Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance

by Natasha Knight

  I dragged the silk sheet up over my naked body, sat up, flinched, and lay back down. Beside me, the empty pillow lay sideways. I touched it, leaned over and buried my nose in it, then reared back and shook my head.

  What the hell was I doing?

  He’d whipped me, humiliated me, then fucked me.

  I’d come.

  I’d begged him to fuck me harder.

  I hated myself.

  No, I hated him. I needed to remember that.

  Why was it so hard to remember that?

  I got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He must have showered recently. Steam still fogged up the corners of the mirror, and the scent of his aftershave hung in the air.

  I found I liked it, felt somehow comforted by it.

  The devil you know. That’s all that was. I knew Salvatore. I knew his limits.

  Fuck. I was fooling myself.

  I used the bathroom, not surprised to find blood between my legs even though I wasn’t having my period. He’d fucked me raw, like he said he would.

  And you’d come.

  I turned my back to the mirror, the dark, crisscrossed welts reminding me to hate him. To see him for what he was: a Benedetti. My enemy.

  I touched the raised marks, pressed against them, forced myself to remember that he was my fucking enemy. I could not let myself trust him, let myself depend on him. He would hurt me. Wasn’t this evidence of that?

  This strange emotion—no, it was not emotion. Only confusion. I felt confused, but who wouldn’t be if they were me? Isolated from family and under the care—more like under the thumb—of Salvatore Benedetti, I needed him for everything. Every fucking thing. And that was why I had any feeling for him whatsoever. Maybe it was a form of Stockholm Syndrome. I mean, this may not be a traditional kidnapping, but it wasn’t like I was here by choice. Not my choice, anyway.

  I turned on the shower and stepped under the hot stream. I wanted to scrub his touch from me. Wanted to scrub the memory of my reaction to him from my mind.

  He’d fucking whipped me, and I’d begged him to fuck me.

  I scrubbed my hair with shampoo and my body with soap, gritting my teeth when the hot water hit my ass. When I was finished, I climbed out and dried off. I wanted to be out of here. I’d only been told I had to stay the night. Not any longer. But what if his father made me stay? What if Salvatore had already gone? And left me behind.

  Panicked, I hurried into the bedroom, found my cell phone in my purse, and dialed Isabella’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Izzy?” I was sure I’d woken her. “I’m calling too early. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, it’s okay. How are you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m in Franco Benedetti’s house in the Adirondacks.”

  “What?”

  Well, that woke her up. “I had to come. It was his birthday. We were required. I just…”

  “Are you okay, Luce?”

  I only heard concern in her voice now. I felt my eyes heat up, but I blinked hard. I didn’t need tears. I hated weakness. Hated it! “I—”

  The door opened then, and Salvatore walked inside carrying two mugs of coffee. I sighed in relief.

  “Lucia, what’s happened?” Isabella asked, likely having heard the sigh.

  Salvatore looked at me quizzically and closed the door. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, his usual uniform, and he’d slicked back his dark hair. He mouthed the word, Okay?

  I turned away.

  “Never mind, I’m fine,” I said to Izzy. “I thought he’d left me here,” I whispered, hoping Salvatore wouldn’t hear.

  I heard a male voice asking what was going on in the background.

  “Who is that?” I asked.

  Isabella sighed. “No one. I’m getting up to come get you now.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said, turning to find Salvatore sipping his coffee, watching me. “He’s not going to leave me here,” I said, the comment more a question to Salvatore.

  He shook his head.

  “I’ll call you once we’re home. Uh, I mean, back at his house.” Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? “I have to go.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Sorry to have called so early, sis.”

  “You’re fine. You can call me anytime, day or night, understand?”

  I nodded. “Thanks. Love you.” I hadn’t said that in more than five years.

  There was a pause. “Love you.”

  I disconnected the call and slid the phone into my purse. “I thought you’d left me here.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you. Come here.”

  I went to him.

  “You okay?”

  I shrugged a shoulder, dropping my gaze to shield my eyes. Why did his asking make me feel so fucking needy? Why did him taking me into his arms make me want to sob? Because that’s what it did. That’s what having his arms around me right now, like he would keep me safe forever, even after last night, that’s what they did. They made me want to weep.

  The last time he’d held me like this, I’d pulled away. This time, I didn’t. I let myself melt into him. Neither of us spoke. I squeezed my eyes shut against his chest, feeling confused and hurt and vulnerable and so fucking grateful he was here. None of it made sense.

  “Can we go?” I asked when I could speak without crying.

  He pulled back and looked at me, his thumb wiping away some of the moisture around my eyes. “Not yet. I need to go down to breakfast, but I’ll make an excuse for you. Get packed. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”

  I nodded and went to sit on the bed but stood again as soon as my ass made contact.

  “Lucia?”

  I looked at him.

  “Does it hurt?” His face told me he knew it was a stupid question.

  “What do you think?”

  He studied me, his forehead furrowing. He at least had the decency to look away for a moment.

  “If it means anything, I didn’t want to punish you on my father’s order.”

  “But you did.”

  “I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Salvatore.”

  He stood there a moment, his eyes on mine. “Get packed. We’ll leave as soon as we can.”

  He walked out the door and left me standing there in my towel.

  His absence filled the space as soon as the door closed, and I hugged my arms around my belly, feeling more alone now than ever. But I forced myself to move. To get dressed. And as much as I hated it, to go down the stairs and face Franco Benedetti head-on.

  I couldn’t hide, I wouldn’t. If I did, it showed that he’d won. That he’d shamed me, and I was hiding from him, afraid of him. Well, the latter was true, but I’d be damned if I’d let that fear get the better of me.

  I dressed, packed my things, and pulled my wet hair into a bun before dabbing concealer under my eyes. I picked up my purse and walking out into the hallway. I paused, finding a staircase at either end. I looked over the banister, but all was quiet down below. I chose the stairs to my right and headed down, heard a door open and Salvatore’s voice coming from it. I followed his voice, steeling my spine as my heart raced and my belly flipped.

  I would not let Franco Benedetti win. I would not.

  I reached the door and would have turned the knob but Franco’s raised voice made me pull my hand away.

  “You know what I expected of you!”

  “I would not parade her through that room full of pariahs! She was humiliated enough! This is done. She’s mine. I choose!”

  Something pounded. I imagined a fist and a table. Was it Salvatore’s? Was he defending me?

  Then came Franco’s laughter. Quiet at first, menacing, slowly growing louder, almost manic. Someone clapped his hands.

  “My son, he finally grows some balls.”

  I fisted my hands, inhaling tightly.

  “Fine, Salvatore. She’s your whore. But remember, I gave her to you. I
can as easily take her back. Take care of Luke DeMarco before there are any more supporters. One week, or Dominic will do it. I’m finished with him.”

  What? What did he mean, take care of Luke?

  But then I heard footsteps, heavy and moving fast, and I charged toward the stairs. I bolted up then and ducked down behind the banister. Franco Benedetti stalked out of the room, his face tight with anger, his hands fisted at his sides.

  I scurried back to the bedroom and closed the door, thinking, trying to make sense of it all. Should I call my sister and warn her about what I’d heard? Warn Luke? Or should I try to find out more first? See if Salvatore would tell me anything?

  When a quick knock came, I jumped up, thinking it was Salvatore and that we could go. The door opened, but it was Dominic who stepped inside. He looked me over, his gaze odd, almost curious, but he remained at the entrance of the door.

  “Hey,” he said casually. A smile curved his lips upward, his voice sounded almost sweet. Too sweet. “I wanted to see if you were okay. My brother can be a brute and, to be honest, it sounded like he wasn’t holding back last night.”

  I flushed. Was he talking about the whipping or the sex or both?

  “I…I’m fine.” I faltered.

  He nodded and stepped inside. I didn’t like him, didn’t like the way his eyes shifted around the room and over me.

  “I’m glad.” Again, his voice soft, his smile gentle. “If you ever need anything”—he grabbed a card out of his pocket—“this is my private number.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Just take it and hope you never have to use it. Like I said, my brother can be very physical. Brutal even. I’ve seen what he’s done before, Lucia. I’ve cleaned it up.”

  What?

  When I made no move, he closed the space between us, took my hand, turned it over, and pressed the card into my palm.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

  I jumped at Salvatore’s sudden appearance, but Dominic only gave him a smirk and picked something out from under his fingernail.

  “Just checking in on Lucia. Since she wasn’t feeling well and all. She looks good to me, though, considering.”

  “Get the fuck out of here, Dominic.”

  Dominic shrugged a shoulder and glanced back at me after taking a step toward the door.

  “If you ever need anything, Lucia…”

  “She won’t be needing anything from you.”

  Salvatore stalked toward me, the look in his eyes chilling me as he squeezed my wrist and took the card from my hand. He didn’t look at it. Didn’t need to, I guessed.

  Dominic walked out the door. Salvatore kicked it shut behind him, his hand still gripping my wrist.

  “You’re hurting me, Salvatore.”

  Anger, frustration, I don’t know what it was, but whatever he was feeling, it rolled off him and slammed into me.

  “It seems that’s all I can do.” He dropped my wrist. “We’re leaving.” He grabbed the suitcases and walked into the hallway.

  I followed him out of the bedroom, wanting to be away from this house most of all, yet fearing Salvatore. Uncertain now if would save me or destroy me.

  We didn’t run into anyone as we left. Salvatore’s car waited just outside the front doors. The man who must have brought it around handed him the keys. Salvatore loaded the bags into the trunk and opened my door, not waiting for me to get in before he moved around to his side. He was clearly as anxious as I to leave.

  We didn’t speak for the first twenty minutes of the ride back. Salvatore’s tension literally rolled off him.

  “Dominic will fuck with you. You’re not to have anything to do with him, understand?” He didn’t look at me but kept his eyes on the road.

  “Is that an order?”

  That made him turn his head toward me. “Yes.”

  “Or what, you’ll whip me again? Doors open this time?”

  His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles going white. “Don’t push me, not now.”

  “What the hell happened back there?” His face tightened even more. “I heard, Salvatore. I heard you stand up for me. I heard your father lose his shit.”

  “Then you didn’t learn your lesson about snooping.”

  “I wasn’t snooping. I was coming down to have breakfast, show my face. Show him he hadn’t won.”

  Salvatore snorted and shook his head, the smile that appeared on his face sad. “You don’t get it, Lucia. He always wins.”

  “I told you before, everyone loses sometime.”

  “Not Franco Benedetti.”

  There was such a weight to him, to his words, that it made me sad. Just sad. But I needed to ask one more question. I needed to know one more thing.

  “He said something about taking care of Luke.”

  Salvatore gave me a sideways glance. He didn’t answer my question, but he sure knew how to distract me.

  “I’m going to let you out of your contract. Once all is said and done, and I’m boss, you’ll be free, Lucia.”

  13

  Salvatore

  I couldn’t win. No one could. What I said to her, I meant it. Franco Benedetti would win. And everyone else would lose.

  Lucia went straight to her room when we got back to the house, and I shut myself up in my study. She hadn’t talked to me the entire ride. Probably pissed at me, which I expected. I would deal with that later, though, because as soon as I booted up my laptop, I saw an e-mail from Roman regarding Luke’s activities.

  Luke had been busy indeed, meeting with various members of the Pagani family in the tristate area. We knew that, though. That wasn’t new. It was the next part that intrigued me.

  He was spending his nights in Isabella DeMarco’s bed.

  That’s why it so surprised me to learn that I was wrong. That he wasn’t Effie’s father.

  But that wasn’t the strangest thing. In fact, what I saw made zero sense.

  I picked up the phone and dialed Roman, but before he could answer, the door burst open. Lucia stood in the doorway, looking pissed off.

  “So are you just going to lock yourself up in here and not talk to me at all?” She walked inside. “Because you’re giving me fucking whiplash.”

  I put the lid of my laptop down just as Roman answered the phone. “Let me call you back.” I got up and closed the door. “You ever hear of knocking?”

  “What the hell is going on, Salvatore? What happened this morning? You were fine. We were fine. Then you had that breakfast meeting, and I don’t know. It’s like you keep pulling the fucking rug out from under me!”

  “I told you, I’ll give you your freedom as soon as I can. I thought you would want that.”

  “This isn’t about that. You can’t just throw that out there. And besides, how long until you’re boss? And what if you change your mind?

  I resumed my seat behind the desk but pushed away from it and crossed one ankle over my other knee. “I won’t.”

  That silenced her for a second. She just stood there surprised.

  “If you want a fight, I’m not in the mood,” I said. “Not now.”

  She shifted her weight and folded her arms across her chest. “How about the truth, then? Are you in the mood for that? What is the Luke DeMarco problem you have to take care of?”

  I let my gaze run over her. She’d changed into a pale yellow sundress, and I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. My balls tightened, but I steeled myself. Lucia was fast becoming a weakness. My weakness. I needed to stop this. I meant what I said, that I’d release her from her contract. I needed to take care that when the time came, she wouldn’t look back.

  The best way to do that was to be a dick.

  I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the desk. “How’s your ass, Lucia?”

  “My ass is none of your concern.”

  “Show me.”

  “Screw you.”

  “You want to know about Luke DeMarco?”

  She eyed m
e warily but nodded.

  “Fine. He’s stirring up trouble. A lot of it.”

  “What did Franco mean when he told you to take care of it?” she asked.

  “You aren’t surprised by what I just told you?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “We’ll always be enemies.”

  That took me a moment to digest. I decided to push further, see how much she knew.

  “Why exactly did your father disown your sister?”

  “Because she got pregnant.”

  “Doesn’t that seem strange to you? I mean, this is modern day. Women have babies out of wedlock and alone all the time.”

  She studied me. What did she know? Did Isabella confide in her? How much?

  “I don’t know. I guess my father was old-fashioned.”

  “Has your sister ever questioned it? How he was willing to lose her and his grandchild?” I asked.

  “My father didn’t exactly make the best decisions regarding either of his daughters, did he?”

  “No, I guess you’re right.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Just curious. Why don’t you go for a swim. It’s nice out.”

  “Why are you pushing me away? I thought—”

  She sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, and the fact that I’d caused her that hurt messed with me. Was she innocent? Or did she know more than she let on? And if Luke wasn’t Effie’s father, then who was?

  “What did you think?”

  “You said some things last night.”

  She shook her head then brought her hands to her face, rubbing it before looking at me again.

  “I am so confused. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I don’t know where I stand, and as soon as I think I understand something, understand you, you strike out then pull back again.”

  Watching her, I rubbed the back of my neck and loudly inhaled, then exhaled, realizing I couldn’t be a dick. Not to her. She deserved better. “It’s best if we keep our distance, Lucia.” I don’t want to hurt you, and it seems it’s all I can do.

  She studied me, and the look inside those wide eyes screamed confusion. I understood it. I understood her comment about the whiplash.

  My phone buzzed on the desk, and I glanced at it, seeing a text from Natalie.

  “I need you!”