Page 10

B enito

I wait until I hear the terrace doors close, then I lift my head and lower my gun to the lounger. I only cleaned it two days ago but I needed something to focus on.

Ripples still roll softly to the outer edges from where Contessa Castellano exited the pool. I breathe steadily and watch them settle until the sun rays reflect off a sheen of stillness.

I’ve been sitting out here since six having lain awake all night. I tried convincing myself it was down to the adrenaline generated by the hit we made on the Marchesis’ drug drop. It was a close call and I shouldn’t have been in the center of it all but I can’t help myself. Call me a psychopath but I get a total hard on for annihilating my enemies. Whether that’s by blowing up their fortune, blowing off their head with a round of ammo or squeezing the life out of them with my bare hands.

I’ve never been the kind to pay someone to do my dirty work. I prefer that blood to be on my hands, not some paid help’s.

But I’m not convinced that is the reason. I have a shady and unwanted feeling my inability to sleep was caused, equally as much as and perhaps more than the hit, by a certain dark-haired Castellano sister showing me the full length of her leg in Cristiano’s kitchen.

She’s been nothing but petulant towards me, and I don’t care for petulance, no matter how long it’s legs are or how fucking pretty it is.

When I saw her at Gianni’s funeral, I thought I was up for a bit of fun taunting, but there’s only so much teenage button-pushing I can be bothered with, and I thought I’d hit my limit last night. Feeling the softness of her skin before she gnashed her teeth into my hand lit a fire in my belly, but her petulant reaction to the news I’ve moved my office above her studio put that fire right out, and it pissed me off. I hadn’t planned on giving her those police reports but she needs to know this isn’t a mere duel .

Her safety is not a fucking game.

But when she sauntered onto the terrace this morning, completely unaware she wasn’t alone, I was struck by the pure, unguarded truth of her. I couldn’t tear my gaze away when she lifted her face to the sun, warming it in the early morning rays. When she swam a few lengths she looked so graceful and liberated. And when she stripped off her two-piece, holy fuck , she came alive.

My gaze wasn’t glued to her because she looked so disturbingly attractive, it was sucked in by the way she looked so free .

It was a surprise to see her devoid of black, and not just in clothing. The shadows beneath her eyes were gone, the darkness in her usually tight shoulders seemed to have washed off in the water. She’d shed her armor along with her two-piece and she’d never looked more beautiful.

I permitted myself a long look as she swam away from me, then averted my eyes when she turned to face in my direction. Forcing my gaze to stick to my gun was almost distressing but there was another surprising development. She knew I was there.

Sure, she didn’t see me at first, but I heard her sharp intake of breath when she spun around. I pretended to be absorbed in polishing my pistol, thinking she might be embarrassed. I wanted to save her from that horrible feeling, but knowing I was there didn’t stop her from flaunting herself freely in the water.

She swam three, four more lengths of the pool and took her goddamn time climbing out. I physically couldn’t extract my gaze at that point—the scene looked like something from a Bond movie. Her rounded hips were practically moaning at me, her slim waspish waist glistened beneath droplets of pool water sliding down her back. My dick groaned against the tightness of my pants, the crown feeling outright sore. When she turned, I caught a small triangle of dark hair between her legs before I looked away, causing me to painfully swallow a primal growl.

Then, to my combined regret and relief, she wrapped a towel around her, darted an obvious glare in my direction and stomped off into the house.

Only a few minutes later, while I’m still reeling from the sight of Contessa naked , Nicolò saunters onto the terrace. The thought that if he’d been only ten minutes earlier, he too would’ve been privy to that tight white body gliding through the water with only a sheath of black hair for coverage, makes my blood heat.

I’ve been planning to speak to Cristiano about his future sister-in-law at some point over the next few weeks, and she just pushed up my timeline. I know her family pretty much leaves her to her own devices, but I didn’t know she was naiveté personified until I had to explain why I’d killed her stalker friend, or stubbornly defiant, as evidenced by that naked swimming exhibition.

She should be thankful it was only me who saw. If it had been anyone outside of the crime family, they’d have met a bullet between the eyes.

Nicolò walks around the pool and settles beside me on a chair. “Did you get the papers I left for you?”

“The cop reports? Yeah. I gave them to Contessa last night. ”

Nicolò’s brows rise a touch. “Wow. You trying to traumatize her?”

My eyes narrow on the door as if willing her to re-emerge any second now. “She wasn’t taking the threat seriously enough.”

Is that why I shoved the papers at her? Or was it because she wasn’t taking me seriously enough?

Having Benito Bernadi move in right above where you hang out most days should be a relief. It’d be a fucking privilege for most people. But instead of looking grateful, she looked like she’d just been caught out in something. I know it was dark in the kitchen but I swear the blood drained from her face.

A voice in the back of my head says it had nothing to do with me providing a layer of protection—even Contessa isn’t na?ve enough to believe that wouldn’t be an advantage right now. The voice thinks there’s another reason why Contessa freaked at the thought of me being in that space. And it isn’t going to fucking shut up until I find out what that reason is.

“Fair enough.” Nicolò’s voice in the distance draws me back to the terrace. “Any word on Fury?”

Fazio ‘Fury’ Marchesi is— was —the boss of our biggest rival gang in New York. He stepped down as don in the early hours of this morning following our hit on his latest cocaine smuggling operation last night.

“No. They still haven’t announced his successor.”

“His son’s in a bad way. Broke both arms, his collarbone and three ribs in the collision.”

I interlock my fingers and stretch, the knuckles cracking in unison. “Yeah, well, Frankie wasn’t destined to take over from his father. He’s always been too weak.”

“Well, whoever it is won’t stand a chance against Cristiano. Not in New York. We own it now.”

“Almost.” I cock a brow and glance sideways at him. “They still have influence upstate.”

“True, but minimal,” he scoffs. “You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this but Cristiano is as much a mob man as my uncle was. He took north Jersey like it was already his.”

A small smile crosses my lips. “The shooting on the day of Gio’s funeral provided more than enough motivation.”

Especially now we know Trilby Castellano was in the car that was attacked, and Cristiano will blithely torture any man who threatens her existence.

“If you asked me, he relished it.” I hear Cristiano talking on the phone just inside the house. I stand and brush my palms down my thighs. “And he deserved to.”

Nicolò’s chin tips upward as his gaze follows me. “What’s the plan now? We just wait it out, see if they retaliate? Or do we hit them again?”

“Cristiano will have the final say, but it’s my counsel that we step back, at least for a few days and watch for their next move. They might panic; they might retreat. They might surprise us.”

“Surprise us, how?”

“I don’t know, but Fury isn’t stupid. He’ll have something up his sleeve. ”

I leave Nicolò mulling that over while I follow the sound of Cristiano’s voice. There are still drops of water on the steps from where Tess walked barefoot into the house. An image flashes in front of me of her slim, strong limbs wrapped in a white cotton towel, but I shove my hands in my pockets and blink it away.

Cristiano is leaning back against the kitchen island, an espresso in one hand and a phone in the other. He nods when I enter. There’s no sign of anyone else. Not Trilby, nor her sister. I turn on the faucet and pour a glass of water then wait for him to finish the call.

“Nothing,” he replies to my unvoiced question, as he puts his cell on the island. “We do nothing now. We lie low.”

“That was going to be my recommendation. What do they know about the hit?”

Cristiano takes a slow sip of espresso. “Well, they know it was us. Or, more specifically, they know it was you .”

I shrug. “I wasn’t the only one there. I had three capos and a couple of soldiers.”

“But you were front and center Benny. You might not have pulled the trigger but you were the one who snapped their necks.”

“They were already half dead. I was putting them out of their misery,” I reply. “Plus, if you’d seen their internet browsing histories, you’d have snapped their necks too.”

Cristiano shakes his head and tries to bite down on a smile. “I know you love being… hands on . And you’re good at it. But you’re no use to me dead. I don’t need you at the front; I need you to be my advisor—my consigliere .”

“I can’t advise you properly unless I’m in the thick of it,” I reply. Being on the frontline of our operation gives me oxygen. Gianni never had a problem with me getting my hands dirty.

Cristiano pushes himself off the island. “Then you’re just going to have to practice.”

His answer annoys me. Like I need to practice doing the admin . I want to be a mob man, not a pen pusher. My tone turns exasperated. “And what will I do for pleasure?”

His lips turn up into a wicked grin. “You’ll just have to get yourself a woman.”

“I already have plenty,” I say with a huff. “And they’re fucking boring.”

“Then you haven’t found the right one.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes, which only creates space for the vision of Contessa in a towel to flash across my lids again .

And she’s not that woman.

She’s the last thing I need.

“Speaking of women…” Cristiano folds his arms across his chest pushing the Di Santo crest inked to his skin through the white cotton. “What’s this I hear about you putting a bullet in some guy’s head because he sniffed Contessa’s hair?”

I know another son of a bitch who’s going to get a bullet in the head .

My tone throbs with impatience. “That’s not what happened.”

Cristiano smiles like a cat that got the fucking cream. “You want to elaborate?”

“Make whatever you want of it but the fact is, she’s part of our family now, and she’s a liability. I’ve been keeping an eye on her ever since you moved Trilby into the house.”

“So, six months then?” Cristiano’s brow dips like he’s working overtime to take me seriously, which only pisses me off more.

“I happened to notice during that time she was being followed.”

Cristiano’s smug grin falls. “Followed?”

I fold my own arms across my chest. This is my game now. “Yeah, followed .”

“Who was he?” Cristiano bites out.

“A nobody,” I assure him. “A low-life criminal. But he was sick. He’d been convicted of sexual assault. Jailed for it. He’d been stalking Contessa for three years, obsessing over her, documenting every move she made.” I take a heavy breath in. “He planned to abduct her.”

“When?”

“Don’t know the exact date,” I reply, “but looking at the diary he kept, it was close.”

Cristiano scrubs a hand down his face. “Why didn’t you tell me, Benny?”

“That he planned to abduct her? Because I didn’t know he was planning that until we raided his dive of an apartment.”

“And the stalking?”

“Because I had it handled.”

“How?”

I arch a brow like he really needs to ask me that.

“The barbershop…” he says quietly. “That’s why you set up the business?”

I lean back and brush a hand down my suit lapels. “It’s not why I set up the business. It’s a front. I launder money through it. But it’s one of the reasons I chose that spot .”

When I look up, he’s staring at me with unguarded gratitude. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Your loyalty will never fail to floor me.” He steps forward and wraps an arm around my neck before giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Benito. I had no idea she was in any danger, but you’re right, she’s still young and she doesn’t appreciate the risks of being connected with us. Please continue to watch her. My fiancée’s sister needs to be kept safe.”

He releases me and I go back to straightening my lapels. “I’ll do anything you need me to. You’re my family.”

He frowns. “Does she know that’s why you set up shop there?”

“She doesn’t know that’s why I chose that spot for the barbershop, no. Doesn’t matter anyway. The brat hates me. ”

Cristiano tries to cover his smirk with a curled fist. “She hates you? Why?”

A kernel of irritation sends out tendrils from the pit of my stomach to the surface of my skin. “Fuck if I know. Anyway, you don’t need to be worrying about her—you’ve got more important things to worry about. I’ll do it.”

“So, you’re going to spy on her from the barber’s chair?” His eyes are practically dancing with amusement.

I can’t help the sadistic grin pulling at my scarred cheek. “No, no. I’ve gone one better than that. I’m leasing the office above her studio. I’ll be there every day.”

He lowers his fist and pushes it into his pocket, then tips his head back a little and runs his tongue along his teeth thoughtfully. “Wow, you were taking this task seriously before I officially asked you to.”

I glare at him, confused. He should be happy I’m taking the brat off his hands.

“Well, this was enlightening,” he says with a grin before turning his back and heading toward the door.

I don’t like the feeling he’s leaving me with. I go to speak but my phone rings and I recognize the number straight away. It’s one of my most loyal soldiers.

“Wait. I have to take this,” I say and Cristiano stops. I press the phone to my ear. “Yeah?”

Donnie’s words tumble out of him at a million miles an hour and I stare back at Cristiano as I listen. The kernel inside me explodes with an intensity I wasn’t expecting. When eventually I hang up, I crush the burner into a few hundred pieces.

Cristiano turns his whole body to face me and his features darken.

I clear my throat.

“Someone’s burned down my house.”