by Xavier Neal
“And, it was my idea to send the poison flowers!” Aspen Acker squawks.
“Poisoning the wrong person,” Gemma criticizes as she picks up her champagne glass.
“It wasn’t my fault that guard didn’t handle them properly!”
“I got her ass scared off of social media,” Eloise announces with pride. “That shit counts for something, too!”
“Yeah, and we all, pitched in to pay those weird military guys to kidnap her!” Ember squeaks in outrage. “And, we all took turns talking to them so it couldn’t be traced back to us!”
Gemma rolls her eyes on a cocky smirk. “You really think those things were your ideas?” She indulges herself in a small sip. “Puh-lease. You were all so fucking easy to control. Playing to your vanities,” she shoots Josephine a harsh look, “your fantasies,” her glare is thrown in Aspen's direction, “your insecurities…,” a disgusted gaze lands on Ember, “and your desperations, made the shit child’s play. The only thing you were all genuinely good for was guaranteeing that if this very moment ever fucking occurred, I wouldn’t be the only one suffering for it.”
Ember’s pout is easy to spot in her voice along with her face, “But you said-”
“I said ‘we’ would get rid of her, so that we all had ‘our’ rightful shot at Benicio. Killing her would’ve created war, something that would’ve only prolonged him picking a woman while he found so-called justice for unforeseen death, which is why the first round of shit was to get her scared off and the next to have her sold somewhere she should’ve never been found.”
Ah.
More answers revealed.
“It was a brilliant fucking idea that I came up with. All you brainless bitches did was pitch in the money to pay the guy who hosted the auction. I was the one who sucked his cock to guarantee it was only the highest quality bidders. Going the extra mile to contact Cobb and entice him to bid was me. None of you let him watch you in a bubble bath, in pigtails, playing with fucking rubber ducks to convince him he could have that and more if he bought her.”
Chantal’s foot bumps into the chair again, yet it’s unclear if it’s intentional or if it was an accident.
I recall the journal entry in which she endured something similar.
Is she…uncomfortable?
Does she need to be freed from this moment?
“There’s no reason that cunt should’ve been fucking found! She was shipped to the middle of fucking nowhere. Cobb’s rape island is literally where women go and are never heard about again. But, since Benicio managed to magically find her means one of you fucked it up.”
Irateness rolls around inside my mouth.
“The truth of the matter is – since you bitches are too stupid to get there on your own – I wanted your hands just as dirty as mine during this process to guarantee the possible backlash sullied everyone’s futures. There was no way I was ever going to let any of you have a better shot than me. And, since we’re being fucking honest, none of you, had a real chance to begin with. You’re pathetic. You’re weak. You’re needy. You’re clingy. You’re not the type willing to do literally whatever needs to be done to get shit done. What Benicio needs is a woman like me. One who was willing and is willing to do whatever it takes to not just handle a situation but control it.”
“You’re right,” I casually insert into the conversation.
All of the daughters – except Gemma – let their jaws drop.
Her crystal gaze darts my direction, an air of arrogance radiating off of her.
“You were precisely the type of woman I would’ve chosen.”
More excitement flutters in her eyes.
“You were obedient. Strong. Silent when requested and would’ve only spoken when needed. You are easy on the eyes yet understand the power of modesty in a world that’s always watching.”
She lets a victorious grin slither onto her face.
“You’re also very clever.”
The continued stroking of her ego has her biting her bottom lip in further elation.
“Dictating to the group the best means, the hardest path of tracking, and, of course, spreading the cost of an endeavor this size are all quite remarkable feats. It’s impressive to me that instead of competing or leaving yourself vulnerable to a failing situation, you attempted to remove your greatest obstacle, your greatest…threat from the board.”
“They,” she motions to the other women at the table, “were never actually competition.” Gemma’s eyes lift to Chantal. “Just. Her.”
Outrage and offense pour from all the daughters at the table. Their squabbling is riddled with more confessions to their crimes, shocking and infuriating their families alike. I allow them to have their deserved moment. Finding out you’ve been betrayed by your own children is not an easy consequence to swallow for anyone.
There’s yelling.
Forceful grabs.
Threats.
It isn’t until Eloise is met by her father’s backhand that I resume speaking.
“I do have…one question, Gemma…” Her eyes find mine and light up from hearing me purr her name. “You used Phillip – which is what you and your family will be eating tonight instead of steak – to steal from my company. Why the theft?”
“What?!” Jaq forcefully rumbles, damn near launching himself out of his seat. “She would never-”
“Perhaps you should hold your tongue.” The direction snaps his mouth immediately closed. “You were already proven wrong once.”
Jaq whips his face to Gemma and hisses, “Tell him you would never do such a thing.”
“It wasn’t about greed, Gemma,” I casually seduce her into talking. “You’ve already proven you’re more brilliant than that.”
She wets her lips and swivels her stare to mine. “The money stolen should’ve been my family’s to begin with.”
“Gemma!”
I lift a hand to silence her father. “Explain.”
“Your fucking father should’ve never married your whore mother,” Gemma heartlessly huffs.
“Watch your fucking mouth, Malefacunt,” Chantal unexpectedly bites at the same time she inches towards her.
“Or, what?” The glass in her grip is slammed on the table. “You’ve already ruined my fucking plans, so what’s left to lose Princess A-whore-a?”
“Dio, voglio ridere di questa merda,” Miko grumbles in what sounds like pain.
God, I want to laugh at this shit.
That makes one of us.
I am not entirely sure what they’re referencing; however, I imagine I’ll be receiving a shameful scolding followed by an entire lesson on it over breakfast in the morning.
“Your life is what’s left to lose,” Chantal clarifies, body gravitating uncomfortably closer to Gemma.
“Mia Bella,” my voice quietly warns against the action.
“You gonna kill me?” Gemma challenges on a wicked smirk. “You gonna have the balls to do what it is my aunt never did?”
“Gemma,” Jaq reprimands his child. “Enough!”
She rises to her feet and the hairs on the back of my neck stand as well.
I don’t like this.
I do not like this one fucking bit.
“My aunt should’ve been Mrs. Bennett. She’s what his money hungry father should’ve chosen instead of some Wop who looked good in red lipstick.”
Increased irateness prompts my mouth to move, yet seeing my fiancée continue her approach has me switching intents to cease her approach.
“She was perfectly groomed. She was perfectly fucking ready. She would’ve not only kept her place but saved him the goddamn embarrassment of everyone knowing his wife would rather be sucking his second in command’s cock than his.”
Tension transudes from every member of my family in tangible torrents.
“She should’ve been queen of the Bennett empire. My family should’ve been the ones to have their name and reach extended.”
Jaq reaches out for his daughter’s arm, �
��That’s en-”
She snatches her arm away and continues ranting, “Do you know many times I’ve heard that The Lamarches and The Bennetts should’ve merged their organizations to be something that could’ve risen to the level of the Syndicate? Do you have any idea how many fucking lectures I’ve listened to about how together they could’ve been something so powerful they could’ve added a seat to the table for them? Do you know what it’s like to be fed the same fucking grievances over and over and over again and told that you’re the only one who has the courage in your family to make the shit right?”
I twitch a glare at the way her frame is angled. “Cugino.”
Cousin.
Miko quietly reassures, “Sono pronto.”
I’m ready.
Jaq hastily squawks, “I never-”
“Of course, you didn’t.” She rolls her eyes at the man she received so many of her sharp features from. “You didn’t have the balls to fight for your sister nor do you have the brains to put together a plan in which we would still win even if it appeared as though we didn’t. No. Aunt Jacqueline was the one who leant me her guidance, putting this plan in motion the minute we got the news that Benedict died.”
“She’s a drunk!” Jaq barks his retort.
“She is now.” Gemma’s scowl shoots back to me. “I would be, too, if I had my future robbed of me by some guinea slut!”
“Final. Fucking. Warning.” Chantal coldly states, frame further away from me than it was a moment ago.
“Mia Bella avvicinati a me.”
Mia Bella move closer to me.
“The Bennetts stole my family’s chance to increase their notoriety and monetary prospects that they deserved!” Her face grows in such vileness that it has my hand twitching to retrieve my weapon to join Miko in shooting her. “So, yes. I picked the obvious weak spot in your accounting department. Effortlessly manipulated him into doing my bidding by promising him literal long walks on the beach. And, then took from your precious company what we’ll call compensation for fucking my family over the first time as well as collateral for fucking us over a second time by making the same idiotic mistake your father did.”
Her words have me inching to the edge of my seat, prepared to act.
“Only difference is you didn’t have to cross the ocean to pick a member of the help to marry.”
Chantal barks out a laugh of disbelief and disgust.
“That money we stole and tucked away is owed to us, among other things. And, had you simply been better than your worthless father, the missing money wouldn’t even, technically, have been missing by the end of it all. It would’ve just been right back into the Bennett name since it would then be our company. Our empire. No harm. No foul.”
“You are the foul,” my fiancée growls while still moving towards her despite my earlier command. “You didn’t fucking help your family. You just issued their fucking demise, you whiney worthless bra-”
Gemma swings her hand around to strike Chantal in the stomach with the steak knife she cleverly collected into her grasp during her explanation. I immediately dart to my feet to fire my cocked Beretta M9. Unfortunately, due to the angle, I don’t have a clear shot. My second swiftly prepares to do just that but can’t either because the woman I love is faster than we were predicting. In a flawless sequence of movements, her attacker is met by a counter hit to the forearm that causes her to drop the knife, said weapon is caught by the handle, and then thrust into Gemma’s abdomen. Surprise barely settles into her stare before she’s reaching up to roughly grasp a handful of Chantal’s hair. Despite the obvious pain, she doesn’t relinquish her hold on the blade. She doesn’t whimper or cower. She doesn’t back down.
Everything is screaming inside me to go over there.
Stop this shit.
Put a bullet between Gemma’s eyes and take the mother of my child away from everyone and anyone that can harm her.
But that would do more damage than good.
They’d never respect her.
They need to.
She needs them to.
Logic and instinct battle it out in my mind regarding when to intervene, while she effortlessly proves why there was no reason for me to even rise from my chair.
Chantal thrusts her hand forward, fingers splaying across Gemma’s face, fingers clawing into her eyes. Screams of agony are proceeded by the releasing of my fiancée’s locks. As soon as she’s free she swings the toe of her heel into her enemy’s shin. The action has Gemma hunching forward, which allows Chantal to grab her by the hair that’s pinned on top of her head. She uses the grasp she’s maintaining on two ends of her attacker to guide her back to the table where she slams her down face first onto the table right beside her father.
Jaq looks tempted to act, and I shift the barrel of my gun to him. “Do not move Lamarche.”
My fiancée repeats the headbanging, again, further disorienting her assailant. She steadily duplicates the brutal facial beating until Gemma’s once model-worthy face is nothing more than a bloodied collection of bumps and bruises.
Chantal ruthlessly smothers Gemma’s face in the pool of her own blood between her begging, “Please!” Choked cries appear before additional imploring, “Please, have mercy.”
There’s no reluctance.
No second guessing.
No hesitation.
Chantal retrieves the steak knife from where it's currently wedged and rams it into the side of Gemma’s neck.
Diana Lamarche immediately screams out, “No!”
The woman they will all rightfully respect from this point forward twists the knife inside to guarantee every vital artery has been severed prior to proclaiming, “There is no mercy in this household.” She swiftly yanks her bloody hand away and bores her gaze into Jaq’s. “You owe us a pound of flesh, Mr. Lamarche, before feasting on the remains of someone I once thought of as a friend of sorts. Would you like to pry it off your daughter’s still warm body, or should I?”
Awe barrels itself through every vein in my system.
Seeing her unleash the level of barbarism needed to protect us, combined with hearing her speak in such a way that leaves no room for doubt whether she will again, has my heart hammering and cock hardening.
I slowly lower myself to my seat, but keep my gun aimed on Jaq just in case he gets reckless like his daughter. “The choice is still yours, Mr. Lamarche.”
He slowly shakes his head, doing his best not to break down in tears. “I’ll do it.”
“Very well, then,” Chantal hums in a tone that sounds identical to the one I’m known to use. She finally lets go, allowing Gemma’s lifeless corpse to crash to the ground. With her chin tipped upward as if an actual crown rests on her head, my fierce female daintily places the knife on the table, takes a step backwards knowing to never turn your back on a possible attacker, and instructs, “Start with her tongue.” Her gaze shifts to the remaining guests at the same time she announces, “You may begin your collecting as well.”
Murmurs and looks of horror return to those surrounding the table. They look at my stoic expression. One another. Erupt in fury. Resentment. Chuckle-worthy arguments promptly ensue between the Dons and their female guests regarding who is to sacrifice what and how much.
That this is not up for discussion.
Or pleading.
That it is the actual price they are to pay.
The Dons know and understand that I am a man of my word.
Chantal’s bloody hand lands on my shoulder in such a way it casually pulls a wicked grin to my lips.
And, now…now they understand she is a woman of hers.
Chapter 21
One moment I’m lying on my back staring up into the hazel eyes of the man I get to officially call my husband in less than twelve hours, and the next, all I see is darkness.
Beni gently adjusts the red, silky soft, satin blindfold’s resting position over my eyes at the same time he hums, “È sfortuna per la sposa vedere il suo sposo il gior
no del suo matrimonio.” A small pause is accompanied by the feeling of a single finger sliding its way down my chest barely touching my skin. “It is bad luck for the bride to see her groom on her wedding day, Mia Bella.”
The corners of my lips curl upward in mischievousness. “Good thing I can’t actually see you right now, then.”
As anticipated, he chortles out a chastising, “Comportati bene o sarai insoddisfatto fino a dopo il nostro matrimonio di stasera.”
Behave yourself, or you will be unsatisfied until after our wedding tonight.
I helplessly giggle prior to respectfully acknowledging, “Yes, Sir.”
“Molto meglio.”
Much better.
“Non muoverti.”
The order to not move is instantly met.
In spite of the inability to physically see what it is he’s doing, I can hear it all quite clearly.
First, there’s his slipping off our slightly squeaky mattress – something he will be having replaced while we’re on our snowy honeymoon. Next, is the opening of our bedside drawer – where the fun, yet less dramatic, accessories are kept. After that, momentary silence occurs, which usually means whatever he’s retrieving is in some sort of additional packaging.
Excitement over the idea alone has me clamping down on my bottom lip.
It’s not like our sex life has taken any sort of hit.
It’s, actually, been quite the opposite.
Turns out that extracting the type of revenge that leaves all of those in your criminal dynasty afraid to so much as think your name, let alone ever say it in mixed company like your Candyman in a Canali suit, allows for a certain weight to be lifted from your shoulders. And, as soon as that weight was lifted, our entire world shifted. We waited through the weekend for the blood to settle, but after that, true change came.
I’ve been allowed back into the Keleston office accompanied by armed guards, of course. One of my new members of security is Tai, who begged for the opportunity to follow in his brother’s footsteps, wanting to honor him by finishing the job he had started. Miko and Dario believe in him, yet my overprotective husband feels he needs more time before he can be left to secure me on his own; hence, why I always have two members.