Sergio: a Dark Mafia Romance

by Natasha Knight

  “I don’t want to.”

  26

  Natalie

  Two weeks later, I’m back at Franco Benedetti’s house. Already, Sergio’s mom looks worse. Feebler. Even as she tries to smile while pinning a veil to my hair.

  “I wore it. My mother wore it. Her mother before her. It’s a family tradition,” Mrs. Benedetti says.

  The veil is yellowing and there’s a hint of something ancient that clings to it, a scent. A feel.

  “We’ll have a big ceremony in the winter. It’s so pretty here with the snow,” she prattles on, and I don’t know if it’s the thought that she won’t make it to winter or something else that sits like a stone in my belly. But I smile back at her reflection. I refuse to let anything dampen the joy of this day.

  “With a huge dress,” I say.

  “The biggest.”

  The plan is this small wedding today. And once the baby’s born, we’ll have a proper ceremony in a nearby chapel.

  “There,” she says, tucking one rebellious lock of hair behind my ear. It’s pinned up with baby’s breath tucked into it beneath the yellowing veil that reaches to the middle of my back. “You look beautiful. Glowing. My son is a lucky man.” She squeezes my shoulder.

  “He’s a good man,” I say. I feel like I have to say it. And when I do, her eyes darken a little, worry creeping into them.

  She pulls up a chair and sits and takes my hands into hers. “This is a difficult family. A difficult life to marry into. I don’t know that you would have chosen it had you known.”

  “I love Sergio.” It’s my only reply because she’s right. I would not have chosen this if I had known. Although, as I think back, did I ever really have a choice? Or were Sergio and I destined to be together? To find each other? Even the way we did. Fate put me in his path not once, but twice. That means something, doesn’t it?

  “I won’t be here for very long—”

  “Don’t talk like that,” I cut her off, but she squeezes my hand, continues.

  “But Sergio will protect you. And so will Franco. You’ll be his son’s wife. The mother of his grandchild. And they’ll need you, too, Natalie. Once I’m gone, they’ll need you, all of them, but especially Sergio.” Her eyes are watering.

  “Mrs. Benedetti—”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need to know that he’ll be safe too. That you’ll protect him, too.”

  “I will,” I try to reassure, but she continues.

  “Whatever you do, whatever happens, don’t let him forget his humanity.” She takes in a deep breath, straightens her spine and looks taller, stronger. “He is his father’s son, Natalie.”

  I watch her as she says it. She’s trying to relay a message. She wants me to understand this. And to love him in spite of it.

  “I believe he’s good. I do.”

  A knock comes on the door and we stand as it opens. But when Sergio peeks his head in, his mother gasps.

  “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” she walks to the door, trying to shield me from Sergio’s view.

  Sergio steps inside, smiles at her, then shifts his gaze to me, looking me over from head to toe. “Silly superstition,” he says. He smiles.

  I smile back.

  “Your dad’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs whenever you’re ready,” he says. “I’ll seat my mom.” He walks her out, then glances back at me. Smiles wider.

  When he’s gone, I take one final look at my reflection. I’m wearing a satin sheath. I was aiming for simple, but that wasn’t happening with Sergio. The dress is beautiful, soft against my body while hugging it tenderly. The back is cut seductively low, the neckline at the front straight across my collar bones. My breasts already feel swollen and the dress looks prettier for it. A white cloud of satin floats all around my sandaled feet.

  I touch my belly. I’m not showing yet but everyone knows why we’re rushing this ceremony with a bigger one planned for after the baby’s birth. I was fine to wait until after, but Sergio wouldn’t have it. He wanted the baby born to us as husband as wife. Between that and his mom’s health, I didn’t fight it.

  Taking one deep breath, I draw the front of the veil down over my face and pick up the bouquet of antique pink roses wrapped in a wide, pale blue ribbon. That’s my something blue. Something old, something borrowed, the veil fulfills those. Something new, my dress.

  It will bring us luck. I’ve done it right. All of it. We’ll have good luck, Sergio and I.

  I force my eyes from my reflection when they get watery, take a deep breath in and walk out the door and down the stairs where my father waits, still confused at this rushed ceremony, still trying to process the fact that I’m pregnant. And that I’m getting married to a man he’s only just met. Who is next in line to rule the Benedetti mafia family.

  I guess we’re all trying to pretend like this is normal.

  Only immediate family and Drew are gathered in the living room. Drew is sitting beside my mom. The Benedetti family is sitting across from them, Mr. and Mrs. Benedetti and Dominic. I don’t look at Dominic. I don’t need to to see the one-cornered smirk of ‘I told you so’. I also don’t look at Sergio’s uncle. His ruthlessness terrifies me almost more than Franco Benedetti’s.

  What a turn of events.

  Salvatore is standing beside his brother. I have no maid of honor. A priest I don’t know waits, bible in hand. The pianist begins the wedding march again. I realize I missed the first cue. Sergio clears his throat when I still don’t move.

  I look up at him. He’s not smiling. He’s just watching me. Waiting.

  “Mine. Always. No matter what.”

  And I’m doing this.

  I take the first step and my father squeezes my hand and we walk down the aisle toward my destiny. My future. With this man who is as good as he is brutal. Who has killed with the same hands with which he has made love to me. This man whose baby is growing inside my belly. The man I’m bound to. Was bound to from before I ever set eyes on him.

  27

  Sergio

  For a minute, I’m not sure if she’s going to do it. If she’s going to take those steps down the aisle. Down to me. She’s in her head and I know she’s hasn’t been sleeping. I see it in the shadows beneath her eyes.

  I don’t know what I’ll do if she turns and runs.

  I know I can’t let her go. I won’t.

  But I don’t want to chase her. I don’t want to make her.

  And a moment later, when the pianist begins the wedding march again, I’m glad I don’t have to. Her lips move into a small smile, and, eyes locked on mine, she comes to me.

  I’ve never felt relief like I do in that moment.

  Does she deserve this? Me? My family? No, she deserves a hundred times better. I will live and die with that knowledge. I will live and die knowing I loved her too much to let her go. It’s selfish. But I guess I’m selfish. And what I feel for her, it overwhelms me sometimes. It swells and surges and takes me under so I can’t breathe.

  She is breath. She is life. She is everything.

  She reaches the altar and I take her flowers from her, hand them to the priest because I don’t know what to do with them. I lift the veil from her face and her eyes glisten with tears. I know they’re not all tears of joy and I lean close to her, touch the soft skin of her cheek and bring my mouth to her ear.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  With my thumb, I wipe away a tear and we just stay like that for a minute and I breathe her in and I want to make this moment last forever.

  “I’m happy,” she whispers, more tears sliding down her cheeks.

  I close my hand over the swell of one hip and draw back to look at her. I know happy isn’t all she is. I know she’s scared. I want to tell her not to be afraid. That I’ll protect her. That I won’t ever let anything happen to her. To us. That I’ll take care of everything. But I can’t do that. And I don’t. And all I can do is smile at her words.

  Someone clears their
throat. Fucking Dominic. I want to kill him. I want to kill my bastard brother. But Natalie pulls back and we turn to the priest and he begins the ceremony and, a short while later, Natalie Gregorian is Natalie Benedetti.

  My wife.

  28

  Sergio

  “I’m going to miss being in the city,” Natalie says. We’re a few blocks from the house on Elfreth’s Alley where we just handed over the keys to a house-sitter I hired so Natalie and Pepper can move in with me.

  “You’ll appreciate the quiet. Although you will have to learn how to drive a car.”

  “I can drive a car. I just haven’t in a while.”

  “If you always drive like you did tonight, you’re going to take some lessons.”

  “I’m just rusty. And your car goes too fast. I’m not used to it.”

  “Right.” I’m glad she can’t see the expression on my face. “This is my favorite Italian place in the city,” I say, changing the subject as we round the corner and I push the door to the tiny restaurant open.

  “I’ve never even seen this place and I must walk by here four times a day,” she says once we’re inside.

  I smile. It’s loud in the restaurant, even though there are only seven tables. Italians are loud though, and everyone here is Italian.

  “It’s a well-kept secret,” I say, hanging my coat on the rack by the door before helping her get hers off.

  The owner nods his greeting from behind the bar where he’s pouring two glasses of wine.

  “This way,” I say, my hand at Natalie’s low back as I lead her to a table at the back corner. I pull out her chair then take mine. My back’s to the wall so I can see who comes and goes. But this place is safe.

  “Do people always stare at you when you go places?” she asks. “Are they going to start staring at me now?”

  “If they’re staring at you it’s because you’re fucking beautiful.”

  “I wonder if you’ll still be thinking that when I get big and fat with this baby.” She picks up her menu so she’s not looking at me.

  I take her hand to make her look at me. “I don’t care if you weigh four-hundred pounds. You will always be beautiful.”

  She rolls her eyes but is smiling.

  “I’ll order for us, if you don’t mind,” I say.

  “I can decide for myself, thank you,” she says.

  “It’s not an infringement on your rights, you know. It’s just dinner, especially considering—”

  “No, thank you,” she says.

  “Suit yourself.”

  The owner walks over with an open bottle of Chianti and a bottle of water. “Sergio. It’s always good to see you here.”

  “Good to see you, too. How are things?”

  “Quiet. Thank you.”

  I nod. He raises the bottle to pour for Natalie but she stops him. “Just water for me, please.”

  He looks at me and I give him a nod so he pours a glass of wine for me and water for Natalie.

  “Usual?” he asks in his broken English, setting both bottles down on the table.

  “Natalie?” I say.

  “Um,” she’s still looking at the menu, which by now she’s realized is in Italian and I know she can’t understand a word. “This one.” She points to something.

  He reads out what she ordered and I have to grin. I can’t wait to see her face when her meal arrives. After handing her menu over, she clears her throat and sits back.

  “Usual for me,” I say.

  He nods and walks away.

  “So, what did you order?” I ask. From the look on her face, I know she has no clue but she’s way too stubborn to admit it.

  She picks up her water. “I’ll surprise you.”

  “Didn’t know you read Italian,” I say, picking up my wine, holding it up. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.”

  I drink, then put my glass down and watch her.

  “Do you have to be gone for three nights?” she asks. I know it’s been on her mind. It’ll be the first time I’m away since we got married. She’s not comfortable in the house yet and she’s still fighting me over the bodyguard trailing her when she’s not home or with me.

  “It’ll go by fast. Dad isn’t focused right now. Not with mom like she is.”

  “Salvatore can’t go alone? Or Dominic?” She can’t say his name without making a face.

  “Salvatore’s coming with me, but it has to be me. It’s important.”

  “I know, it’s just I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  A waiter comes to the table holding two steaming plates with the edge of a towel. He sets them down and I see from Natalie’s face she did not expect what she gets.

  I can’t help my smile, but when she looks up at me, I pick up my fork and bring my full attention to my plate. I stick a fat gnocchi into my mouth and chew, but when I look up at her, I shove another two in to keep from bursting out in laughter.

  “What did I order?” she asks, her face slightly pale.

  “Liver and onions,” I say with my mouth full.

  “Oh my God.”

  I can’t help it now. I shove my napkin to my mouth and try to swallow so I don’t spit out my mouthful when I laugh.

  “You jerk. It’s not funny.”

  I shake my head, wipe my eyes because I’m laughing so hard, I’m crying. “No, it is funny. Your expression is hilarious, in fact.”

  She gives me a glare, sets her fork down, puts her napkin on the table. When she makes to stand, I capture her hand.

  “Come on, you have to admit, you are so damn stubborn. You should have let me order for you.”

  She eyes my plate, picks up her fork and pokes a gnocchi. She shoves it into her mouth and closes her eyes. “Oh wow.”

  “Told you so,” I say.

  She opens her eyes and sticks her tongue out at me.

  I take her plate and push mine in front of her. “Eat.”

  She looks down at the gnocchi. “You don’t have to do that.” But she doesn’t offer to swap back.

  “It’s fine. Eat.”

  I keep hold of her hand for a minute and she meets my eyes, gives me a warm smile. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I took Eric with me to the meeting where I sat in for my father. Salvatore was to have joined me, but he’s come down with some bug and I didn’t want Dominic there. I don’t care that I’m alone. I prefer it.

  This is what it will be like when my father’s gone. Me in the back of the car. Me, alone. I’ll leave Natalie as far out of this as possible. Keep her safe.

  The baby, in a way, I hope it’s a girl. I wonder if my father thought about that when mom was pregnant with me. If he wished for a daughter so as not to have to pass this legacy on to his own. I wonder if, to some extent, there’s a part of us that knows that the inheritance of the first-born male is a condemnation. A daughter can’t rule. Not in our family. Sexist, I know, but her husband would take control when the time came.

  I’m thinking about this when Eric slows the car.

  “Need to refuel,” he says. The kid who was supposed to make sure the car was ready before we left the city hadn’t show up. Probably hungover somewhere is my guess.

  “It’s fine,” I say. I need to stretch my legs anyway. Meeting was in Manhattan and I’ve been sitting for too long.

  I climb out of the car and dial Natalie. It’s late, but she said she’d wait up.

  “Hey.” Her voice is soft.

  I can hear her smiling. It makes me smile. “Hey. Were you sleeping?”

  “Nope.”

  “Dozing?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Did you eat dinner?”

  “A grilled cheese sandwich,” she says. “Two, actually. I’m trying to get to that four-hundred pounds so we can see if you still think I’m beautiful.”

  I chuckle.

  “Are you almost home?” she asks, a note of worry creeping into her voice.

  “About thirty minutes away. Go to sleep.
I’ll wake you when I get home.”

  “No, I’ll wait up,” she says through a yawn.

  “I like waking you up,” I whisper. She knows what I mean.

  “You’re dirty, Sergio Benedetti.”

  “You like me dirty, Natalie Benedetti.”

  She snorts, then her voice turns serious. “I miss you.”

  “Me too. This was the longest three days of my life, but I’ll be home soon.” The pump clicks, and Eric takes the nozzle out. “I gotta go. I’ll see you soon.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise, sweetheart.”

  We disconnect.

  There’s no screeching of tires as two SUVs pull into the station, their windows tinted black. There’s no rush. They just slow as they turn into the lot. I’m tucking the phone back into my pocket when it happens. When I feel something isn’t right.

  Silence is supposed to precede an ambush.

  Silence always comes before devastation. It’s what I’ve always believed. How I’ve always thought it would happen.

  But when I hear the first round fired, it’s like slow motion. I turn and watch Eric’s body fling backwards. A dark red spot appears on the front of his shirt. It begins to spread in a perfect circle feathering along the edges like a snowflake. That’s what I think of when I see it. A fucking perfect snowflake.

  He’d left his coat in the car. He doesn’t have his weapon. Not that it would do any good. They’ve come prepared.

  Fuck. We shouldn’t have been out here, in the open like this. Unprotected and vulnerable.

  Instinct has me gripping my weapon and I take aim and shoot at the driver’s side window, even though I can’t see for shit because even the windshield is black. I hit the driver though. I know it when the SUV speeds up, crashes into a parked car just outside the twenty-four-hour market.