by Cora Reilly
I knew I’d never forget it. I’d probably have nightmares about it for the rest of my life. Mother’s last words, the look in her eyes filled my mind. How could I have let it come this far?
“No, I can’t.” I took a step back. I needed to get away, out of this room, needed to find Romero and tell him that I couldn’t survive this marriage, that I wanted only him, that he’d always been the one I wanted and would keep wanting him till the day I died. I was being selfish, I knew. But I didn’t care about causing a war anymore if the alternative meant having to spend my life being touched by Benito. Maybe Luca could handle the situation. He was a good Capo. He could prevent war. Right?
Benito’s expression tightened, that sugary sweet smile being replaced by something more leery and hungry.
Fear settled like a weight in my stomach. He grabbed my arms too tightly, making me wince. “You are my wife and you will do what’s expected of you.”
“No, please. I’m not ready. I need more time.” Time to figure out a way out of this without getting everyone killed. There had to be a way where nobody got hurt.
Benito chuckled. “Oh, don’t try this bullshit with me, sweetie. I’ve been jerking off to the image of your perfect perky ass for weeks now. Tonight I want to bury my cock in it. Nothing in this world will stop me, not even your big puppy dog eyes.”
I opened my mouth for another attempt at begging but Benito pushed me backward. I cried out in surprise.
My heel caught in the hem of my wedding dress and then I was falling. I braced myself for the impact, instead I landed on something soft and bouncy: the bed. How could I have been this close to it?
I tried to scramble off immediately but didn’t get the chance. Benito leaned over me, his knees between my legs, pinning my dress beneath him. I was stuck. I struggled, but my legs were tied down by the fabric. And I panicked. Panicked like I’d never had before, not even when I saw the torture scene in the basement.
Benito lowered his face down to mine and then he kissed me again. I turned my head to the side so he slobbered all over my cheek. His fingers clutched my chin, forcing me to face him. His cigar breath washed over me and his chapped lips were too close. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Listen, sweetheart. We can do this the easy or the hard way. For your sake, I hope you work with me. I don’t give a shit either way. I like it rough.”
He meant it. He’d force himself on me if I kept up the struggling, I could see it in his eyes. I couldn’t expect any kindness from my husband tonight. Tears and pleading wouldn’t change his mind.
I willed myself to relax beneath him. He smiled in a condescending way and shifted his body, finally letting my dress free. He pressed up against me, his mouth wet on my throat. He licked his way down to my collarbone. I tried to imagine it was Romero and when that didn’t work, I tried to stop thinking about him altogether. Tried to be empty and numb, tried to cast my mind to another place and time, away from my husband who would have his way with me, no matter what I wanted. Benito shoved my skirt up and slipped his hand up my calf. He grunted appreciatively and pressed his body even closer against mine. I could feel how much this excited him. Whenever I’d felt Romero’s erection, I’d been excited, but this? Oh God. I couldn’t do this. But he was my husband and I was his wife. I’d chosen this way to protect everyone who wanted to help me. This was my duty, not only to him but to my family, to the Outfit. It was the fate of many women. They had survived and so could I.
I hated the sounds my husband made, the smell that wasn’t Romero’s, the way his clumsy fingers tugged at my dress. He was my husband. His hand traveled up to my knee.
My husband.
Then up to my thigh.
My husband. My husband. My husband.
His hand reached the edge of my panties and I couldn’t take it anymore. I lay my palms against his chest and pushed him off me. I wasn’t sure where I found the strength. Benito had at least seventy pounds on me, but he lost his balance and fell to his side. I leaped off the bed but my dress was slowing me down. I staggered toward the door, arms extended. My fingers were mere inches from the doorknob when Benito caught up with me. His fingers bruised my forearm with their grip, and he flung me back toward the center of the room. I couldn’t gain my footing quick enough and fell forward, hip bones colliding with the desk in the corner. I screamed out from pain. Tears burned in my eyes.
Benito pressed up behind me as I was bent forward and his erection dug into my butt. “Tonight, doll, you are mine.”
And there it was, right in front of me. I barely noticed Benito’s hands squeezing my breasts through the fabric. My eyes were fixed on the gleaming silver letter opener. Benito squeezed again, harder, probably angry because of my lack of reaction. I gripped the letter opener. It felt good in my hand, cold and hard. My husband tore at the edge of my corset. I tightened my grip on the opener and jabbed my arm backward as hard as I could. Benito stumbled away with a gurgling gasp, letting me free. I whirled around. The letter opener stuck out of his right side of his stomach. Blood soaked the white fabric of his shirt. I must have hit him really hard, maybe even injured him seriously. I’d never done something like that.
My lips parted in shock. I’d really plunged a knife into my husband’s stomach. His wide eyes stared. “You bitch, I—” He gasped and dropped to his knees. His ugly beetle eyes grew even wider as he rasped in pain.
I stumbled away from him. What if he called for help? What if someone saw what I’d done? I’d stabbed my own husband. They would kill me for that, and even if they didn’t, Benito surely would beat me to death if he survived the wound.
There was only one thing I could do, only one person who could help me and I wasn’t even sure if he still would after everything I’d put him through. After what I’d said and what he had to witness today. Maybe he wasn’t even in Chicago anymore. Maybe he’d already taken the next flight back to New York to get as far away from me as possible.
I rushed toward my bag, ripped it open and fumbled for my phone. With shaking fingers I keyed in the number I knew by heart. Benito seemed still dazed but he had gotten up on his elbows. He was gasping for breath, obviously trying to find his voice to scream for help. What if he came toward me? Could I finish what I’d started?
A new wave of panic hit me hard.
After the first ring, Romero’s familiar voice rang out. “Lily?”
I’d never felt more relieved in my life. He hadn’t ignored my call. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate me.
“Please help me,” I whispered, voice hoarse with tears. They were streaming down my face. It wasn’t because I’d just stabbed someone with a letter opener, I felt no regret over that.
“I’m coming. Where are you?”
“Bedroom.”
“Don’t hang up,” he ordered. I wouldn’t have. I could hear him moving, could hear his calm breathing, and it calmed me in turn. Romero would be here soon and then everything would be all right.
After everything that had happened, he still rushed to help me.
Less than two minutes later, there was a knock. He must have been close or it would have taken him much longer to reach the bedroom. For a couple of seconds, I wasn’t sure if I could even move. My legs felt numb.
“Lily, you have to open the door. It’s locked. If I break it down, people will be up here in no time.”
That was all it took. I crossed the room in a few steps and opened the door. My heart was beating in my throat, and only when I saw Romero’s worried face did I dare to lower the phone from my ear and hang up. I felt safe now, even though I knew I was far from it. We both were in grave danger if anyone found us like that. By calling Romero, I’d put him in harm’s way. How could I do that to someone I loved? Hadn’t I gone through with this marriage exactly to protect Romero?
Romero’s eyes wandered over my half-open corset, my disheveled hair and ripped skirt, and his face flashed with fury. He stepped into the room, closed the door and cupped my face. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?�
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I shook my head, which I realized a moment later, could be taken as an answer to either question. “I stabbed him. I couldn’t bear his touch. I didn’t want his hands on me. I…” Romero pulled me against him, my cheek pressed against his strong chest. I listened to the sound of his pounding heart. Outside he looked calm but his heart betrayed him. “I didn’t sleep with him. I couldn’t.”
“He’s still alive,” he murmured after a moment before he pulled back. Deprived of his warmth, I wrapped my arms around myself. Romero advanced on my husband whose eyes were darting between Romero and me like he was watching a tennis match. His breathing rattled in his chest, but he’d dragged himself closer to the desk and was reaching for his phone. Romero stood over him, then calmly pushed his arm back down to the ground, his expression predator-like.
Benito fell onto his side with a pained gasp. He reminded me of a beetle who was trapped on his back, its legs helplessly pedaling above its body. I didn’t feel any pity though.
“You,” Benito snarled, then started coughing. Blood speckled his lips. “Did your Capo set this up? Chicago will make him pay tenfold. Dante won’t let you make a fool out of me and everyone else.”
“You aren’t important enough for Luca to give a shit about you,” Romero said coldly. He had the same expression I’d seen when he’d watched the Russians getting tortured in the basement.
I shivered.
Realization settled on Benito’s face as his eyes swiveled from Romero to me. “You and her.” His mouth pulled into a nasty grimace, spittle clinging to his lips. “You nasty whore let him fuck you. You—”
He never got the chance to finish his sentence. Romero stepped up to Benito, jerked him up by his collar and then in one practiced motion he pulled his knife and plunged it in an upward angle between my husband’s ribs, silencing his rattling breath. Without even blinking, Romero let go of Benito, who fell to his side, lifeless.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Liliana
Romero had just killed a member of the Outfit for me. Our eyes met, and cold fear spread in my chest like fog. Romero wiped his knife clean on my husband’s pant leg before he sheathed it in its holster.
My throat constricted as I walked toward him. “This means war.”
“We can come up with a story. I’ll pretend I’ve lost my mind. I’ve been lusting for you forever but you were never interested in me and today I snapped, and barged into your bedroom and attacked your husband, who tried to defend himself with the letter opener, which I then used to stab him. We can make it look like I tried to rape you so nobody suspects you were involved. Nobody would doubt it the way you look.” He stroked my cheek. “The bastard died too quickly for how he treated you.”
I couldn’t believe he was suggesting something like that. It was bad enough that I’d dragged him into this at all. I wouldn’t make him look like a disgusting rapist to save my own hide. “I won’t pretend you tried to rape me. You are the only man I want to be with.”
Romero wrapped me in a tight embrace. His smell, his warmth, the way my body perfectly fit against his; this felt right. My eyes found Benito on the ground. I’d tried to be his wife and failed, but I couldn’t be sad about it. I’d never wanted this, and he’d known it from the start. He would have forced himself on me, maybe that didn’t deserve a death sentence but he lived in a world where death was almost always the punishment. His eyes were still open and it seemed they were staring straight through me. The longer I stared at him, the worse their look seemed to get. I shivered violently.
Romero pushed me gently away. “Don’t look at him.” He walked toward the body and turned Benito so he was facing the ground, and no longer me. And just like that I felt better. He was still dead, but at least he wasn’t looking at me with that reproachful expression anymore.
I stumbled toward the bed and sank down. My legs were too shaky to hold me. Romero stood for a moment before he joined me. He brushed his thumb over my cheek, catching a few stray tears. I hadn’t even noticed I’d started crying again. “He’s dead now. He can’t hurt you ever again,” he said roughly. “Nobody will ever hurt you again. I won’t allow it.”
“If you confess to murdering Benito, you’ll be killed and then you won’t be around to protect me from anything.” Maybe it was a low move to play the guilt card but I couldn’t let Romero take the blame.
Romero’s gaze settled on Benito and the puddle of blood slowly spreading around him, turning the beige carpet into a sea of red. “We can’t cover this up. Even if we got him out of the house without anyone noticing, we could never get the blood out of the carpet. People would suspect something. Someone will have to take the blame for this.”
I buried my face in my hands, desperation clawing through my insides. “I should have let him have me. I should have endured it like so many other women before me. But I had to act like a selfish bitch.”
“No,” Romero said sharply, wedging a finger below my chin and tilting my face up. “I’m glad you stabbed him. I’m glad he’s dead. I’m glad he didn’t get what he doesn’t deserve. You are way too good and beautiful for this bastard.”
I pulled him down to me and kissed Romero. I would have deepened the kiss, despite everything, would have lost myself in Romero as I always did, but he was more reasonable than I and pulled away. “I have to call Luca. As his soldier, I need to confess to him at least, and then it’s up to him to decide what happens next.”
“And what if he decides to kill you so he can keep the peace with Chicago?” I asked quietly. “You know how angry he was when he found out about us. Even Aria couldn’t convince him to risk war for me.”
For a long time Romero merely looked at me, then he picked up his phone and lifted it to his ear. “Then I’ll accept his judgment.”
“No,” I said suddenly. I shoved his phone away. “Let me call Aria. She can reason with Luca. He listens to her.”
Romero smiled sadly. “This is something even Aria can’t do anything about. Luca is Capo and if he needs to make decisions that protect the Famiglia, he won’t let Aria mess with his mind. You said it yourself. He refused to listen to Aria.”
“Please.”
“I need to do this. I can’t hide behind you or Aria like a coward.” He raised the phone again and this time I didn’t stop him. He was right. Luca would probably be pissed if I tried to use Aria to manipulate him.
I held my breath as I waited for Luca to pick up.
“Luca, I need you to come to Benito’s room.” I heard Luca’s raised voice on the other end but couldn’t make out what he said. It didn’t sound nice. “Yes, I’m there. You should hurry.”
“Damn it!” Luca growled loud enough for me to hear, then he hung up. Romero lowered his phone slowly and put it back into his pocket.
I took his hand, needing to convince myself that he was really there.
Romero glared at Benito’s body but he didn’t try to tell me things would be okay. I was glad he didn’t try to lie to me. I rested my cheek against Romero’s shoulder.
There was a soft knock. I straightened, but my grip on Romero’s hand tightened. I didn’t want to let him go. Once Luca saw what had happened, I might never get the chance to touch Romero’s hand again, at least not while it was still warm. I shuddered when I remembered Mother’s lifeless corpse. I wouldn’t allow that to happen to Romero.
Romero kissed my forehead, then he untangled himself from my grip and got up. I rose too, my eyes darting to Benito. Anger for him welled up in me. If he’d never stepped into my life, then I could have been happy. But Father would probably have found another horrible husband for me. Fear corded up my throat as I watched Romero push down the handle and open the door. What if Luca really decided to kill Romero as punishment?
Romero didn’t open the door all the way, so Aria had to slip in. She sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of my dead husband, then she rushed over to me and clutched my shoulders, but my eyes were frozen on Luca who had walked in after her. His gaz
e settled on Benito, on the letter opener still stuck in his side and on the hole in the shirt where Romero’s knife had gone in. Romero closed the door noiselessly but didn’t move away. I wished he’d bring some distance between himself and Luca. It was a ridiculous notion. It wouldn’t protect him.
“My God, Lily,” Aria said shrilly. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d sounded so scared. I met her gaze.
“What happened? Are you okay?” she asked. She ran her hands over my arms, her eyes lingering on my ripped skirt.
I didn’t reply. Luca had started moving toward the body and knelt beside it, scanning the scene without saying a single word. His face was stone. This was it. Suddenly I was sure that Romero and I wouldn’t find Luca’s mercy today. Maybe Aria would manage to convince Luca to protect me, but Romero wouldn’t be so lucky. I knew I wouldn’t be able to watch him die.
Luca raised his head very slowly and fixed me with a look that turned my blood to ice. “What happened here?”
I glanced at Romero. Did he want me to tell the truth? Or should I lie? There had to be a story that wouldn’t make Luca angry enough to want to kill us.
Luca straightened. “I want the fucking truth!”
“Luca,” Aria scolded. “Lily is obviously in shock. Give her a moment.”
“We don’t have a fucking moment. We have a dead Outfit member in a room with us. Things will get ugly very soon.”
Aria squeezed my shoulder lightly. “Lily, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “He didn’t have time to hurt me.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t argue.
“Enough,” Luca said harshly. He turned to Romero. “I want answers. Remember your oath.”
Romero looked like a man resigned to his fate. It scared me senseless. “I always do.”
Luca jabbed a finger toward the dead body. “That doesn’t look like it. Or are you saying that Liliana did this alone?”
“Liliana is innocent,” Romero said firmly. He never called me Liliana. What was he trying to do? “Benito was still alive when I arrived. She’d stabbed him with the letter opener because he attacked her. It was self-defense on her part.”