Dominic: a Dark Mafia Romance (Benedetti Brothers Book 2)

by Natasha Knight

  “I don’t know. I don’t know that he took orders from anyone.”

  “Why did he do it?”

  Emotion coursed through me, memory and feeling and loss. Before me sat one of the men responsible for my suffering. I didn’t know if he was involved with Mateo’s torture or death, but I did know I owed him nothing.

  Gathering my courage, I raised my head high.

  “Why do you care? Why do you get to ask any question you like, when you won’t even answer the one I’ve asked you?”

  “You still want to know my name? It’s that important to you?”

  Maybe he was right. Maybe I should have been asking a different question. But I nodded and narrowed my gaze.

  “Dominic. My name is Dominic”—hesitation, then—“Sapienti.”

  Even in the dim light, I saw his eyes shift when he said his last name, and I knew it was a lie.

  “Dominic Sapienti,” I said, watching him closely.

  He nodded once, blinking as he did, and I felt sure I was right.

  “He branded me because I wouldn’t fuck him.”

  That seemed to catch him off guard. His forehead furrowed, and a crease formed between his eyebrows as he processed my information and waited for me to continue.

  I raised my own eyebrows. “You seem to enjoy eating my pussy. I guess he wanted to too. So does it make you more of a monster, since you took it without my permission, when he could have but chose not to?”

  “He chose to brand you instead. To mark you permanently. He then sent you to me, knowing what I’d do to you, what you’d have to go through before being sold to some animal. I’d say his actions trump mine in the monster arena.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Besides, I don’t recall you shoving me off. In fact, if memory serves, and it does, you were pushing your ass into my face for more.”

  I turned away. He was right.

  He got up, approached the bed, and stood over me, his body a warning in itself. Taking my chin, he forced me to face him.

  “I could have taken more. I may yet.”

  I wanted to say something, to challenge him, but every warning bell inside me went off, and I lowered my lashes instead. I had to be smart, and goading this man into hurting me was not smart.

  “Tell me about your brother.”

  He released me and sat back down in the chair.

  I snapped my gaze to his. How did he know about Mateo? What did he know? Was this part of his “training?” Fucking with my head now, because hurting me physically, making me hate myself for my reactions to him, wasn’t enough?

  “Is that why you’re doing this? Why your boss sent me to you?”

  “I don’t work for Victor Scava,” he quickly clarified, his lip curling in disgust.

  “Then I don’t understand. Why would he send me to you if you don’t work for him?”

  “I’m an independent contractor. Now tell me about your brother, Gia. Tell me what Mateo did to get himself killed. To get you into the kind of trouble you’re in.”

  I studied him, hearing the change in his tone, his words, his whole way of being toward me. I didn’t understand. “My brother was a good person who got involved with bad people, and when he tried to get out of it, they killed him.”

  “His tongue was cut out. That means one thing in our world.”

  My heart hurt at the mention. Would I ever think of Mateo and not remember that?

  “Your world.”

  “No. Our world.”

  I looked down at my lap, exhaling. He was right. This was our world.

  “How do you know what happened to Mateo?”

  “His body turned up yesterday. It was left where it could be found. Whoever killed him is sending a message. Now tell me why they executed him.”

  “Why do you care?”

  He stood, ran his hand through his hair, and looked away, shaking his head as if he were having some conversation, an internal argument. He then turned back to me.

  “Just fucking tell me.”

  “Because he’d gone to the feds about exactly what you’re doing to me now. He’d started to do some work for Victor. I’d told him not to. Told him Victor was bad news. He found out the hard way, and when he tried to do the right thing, they killed him. They tortured him, and they made me fucking watch.” My voice broke, and I wiped away a rogue tear. “I think that was the part that broke him.”

  The room fell silent, and when I looked up, I found Dominic’s gaze steady on mine, affected but silent.

  “Did you have anything to do with that? With Mateo going to the feds?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t know what Victor was doing. I didn’t know he was selling girls, not until my brother told me.”

  “Why didn’t Victor kill you?”

  “Because he’s a sick fuck?” I tried to make light of it, but a sob caught in my throat.

  The buzz of a cell-phone message interrupted, and Dominic reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone, his gaze on me.

  “You were engaged to Angus Scava’s son, James?”

  I nodded. “When he died, Victor came into the picture. He was next in line, since Mr. Scava didn’t have any other kids.”

  “Mr. Scava? You say that with some tenderness, Gia. Scava is not a nice man.”

  “He was always kind to me.”

  Dominic shook his head as if what I said were unbelievable.

  “How can you be so sure he didn’t order this?” He gestured around the room.

  “No. No way. James loved me, and he loved James. He wouldn’t do this to me.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “You have no heart, no soul. I wouldn’t expect you to understand love like that, a father’s love.”

  Dominic recoiled as if I’d stabbed him with a knife. It took him a moment to recover.

  “Love is changeable. Disposable. It’s not everlasting, not in our world. Only a fool believes in happily-ever-after, Gia.”

  He turned his attention to his phone then. His face changed. Confusion and then alarm crossed over his features as he read the message.

  “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to put a bullet in Victor Scava’s head,” I said.

  He looked at me, his forehead creased, eyes dark. Then, without a word, he walked out the door and locked me inside, leaving me once again in this dark, dank room, confused but also, somehow, hopeful.

  Mateo’s body had been found. It had been left where it could be found. And its discovery had rattled my jailor.

  9

  Dominic

  Rumor has it one of Roman’s men killed Castellano. Franco’s pissed. He’d sworn to protect the Castellano kids or some shit. Can you believe it?

  I had to read Isabella’s message twice to understand. To remember.

  Mateo’s father had worked for Franco. He’d taken a bullet for him. He’d died saving Franco’s life. I remembered now. I’d heard it later, heard him talking to Roman about it, about taking care of the Castellano family. Making sure everyone knew they were under his protection.

  And Roman had Mateo Castellano killed? Why in hell would he have branded him? Why advertise that? Franco would fucking kill him. It made zero sense. If what Gia told me was true, did that mean he’d had his hands in human trafficking? Did the Benedetti family now sell women on the black market?

  I took a seat at the kitchen table and pulled up Salvatore’s number. It was time. Hell, it was past time.

  I hit Send and listened to it ring. It took everything I had to not hit the End button this time. And when he picked up, his voice so familiar even after all these years, it took me a minute to reply. It took me that minute to get my heart to stop pounding, to get my voice working.

  “Salvatore,” I said and waited.

  Silence on his end now. Then: “Dominic? Is that you?”

  Hearing his voice, fuck, it brought back so many memories. So many emotions. “It’s me,” I said flatly.

  “Jesus!”

  If ever I co
uld say I heard the sound of relief, now would be the time. As if he gave a shit.

  “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been looking for you for seven fucking years.”

  “I’m here. I’m fine.” I paused. “How are you?” It was polite to ask, and I needed to be polite. I needed information.

  “Fine. Good.”

  “I heard you have two brats running around and a third on the way.”

  “You’ve been keeping tabs?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Two little girls. A boy due in six weeks.” He paused. “They should meet their uncle sometime.”

  “Nah.” Fuck. I stood, gritting my teeth. “Better this way.”

  “Better for whom?”

  I ignored his question.

  “And Effie?” he asked.

  “Better for her too.”

  “No, not fucking better. Where are you? Are you okay?”

  I hated the tone of his voice. The authenticity in what he said.

  “I’m around, and I’m okay. I needed to go figure out who the hell I was.”

  “You’re my fucking brother, that’s who you are.”

  “Not so simple.”

  “I thought you were dead,” Salvatore said.

  “After what happened, I wanted to be.” A long silence followed. The words I’m sorry may have fit here nicely. I’m sorry for almost killing you. Hell, they might even be true, but I couldn’t go there. I hated the Benedetti family. I hated all of them. And that had to include Salvatore.

  Quiet.

  “I heard they found a body. Mateo Castellano. Did Roman order the killing?”

  Salvatore sighed. “I think it’s pretty obvious, don’t you?”

  “I thought the Castellano family was under Franco’s protection.”

  “Me too. Father’s pissed. Not sure how Roman will survive this.”

  Snakes always slithered out just when you thought you had them cornered. But this time, I was sure it wasn’t Roman. “He’s not being set up?”

  “I don’t know. I talked to him, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Do you know any details?”

  “I don’t care about the details. That’s why I’m here, in Florida, out of that life. Keeping my family out of that life. I’ve already been brought in for questioning twice, and I’ll tell you what I told them. Roman and I talk twice a year. I called him about this for my own peace of mind. He claims it wasn’t him.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  He sighed and took a moment to answer. “Look, I’m not involved anymore. Period. And now I’m telling you that neither are you. Best thing you did was getting the hell away from our father.”

  “Your father.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should count your lucky fucking stars.”

  “It was a brutal killing.”

  “I know you and Mateo were friends once, but you can’t get involved. You can’t get back into it. Let Franco handle it.”

  Salvatore always had this way of beating you over the head with shit, especially if he thought he was doing it for your own good. That hadn’t changed, apparently.

  “I’m not really out of it, Salvatore.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Mateo has a sister.”

  “Who disappeared a few days after he did, and who’s probably dead.”

  “No, she’s not.”

  “Shit, Dominic. What are you talking about?”

  “Look, I just needed to know if Roman ordered the killing. Is he covering his ass now that the body’s been found? Because that opens up a whole other can of worms.”

  “What can?” he asked tightly.

  I knew he was waiting for me to fill in the blanks. I wondered if he knew I hadn’t talked to Roman in over five years. And how did I tell him how I knew Gia Castellano was alive and that I had her here?

  “I know for a fact it was Victor Scava who put the bullet in Mateo Castellano’s head,” I said.

  “Scava? Angus Scava’s nephew? What the hell would he have had to do with anything? The brand on Castellano’s chest is the Benedetti family crest.”

  “Then you believe it was our uncle who ordered it?”

  “I don’t know what I believe, and I’m tired of thinking about it. I’m sorry Mateo was killed, but nothing will bring him back, and my knowing—or your knowing—won’t change that. Stay out of it, Dominic.”

  “Victor Scava is involved in human trafficking. Mateo was going to turn over evidence. That’s why he was silenced. Made an example of.”

  “Stay the fuck out of it,” Salvatore repeated.

  “Too fucking late for that.”

  “What are you talking about? How do you know all this?”

  “I’ve got Gia Castellano. She witnessed the murder. Scava branded her too. Same mark.” I paused, but I needed to tell him everything now. In a way, it was a sort of confession. Although I had no hopes of redemption. Hell, wasn’t I way beyond wanting it? “She’s due to go to auction in a week.”

  “Due to go to auction? What the hell does that even mean?”

  He knew what it meant. It was the one thing the Benedetti were not involved in. One thing where Franco, his father before him, and his father before him, had put their foot down on. No human trafficking.

  Fucking saints, the lot of them.

  “Any chance Roman could be involved with Victor Scava in something like this?” I pushed.

  “Human trafficking? No. No way. Where exactly are you, and why do you have the girl?”

  “If he’s not involved, then why would Mateo have been branded with the Benedetti mark? Why not quietly kill him and get rid of the body? I mean, we all know how to get rid of a fucking body if that’s what we want to do. Scava was sending a message. I want to know what that message is, and how the Benedettis are involved.”

  “This is fucked up, Dominic.”

  “No shit.”

  “Roman knows—”

  “And he doesn’t give a shit. He’s king now. You made him that, remember?”

  “If he betrayed our father—”

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, counting to ten. I’d let this one slide.

  The pause told me he realized his mistake. “Where are you, and where’s the girl?” he asked.

  “Vermont.”

  “Vermont? You hate the cold.”

  “I’m surviving.” What, were we going to make fucking small talk?

  “What do you mean with taking her to auction? You can’t be involved in anything like that.”

  “I’m already involved.” Nearly a dozen girls involved.

  Salvatore sighed. “Tell me about the auction.”

  “Ten, maybe twelve girls. Enough buyers invited to make the bidding interesting.”

  “Jesus.”

  I snorted.

  “Do you know who’ll be attending?”

  “No.”

  “Can you find out?”

  “There isn’t exactly a guest list to these sort of events.”

  Salvatore paused at my remark. “Has our uncle been to one before?” he asked, a note of caution to his question.

  “Why buy the product when he’s the supplier?” The more I thought about it, the guiltier Roman grew. The more I saw how he was always there, watching, silent, having earned Franco’s trust like no one else had, not even his sons.

  “No. No way. He’s our fucking uncle, Dominic. Better than our father ever was to us.”

  “Your father. Your fucking father.”

  “Let it go already.”

  “You try finding out you’re not who you thought you were for twenty-eight fucking years then let it go already.”

  Another long silence filled the space, “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Exactly how much do you know about the auction?”

  “It’s not my first.”

  “Are you buying girls?”

  “Providing trained girls.”

  “Jesus.”

  Fuck. I hun
g my head, shaking it. What the fuck was I doing? How many lives had I destroyed? How many more would I crush? All to prove to myself and the world the scum I was? God. Fuck. Putting a bullet in my own head would have been better than this.

  “Dominic?”

  “Yeah,” I said, wiping the back of my hand across my nose.

  “We have to do something about the auction.”

  I heard the we. And I knew what I needed to do.

  I stood.

  “No. Not we. Me. You’re not involved, not anymore, remember? You did good, getting yourself and Lucia out. Keep her safe now. Keep your family safe. Don’t tempt fate twice.” It had started out spiteful, but that last part, I meant it.

  He paused, and I could almost hear him preparing to argue with me. But he didn’t. His family came first. Just like it should.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going to find out if Roman’s involved first.”

  “It doesn’t make sense, Dominic. He wouldn’t be involved in something like this. You’ve already tried and convicted him in your mind. And you’re on your own, remember that.”

  Meaning I had no backing. None.

  “I won’t be on my own.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Mateo’s sister. She knows at least some of what’s going on. And she wants revenge for her brother’s murder.”

  “She’s a woman. Untrained. Innocent, maybe. She’s a victim. You can’t involve her any more than she already is.”

  “Haven’t you learned not to underestimate women with an agenda?” Isabella DeMarco’s name didn’t need to be said.

  “Be careful with Roman,” Salvatore said soberly. “He’s different now. Harder.”

  “He was always like that. You just never saw it.”

  “I’ll talk to dad,” Salvatore said.

  “How is he?” The question came before I could stop it.

  “He’s sorry,” Salvatore said quietly. “He writes to me, and every time he says how sorry he is about how he told you. How he lost both his sons that night.”

  I bit my tongue not to speak. I didn’t give a fuck. I. Did. Not. Give. A. Fuck.

  Salvatore sighed. “He’s older. Weaker. But he’s Franco Benedetti. He’ll outlive all of us. But if this is true, he’ll skin Roman alive.” He paused. “Do you have a safe place to go, to take her?”