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

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Dominic: a Dark Mafia Romance (Benedetti Brothers Book 2) Page 14

by Natasha Knight


  “It’s mine,” I said again, looking up into his eyes, blue-gray pools so deep, I could lose myself inside them if I wasn’t careful.

  “I’m not taking it away. It’s yours. Come on.”

  His voice was quiet, as if talking down a child throwing a tantrum.

  He walked me into the bathroom and ran water into the tub. The first time he’d bathed me came rushing back, and I pulled away. But he kept hold of my wrist and held me there.

  “Relax. Do you want me to give you something to relax?”

  “Your little pills? No, thank you.”

  “Then be a good girl and get in the tub.”

  I glanced at the tub filling up with water, saw him check the temperature and adjust it.

  “In.”

  “I want this off too.” I pointed to the collar.

  “And I told you once before, it will come off when I’m ready to take it off.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I need you to keep your shit together if we’re going to get the bastards who killed Mateo and branded you.”

  I took in his words, studying him, his face, his eyes. He gestured once more to the tub and released my wrist when I climbed in. And I remembered something.

  “You have a daughter.”

  He stopped, as if that were the last thing he expected me to say. Then he nodded once and brought over a bottle of body wash and a washcloth. He sat on the edge of the tub, dipped the cloth inside, and rung it out before squeezing body wash onto it. He began to lather my neck and back.

  “Effie. She’s eleven now.”

  His face looked so sad right then. It was like the man I’d glimpsed last night, the one who hurt. The broken one.

  “I haven’t seen her in a long time. Almost seven years.”

  “Why?”

  He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something other than what he said, but then, as if he’d just given himself over to it, the truth came out.

  “Because I’m a coward.”

  He dropped my gaze, dipped the washcloth into the water, and brought it back to me.

  “She’s better off anyway.”

  “What happened that night?”

  He knew the night I meant. There was no other night.

  “I shot my brother,” he said flatly. “I almost killed him.”

  He refused to look at me. I reached for his hand the next time he dipped the cloth into the water and held it, then reached up to cup his face, seeing the scratches I’d left yesterday, thinking I should have bandaged them for him.

  Dominic met my gaze, the look in his eyes strange, dark…empty. As if he’d used the last seven years to create a gap so wide, a hole so big, he’d never be able to cross the chasm.

  He shook my hand off and resumed washing me, his attention wholly on that as he spoke.

  “Don’t misunderstand, Gia. I’m not good. Being a father doesn’t make me good. Missing my daughter doesn’t make me good. When I say she’s better off, I mean it. I know myself. I know what I’ve done, what I am. I know what I’m capable of.”

  He hated himself. I’d accused him of that very thing in the beginning, and it was more true than I’d realized then. And some part of me, hell, not some part, not any part. My heart…it broke for him.

  “Tell me about that night,” I said after a while, once he’d started shampooing my hair.

  “Salvatore finally figured out what was going on. Roman—hell, Roman had been looking for shit all along, I have no doubt of that. Anything to discredit me. Although, it’s not like I needed much help with that.”

  “From the beginning. Please.”

  “Salvatore and Roman figured out I was the father of Isabella DeMarco’s little girl, Effie. The DeMarcos were our biggest rival then.”

  He paused, giving me a minute to absorb.

  “We’d met when we were both young—well, she was young, and I was stupid. Didn’t know who she was at first, and she didn’t know who I was. She got pregnant, and the night we’d agreed to tell our families, I chickened out. She didn’t. She told. And then, she disappeared. It was either that or old man DeMarco wanted her to get rid of the baby.”

  “I remember the war between your families.” It came back vaguely. I’d been too young to really pay attention all those years ago. “Lucia was given to Salvatore like she was restitution or something.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “It would have been her older sister if you hadn’t gotten her pregnant?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, they figured it out,” he continued. “Luke, her cousin, an imbecile if you ask me, managed to get himself shot by another imbecile. It’s what triggered everything. Roman, my fucking uncle,” he spat the words, “tried to pin it on me, but Salvatore, my brother who can do no wrong, just wanted peace. Well, fuck peace. This is the fucking mob. You don’t get to choose peace.”

  He stopped shampooing for a minute and looked off into the distance. I was glad for it. In his growing anger at his family, the massage had turned a little rough.

  “You know what you get if you’re the last-born son in a mafia family, Gia?”

  I waited, eyes on his when he turned back to me.

  “Nothing. You get nothing.”

  He picked up shampooing again, and I bit my tongue to keep quiet and let him tell his story.

  “And if you’re a bastard—”

  “Bastard?”

  “I was pissed that night. Salvatore, he could never be boss. Never. Hell, he didn’t even want it. But he was getting it. He called a meeting at his house, and my uncle dragged me to it. I admit, I was half drunk when I walked into the dining room with a loaded gun.” He shook his head. “Then my father called Isabella a whore. Called my mother a whore. I couldn’t take it.”

  He swallowed. I watched his throat work.

  “It was always about Sergio. About Sergio’s kid. Well, he had another grandchild. It was time he acknowledged that.” He shook his head. “But he had another card up his sleeve.”

  Dominic grimaced, his eyes distant as if he saw it all again.

  “Always did have the last word, Franco Benedetti.”

  “What—”

  “Turned out I wasn’t his.” He met my gaze. “I was the bastard son of a foot soldier and Franco Benedetti’s wife.”

  Oh. My. God.

  My mouth fell open. Nobody knew this. They only knew Dominic had tried to kill his brother.

  He shifted his gaze to mine. “You see, I wasn’t actually trying to kill Salvatore.”

  Dominic shook his head again, eyes glistening, at least for a moment.

  “He just got between me and Franco and almost died for it.”

  Dominic dropped the washcloth he’d picked up into the bathtub. Water splashed, and he stood. He turned his back to me and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Dominic,” I started, climbing out, dripping wet, soap suds and shampoo clinging to me. I went to him, laid a hand on his shoulder, and forced him to turn around.

  “I almost killed the only person in that family who is worthy of living, Gia.”

  He had a crazed smile, one I knew kept a surge of emotion at bay.

  “You didn’t, though. You didn’t.”

  He pushed me away when I put my hands on his shoulders, but I refused to budge. I took his face in my hands and made him look at me, made him see me. See the present moment. See what was right there in front of his eyes.

  “He was wrong to tell you like that.”

  “Leave it alone, Gia. Leave me alone.”

  “No.” I kissed him even as he tried to walk past me. I just kissed him, trying to hold on to him.

  His hands came to my waist, still trying to push me away, trying to make his way out of the bathroom.

  “Gia—”

  “You need to keep your shit together if you’re going to get the bastards,” I said, kissing him harder when he stopped, when he heard the words he’d used on m
e just a little bit ago. “Kiss me, Dominic.”

  He looked down at me, then turned his face to the side, his hands still on my waist, but no longer pushing me away.

  “I said fucking kiss me.”

  This time, he didn’t turn away and he didn’t pull back. He kissed me, walking me backward out of the bathroom, his arms wrapping around me as his kiss became hungry, ravenous even. When the backs of my knees hit the bed, he pushed me onto it and stood back to drop his towel, his erection hard against his belly, eyes hungry as I lay back and spread my legs for him.

  “Dominic,” I managed as he knelt between them, then lowered himself onto me.

  “I came inside you yesterday,” he said between kisses.

  “I’m protected.” I kissed him back, our hunger matched. “And clean.”

  “Me too.”

  He thrust inside me then, and for the first time since we’d been together, we didn’t fuck. We made love. Dominic moved slowly deep inside me and held me so close, there was never an inch between us. Our eyes were open the entire time, locked on each other. And when it was over and we lay spent, we still clung to each other, unable to let go, knowing, in a way, that we would be each other’s savior. Knowing that as our enemies collected outside of this sanctuary, we had each other, only each other.

  I wondered if we would die together, knowing I couldn’t do what I’d said yesterday, not now, not anymore after knowing what I knew. I understood his self-loathing. His hate. His loss. I felt it from him. I felt it for him. It didn’t make him good. It didn’t clean the slate; didn’t wash his hands of the blood he’d spilled. Nothing could ever do that. But it made him different. It made him human.

  Ever since that night, he’d been trying to kill himself. And now, he had an end in sight. And after that end, he wanted me to kill him.

  Well, I knew I wouldn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  17

  Dominic

  I sat in my study, listening to Leo’s cell phone ring. It was the day before the auction, and I needed to check in. It was procedure. A day or two before the auction, I’d get the address for delivery. The auctions were held in different locations every time. Some at private homes, some in the woods. You just never knew.

  “Leo”

  He always answered the same way.

  “She’s ready to go,” I said.

  “Good. I’m sending you the address now.”

  “How many do you have?” I always asked this question, so it wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary.

  “Eleven.”

  “What about buyers?”

  “Two dozen.”

  “Any names I should know?”

  Leo paused. This wasn’t on my usual list of questions.

  “No,” he said after a moment. “No names you need to know. The restrictions didn’t cause a problem, I hope?”

  He’d made a point of going over the “no fucking” rule when he’d delivered Gia to the cabin. Now it made sense.

  “No. I am curious about it, though. It makes my job harder,” I said.

  “Buyer’s request.”

  “She has a buyer? Why the auction, then?”

  “It’s a humbling experience, isn’t it?”

  I fisted my hand, fingernails biting into my palm. “Very.” My phone dinged with a text. I glanced at it quickly. “I have the address.” I already started to type it into google maps.

  “See you tomorrow.”

  We hung up, and I zoomed in on the location.

  “I want to go to the auction,” Gia said.

  My gaze shot up to find Gia standing in the open doorway. I hadn’t heard her come down the stairs. She wore a dark gray knitted dress, the tight fit accentuating every curve, every soft swell, every sharp edge.

  I cleared my throat and adjusted the crotch of my pants, forcing my gaze back to her eyes. The slight rising of one corner of her mouth told me she knew how she affected me. Told me she knew how beautiful she was. I knew too. Had seen it on day one, when she’d been huddled in a corner, beaten and filthy and stinking. But today, it was different. Today, she stunned; every part of her alive, charged. Her hair hung loose down her back, the thick fringe of bangs a stark contrast to her pale, creamy skin, intensifying the emerald eyes that seemed to shine brighter. Perhaps for her newfound mission, her renewed hate.

  “No.” I leaned back, folding my arms across my chest.

  She leaned against the door frame and did the same. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s dangerous.”

  “Really? I hadn’t realized that.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass, Gia.”

  “Why shouldn’t I go? Victor will be there, right?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He will. He’s expecting me on the auction block, isn’t he? Won’t he want to see me humiliated? He told me when they branded me he’d see me on my knees. He swore it. I just didn’t realize he meant it so literally.”

  I studied her. She was right. He’d likely be there to watch exactly that.

  She walked into the study, casually scanning the books along the wall before sitting down on the couch. “Who was that on the phone?”

  “Leo”

  “Who’s Leo?”

  “The man who fed you while I was…away.”

  “Charming man.”

  “Dangerous man.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He confirmed what you think, that Victor is planning on buying you back. He’ll still take bids, but he’s not planning on selling you. He wants to see you humbled, in Leo’s words.”

  Her eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and inside them I saw her rage, raw and unrestrained. I’d need to make sure I had full control of her before letting her out of my sight. We needed to be smart about this. What I was planning would put a target on my back with too many men shooting to kill.

  “I don’t want to hide anymore, not from Victor, not from anyone.”

  “I understand,” I said, scratching my head. I glanced again at the image of the large stable in the middle of fucking nowhere. It’d stink. I knew that already. This wasn’t the first auction held in a barn, and old piss was the worst.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked, coming around the desk.

  I let her see. “Auction house.”

  She zoomed in but didn’t say anything. I watched her face, saw her unease, the fear she felt that she tried hard to hide.

  “You don’t have to hide from me,” I said.

  “Hide what?” Her face closed down.

  “Fear.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  But she didn’t quite meet my gaze when she said it.

  “Of course you’re not.” I stood. “Do you know how to shoot the gun I gave you?”

  She shook her head.

  I smiled and pulled the weapon out of the drawer I’d put it in. “Figures.”

  “I guess you’ve had a lot of experience,” she said.

  I glanced at her. “More than you want to know,” I answered, my tone deadly serious.

  Her eyes searched mine as if she were deciding whether or not to ask the next question. She dropped her gaze.

  No, she wouldn’t want to know just how bloody my hands were.

  “Bring the ammunition.”

  She looked inside the drawer at the two boxes, obviously not knowing which. I picked up the box and shook my head, leading the way out back. Gia followed.

  I realized I’d left my cell phone back in the study when I heard it ring just as we reached the doors.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Gia. “See if you can manage getting the gun loaded without hurting yourself.”

  She took the box and the pistol and gave me a smirk.

  “I’ll see if I can do that. I’m just a stupid girl, you know.”

  “Nah, not stupid. But definitely a girl,” I said, taking her chin in my hand and tilting her face upward to kiss her mouth. Being around her, it made me want. It was like all I could think
of was fucking her, how I wanted to fuck her. The many ways I still needed to fuck her. It was like I couldn’t get close enough. Like being inside her was the only way.

  The call went to voice mail, but whoever it was must have bypassed that to call back because it started to ring again.

  “Persistent.” I watched Gia swallow, her eyes wide on mine when I released her.

  I went into the study and checked the display, swiping the screen to answer the call.

  “Salvatore?” I hadn’t expected him to be so quick with the information.

  “I have some bad news.”

  His voice was so low and grave, my heart fell to my stomach.

  “What is it?” I sounded normal, like myself, but it was like I stood outside myself, watching. Like it wasn’t me at all who held the phone and listened to him tell his news.

  “It’s our…it’s Franco.”

  I sank onto the couch, a sudden chill raising goose bumps all over my body.

  “What?” It came out tight.

  “He passed away, Dominic. Roman found him.”

  “Just a girl…”

  I turned to find Gia coming inside, watched her smile vanish when she saw my face.

  What? she mouthed.

  “They think it was another heart attack,” Salvatore continued.

  I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I didn’t fucking care.

  “You should come to the house,” he said finally.

  “When did it happen?”

  “More than a day ago. He’d sent his staff home. Stupid old fool. He’d sent them all away.”

  “He was in the house dead for more than a day?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence. Gia knelt at my feet, her curious, worried face turned up to mine as if she’d draw information from my mind.

  “Will you come to the house, Dominic?” Salvatore asked. “I’m on my way. My flight boards in a few minutes.”

  “What is it?” Gia whispered.

  “I have to go,” I said.

  “Dominic,” Salvatore started again, then sighed.

  “I have to go,” I barely managed before hanging up, shock having made a mute out of me.

  “What?” Gia persisted.

  I looked down at her eager face. “Franco Benedetti is dead. My uncle found him this morning.”

 

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