You Will Obey (Rules of Bennett Book 4)

by Ember Michaels

  "It's not like I don't know how to," I said and chuckled, opening her car door. "Are you going to get in the car, or would you like to give me a Driver's Ed test?"

  She looked around again. "Where are the guys?"

  "Where they should be; working. Is that okay with you?"

  "They aren't coming?"

  "No. Just us."

  "What if something happens at this meeting?"

  I sighed and walked over to her, putting my hands on her hips. "I'm more than capable of protecting you on my own. Besides, nothing will happen. I can guarantee it. I've been friends with these people for years," I said, though I was lying through my teeth. I knew one thing though; she'd be very hard to surprise with anything when she was someone who asked a million questions when she thought I was up to something. "Do you trust me?"

  "You really wanna ask me that after last night?" she asked with a raised brow.

  "Good point," I said with a nod. "Well, can you trust me enough to know that I got your back?"

  She pursed her lips and released a deep breath. "Fine," she finally said. "Let's go then."

  She walked over to the car and slipped into the passenger seat, glancing at the covered basket in the small backseat. "Is that for the meeting?" she asked, gesturing to it when I got in the car next to her.

  "Yeah. They'd asked me to bring a couple of things," I said idly and started the car. She jumped at the sound of the engine, looking at me with a frown.

  "Do you even know how to drive this thing?" she asked.

  I smiled. "Of course I do, gorgeous, but you may wanna buckle up."

  "Oh hell," she muttered and quickly snapped on her seatbelt.

  The air was warm as we drove down the road, her open window fluttering her hair around her face. She leaned forward and turned the radio up, a slight smile on her face.

  "It feels like it's been ages since I'd heard a song on the radio," she said, bobbing her head to the pop music coming through the speakers.

  I smirked over at her before turning my eyes back to the road. "You call that trash music?"

  "I'm almost afraid to ask you what kind of music you like," she said and scoffed. "It's probably some weird screaming and demonic moaning that you play at sacrifices."

  I snorted, which was even worse than my terrible attempt at trying not to laugh. "I know I say I'm the devil, but that's a bit far, don't you think?"

  "Nope, it sounds about right." I could feel her eyes on me as she sat in silence for a moment. "Well, what kind of music do you like then?"

  I shrugged. I hadn't even listened to music in a while myself. My life was nothing but work and thinking about revenge against Stephanie. The last time I'd listened to music was when Stephanie was alive, as she always played music when she'd get ready for our date nights.

  "I mean I don't listen to much, but I tend to like hard rock when I do," I finally said.

  "Typical. That's what I figured you'd like, either hard rock or metal or something," she said. She was quiet for another moment before she added, "Heath used to listen to that a lot when he'd cook. He used to say that it helped him think."

  I glanced over at her, sadness etched on her face as she looked out the window. This whole time I'd been angry over my loss from Stephanie as if I hadn't taken away the very person she'd loved as well. We'd never talked about him; it wasn't like I could blame her. He was a sensitive subject and considering that I was the one who murdered him, I'd be an asshole to press her to talk about him.

  The rest of the ride was silent until we approached the coast of the beach. She sat up in her seat and looked around, squinting at the scenery we passed. Her confused expression only deepened when I finally pulled into the parking lot and shut off the car.

  "The meeting is at the beach?" she asked, her eyes looking at the passing people with beach umbrellas, coolers, and bags.

  "Yep." I got out of the car and pulled my seat forward, grabbing the basket and blanket out of the backseat. She only sat there, looking at me as if I'd lost my mind. "Are you coming? You don't want to be late, do you?"

  She opened her mouth to speak but closed it. I walked over to her side of the car and opened the door, watching as she slipped out and stood next to me. We both pulled our shoes off when we hit the sand. Her touch was warm when she grabbed onto my arm to keep her balance as her feet sank into the warm sand. I had to admit it felt nice. Not just her but doing something as normal as going to the beach, being around other people that weren't my employees, or something as simple as smelling the ocean air.

  "Why would your friend think to have a meeting in the open like this?" Aurora asked, her gaze moving over all the other beach goers who laid out on beach towels, danced near radios, or played with frisbees and balls.

  "Do you not see this view? The beach is a great meeting place," I mused, but she wasn't convinced. I sighed. "Okay, fine. The meeting isn't necessarily formal."

  "Then what is it?" she asked.

  I chose a spot in the sand that was still a good deal away from the others but close enough to the water. "Because this is a meeting I'm having with my wife."

  She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her gaze at me. "So, what, this is some kind of date that you had to lie about to get me here?" she asked, her tone flat.

  "Would you have said yes if I told you what it was?"

  "Absolutely fucking not. I hardly even wanted to speak to you today, let alone have some kind of date as if last night didn't happen," she snapped. "Let's just go back home."

  She turned on her heels to walk away, but I caught her elbow. There were multiple reasons why I couldn't let her run off. With her chip disabled, I couldn't afford to have her running around by herself.

  "We're already here. Let's just enjoy the time here. You can ask me whatever you want. You can ask me about last night, my past, whatever," I said. She stared at me for a long moment before releasing a deep sigh, her eyes on the basket I held.

  "So, this is a picnic," she said, and I nodded. "I guess that was pretty thoughtful. I didn't take you as the type of person to pack sandwiches and such for romantic lunches."

  "I had a little help," I said. I placed the basket on the sand and Aurora helped me spread out the blanket before she sat down on it and looked up at me.

  "Well, let's see what's in it," she mused. I sat down next to her, dropping my shoes in the sand next to hers and opened the basket. She looked inside to see the sandwiches and fruit, giggling when she saw sparkling cider. "Non-alcoholic bubbly. How considerate."

  I smirked at her sarcastic tone. "I could've bought whiskey and had you drink ocean water," I teased.

  She playfully pushed me. "You're an asshole. Even when you try to be nice, you find a way to ruin it with the things you say."

  "Didn't want you to think I was getting soft," I said and chuckled. She leaned back on her elbows, soaking up the sun.

  "I wish you would've said we were coming here. Though I guess it didn't matter because I didn't have a bathing suit to begin with."

  "Any of the bra and panties you have are perfectly fine to wear in public," I mused. She rolled her eyes.

  "That's not a bathing suit, but it'll have to do for now. These jeans are hot in the sun."

  She wasted no time pulling her shirt off, jumping to her feet to pull down her unbuttoned jeans. My gaze fell onto her still smooth stomach, imagining how it would look as it grew round as my child grew within her. She plopped back down next to me with a sigh. "That's a lot better. Maybe I'll get an actual tan instead of looking pale and sickly."

  "A tan would be good for you," I said as I unbuttoned my shirt. I pulled it off and placed it next to her pile of clothes, leaning back on my hands. "It's been forever since I've been to a beach."

  "Why? You have the freedom to go wherever you want."

  I shrugged. "I don't know, really. Wilson kept me busy with so much shit after Stephanie died." I fought the urge to grind my teeth. "He said it was better to stay busy because then the lo
ss wouldn't hurt so much."

  "Did it help?" she asked, looking over at me.

  I shook my head. Keeping busy only kept my mind occupied during the day. It didn't do a damn thing when I was lying in bed at night and her side of the bed was cold. It didn't help when I had nothing to do or if I walked into my bedroom and could still smell her.

  "Not really," I said. "It just put a small Band-Aid on a wound that was way too big."

  "I see." She was quiet for a moment. "I know this is a family business and all, but did Wilson not give you a choice to join?"

  "He did. I just didn't know what else I'd wanted to do. He'd groomed me for the position I had, so it was just something I expected. I wanted the money he had, and I knew this was the only way to get it."

  She frowned at me. "You know that's not true, right?" she asked.

  "It was the mindset I had back then," I said. If I were honest, I couldn't see myself doing anything else. My father did give me a choice, but all I wanted back then was money, power, respect, and women. It took years to learn that none of that was worth all the shit I'd lost in exchange for everything I thought I wanted. Now I was bringing a baby into this. While it would be nice to have my own heir to this organization, I wouldn't force anything on them. This life wasn't for everyone, and I refused to let that same darkness consume my children. I fought the urge to grin at the thought of my kid. It would be a special kind of karma to have a kid who was gentle and sweet when neither of their parents was that way.

  "I always loved the beach," she said, cutting into my thoughts. "I always told myself that I'd have a beachfront house and spend the rest of my days there. It was where I was the happiest."

  "Why not move there then? You had plenty of money to," I mused.

  She narrowed her gaze at me. "Because of you and your father," she muttered. "How could I enjoy anything when my father had me looking over my shoulder for 'the bad man' for years?"

  I nodded slowly. "Fair enough," I said. "I'm sure that was hard."

  "Hard?" She scoffed. "While you were eager to take over your father's business and living a great life, I moved from place to place just to stay off your father's radar. I spent the majority of my childhood away from my family and was forced to forget my true identity just to keep me safe. My life was turned upside down all because your father is a greedy bastard who wasn't happy with the one woman he got in the contract."

  "Mafia business is mafia business," I said with a sigh. "Had your father just did what he was supposed to do, you wouldn't have been on my father's radar at all."

  "He was trying to do what was right for our family," she snapped.

  "But look where that got you in the end?" I reminded her. It was a fucked-up truth, but it was the reality of this life. Everyone–even the people not even in the mafia—knew the age old saying that you couldn't get out of the mafia unless you went out in a box. In trying to do right by his family, he got him and his wife killed and his daughter in captivity. The trade-off wasn't worth it in the end.

  She looked out at the water. "You know...the day before you came...it was the best day of my life. I'd launched a new make-up palette that sold out in an hour and made my first million in an hour. My friends all came over and we had this amazing dinner." Her eyes glassed over as she blinked rapidly a few times before she sighed. "And Heath proposed." She looked down at the ring I'd given her, her old ring from Heath now gone. "While I'd been so happy—the happiest I'd been in a while—there was still this heavy feeling of dread that all of this was too good to be true. With my luck, I knew something was going to ruin it." She turned her eyes to me, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "So, imagine how unsurprised I was when my father called to warn me about you and your father."

  "The only thing I can do is apologize for what's happened," I said. "I can't change any of that. My father put me on a job, and I did it."

  She shook her head and looked back out at the water. "Everything's just a job," she mumbled. We were quiet for a moment, the crashing waves and faint music a distance away being the only sounds around us.

  "What was he like?" I finally asked.

  She squinted at me, furrowing her brow. "Who?"

  "Your ex," I said as I reached into the basket and pulled out two glasses and the sparkling cider.

  "Why?"

  "I mean we're talking. You know about Stephanie and you won't utter a word about him," I said as I poured us both a glass, passing her one of them. "Since we're already talking about shit, why not talk about everything?"

  She took the glass from my hand and put it to her lips, taking a sip. Sitting all the way up, she crossed her legs, fingering the rim of the glass as she looked down into the bubbling drink.

  "He was...he was a good guy," she said.

  "He didn't seem like your type," I mused and took a sip from my glass.

  She scoffed. "You don't know me to even know what my type is," she muttered.

  "You seem a bit too feisty to be with someone like him. The haircut alone screamed loser," I said and snickered, but she wasn't amused.

  "I mean he wasn't particularly my type, but he was safe." She took another sip on cider before burying the bottom in the sand to sit the glass up. "Having someone safe was important when everything in my life seem to be going to hell in a hand basket. I spent my whole life believing someone was after me and I thought if I settled into a safe life, everything would eventually go away."

  "Were you really in love with him?"

  "Of course I was. He was good to me. He didn't deserve to die; he didn't deserve any of that," she murmured.

  "I can agree with that," I said, looking out at the water. I could feel her eyes on me for a moment. "Stephanie didn't deserve it either."

  "What was she like?" she asked. "As an adult, I mean. I only knew her as a child."

  "The only bright spot I had in the darkness of my world," I murmured. "Being with her...I could see why you father made such a deal like that. I wouldn't have sacrificed my kid, but I could understand why he thought that was the best thing to do."

  "What would you have sacrificed then if not your child?" she asked, her voice carrying a sarcastic tone.

  "Myself." I looked over at her. "I'd kill myself before allowing anyone to hurt my woman or my kid. I'd leave the mafia in a pine box if it meant those I cared about would be untouched."

  "Oh." She dropped her gaze to her lap. "Well, now you have your own mafia family. You make the rules. What if Saint wants to get out to give Giselle a better life? Or Bruce for that matter?"

  "I'm not my father," I said. "My men have been nothing but loyal to me. In the event that they decide this life isn't for them anymore–whether it be because they want to start a family or just want to have a normal life–I won't hold that against them. There's more to life than chaos and destruction." I downed the rest of my drink. "I just wished I could find out what that was."

  "You're going to get a new type of chaos and destruction when this baby comes along," she mused and giggled. "Can you imagine a small devilish version of yourself?"

  "Don't even remind me," I said and chuckled.

  "While it's nice that we're sitting here having a nice 'meeting,' there's still something we're failing to talk about," she said, her tone serious.

  "What's that?"

  "Last night."

  When I woke up in the guest room this morning, I knew I'd fucked up royally. The previous night had been a blur. My vision went red the moment I laid eyes on Brian and all I saw was the need to make him bleed, to make him suffer, just as I had for the past three years. And he did. I'd literally cut his heart out, put it on top of his head, and drove the knife through it.

  But it didn't fix the emptiness inside of me.

  It didn't bring my girl and my baby back.

  And it didn't make the darkness go away.

  "Yeah...that didn't go as I thought it would," I said. She rolled her eyes.

  "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the fact that
you hit me after you said you wouldn't. You made this big deal about wanting to work on us and seeing where we can go but all you've done is just confirm that you're amazing at pretending." She scoffed. "Whenever you're tired of the mafia, go to Hollywood to become an actor. You'd be great at it."

  "You don't understand—"

  "Then it would help if you could help me to understand," she fired back.

  I inhaled deeply, taking in the ocean air. "I had these ideas of what I'd do or say whenever I was face to face with Stephanie's killer," I started. "It was pretty lame. You know, standing in front of a mirror practicing different ways you'd say things. I thought I knew what I'd do in that situation and how I'd handle things, but it was so much different in person. When you're practicing in front of the mirror, you only account for them being in a weaker position than you. You don't account for the actual reality of what they may do or say."

  "What did he do?" she asked, her voice low.

  "Threatened you," I said, growing angry all over again. When we'd entered the house, he was asleep on the couch, the lights off, but the glow of the television illuminating his dark form. He'd fought against us but when he realized who I was, he only laughed and spit blood at my feet.

  "Your time was running out," he'd said. "It was only a matter of time before I offed your new slut."

  "Hearing him threaten to harm you reminded me of what I came home to the night I found Stephanie," I continued. "Any sense of self control I had was out the window and something darker than I'd ever felt came over me. I couldn't control it anymore."

  "What'd you do to him? You weren't in there really long," she asked.

  "Cut his heart out, just as he did to me when he killed her," I said, my voice low. "And even after all of that, it didn't change how I felt. I didn't feel vindicated or satisfied. It made me even more angry." I ground my teeth. "Killing him didn't change a goddamn thing. I feel just as empty as I did when I first lost her. All it did was add another body to my roster."

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "I'm not. He's dead and that's what matters. He doesn't deserve to walk the earth after what he'd done."