Dark Reign (The Bennett Duet #2): A Dark Mafia Romance

by Xavier Neal

  When I don’t respond to his asinine accusation, he makes a rounding hand motion in front of him to help illustrate his idiotic question. “Hm?”

  His humor digs deep, damn near reaching the ability to grin that I buried. “I don’t recall there being any requirement for you to be breathing on your own when you are to be temporarily loaned into Shay’s ownership.”

  “We’re calling twenty-five years temporary?” He lightly laughs as our walk continues. “What are you gonna do next? Call your woman’s stomach your child’s temporary deluxe apartment?”

  More urges to smirk emerge.

  “Speaking of breathing…you think Shay’s into that shit?”

  “Breathing?”

  “Autoerotic asphyxiation.”

  Our arrival back to the main estate is quicker than anticipated. My cousin reaches for the door handle at the same time I bluntly remark, “She is lust incarnate, Miko. Depravity, debauchery, debasement are welcomed with open arms and mouths under that roof.”

  “Stai cercando di spaventarmi o di attirarmi?”

  Are you trying to scare me or entice me?

  “I am trying to warn you, idiota.” I momentarily halt my movements. “There are reasons I have not dipped you into that ocean of sin. There are reasons we do not attend those nights. It is not because we do not have an invitation. As Bennetts-”

  “Tritelli,” he points inward.

  “-we have a permanent invite to all of the fleshliness an individual can imagine and some that we struggle to fathom. Her home is equally a sexual haven as it is a hell.” A firm finger is made and pointed. “The sooner you come to terms that your servitude will not be a fun, sex-filled sabbatical, and that you signed a contract to be a slave in a situation most do not mentally or physically survive, the sooner I will have one less thing to worry about.”

  “I knew you were worried about leaving her.”

  I don’t even waste the energy pretending I’m surprised he’s choosing to ignore my warning. “Ovviamente sono preoccupato.”

  Of course, I'm worried.

  “How could I fucking not be?!”

  “Because she’ll be here with famiglia. No safer place or people in our absence.”

  My mouth twitches to argue when he interrupts.

  “We learned what has made us the best from them. We grew from their guidance. It’s their foundation we stand on.” His hands plop down on my white dress shirt shoulders. “Trust them, Beni. They haven’t done anything to deserve the disrespect you’re preemptively delivering.”

  I want to explain that it isn’t about them.

  It’s about the frail woman I tucked in.

  It’s about her falling deeper back into a hole I’m running out of rope to pull her out of.

  I want to scream that this is all taxing on her, that the strain of stress could become too much at some point costing me my heir…my child as much as it could my fiancée.

  I want to shout I’m tired and exhausted and am starting to forget which way is up.

  That I’m starting to wonder if maybe…just maybe…Mamma is wrong, and Father was right.

  Perhaps being in love weakens you.

  Wears on your patience.

  Your emotions.

  Your sanity.

  It breaks you down until you’re curled into a ball, trembling and barely left breathing – like a bear being poisoned by a rotten fish he believed to be a blessing in his moment of starvation.

  Labeling love as a curse rather than a blessing seems accurate at this point in my life.

  “Pardon me, Master Bennett,” Walter politely interrupts. “The…guests have arrived.”

  Excitement immediately kicks into Miko’s expression at the same time he drops his hands. “Don’t let them hear you call them that.”

  Walter looks unamused by the teasing.

  “They were just the masters and misses not that long ago.” He heads for the front of the estate on a continued ramble, “Or mistresses…or ladies…or…sirs…or…”

  “All accommodations have been made, Master Bennett. Your bags, as well as Mr. Tritelli’s, are waiting by the door.”

  “Thank you, Walter.”

  The lead of my household staff tips his head respectfully at me and dismisses himself from my presence.

  By the time I arrive at the front door, I’ve missed the initial greetings yet manage to catch the chastising Uncle Gianozzo always does of his only child. “What is this shit on your face? Hm?” His hand playfully pats Miko’s cheek. “Benicio not pay you enough to afford a decent razor?”

  My cousin chuckles off the comment. “He’s supposed to pay me?”

  “Perhaps I might if you were to do actual work around here.”

  His jaw drops in surprise at my retort while Aunt Felia crosses the foyer to plant kisses on my cheeks. “Sapevi che il mio bambino era pigro quando l'hai assunto.”

  You knew my baby boy was lazy when you hired him.

  “Lazy?” Her son scoffs as his mother gives me a loving tap on the nose, the same way she has since I was boy. “Mamma, did you really just call me lazy?”

  “And, a horrible listener too,” I teasingly add.

  Aunt Felia flips her blonde hair over her shoulder and sighs, “He gets that from his father.”

  Uncle Gianozzo shoots her an unhappy glower. “Veramente?”

  Really?

  “Sì,” she sassily states in return.

  Rather than let their petty squabbles begin, I politely redirect the conversation, “Mamma and Antonio, Antonio’s old room has been prepared for your stay. Uncle Gianozzo-”

  “We remember where our old room is.”

  “Yes, but you will actually be staying in the opposite wing.”

  His face scrunches in surprise.

  “Opposite ends of the main estate will allow you two to cover and patrol territory in an ideally efficient nature,” Miko professionally explains. “While I trust the men I’ve trained and hired, I trust the men we share blood with more. You are more useful spread out than together. It would be stupid to keep all my most powerful weapons in the same place.”

  An impressed expression slides onto his father’s face. “Si, signore.”

  I motion my hand towards the waiting household member. “Walter will show you to your quarters.”

  My aunt and uncle bid us both goodbye with promises of seeing us in a few days. Once they’re out of his sight, Miko grabs our bags on an announcement that he’s going to grab a quick smoke and meet me out by the car.

  The door has barely finished shutting before Mamma gets a twinkle in her that I find unsettling. I instantly shake my head and fold my hands behind my back. “Chantal is not to be disturbed before morning, Mamma.”

  An innocent gaze attempts to grow. “Ti capisco.”

  “You are not to meet her without Dario making the introduction.”

  “Ti capisco.”

  “She does not do well with unknown faces.”

  “Ti capisco.”

  “I know you understand me, but are you listening to me?”

  Her smile shoves more concern into place. Instead of acknowledging my words or allowing me to scold her further, she crosses the gap, plants a kiss on my cheek, and quietly coos, “Stai al sicuro, figlio mio.”

  Be safe, my son.

  “That’s a no, isn’t it?” I grumble under my breath as I turn to an amused Antonio.

  He lightly chortles and gives me a small shrug. “You’ve met her.”

  I have.

  Even pre-Father’s death she had a bit of a fierce attitude out of his sight.

  His death only liberated her more.

  Can’t imagine Antonio trying to tame that side of her down.

  He always seemed to enjoy that she had a fight in her.

  Similar to the way Miko is entertained by the fight in Chantal.

  Or…the one that used to be in her.

  “Antonio-”

  “Enough, Benicio.” The firm nature in which he
states my name feels fatherly. “You will not survive if you step outside like this.”

  My entire body stiffens.

  “You will end up buried next to your father, leaving your Mamma to hold your pregnant wife as she grieves for losing another man in her life, while your second is left with an empire he is in no way prepared to control.”

  Guilt causes me to momentarily glance away.

  Fairly certain at that point, Shay would just absorb my empire into hers rather than create an unnecessary power vacuum.

  “I understand the severity of the situation. I understand the increasing difficulty to not only have to hunt but to, simultaneously, protect your own from being hunted. I understand the fear that festers yet is not allowed to show its face. Dread haunts you and worry consumes you. Believe it or not, Benicio, these are normal things for a man in your position.”

  My brow pierces together in question.

  “Your father was just better at hiding it than you.”

  There’s no stopping my mouth from lowering.

  “He had years of practice before life did to him what it’s trying to do to you.”

  Bewilderment crashes into questions leaving me reeling.

  “He may not have been in love, but it didn’t stop him from going toe to toe for it. It didn’t stop him from doing whatever it took to make sure the world knew his family was not to be touched.” Antonio’s head dips slightly forward. “That he was not to be touched.”

  His words whisper to the whirling worry to shut the fuck up.

  To stand taller.

  Remember I am stronger than the weight bearing down on me.

  “Get your mind in order before you walk out that door, otherwise you won’t walk back through it.”

  A single nod is given.

  “I’ll take care of this place in your absence.” He starts to smirk, and it’s easy to find reassurance in it. “It’ll be like riding a bicicletta, except I won’t have to wonder what trouble you and your cousin have gotten into that I may need to get you out of.” As soon as he sees a smile touch my lips he teases, “Nowadays, it’s Giavanna and Felia I have to get out of situations. There are a few bars back home they are no longer welcomed in.”

  I don’t bother hiding my laugh.

  “Sì. I imagine whatever damage they do around this place will be more than manageable. And you are more forgiving about broken furniture.”

  More chuckles bounce my shoulders.

  “You have my word, Benicio. Chantal will be as safe as il mio cuore.”

  My heart.

  The term he’s always used for my mother.

  A sense of true alleviation appears, and I desperately attach myself to it.

  This moment in life will not get the better of me.

  Or us.

  We will do what it is a Bennett does.

  We will rise to the occasion, reestablish dominance, and remind the world why it is they bow to us the way that they do.

  Chantal may not be an official Bennett yet, but she possesses everything that defines us as one.

  She’ll find her footing.

  I have to stop doubting that she will.

  In the meantime, however, I have a nickname I am more than ready to live up to.

  Chapter 12

  Tears creep down my cheeks in between hiccups. “It…It…hurts.”

  Aunt Cleo makes an effort to touch it, but flinches away when I cry out in pain.

  “This is the shit I’m coming home to?” Daddy’s voice playfully says, taking us both by surprise. “You abusing my kid?”

  “Oh, stop it,” she immediately scolds.

  “Daddy!” I squeak in excitement and start to stand.

  “Scribbles!” He calls out at the same time he swoops me upward.

  My arms curl around his neck as tight as possible.

  I hate having to let go.

  I hate that he leaves for a long, long time and doesn’t come home to tuck me into bed every night. Uncle Lucius doesn’t come home every night either. They both say they’re fighting for the country.

  I don’t really know what that means – other than me and Aunt Cleo spend a lot of time together.

  I love my Aunt Cleo.

  She’s basically my mom.

  I always make her Mother’s Day cards and give her Mother’s Day gifts, so I’m pretty sure she is my mom.

  “You’re home earlier than I was expecting,” Aunt Cleo states slowly. “Something happen?”

  “Change of orders.”

  “Again?”

  He nods his head before leaning back to look me in the eyes.

  Our eyes match.

  I like that.

  Aunt Cleo says our eyebrows do, too.

  I don’t like that.

  His look like caterpillars.

  “What do you say Daddy puts a Band-Aid on that boo boo, Scribbles?”

  My bottom lip quickly pokes out. “Please?”

  “You didn’t have to break out the big guns, Scribbles,” he lightly laughs while carrying me from the sidewalk to the house. “The big crocodile tears were enough. The bottom lip is overkill.”

  I know what overkill means.

  I don’t think most kids I know do.

  On our way through the living room for the hallway that will take us to our bathroom, he pretends like he’s gonna drop me, “You’re getting too heavy, Scribbles. Daddy’s arms can’t handle this much weight.”

  My head quickly shakes. “You’re being silly.”

  “I am,” he immediately admits, turning left into the bathroom. “That’s what daddies do. We’re silly to make you smile and mean to scare off boys.”

  That last thing is true.

  None of the boys in the neighborhood will play with me if they know he or my uncle Lucius are home.

  Daddy sits me down on the counter and bends down to dig underneath the sink. It doesn’t matter that my knee still hurts or that I can see blood smeared.

  My daddy’s home!

  That can make any pain go away.

  “Alright,” Daddy starts when he stands back up again, “we’ve got Dark Wing Duck or Animaniacs.”

  “Animaniacs, please!”

  “Yeah, I figured Dark Wing was a long shot,” he mumbles and places that box in the empty space on the other side of the counter.

  With a smile on my face, I watch him grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls, which are not for cleaning up spilled nail polish I learned last weekend.

  The cold liquid immediately burns the second it touches my skin. Hissing noises and wild waving hands are given to express how much I don’t like it. “It’s burns, Daddy! Why does it burn?”

  “Well, Scribbles, the alcohol doesn’t actually burn you,” he begins while wiping the blood away. “The chemical itself simply activates the same mental response in your body that you would get from something being physically hot.”

  My lips pull to one side for a moment. “Weird.”

  “Science can definitely be that…”

  I smile big, again.

  I like that I can ask questions and get what they say are “real” answers.

  I was a little sad to find out we don’t get chocolate milk from brown cows.

  “You got this from falling off your bike?” Daddy asks while removing a Band-Aid from the box.

  I slowly nod in sadness.

  “Sidewalk gotcha good…”

  There’s no stopping the tears that start to sting my eyes again. “It hurt a lot.”

  “I bet.” He stops his action to look up into my eyes. “You fell off without those training wheels to help you stay up.”

  I nod slowly a second time.

  “You like numbers, right Scribbles?”

  “I love them!”

  “Okay, well, when you fall, Scribbles, you have two choices. Show me two.”

  My hand flies up to show him that number of fingers.

  “Hm…show me six.”

  I quickly expand my hand so he can see
all five and then lift the other to show one more.

  “You are really smart for a six-year-old.”

  “You’re being silly again, Daddy. Everyone can count!”

  “I don’t know…have you seen your Uncle Lucius count slices of pizza?”

  We laugh together loudly.

  “Alright, Scribbles, show me two, again.”

  Instantly, I do.

  “When you fall down you have two choices. You can stay down, or you can get back up. If you stay down, you’re going to get hurt again. Someone could come along and step on you. Or, kick you. Or, run you over on their bike. The only thing that can happen is you get hurt more. How many fingers is that?”

  “Only means…one.” I show him the answer with my hand.

  “Correct. But when you get back up…you can walk away. Or, run away. Or, try again. Or, ask for help. How many choices is that?” He repeats them while straightening fingers to assist in his counting. Once he’s finished, he asks, “Is that more or less choices?”

  “More!”

  Daddy smiles wide. “Exactly. You’ll always have more choices if you choose to stand back up when you get knocked down, Scribbles. No matter how hard you fall. No matter how much pain you’re in. You will always have more by getting up instead of staying down. Remember, numbers don’t lie.”

  It’s hard not to smile at the numbers sentence.

  He promptly places the bandage on and hits me with another happy face. “You wanna go get the taffy Daddy has in his backpack?”

  “Yeah!”

  More laughter comes from him as he lifts me back into his arms.

  Daddy starts pretending I’m heavy again, and I let him.

  I like when he’s silly.

  I miss him when he’s not around to be silly with.

  I miss him.

  The thought that there will now never be a time where I won’t miss him – just like Aunt Cleo and Uncle Lucius – is what has me rolling over the opposite direction and coming face-to-face with a strange woman beaming down at me.

  She says absolutely nothing.

  Just continues to stare.

  Smile.

  Let’s me drink in her startlingly young face, dark features, and the irresistible air around her. It’s almost like looking at an old Hollywood photo. She possesses the slenderness that was the standard. The sleekness that was preferred. Lips perfect for pouting or pursing to kiss. Her flawless complexion would be easy to glam up, or not at all, making her an extremely rare form of beauty.