Dark Reign (The Bennett Duet #2): A Dark Mafia Romance

by Xavier Neal

  “Mr. Ben-”

  “As for the rest of you, it’s next to impossible to trace and track who knew what without getting into a taxing they said-we said nightmare, so consider yourselves on probation.”

  Premature sighs of relief are expelled.

  “For the next ninety days, anytime a complaint is filed, one of you will lose your jobs.”

  The exhaled air is sharply grasped.

  “I don’t care if someone is merely reporting to Miriam that you bought espressos for one employee and not another.” Coldness cuts through my glare. “Those that work in this branch will never again feel like the voiceless victims you have spent time cultivating them to become. You will be the victims next. Your jobs are now at risk. Not theirs.”

  Tension in the room drastically increases.

  “You will be fired, replaced by lunch, and calling Mr. Blair for a job on his island selling bananas.”

  “Noci di cocco,” Miko speaks up over my shoulder.

  Coconuts.

  “Maybe it’s a joint fruit venture,” Dario nonchalantly suggests to my cousin who immediately hums at the possibility.

  “For the next ninety days, the communication with the human resources department will be as constant as data checks.” Hitting the power button to my device, I continue explaining, “Your salaries have been cut in half to provide this branch with seminars, training, and tools to create the healthy work environment it has not been. If you would like to see that money ever come back to your paychecks, I would recommend rethinking and reevaluating your approach to how you manage the power you have been entrusted to have.”

  A small, unexpected ding suddenly cuts through the room.

  I let a villainous smirk crawl across my lips. “Perhaps Mr. Blair isn’t the only one of you no longer employed…”

  Miko leans over my shoulder to state, “Il tuo pacco è arrivato.”

  Your package has arrived.

  Before I can reply, Dario interjects, “Vorresti che io vada avanti…,” his brow twitches in his struggle to form the rest of the question, “e ti mantenga caldo?”

  Would you like me to go ahead and keep it warm for you?

  The fact he has made an effort to incorporate Italian is one that wins my praise and hatred alike. He should possess the power to understand what is being said. He should know how to communicate in mixed company. He should value the importance of it being one of my main tongues. Him deciding to learn – most likely from Antonio or Uncle Gianozzo – only proves how dedicated he is to becoming my second. Family. But, seeing his determination only reminds me further that every step he makes forward is one my best friend is making away from us.

  Away from me.

  Steps he has to take because he sacrificed himself for my happiness.

  A sacrifice that the person we’re going to see next is partially responsible for.

  “No,” I politely insist to Dario. “We’ll all be going now.” My head motions for him to retrieve my tablet while I taunt those in the room. “I said all.”

  There’s an instant clamor of chairs and devices collected. Those that still have their jobs race for the door while George stares on in a state of horror.

  Rather than offer comfort or condolences, two things he has not earned, I rise to my feet, button my jacket, and make a recommendation. “You have approximately seven minutes and twenty-two seconds on this property before your presence will land you in jail for trespassing, Mr. Blair. You may want to use it to gather any valuables that were not purchased by or charged to a company card.”

  Some sort of scoffed cry escapes on his way out of the room.

  “Am I the only one who thinks he looks like a younger version of the dude with the one arm from Black Panther?” Miko’s question causes me to cock my head in his direction. “When I say am I the only one in a room in which you’re in, I am never asking you, because your movie familiarity is almost as bad as your fiancée’s Italian accent.”

  I mindlessly defend, “It’s…improving.”

  “Her accent or your knowledge of popular culture?”

  The glare he’s thrown causes him to arrogantly chuckle.

  “Andy Serkis,” Dario suddenly adds to the conversation.

  We stroll out of the conference area and head towards the elevator bank. “What?”

  “Andy Serkis is the name of the guy who plays the character Miko was referencing a second ago.”

  Hearing the actor’s name makes no difference to me.

  “He was in Rise of the Planet of the Apes.”

  I say nothing.

  “The Prestige.”

  My continued silence has him tossing out another.

  “The Escapist.”

  “You can quit wasting your breath any minute now.” Miko’s laughter increases in speed. “Beni is more likely to recognize backwoods brands of toilet wine rather than movies.”

  I’m not even given a chance to counter.

  Dario casually comments, “For a man who has a literal cinema in his home – complete with the projector screen and popcorn machine – I find that odd.”

  “The point of the cinema was about entertaining not being entertained,” I instantly clarify.

  “That sounds ridiculous.”

  Dario is shot a hard glare at the same time we step onto the elevator. “Attento alla tua lingua.”

  Mind your tongue.

  As soon as the doors close with the three of us inside, Miko brushes my retort, “Ignore him. He’s just troppo sensibile,” too sensitive, “about the wrong shit sometimes.”

  It’s obvious Dario wants to smirk but doesn’t.

  “How about we stop talking about frivolous films and those that star in them to focus on the right shit, sì?”

  They nod in tandem.

  Our relocating to the cold storage district where Uncle Gianozzo is guarding the thief that sat among us is done promptly. The SUV drive is mainly filled with mindless chatter from them and silent thoughts of best carving practices for me. Once we’re past the gates to the private property, Miko begins asking which instruments I would like to have taken inside in the duffel bag and explaining to Dario that while he should know the basics of what I want when it comes to slicing up a plate of vengeance, he should always ask to verify.

  It just may be the day I’m feeling fun in which I would be in the mood to use something less practical and more dramatic.

  Like a machete.

  The very tool that I would like to tip the scales of justice with.

  Inside the warehouse building that’s permanently marked as “under maintenance” to allow bloodshed to be spilt within its walls without raising suspicion on what’s truly happening, I cross to the center of the room, unbutton my heather grey jacket, and sit in the seat positioned directly across from the bound and gagged individual.

  Uncle Gianozzo is silently instructed to wait outside by Miko, and Dario is commanded to remove the hood cloaking the man’s face.

  In one effortless pull, his stare is allowed to meet mine.

  I prop one leg on top of the other and use the Kukri machete as my pointing assistant. “I’ve never liked you.”

  Phillip doesn’t bother trying to yell or scream behind the cloth gag.

  “There was always…just… qualcosa su di te.”

  Something about you.

  A small shrug bounces my shoulder. “I assumed it was because I’d convinced myself you wanted to fuck my fiancée.”

  “You’re probably still convinced of that, Capo,” Miko playfully adds.

  His statement is met by a mirth-filled glance and a small smirk. “Vero.”

  True.

  When my glare returns to the spineless piece of shit across from me, I continue, “You’re aware of my nickname, sì?” Phillip remains silent prompting me to motion to the cloth wedged between his teeth. “Remove it.”

  Dario violently unties the gag and yanks it away.

  “Answer.”

  Phillip instantly does,
voice shaky in fear, “Yes.”

  “You’re an intelligent individual – reckless – but intelligent. You know someone doesn’t possess a nickname like the butcher without being able to wield a certain level of brutality to accompany it, a level of which I will be displaying on you, before chopping your corpse into filets and serving one to your brother as I give him my less than sincere condolences during your memorial service.” I tighten my grip on the mahogany handle. “For unwittingly introducing me to the mother of my child-”

  “Chantal’s pregnant?!”

  “She is.”

  “Since when?! For how long?! Is that why you won’t allow her back at the office?!”

  “Dario.”

  His fist flies across Phillip’s weasel face momentarily stunning him silent.

  “For unwittingly introducing us, you won’t meet the fate of a bullet.” The tip of the blade points to where his wrists are bound. “For stealing from me, I will be removing your hands.”

  They flex in response to the statement.

  “For having the love of my life taken-”

  “Wait.Wait.Wait! What!? When was she taken? Taken from where? Taken how? Do you mean taken like kidnap-”

  One swift chop across the tips of his fingers sends the pieces scattering and blood splattering.

  He wails in agony.

  Shock.

  Dread.

  “I do not like that word.” Smells of the blood sift through the air prompting me to smirk in satisfaction and success alike. “Now, interrupt me again, and I’ll do the other hand next.”

  Phillip presses his lips together to suppress the sounds seeping from him.

  “Here’s what I know,” I state at the same time I rise to my feet. “You were the one skimming from me. Given your position, you knew which accounts to avoid, which accounts would raise less suspicion, who was lazy enough not to bother correcting your mistakes and who was naïve enough to be manipulated into keeping the errors unknown. What you initially either failed to realize or thought could be overcome was the dedication to detail my Mia Bella not only has but notes.” After briefly taking a moment to admire the blood dripping from my blade I meet his watery stare and continue, “That’s why you hired someone to break into her office. You wanted to know what she knew and how much she could prove. It’s the reason why you were left alive instead of executed like the guards.” The memory has me moving closer to sever the only untouched digit – the thumb. Instead of making my moves quick, I chisel at the trembling appendage, savoring every scream it tears straight out of the depths of his soul. “You think this is painful?” I growl through the grinding. “Imagine not knowing where your pregnant fiancée was being held hostage for a goddamn week!” His disconnected thumb is promptly flicked away so that the tip of the tool can touch the top of his neck. “I know that the money you stole was shifted into offshore accounts. I know that you are not the only one who has access to them. I know the other individual’s name. I know that they used an alias to match yours. I know that every dollar you drained from me that is still in that account is being put into a college fund for my future heir who, I have no doubt, will inherit his or her mother’s admirable thirst for knowledge. What I don’t know is…,” my face leans forward as I growl through gritted teeth, “why you stole from me to begin with.” Pressure is applied into the delicate skin causing blood to dribble. “And, why you worked with them to have my fiancée taken from me.” I narrow my eyes once more. “Did they falsely promise you that you could have her?”

  “Who’s they?!”

  His croaking is convincing but not enough for me to believe he had nothing to do with it.

  That he isn’t tied to the women we managed to confirm worked together to remove the person they dubbed a threat to their futures.

  Another nick is executed a little closer to where his pulse is pounding against his pale skin. “Rispondi alle mie domande.”

  “Mr. Bennett would like you to answer his questions.” Dario grips Phillip by the hair to keep his head steady. “Go in order.”

  “My…my girlfriend, she’s the other one on the account. She…she had me add both of our names under pseudonyms for a…worst case scenario situation.”

  I quietly mutter under my breath, “Sono abbastanza sicuro che sia questo.”

  I'm pretty sure that's this.

  “She…convinced me to do it. She convinced me to steal from you.”

  “Quale ragazza?!” Miko harshly bites from behind me. “You have no fucking girlfriend! I did my shit! I looked into you and your mind-numbingly boring existence.” There’s a small pause proceeded by a heavy sigh. “Seriously, man. Even your porn history is snoozeville. Who doesn’t occasionally mix their shit up with like a schoolgirl cheerleader being fucked by a big black strap-on that the sexy lesbian bus driver just so happens to have?”

  My eyes briefly shut as I shake my head at the outrageousness of his comment.

  “I-I-I do have a girlfriend!” Phillip informs, pushing past my second’s somewhat strange admission. “We work hard to keep our relationship unknown.”

  “You seem to be successful at that.”

  Miko grunts, “Nome?”

  Dario jerks his head around in tandem with translating, “Name?”

  “Emily Garrett.”

  “The neighbor?” My second scoffs. “You’re fucking your neighbor?”

  “It’s more than that!” He spits in ire, obviously sensitive about the phrasing. “We’re going to get married and move to Rome! I’ve been saving up for a ring! I’m gonna propose on the beach! We-”

  I slash the blade across his t-shirt covered chest, creating a shallow gash. He croaks in pain but can barely be heard over me barking, “You’re not doing shit except being dissected like the slimy, pathetic frog that you are.” The edge of the machete is angled to cut the other direction. “Why the secrecy?”

  “Why should I keep talking?”

  His pushback is almost startling.

  “You’re just gonna kill me anyway.”

  “Yes, I am,” the blade lightly touches his chin, “however, the speed at which that occurs will directly correlate with how much fucking useful information you deliver to me.” A tiny nick is made to the area. “Answer my question.”

  “She um…she,” his chest heaves through the increasing pain, “she said it would be safer if we weren’t associated. That if anyone ever caught on…it’d be…,” Phillip struggles to collect his thoughts, “harder to trace back to her. I didn’t want that to happen, either. I never wanted anything to happen to Emily. I’d keep her safe against…against anything.”

  “I see. And, what, precisely, have I done to the woman you’re fucking-”

  “Love!”

  Another gash is executed to his chest prior to me finishing my question, “What have I done to her to warrant this outlash?”

  Blood pools delightfully in his lap causing him to start to sob.

  Seeing the red streaks slide down his jeans to his white shoes that will be stained otherwise when I’m done soothes my shifted temperament. “Repeating myself, Mr. Harrington, is not something I am fond of doing.”

  Tears stream down his face to meet the liquid that’s collecting at his feet. “She…she…she says…you…you stole from her family. Th-th-that your family owes hers. That your…your…your father…he…,” an exasperated filled cough breaks up his explanation, “you would pay. You needed to pay.” His vagueness is followed by his head attempting to bob away and Dario restabilizing it. “Her mother…she…,” pain seems to take hold of his ability to think, “the story was…so…sad.”

  Confusion cloaks my stare only stopping when Miko slaps his cheek to keep him conscious. “Focus, fuck head.” My second lifts his cell phone up to Phillip’s line of sight. “Which one of these women is your girlfriend?”

  Phillip does his best to scrutinize the photo, yet it ends with him shaking his head. “None.”

  Miko backhands him on an annoyed huff. “L
ook again!”

  Unsure of what he knows that I don’t is what allows him to continue his portion of the interrogation.

  “None!” Phillip shouts back with force.

  “There are no fucking traceable photos of your dear Emily, so I don’t know which one of these bitches she actually is.” Another hit to the face is given to ensure he stays alert. “So, look harder this fucking time and tell me which looks closest.”

  “The bitch in the bottom corner has a resemblance, like maybe they could be cousins or something, but Emily has longer hair and…and…and um…blue eyes and…and fuller lips and would never wear that much make up. Her nose is also wider. Eyebrows fuller.”

  An irritated grunted chuckle comes out of my second, “Fottuti trucchi per il trucco.”

  Fucking makeup tricks.

  The realization that hits us both has my eyes soaring to the ceiling and shaking my head in disbelief.

  He was the pawn being used.

  Love were the strings being pulled to do the bidding.

  “Emily isn’t who you think she is at all.”

  There’s no response out of him.

  “That’s not even her real name.”

  Despite his shaking, he remains silent.

  “That’s not her real job. That’s not where she lives. And, whatever bullshit story she convinced you to believe was probably a fucking lie, too.” I shake my head as I add, “The woman you fell in love with isn’t. Real.”

  Phillip’s eyes bore into mine showcasing an unexpected emotion. Heartbreak. “Then fucking kill me.” He tips his chin up a little higher. “She was the only thing worth living for anyway. Only thing that made my life…less…boring.”