Condemned to Love: 

by Davis, Siobhan

  But I can’t expect miracles.

  And I know he can’t change the man he is now.

  Loving Ben means loving all parts of him. I have already accepted that. Now it’s time to fully embrace what that means.

  43

  SIERRA

  “In the interest of transparency, and so you know I’m sincere, let me update you on a few things,” Ben says.

  I smile, finally relaxing, because he is making the effort, and I cannot ask for more than that. “I’m listening.”

  “The Russians have been at war with us for years, but in recent times, they appear to be getting their act together. They coordinated an attack on Vegas, one of our strongholds, and yanked it out of Salerno’s hands with no warning.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “He was betrayed by his underboss. Gambini sold Salerno out.”

  “Why? Isn’t loyalty and honor at the core of everything the mafia is about?”

  “Gambini has some Russian blood, on his mother’s side. It was distant but enough for the Russians to reach out to him with an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

  “Wow. I’m betting that pissed Salerno off.” I sit up straight. “Wait! He was in Vegas that night, wasn’t he? He was the big brute of a guy with the scary eyes.”

  “That’s him. He’s lording over things in Vegas now. Thinking he’s King Big Dick. I can’t wait to wipe the smug smile off his face.”

  “You’re going to war with the Russians?” I surmise, as nausea swells in my gut.

  “We have no choice. We can’t lose Vegas. This is the very reason The Commission was reestablished. We need to show a united front or else The Commission is only a smokescreen to hide behind. If the Russians see that, they will keep attacking.”

  He drags a hand through his hair, and I see the stark worry on his features. “Turn around,” I demand, spreading my legs wide. He settles between my thighs without question, his back to my chest. “You’re so tense,” I supply when my hands land on his rigid shoulders.

  “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. We received word of an imminent attack on Philly, so we’ve sent men there. We are all on edge waiting for it to happen. I’m also frustrated that we have no leads on Lucille. I need to find that bitch to eliminate the threat against you and Rowan. And to top it off, The Outfit is stalling now.”

  “Why? I thought you said they were on board and ready to join The Commission?” At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what he told me the last time we talked about Chicago.

  “So did we. But it’s that bastard DeLuca throwing a wrench in the works again.”

  “That’s the big mysterious boss man who lives in Sicily?”

  “Yeah, and it seems he’s as opposed to The Commission as he was the last time around.”

  “How much damage will it cause if they don’t join?”

  “Chicago is the second biggest Italian mafia territory in the US. If they back out, it might force others to reconsider. We can’t have them on the outside. Especially not now.” Frustration seeps from his tone. “I can’t fathom it. The Russian threat is real, and they aren’t our only enemies. If it’s known The Outfit is an isolated unit, they are likely to be attacked, so it makes no sense. They should want to unite. I don’t understand what is holding DeLuca back.”

  I knead the tight muscles of his shoulders and upper back, wanting to erase the strain in his tissues.

  “Fuck, that feels so good. Your hands are magic.”

  “I can give you a massage or do some acupuncture, if you like? It would help.”

  “A massage sounds wonderful.” He hops up, pinning me with a heated look that makes his intentions perfectly clear. “You can take care of me, and then I’m taking care of you.” He swoops in, scooping me up into his arms, and I giggle.

  “You won’t hear any complaints from me!”

  * * *

  “You are spoiling me,” I say as Ben holds out a chair for me. I have missed him so much this week. Rowan has too. And I’m glad he made it back last night for my birthday weekend. I can’t believe he has gone to this much trouble or that he pulled it off right under my nose.

  The rooftop has been transformed, and it’s like a magical fantasy land. An enclosed marquee and several freestanding heaters keep the space warm. Copious bunches of flowers surround the circular table in the middle of the area, scenting the room beautifully. The table is set with crisp linens and the most expensive silverware. A large candelabra sends flickering light against the sides of the marquee, giving the entire setting an old-school romantic feel.

  “It’s your birthday, and I love spoiling you.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ve a lot of lost time to make up for.”

  I love this romantic side to my man. Things are better than ever between us since we cleared the air last weekend. He calls every day to speak to me and Rowan, and he has made a big effort to tell me about his day, letting me know what is going on in his world. Flowers have arrived daily, along with more cupcakes, and if he keeps this up, I will have enough to open a florist shop.

  I’m glad we resolved things and that our relationship is back on track. Ben explained there was one other thing he was keeping from me but he needed to have a conversation with someone else first. He promised he would update me as soon as he could. I’m curious as to what it is, but I’m placing my trust in him, so I’ve put it out of my mind for now.

  My long red silk gown swishes against my body as I sit, and I’m glad I took his instructions to dress up seriously. Natalia arrived unexpectedly this afternoon, and she helped to style my hair in smooth glossy waves and to apply a full face of makeup that looks subtle despite how heavy it feels. She is babysitting Rowan while we are indulging ourselves on the roof. Not that there is a need for it as Alesso would have been happy to read him his bedtime story. I think Natalia wants to visit more often now Angelo’s days are numbered, and I can understand that.

  Ben pours two glasses of Cristal Champagne, handing one to me before he takes his seat. “To us,” he says.

  I clink my glass against his. “To the future.”

  We chat casually over a sumptuous dinner handed to us by a few of his trusted staff, sneaking kisses in between courses and more glasses of champagne.

  “Oh my God.” I rub a hand over my belly. “I’m not sure I can fit dessert in. If I eat any more, I might burst.”

  “We can share,” he says, handing one of the plates back to the waitress. “That will be all, Miranda. We would like privacy now.” He slides the plate of decadent chocolate cake in between us, as his staff slips out of the marquee, leaving us entirely alone.

  “Open,” he says, raising a forkful of cake to my mouth.

  I let him slip the delicious cake into my mouth, groaning as my tastebuds explode with the rich, spicy, chocolatey goodness. “Damn, that’s good,” I say, when I’ve finished eating, fluttering my eyelashes at him. “Almost as good as sex.”

  “That had better be a joke,” he growls, fidgeting in his seat.

  I lean in, brushing my chocolate-coated lips against his mouth. “You know it is.” Warmth creeps up my neck, plopping onto my cheeks, as I recall our nocturnal activities last night.

  Sex with Ben just keeps getting better and better, and I’m insatiable for him. Did I mention how fuckable he looks in his black Prada tux? Or how edible he is with that sexy layer of scruff on his face and his dark hair tumbling in silky waves over his brow, demanding to be touched? “On that note,” I add, rubbing my hand up and down his thigh over his pants. “Why don’t we skip the cake, and you can have me for dessert?”

  “Hold that thought,” he says, suddenly looking nervous. His chair scrapes as he pushes it back before dropping to one knee in front of me.

  My mouth turns dry, and my heart jackhammers furiously in my chest. Oh my God. Butterflies scatter in my tummy as adrenaline courses through my veins.

  He pops open a box, displaying the most perfect platinum engagement ring. The center diamond is circul
ar, encased by a curved band of glistening emeralds shaped like a flower, and while it isn’t huge, it’s not small either. It’s pretty and delicate and exactly what I would choose for myself.

  “I realized recently that I went about things all wrong,” Ben says, peering up at me. He is shielding nothing, and emotion radiates from his every pore. “You are so beautiful and so precious to me, and you deserve to have everything you have ever dreamed about, starting with choice.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.

  “I never want to assume anything, especially when it comes to something as important as our marriage.” He takes the ring out of the box. “I love you, Firefly. I love you more than I can express. You have this innate light that fills the world with glorious sunshine. No one is immune. You touch every person with your goodness and your big heart, and I am honored to share the most precious little boy with you. More than that, for some reason, you have deemed me worthy of a role in your life, and I promise to never take that for granted. I promise to honor, worship, protect, and cherish you in this life and the next.”

  He clears his throat, looking more scared than I have ever seen him. “Don’t cry, baby,” he says, wiping tears from my cheeks.

  “I didn’t realize I was,” I choke out. “But I assure you these are happy tears.”

  That seems to bolster his courage. “I love you, and I love Rowan, and I would be honored if you agreed to be my wife. Marry me, Firefly. Because you want to spend your life with me and you want us to be a family.” He pauses for a moment, and his chest heaves with potent emotion. “Marry me for love not necessity.”

  “Yes, Ben!” I fling my arms around him. “Yes, I will marry you. Nothing would make me happier.”

  He pulls me to my feet, lifting me up and swinging me around. “I love you.” He peppers my face with kisses, and my heart is so full it feels like I’m soaring through the sky. “And I don’t want to wait,” he adds, placing my feet back on the ground. He slides the ring on my finger, and it’s a perfect fit. “It seems like I’ve waited forever to call you my wife.”

  “I know the feeling,” I agree, snuggling into his embrace. “I’ve dreamed of this moment since I was thirteen.”

  “What about Thanksgiving?” he asks. “Could we pull it off by then?”

  It’s only a little over three weeks away, but it’s doable. “If we keep it small, we can.”

  He frowns, as if he hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t want to deprive you of anything. If you want a big society wedding, we can wait.”

  I quirk a brow. “I thought you knew me?” I tease, running my hands up his suit jacket, enjoying the solidity of his chest under my palms.

  “I do, Firefly.” He kisses the tip of my nose, smirking because he loves that he got his way. “Thanksgiving it is.”

  44

  BEN

  “I thought the next time we’d see my family was at our wedding,” Sierra says, as we sit in the back seat of the SUV en route to the funeral in Glencoe. Leo is driving, and we have Alessandro with us. Ciro and three of my other soldiers are following in another armored vehicle. I’m not taking any chances, and if I’d had my way, I would have attended Felix Barretta’s funeral alone. However, Joseph Lawson wouldn’t hear of it.

  Funny how he’s happy to forget his youngest daughter exists when it suits him. Yet when it comes to presenting a united front at his son-in-law’s funeral, he won’t hear of Sierra sitting it out. He’s lucky he didn’t request we bring Rowan as I would have torn into him for even suggesting it. Rowan is at the house with Natalia and over twenty bodyguards, yet I still want to wrap things up here as fast as possible to get back to him.

  Lawson is a snake. He’s been badgering me for a meeting these past couple of weeks, and he hasn’t once asked how Sierra and Rowan are.

  I do need to meet with him.

  To find out why Sierra is in the dark about his mafia connections, but I have had more pressing matters to deal with, and I also didn’t want to meet him until I had dug up everything I can on him. Phillip is working on his file, but right now, everything we are finding is surface level, and that has me on edge.

  Why would Lawson keep this knowledge from Sierra? Clearly Serena and Saskia are in the know, so why not his youngest? Does he hate her so much he doesn’t want her to know anything about his business affairs, or is there more to it? And why hasn’t Serena said anything to Sierra? They are close. Serena and Georgia are the only family members who check in with Sierra every few days, so I don’t understand how her mom and her sister have kept this from her.

  Something is pricking my subconscious, and I’m trying to figure out what before I tell my fiancée the truth about her family’s mob connections.

  “I know,” I agree when Sierra stares at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. “This has come out of the blue.” I have my arm around her while I keep watch out the window as the familiar landscape passes by.

  “Why would anyone murder a business consultant in broad daylight?” she murmurs, pursing her lips. I can almost see the wheels of suspicion churning in her mind. The more her mind is opened to the ways of my world, the more skeptical she becomes. It’s a good thing though, even if I hate that she is now questioning everything.

  Leo catches my eye through the mirror, and I feel the weight of his disapproval.

  He has let go of his initial reservations about Sierra. Being around her, seeing how she is with Rowan, and how she handled herself when she was attacked earned his trust and his respect. He also notices how much happier I am with her and my son in my life, and I know he’s thrilled for me.

  Leo doesn’t understand why I won’t just tell Sierra about her family, and explain who Felix really was. I hadn’t wanted to give her half-truths, and I was waiting until I was privy to all the facts, but Barretta’s death changes things. I can’t drag this out any longer. She deserves to know, and I’m hoping to find an opportunity to corner Lawson today and get the truth out of him once and for all. Phillip can keep digging, and I can always go at Lawson again if my intel uncovers anything of importance.

  * * *

  “You need to tell her,” Leo says in a hushed voice, as we hang back outside the church while Sierra talks to her family. I want to check out the grounds and the attendees and scan the area for threats before we go inside for the ceremony.

  Alessandro is with my fiancée, standing back to give her privacy but still close enough to protect her. I ripped him a new one for Anais, and he knows he’s on shaky ground with me now. I made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he needs to get his act together and deal with whatever is distracting him from fulfilling his duties to the best of his ability.

  “I know, and I plan to after we get home.” I can’t tell Sierra right now because she is liable to flip. I didn’t have much time for Barretta, and I’m not overly religious, but I do believe a funeral is a time for respect.

  “Why would the Russians take out the consigliere heir and not the consigliere? Hell, why didn’t they go after Gifoli?” Leo poses questions I have already asked myself.

  “Thomas Barretta and Alfredo Gifoli are better protected and harder to get at. If the Russians wanted to send a message, they have achieved their goal.”

  “Let’s hope The Outfit gets the message then,” he adds, pushing off the car as Sierra looks over her shoulder, seeking me out.

  “If this doesn’t convince them, nothing will,” I say.

  My men form a solid line behind us as I join my fiancée and her family.

  “Oh, Ben!” Saskia sobs, throwing herself at me. “I’m so glad you are here.” Crocodile tears stream down her face, and her lower lip wobbles. She is putting on one hell of a performance, but it’s not hard to tell it’s completely insincere.

  Sierra pulls me back just as I move to sidestep her sister. “I know you’re upset, Saskia, but Ben is my fiancé. He’s not yours to touch anymore. I’m very sorry for your loss, but you can’t fling yourself at him like that.”

 
Round one to my feisty Firefly. I slide my arm around her shoulders, tucking her into my side while I smother my amused grin.

  Saskia scowls, and it’s remarkable how fast her tears have dried and her lips have stopped trembling. “Don’t be such a bitch! My husband is dead! And you’re not married to Ben yet.”

  “Our wedding day can’t get here soon enough as far as I’m concerned,” I say because she seems to have trouble absorbing the truth.

  “Saskia.” Joseph Lawson’s voice rings out loud and clear, the warning obvious.

  “Sweetheart.” Georgia circles her arm around Saskia. “We should take our seats. The ceremony is about to begin.”

  Saskia nods, sobbing as she resumes the mourning widow mask, allowing her mother to guide her inside.

  “Bennett. Good of you to come,” Lawson says, looking behind me. “Is there anyone else from New York here with you?”

  You have got to be kidding me. Did he really expect the other New York bosses to attend when there are Russians running rings around The Outfit right now? If Thomas Barretta, the current consigliere, had been murdered, rules would have dictated they attend, but we are talking about his successor, and it doesn’t warrant more than representation.

  “It’s just me. I trust that is sufficient.” I’m careful not to say too much until I have fully explained things to Sierra. As it is, she is watching our interaction with a curious frown.

  His lips pull into a tight line. He does not like that. Who the fuck does he think he is?

  “We should go in,” he says, puffing out his chest. “After you.”

  The funeral is the usual solemn affair, and we go through the motions.