasn’t usually wrong. I took in a deep breath through my nostrils, trying to calm my racing heart. “What business does he have at the meet?”
My father’s best friend and right-hand man, Nico, shrugged. “He’s back in town,” he repeated, like it was simple. Sometimes I didn’t like the way Nico talked to me, like I was a little kid.
I huffed out a breath. “So he wants to get his fingers back into all the pies we’ve been baking while he’s been gone. We’re not giving up any of our territory.” I glared at Nico.
My father chuckled. “Allegra, honey, you’re not thecapoyet,” he said gently, reaching over the desk to pat my hand. I smiled at him weakly. I suppose he was right. It was his decision whether to give some of our territory to Rocco Moretti, but I was against it and at least I’d voiced my concerns.
“But you don’t have to worry,” he told me. “He doesn’t want any territory. He’s working for the Gallos and they’ve always been a goodfamiglia. They like to work together with the rest of us, instead of against us.”
I blinked. “He’s working for the Gallos again?” Last I heard, Rocco wanted to go out on his own. He didn’t get along with Ricardo Gallo, who stood to inherit the business. Of course, it was hard to get along with Ricardo, to Rocco’s credit. Ricardo was only twenty-five and a real asshole by anyone’s account. Although the Gallos had been at times business rivals to us, Enzo and my father had always gotten along. I couldn’t say the same for Ricardo.
My father nodded. “He’s come back specifically for Enzo.”
“Ah,” I hummed. I had heard that Enzo Gallo was sick, but I didn’t know if the rumors were true. If he truly was ill, it made sense why Rocco had come back. My heart dropped, and I wasn’t sure why. Was some part of me hoping Rocco had come back for me? If so, that was ridiculous, and I needed to push it out of my mind. Rocco probably hadn’t even given me a second thought.
“Why are you so upset about Rocco coming back, anyway?” Nico asked.
I opened my mouth to tell him it was none of his damn business, but my father answered for me. “He’s one of her old beaus,” he said in a teasing tone, and I looked at him, my mouth dropping open in surprise.
“I never told you that,” I mumbled, my cheeks heating up.
“A father knows these kinds of things,” he commented, smiling at me. I was glad my father and I had a close relationship, but sometimes it was annoying how he could read my moods, my thoughts.
“I just don’t like exes working for a rival family,” I said, trying to breathe deeply and keep my heart from racing.
“The Gallos aren’t exactly rivals,” my father said, and I quirked an eyebrow.
“Aren’t they?”
My father shrugged. “Where’s little man?” he asked, and I knew that meant the conversation was finished.
“Doing his schoolwork,” I said, a warning in my tone. I knew that my father spoiled Matteo, and I didn’t want him to end up being like Ricardo Gallo because of it.
“Ah, you work him too hard,” my father complained, and I wanted to roll my eyes but restrained myself. I always tried to be respectful to my father. He’d done a lot for me, especially after Matteo was born. Becoming a mother had been an unexpected thing for me, and I hadn’t known what to do. I told my father it was a one-night-stand, and he thankfully didn’t ask any questions. I didn’t ever plan on telling him (or anyone) who Matteo’s true father was. It was no one’s business but mine, after all.
“I’ll go check in on him,” I said to appease my father, and I walked toward the back of the house into Matteo’s bedroom, which was upstairs in the left wing. We kept Matteo there for a reason—I didn’t want him to know the ins and outs of the lifestyle he was growing up in. Sure, you could say I grew up knowing everything and turned out fine, but it’s different when you have a kid without a father. I have to be both mother and father to him, and while of course his grandfather helps, the parenting part lands on me. I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“How’s it going, kiddo?” I asked, walking in his room and ruffling his hair.
Matteo smiled up at me. Sometimes he looked so much like his father it made my heart ache. “Pretty good. I’m getting the spelling part down,” he said.
My precocious baby was only nine years old and already top of his class. I homeschooled him, but he was up against several students in his online classes, and he was doing so well.
“Proud of you, Matty,” I told him, leaning down to kiss the crown of his head. “Papa wants to see you when you’re done.”
Matteo’s eyes lit up. “Can I go into his office, Mama?”
I groaned. “I don’t know about that. You know I don’t like you in there.”
“Please, Mama?” he pleaded, looking up at me with familiar green eyes.
