by Piper Stone
If she recognized my name, it certainly didn’t register on her face, but I did surprise her by knowing hers.
Catherine tensed, the push of her hand on my chest stronger than before. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Your father has taught you to be careful. Excellent. I assure you that I wanted nothing more than a dance. Tonight.”
“Interesting. You are an arrogant man. Aren’t you?”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her question. “I am a powerful man who gets what he wants. And I’ve decided that I want you.”
My statement pissed her off. Immediately, she did everything she could to break away from my hold. That made me hunger that much more.
“That may be true, Mr. Benedetti, but you couldn’t handle a woman like me. I suggest you run along and find someone who can tolerate your… size.” She purposely issued the last word while darting her eyes to my crotch. My God, the woman was full of piss and vinegar. I would certainly enjoy breaking her.
Then she would become mine.
I took several deep breaths as she walked away, my nostrils filled with her scent. Tasting her would be oh-so sweet.
I made small talk with a few people until I noticed Gregory standing with a rather large group of people surrounding him. As usual, it would appear he was pontificating. I moved closer, remaining on the fringes of the animated crowd, but close enough that it was only a matter of time before he caught sight of the newcomer.
In less than a minute, he did, immediately growing uncomfortable. If I had to guess, the starched, pressed white shirt he wore under his dress uniform had become highly uncomfortable around the collar. I lifted my glass, giving him a wry smile.
Then I walked away, nodding to Gio who was keeping an eye on the proceedings. Catherine had disappeared, which was fine by me. It was time for business.
Seconds later, Gregory stopped my progression, his face flushed from his obvious anger. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t believe you were on the invitation list, Mr. Benedetti.”
I didn’t bother holding his gaze, instead enjoying the view as well as the contents of the glass in my hand. “I go where I want, Mr. Wiltcher.” I refused to kowtow to his official title.
“If you are here to inquire about your father’s murder, this isn’t the time or the place,” Gregory continued.
I took my time turning my head, keeping the smile on my face. “I don’t need to inquire about the details, Gregory. The events that occurred at that restaurant in the middle of your jurisdiction were pretty clear in the news broadcast I was shown. My father was betrayed. Having said that, I also know the identities of the people responsible for making that happen.” I took another sip, swirling the cubes of ice until they clinked against the dense crystal.
“What the hell are you trying to tell me?”
I inched closer, keeping my voice even. “You and your buddies, Senator Starling and Michael O’Sullivan, simply tasked some of Michael’s soldiers to slaughter my father in the middle of the lunch rush.”
It seemed to take him a few seconds to react, but when he did, his anger had left him now replaced with utter fear. His face was pasty white, a nervous tic appearing in the corner of his mouth.
“That’s bullshit,” he barked.
I reached into my pocket, the collage of photographs I’d made small but detailed enough that the asshole should know better than to fuck with me.
After grabbing the single sheet from my hand, he managed to pale even more, a strangled sound coming from his lips.
“Now, since you have a better understanding of why I’m here, I suggest we go to a more private area to work out… restitution.” I grinned and backed away, cocking my head.
There was no hesitation. He turned on his heel and walked to a bank of doors, ignoring two people who attempted to draw his attention before bursting out of the ballroom. I took my time following, the only open door a clear indication of where he’d gone. After I walked inside and closed the door, I did a cursory check of the adjoining room. It was obvious the location was used as an auxiliary to the ballroom, a quiet space for brides and other members of celebrations.
Gregory immediately walked toward the bar, his hand shaking as he poured a hefty drink. Scotch. Neat. I had gotten under his skin.
What a shame.
He took several gulps while I continued to nurse mine, the man finally turning in my direction.
“What the fuck do you want from me, Benedetti?”
“And here I thought we were on a first name basis. Very well. I could easily crush you and your… friends with the vast amount of information my father gathered. That would mean not only ruining your reputation but also sending all three of you to prison. Honestly, I don’t think any of you would last very long behind bars. I could also put a bullet into each one of you, starting right now. But that is not how I run my business.” I took a few seconds to laugh bitterly.
“My business. I certainly hadn’t thought I’d be forced to say those words so quickly. But I digress.”
His entire face remained pinched, the anger returning to his eyes. “Then what the fuck do you want?”
“It’s simple really. An alliance.”
He couldn’t have been more confused. “Meaning?”
“Just what it sounds like. My father wanted to bring more of his business into the United States starting with New York. He was well aware of your connections, which would allow our product to be filtered into other large cities.” His eyes finally opened wide, realizing I wasn’t just talking about distribution of our award-winning wines and olive oils.
“That’s insane,” he hissed.
“Perhaps so, but at this point, you don’t have a choice.”
“My partners will never agree to forming any kind of sick alliance with a thug.”
I had to laugh given the word he’d chosen. He was in bed with a mafia lord after all. “Well, you’re going to help convince them, especially since our families will be so close.”
He pointed a finger in my direction. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“I didn’t say we were done, Gregory. We’re just getting started. I could leave here, but if I do, the option for you to remain out of jail is off the table. First, I’ll have a conversation with Maxwell Cunningham, just for fun. Then I’ll share all that my father gathered with the FBI. I do have a direct contact, the man proving to be extremely helpful. After that, I’ll destroy your entire family.” I enjoyed the last of my drink, moving past him to pour another one.
I could hear his heavy breathing as I did so. There was no doubt his mind was churning.
“What else do you fucking want, you horrible monster?” he dared to ask.
“Monster. Do I need to provide pictures of the club the three of you run together? You know the one I’m talking about. Club Risqué? I believe given your connections that you are easily able to provide young runaway girls, forcing them to participate in some pretty heinous activities.” I moved toward the window, able to see a hint of his reflection. His body had even started to shake.
“You fuckhead. You asshole.”
“I’ve been called worse things in my life, Gregory. You’ve heard my list of demands with the exception of one and what I’m about to tell you is a deal breaker. If you don’t agree, there is no deal. Then I’ll enjoy watching you burn in hell.”
His breathing became labored, the choking sounds he made almost disconcerting.
Almost.
“What? What do you want?”
“Your daughter.”
Gregory seemed taken aback, sucking in his breath. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I shifted in order to look him in the eyes. “I require your daughter’s hand in marriage. Catherine will make a beautiful bride. Don’t you think?”
I’d witnessed several men almost losing their shit after striking a deal that would allow them to continue breathing, but for a few seconds I thought the man might have a heart att
ack.
However, I was impressed that Gregory came to his senses, hissing before giving me a single nod.
As I walked out of the room, the deal already in motion, I felt a sense of satisfaction as well as pride. I also knew my father was looking down and smiling.
The fun was just beginning.
Chapter 3
Catherine
God, I loved New York City, every aspect. From the food to eclectic people, the energy level and all the opportunities to see various artists, I would never be able to call another place home.
Which is why I was determined to get a job with one of the premier law firms in the city.
But first you need to pass the bar exam.
The ugly voice inside my head always worried. Sighing, I got out of the cab, continuing to drink in the atmosphere. Eleven Madison Park. My parents had taken me here only once, the day I’d gotten into Columbia Law. It was fitting they’d invited me for a celebration dinner at the same location.
As I was escorted to the table, I tingled all over. I’d worked hard to get to this place, foregoing nights out with friends in order to study. Excellent grades meant everything to my father. Second best had never been good enough. Only after easing into the chair did I realize the table was set for two. The maître d’ had already walked away before I could inquire about the reason why.
An odd churning in my stomach instantly made me nervous. Had something happened to one of my parents? I shifted my gaze to the gorgeous view of Madison Park, enjoying the twinkling lights. No, my father would have told me over the phone. They had both appeared fine at the party the night before.
Sighing, I realized the waiter had already approached, holding a bottle of wine in his hand.
“Your father took the liberty of ordering Sangiovese from Italy for you. Unfortunately, he’s going to be a few minutes late and suggested you enjoy a glass during his absence.”
It certainly wasn’t unusual that my father was late. He rarely arrived on time to any function, his job always getting in the way. “That will be fine. Thank you.”
I barely paid any attention as the handsome young man poured, still trying to figure out why my father had asked me to join him alone. As I took the obligatory sip, it also dawned on me that my father had chosen an Italian wine. That wasn’t like him at all. He usually refused to drink anything that didn’t come from America.
“Very nice.”
“Yes.” The waiter’s eyes twinkled as he poured additional wine. On any other evening, I would have been flattered at his slight advance. On this night, I was annoyed as hell.
Immediately after he poured, I shifted my attention to the view once again, biting back a hiss until he walked away. For some reason, I couldn’t seem to get my mind off the asshole from the night before. The Italian man was probably the most arrogant bastard I’d ever met, yet he’d managed to intrigue me. Shuddering, I hated the fact I’d found him sexy as hell.
I absently swirled the glass, growing impatient with every thirty seconds that passed. Maybe my parents were getting a divorce. Not that I could blame my mother. My father was often insufferable, unable to separate his job from his family time. As if we really ever had any family time. Laughing softly, I took a sip, surprised how much I enjoyed what my father had ordered. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Catherine.”
I was surprised that my father hadn’t remained standing, waiting for the usual required hug. Instead, he’d slipped onto his seat, not bothering to wait for the waiter to pour the wine. By the pinched look on his face, I knew instinctively that something was very wrong.
He took a mouthful of wine, holding it before swallowing. And there was a single bead of sweat trickling down one side of his face.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” I asked, my tone far more demanding than I’d planned.
“Who said anything is wrong? This is supposed to be a celebration,” he answered, doing his best to offer a smile.
“Don’t play coy with me, Dad. Mom isn’t here and you’re agitated. Why don’t you spill it for me?” I sat back in my seat, waiting to see his reaction. Another surprise. He bristled as if furious with me. That usually didn’t transpire until later in the evening.
He took his time placing his napkin in his lap before bothering to answer. “I’ve always told you that family is more important than anything.”
“Yes, you have.” Over and over ad nauseam to be exact.
“I believe you also feel that way.”
“Yes, absolutely.” I studied him carefully, trying to figure out what he was getting at.
“Good, because your resolve will be tested, but I am certain you will handle this like the sophisticated, intelligent young woman I’ve taught you to be.”
All I could do was laugh, a cold chill running down my spine. “I think you should just tell me what’s going on. Are you and Mother getting a divorce?”
My father almost choked on his wine. “No, of course not. We’re very happy.”
I leaned over, lowering my voice. Whatever game he was playing was really starting to bother me. “Then what is going on?”
He narrowed his eyes, taking several raspy breaths. When he spoke, his entire tone had changed, more commanding like the way he treated the men and women working under him. “Catherine, it’s time for you to grow up. I need your help. Your family requires your help.” I was already going to interject when he threw his hand up. “You will listen to me very carefully and you are going to do as I ask.”
“Okay. I’ll listen.”
“You’re getting married.”
I jerked back my head, huffing before bursting into laughter. “Wait a minute. What did you say?” I didn’t have a damn boyfriend and had never planned on getting married before I was well established. That would take several years.
“I’m serious and the decision is final. While this is an arranged marriage, it will be quite beneficial for the family.” He appeared more uncomfortable than before, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was dead serious.
A buzzing sound started in my ears, creepy crawlies covering almost every inch of my body. I took a deep breath, holding it as I tightened the grip on my wineglass. I wasn’t a stupid girl. For all the preaching my father had done to his daughter, to his friends, and to his employees about doing the right thing both morally and legally, he’d crossed the line more than a few times in his effort to get to his position.
That had been the same as my grandfather, a man I’d feared as a child. I’d been privy to secret meetings both men had had with members of the mafia and other notorious criminal elements over the years. Maybe that’s why I’d become determined from the time I could remember to fulfill my dreams of becoming an attorney.
“What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into, Dad?”
“Don’t you dare take that tone with me, young lady.”
I bit back another retort, glaring at him as I took another sip of wine. “And just who am I supposed to marry?”
“Matteo Benedetti.”
Hearing the name almost dumbfounded me. The asshole from the night before. My God. The entire thing had been a setup. I was sick to my stomach but a part of me wanted to hunt the Italian bastard down. I should have knocked his lights out when I’d had the chance. That’s when the name also registered for an entirely different reason, one that I hadn’t picked up when I’d met him.
I’d seen all the news broadcasts regarding the horrific violence that had occurred at an upscale restaurant recently. I’d read a couple of the articles, the reporters’ speculations that a turf war was going to happen between the O’Sullivan Irish mob in New York and the Benedetti family out of Italy. While the O’Sullivans were little more than savages in every way, the Benedetti family was widely known throughout Europe to be ruthless and deadly, eliminating enemies without hesitation.
To think my father had gotten mixed up in something so… disgusting sent another wave of
nausea into my stomach.
Italy. It suddenly dawned on me that I was drinking Italian wine. I pushed my glass away, trying to catch my breath. Please don’t let me hyperventilate. Please. I counted to five, finally curtailing my anger. “Let me explain something to you, Father. I’m your daughter, not a possession. You can’t sell me to the highest bidder for repayment of some terrible thing you did. I am my own person and will do what I want to do. Family or no family. That bastard will never touch me.” I grabbed my purse, jerking up from the chair with enough force it was toppled backwards.
Of course there wasn’t a single person in the room who didn’t gawk at us. What the hell did I care if we were making a scene?
Before I had a chance to rush away, my father grabbed my wrist, squeezing so tightly he caused pain. When he jerked me down closer, his face beet red, I could tell just how furious he was.
“This isn’t a choice, Catherine. You are my daughter, and you will do exactly as I say. If you don’t, that bastard will ruin me. In turn, that will destroy any chance you have of getting a job as anything but a waitress. Don’t cross me on this. You will do as I say. That’s what families do.”
While I’d never seen my father this splintered, I honestly didn’t care. No one would force me into something I didn’t want to do. No one. I managed to yank my arm away, immediately wrapping my hand around the glass and tossing the rest of the contents into his face.
“Thanks for the wine, Pops. Just so you know, that’s not what real families do.”
As I walked out of the restaurant, immediately hailing a cab, a single tear slipped past my lashes. I’d likely just said goodbye to my family. Maybe he was right about one thing. It was time for me to grow up. I could break ties easily, forging a path in my life. That’s exactly what I was going to do.
Fuck my father.
To hell with him.
Suddenly, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
While I usually adored my gorgeous apartment, the luxurious location in close proximity to the University, tonight it seemed suffocating. I locked the door, immediately tearing off the nice dress I’d selected for what was supposed to have been a pleasant evening. I didn’t bother hanging it up, merely tossing it onto the floor of the cramped space. The high heels were next, the thudding sound as they hit the back wall giving me a smile. Then I stormed toward my dresser, yanking out the drawer with a little too much force. I took a deep breath, alternating between laughing and fighting the tears.