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

by Xavier Neal

  “I did.” Tossing my journal on the nearby rectangular table, I take on a more teasing tone. “Somewhere between you bitching that I’m not eating enough spinach-”

  “You need a proper amount of folate for healthy fetal development!”

  “You know, it’s kind of creepy when you say shit like that,” Miko playfully pokes.

  “Yeah, somewhere after those lectures but before the butt plug removal-”

  “I knew it!” Miko quietly insists.

  “I managed to squeeze it in.”

  Beni’s complexion darkens despite what appears to be his best efforts not to.

  “Oddly enough, crunching numbers in that particular state only turned me on more.”

  My future in-law doesn’t hesitate to chirp, “I have so many questions.”

  “Va via,” Beni snips on a small point of the finger.

  Miko chuckles, abandons his seat, and relocates to one near my friends, who are chatting with Dario.

  Once we’re alone, I’m given a harsh disapproving glare. “Was that appropriate?”

  “Was that so inappropriate you’ll have to punish me for it?”

  “Was that the intention?”

  “And, if it was?”

  “I will push back my first meeting this afternoon to find the time to do just that, Mia Bella.”

  I take a small bite of my bottom lip, and seeing me do so pulls a needy rumble from his throat.

  “The Highland numbers…,” he gives the collar of his navy suit a small adjustment, “were they accurate?”

  “Skewed.”

  His brow pinches together in question.

  “The percentages are higher than those originally indicated.”

  Grumbles of displeasure surface, again.

  “When we arrive at our suite, I can show you where the data is that was ignored to present you with a less…abrasive amount.”

  He eagerly nods. “Please do. I would like to enter the building and the boardroom with as much information as possible.”

  “Information or ammunition?”

  “Non sento la differenza.”

  I don't hear the difference.

  “Of course, you don’t.”

  We exchange a small set of laughs that are followed with an unexpected statement, “I need you to run a cost analysis for a new set of numbers while I’m at the office this afternoon.”

  “Cost analysis for what exactly?”

  “I’ll explain what it is you need to know when I provide you with the files I had pulled.”

  Curiosity tilts my head slightly to one side.

  “I know that you and Cerise have plans to visit the aquarium, so I am not asking you to do it immediately; however, I would like them done before the family’s arrival. I want that time to be devoted to its intention.”

  Our seemingly random trip to Highland is anything but.

  Aside from needing to handle some issues at the branch, there’s a very unique bridal boutique either in the city or right on the outskirts that he made me an appointment at. There’s no pressure for me to find my “dream dress”, and he’s not trying to take the experience of hunting for it away from me – his words – but he believes it’s a great place to start. Apparently, royalty shopped there, so it must be something special. That’s the main reason why we abruptly stole Cerise and Sherrod away from their lives. They both love any excuse to drink and go on vacation, so it wasn’t actually a stretch for them to say yes. Now that I’m in a much better headspace, I look forward to catching up with her. Gossiping. Reconnecting with the only piece of my past I have left. She’s going to tag along with me and Gia – who I invited to come browsing with us all on my own as well as Felia – while Sherrod and the other men not stuck in a boardroom will happily be enjoying an exclusive cigar club.

  The whole wedding dress shopping thing has me more nauseous than our growing baby.

  Maybe it’s because this was never something I spent much time scribbling about.

  There was no push to get married or have kids or pave that path in life from my family. It was always about holding onto joy and making memories.

  Occasionally, getting out more.

  Weddings and everything they entail – dresses, cakes, dancing – never seemed important until I agreed to become a Bennett.

  I’m, honestly, hoping Gia can lend some sort of helpful advice on this avenue, too, because honestly?

  I need it.

  Beni suddenly scoots over on the couch and pats the cushion beside him. “Come.”

  Rather than point out that I am not Tank – who I will miss now that him and Jazzy have been permitted to return to their regular, albeit much richer, lives due to the unexpected bonus my fiancé provided for her services – I, wordlessly, transfer myself to the now empty space.

  One arm stretches along the back while the other lovingly lands on my thigh. “Mamma and Aunt Felia are securing the venue and discussing minor details with the onsite coordinator, but remember – other than the where, which is dictated by tradition, everything is within your power to change, Mia Bella.”

  My expression swiftly softens. “So, if I want a Commodores tribute band…that’s not an issue?”

  “Not at all.”

  “And, if I were to say I want us to ride off in a horse-drawn carriage?”

  “I’d say that’s not even remotely a challenge.”

  I angle my frame in his direction and mischievously smirk. “Uh-huh, and if I want to serve hotdogs at the reception?”

  He noticeably dry heaves.

  “Oh, is that a problem?”

  Beni takes a deep breath, banishes his obvious hatred, and slowly shakes his head. “No. If that is…truly what you want, then you shall have it.”

  His over-the-top efforts to please me receive a sweet smile.

  “You will want for nothing on our wedding day, Mia Bella. Questa è la mia parola.”

  That is my word.

  The purred proclamation pushes my fingers to glide across his lap. “What about what I want now?”

  There’s no denying the stirring against my palm.

  “Can I have it?”

  Gruffness grows in his voice. “Non è l'idea migliore.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a yes…” I flex my fingers around his hardening length. “I didn’t hear the word ‘sì’ at all.”

  A low groan is given as his body struggles to remain still. “Not the best idea.”

  My fingers inch up to his black belt at the same time I counter, “But not the worst.”

  “Mia Bella.”

  “Yes…,” the strap is slipped through the loop, “Sir?”

  His inability to resist hearing the term works in my favor. In one lightning-fast motion, his grip abandons my leg for my throat. It curls yet doesn’t apply pressure. Cutting off my ability to breathe is not acceptable play during pregnancy, but the rough nature of holding me by the neck in place is.

  Beni’s eyes bore into mine during his volume’s descent. “I don’t want to share your screams, Mia Bella; therefore, I will put something in your mouth to keep you quiet.”

  I can’t stop myself from panting.

  “Slaccia la cintura.”

  Unbuckle my belt.

  My fingers that were previously moving at a leisurely pace suddenly execute the instruction briskly.

  “La cerniera.”

  The zipper.

  His next order is promptly followed.

  “Portami fuori.”

  Take me out.

  I mindlessly whimper, and the sound has him growling in return. “I love being able to feel it almost as much as I love being able to hear it.” Beni’s face leans closer to mine, presenting a dark, delicious new weight to his words. “I expect to feel it on my cock, Mia Bella.” He yanks me closer so that his lips can feather mine. “È capito?”

  Is that understood?

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He takes a hard bite of my bottom lip eliciting me to whimper again. “In
Italiano.”

  “Si, Signore.”

  His boorish rumbles rattle us both.

  Removing his cock from its confines isn’t always an easy task on its own, but it’s infinitely harder when you’re only working by touch and your movements are somewhat restrained. The instant I can fully grasp it is the same one I am forced down it. Any additional air isn’t allotted passage prior to the tip of his dick tickling the back of my throat.

  Beni releases a whispered bark, “Fuck!”

  Per his command, I whine around the invasion. The vibrations receive rounds of new grumbles that are proceeded by his fingers latching onto my locks. His grip is delightfully harsh. His tugging heavenly. Spit slides down his shaft, soaking every inch it crosses, making every suctioned stroke smoother. Swifter. My lips repeatedly brush his balls that bounce their direction during every hard thrust of Beni’s hips. He holds my head steady, on a clear mission to mercilessly fuck my face. I struggle to keep my throat relaxed enough for easy access and oxygen in my system. His dick ferociously darts through the territory, feeding me random drops of precum to be rewarded by the sweet sounds of my surrender. Tears prick the corners of my eyes each time his cock dives deeper, chasing the ceaseless contractions it’s causing. Soreness from savagely sucking begins to settle into my cheeks, yet I don’t insist on slowing down my actions.

  Or his actions.

  I simply maintain my clasp and continue to meet the ferocious jerking.

  “Così buono,” Beni grunts, heaves transitioning to match his choppy breathing. “So very fucking good, Mia Bella.”

  Praise prompts more whimpering.

  More whimpering adds more intensity.

  Additional intensity spurs more praise.

  Our carnal cycle is accompanied by drool and tears, by scratches and muffled cries. His huffs are tangled with his groans, and his moans are trampled by his trembles. In spite of being the one bent over and seemingly subdued, the truth of the matter is, I am the one with all the control. It’s my mouth that can make or break him.

  My sounds.

  My force.

  My speed.

  Empowerment propels me to push him just past the brink. I cease my movements, trapping him in my throat, and release a long, loud moan. The combination of pulses and pressure and inability to retreat due to my nails anchoring into his thighs causes my fiancé to cave to the overwhelming sensations he has no escape from.

  “Ingoiare,” he airily grunts as his cock twitches uncontrollably, “fucking swallow.”

  Scorching spurts clog the area in rapid succession. I frantically guzzle down every single drop I can, pride pushing me to pursue whatever appears to have gotten away. Our inevitable parting matches the abruptness of our starting, and our collapsing nature is mirrored by one another. His head flops on his extended arm while my face lands near the back of his leg. We race to steady our uneven breathing between aftershocks and long leering.

  Eventually, Beni tucks my hair behind my ear, thumbs away the drop that’s lingering on the corner of my lips, and coos, “I love you, Mia Bella.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “In italiano, per favore.”

  “Ti amo, Benicio.”

  “Ti amo anch'io…” He lets another wider but weary smile crawl onto his sex-dazed face. “Ti amo così tanto che mi spaventa.”

  I love you so much, it scares me.

  My fiancé doesn’t request I repeat the phrase.

  He doesn’t search for any sort of reciprocation.

  He merely keeps pushing loose strands away from my cheek.

  Continues to softly stroke the side of my face.

  Stares adoringly at me like he has the whole world in the palm of his hand.

  This is all that matters to me when it comes to our wedding.

  This look…this loving feeling…this completeness is the only thing I want for that day.

  And, I have no doubt he’s going to deliver it in spades.

  Chapter 17

  I swipe to the left on the screen of the tablet in front of me silently amused by the amount of rising tension in the room.

  One member of security – Miko – is customary.

  Most branches are as familiar with his face as they are mine.

  However, two members it seems is cause for alarm and safety issue speculation.

  They don’t need to know the truth is that my current second insisted on bringing in his replacement to train him on this aspect of being at my side. Just like they don’t need to know I was opposed to the idea but somehow overruled. They don’t need to know that, all too soon, Miko’s face will just be a faint memory for most and Dario’s presence is the only one they remember until their retirement parties.

  None of that information is relevant at this time, unlike how impressed I am regarding his performance thus far.

  He arrived at our Frost Luxury Hotel suite early.

  He was dressed impeccably. Suit wasn’t flashy, yet expensive.

  He had the right coffee in his hands – Caffè Americano – for the type of morning that was in store for me.

  And, as if someone had given him personal tips on non-textbook ways to receive added approval, he also brought my crabby fiancée an ice-cold orange juice, that promptly lifted her mood, and my cousin two cream cheese everything bagels, that successfully kept him from griping about the status of lunch right until the six minutes before its arrival.

  Dario has remained silent and watchful during every meeting he’s attended, yet didn’t hesitate to ask for elaboration regarding what should be in his wheelhouse of concern and what shouldn’t after they were over.

  I expected Miko’s “everything” answer to instill frustration or fear.

  It didn’t.

  He merely retrieved his phone to start taking notes.

  The refusal to admit it out loud remains, but my cousin has definitely chosen wisely for his successor, something he’s completely accepted despite the fact Chantal and I are still struggling with it.

  She dismissed herself to break into tears in the bathroom when a cheese basket from Shay arrived with sentiments about seeing him.

  It was obvious he didn’t like the pain it brought yet was excited she’s eagerly anticipating his arrival.

  My eyes scan the new document on the screen for the highlighted information at the same time I state, “Mr. Blair, perhaps, you should stop scrutinizing my travel associates and start explaining why I was provided skewed statistics that have me convinced I should fire everyone in this room.” When there’s no response, I cut my eyes to meet that of the black-haired male staring at me from the opposite end of the conference table. “This is the part of the meeting where you present me with an answer before I have security escort you off the premises for wasting my fucking patience.”

  “I-I-I,” George Blair struggles to retort. “I uh…What um…I…I-I-I-”

  “Pick a lane, Mr. Blair. Either stutter or stumble. Do not do both.”

  His mouth bobs in a silent response.

  “The Highland branch of Bennett Enterprises is the fourth largest in the country, so naturally speaking, given your massive size, your percentages on certain subjects are allowed a range of respectable leeway – if you will – when it comes to evaluating your data.” I don’t bother sweeping my eyes around the room. They don’t belong on anyone else just yet. “This fact was reflected by the information you had your team furnish me; however, what you had sent to me, what you’ve been having sent to me, are lies.”

  He slams his mouth shut.

  “There are lawsuits and litigations just waiting for the person whose morality can’t be bought off with money to come forth and speak on behalf of all of those that could.”

  His eyes start to lower to the table in guilt.

  “Look elsewhere and I will have one of my associates remove you from the room by the collar of your Armani jacket.”

  The words force his stare to stay with mine.

  “Sexual harassment c
ases are not only expected in a workforce this size, they are inevitable. Someone, somewhere, at some point does not feel comfortable with something. There’s no way around it. Measures are put in place to prevent this from happening as often as it can, yet things happen. People are fallible creatures. I understand this. I accept this. I have restructured the systems that were in place to protect this company on the highest level possible from such backlash and allegations. So, imagine my indignation to discover that not only has your branch been jeopardizing that very system by sweeping allegations under the rug or away with hundred-dollar bills, you’ve been providing me with false data in order to keep me convinced everything was working as it should be.” I lean back casually in my seat and fold my hands together. “Not only are the harassment numbers three times higher than any other fucking branch globally – that means around the world Mr. Blair – they are from both men and women almost equally. I would be intrigued if I wasn’t utterly disgusted.”

  “Mr. Bennett-”

  “I did not ask for your input, Mr. Blair, and your opportunity to provide that has long passed.”

  He seals his lips shut again.

  “I had a non-branch member pull your raw personnel reports – the ones you didn’t allow Miriam to send that she kept a record of regardless, which was good for her since it saved her job – and then had another unconnected, highly valued member run the data against that of which had been being given to me. I was both insulted and impressed you have managed to keep this going as long as you have.”

  George fidgets in obvious nervousness.

  “I took the time yesterday to talk to the employees – who are still employed – about their complaints and concerns to evaluate and verify if, perhaps, they were a ploy for a payoff – the case for three – or if there was actual merit – the rest.” At that, I allow my gaze to glimpse around the table. “You should all consider thanking whoever it is you worship that your asses are still in the seats that they are instead of black-balled and broke for the crippling crisis you put this branch and my company in.”

  Their faces pale and scrunch in rightful worry.

  “Here’s what’s happening,” I casually announce on another swipe of the tablet. “Every employee whose complaint was ignored and could be validated are being offered a transfer – at no cost to them – or a glowing recommendation to another company within my vast reach.” My finger points to George. “Your salary will pay for those transfer fees. Your non-existent severance package and any investment capital you had put into the company will provide help if needed. Violating company policies and procedures invalidates your shares into it. I suggest you take what is allowed to be taken from your office, which isn’t much, and move to another country or maybe an island in the middle of nowhere to sell fucking coconuts, because you will never work in these states again.”