by Abi Walters
Benson loosened his grip on her so he could stroke her head, “Calm down, precious. I need you to tell me what happened.”
He held her while she cried and told him exactly what had occurred from the moment she stepped off the elevator. When he thought the story was over, she nuzzled into his chest and told him she missed her dad and that he’d be upset she was such a bad sister.
“Don’t let him convince you that you weren’t a good sister, Mia.”
“You don’t understand, Benson. Maybe I was a good sister, but I’m not anymore. I knew leaving mom meant I was leaving him too, but I didn’t care. I told myself he was old enough to fight for himself, but I never called to check up on him. I spent three years hating my mother so much that I refused to dial the number. When I finally did, I actually had hoped my mom and step-dad were dead. How terrible is that?”
Benson grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. With puffy eyes and a snotty nose, she looked like a mess. It didn’t matter to him. He’d kiss her even if she was covered in manure.
“You lived through something terrible that forced you to grow up way sooner than you should have, but precious, you were still just eighteen. You did what you could. If I got away, I would have been too afraid to look back, too. It doesn’t make you a bad sister or a bad person. It makes you a survivor.”
Mia looked at him in awe, muttering, “I don’t know what I did to get you. Thank you, Benson. Thank you for making everything better.”
The corners of his mouth curved with pride, “I would do anything for you, precious.”
She sniffled, “That’s a little scary.”
Benson wore a full smile now and he chuckled, “If that’s how you want to look at it. Why don’t we head home? I’ll call in an order a La Bocca, and we can watch that Sixteen Candles movie you’ve been telling me about.”
In a daze, Mia pinched his cheek. Hard. When he yelped and looked at her with a raised brow, she smiled and shook her head, “I wanted to make sure you were real. Now I’ve just got to convince myself you’re not an alien.”
“Precious, I’ll show you just how human I am tonight,” He growled into her ear, his tongue darting across her earlobe.
She shivered, “And that’s all the confirmation I need. You’re still Benson.”
“Damn right I am.”
Once in the comfort of the Bentley, Benson placed a call to La Bocca. The restaurant didn’t serve lasagna, but Mia requested it, and he wasn’t going to tell her no. They drove around for a half hour until the dish was prepared. Victor didn’t object when Mia clamored to the front and plugged her phone into the USB port so one of her playlists could drift through the vehicle. She rested her head in Benson’s lap and closed her eyes, singing softly and out of tune to the songs.
They picked up their large pan of fresh lasagna and bundle of breadsticks and headed back to the penthouse. Benson carried the bagged food in one hand and wheeled her suitcase with the other. As soon as they were inside the apartment, Mia stripped out of her clothes. Not caring about the mess she left behind her, she strutted naked throughout the rooms before disappearing into the bedroom. Benson nearly cut his finger off at the sight of her curvaceous bottom swaying without regard.
She appeared a few moments later wearing a fresh pair of blue lounge pants and one of Benson’s Columbia shirts. She had twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head and scrubbed the makeup off her face. It was how Benson liked her most. She was sexy in her expensive designer lingerie. She was a bombshell in her pencil skirts and blouses. Naked? She made him lose his mind. But wearing sweatpants and a fresh face, she made him feel at home.
Benson set the plates with large portioned pieces of lasagna and a few breadsticks on the coffee table. Mia was searching for the movie on a streaming service when he left to change out of his stiff suit. When he reappeared wearing a pair of black basketball shorts, he found her staring at an envelope in her hands.
“What’s that?” Benson frowned as he slid next to her, making sure he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re looking at it like it’s a plague victim.”
“Eddie gave it to me.”
He wanted to snatch it out of her hands, “You can’t open it. What if there’s poison or something in there?”
“My policeman brother is going to give me an enveloped laced with Anthrax. Right,” She snorted.
“He broke rules to get to you,” Benson reminded her. “Should I open it?”
She shook her head and fumbled to unfold the envelope. She peeked inside and sucked in a hard rush of air before grabbing the contents and haphazardly tossing the empty envelope aside. In her hands she held a tiny stack of photos.
“When I left I couldn’t take any pictures with me,” Mia’s voice was shaky.
She leaned into Benson and flipped through the pictures, telling him the story behind each one. There were only a few, but he was overwhelmed with the opportunity to have such an intimate look into her past. He always thought of her childhood as a dark blanket of terror and hate. The pictures proved him wrong.
There was one of a young and adorable Mia with pigtails sitting next to her father, Eddie on the other side. The three wore goofy smiles and held melted ice cream cones. Another was from the Christmas before her father passed away. She was holding up a portable CD player and a stack of heavy metal albums were in front of her. With a laugh, she told Benson they were her dad’s favorite bands and even though her mom hated the idea of her listening to the music, she let her anyway because her father was so persistent.
Benson had always wondered what her parents looked like. It was obvious Mia looked more like the mother. Though she had her father’s silky black hair, her unique beauty mocked her mother’s. Staring at the faded family photo in his hands, he saw overly large green eyes and a mess of curly brown hair framing a curling smile that mimicked the ones Mia gave him. Strong male arms were wrapped around the curvaceous body, and her father’s head rested on her shoulder.
“You look like your mom,” Benson offered, passing the last photo in the small stack back to her.
She shook her head while she accepted it, “The last time I saw my mom she weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet, the bags under her eyes were so deep they looked like bruises… or they were bruises… and her lips were bleeding from biting them so much. Maybe I look like that,” She glanced at the stack resting on the coffee table. “But I don’t look like my mother.”
Benson winced, “I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t mean…”
He wasn’t sure what he meant. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do other than to hold her and listen, and even then he wasn’t sure he was doing too good of a job.
“Maybe Anthrax would have been better,” She joked, a lopsided smile hanging off her face.
He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, “Thank you for sharing those with me. I know it’s hard for you to talk about it. I sure as hell don’t want to know about the things that bastard did to you, but you seem better after you talk about it.”
“Those pictures were a low blow to try to get me to come home. I’ve been gone long enough to forget about all those memories. Why did he have to do that, Benson?” Her voice hitched as she tried not to cry.
“I’ll make him regret coming around,” Benson growled.
Mia’s fingers dug into his hand, “No. Don’t. I just want to forget he showed up. I want to forget how much he looks like our dad. I want to forget how he said my name. And I want to forget about these pictures. We should probably eat our lasagna before it gets cold.”
“I don’t care about the lasagna, precious, I care about you.”
She forked the pasta, her eyes closing when she took a bite. The last thing she ate was a muffin at LuLu’s hours ago. Even if the food wasn’t toe curling, she probably would’ve reacted the same way. She took a few more bites before pressing the play button on the remote by her side. Sixteen Candles had barely begun before Benson started talking agai
n. His voice was terse.
“I hate when you do this.”
Mia fought the urge to roll her eyes, “Do what?”
“Stiffen up and pretend like nothing happened. You get snappy and push me away.”
“I’ve dealt with this on my own for a long time. I don’t need someone to hold me when I cry.”
“I want to hold you.”
“Are you sure you’re not an alien? Because two weeks ago Benson Ward would have laughed at the idea of a woman living with him, let alone crying on his shoulder about her daddy issues.”
“And that!” He bit out through his teeth. “Fuck, I hate when you do that. Stop pretending like the fact that I care about you is some ludicrous notion. Did you ever stop to think that maybe you changed me?”
Mia’s stomach churned. She wasn’t hungry any more. She wasn’t even sure if the food she’d shoveled into her mouth moments ago was going to stay down. She clamored to get to her feet, but Benson grabbed onto her arm tightly.
“Where are you going?” He asked gruffly.
“I want to lie down,” She glanced down at him and sighed. “I need you to hold me, now, Benson. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t have to say any more. He stood and swooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom. They spooned, linking their bodies together. Benson’s hand slipped under her shirt to find a patch of bare skin to hold. Instead of shaking with silent tears, her breath steadied and she lulled into sleep.
Once he was sure she was sleeping, he slid from behind her. It was barely past nine. He wasn’t tired in the slightest, and even if he was, he sure as hell couldn’t sleep after the evening they had just had. He’d grind out a few miles on the treadmill, pushing himself to exhaustion until he was forced to pass out.
“Don’t leave me.”
Her voice was dreamy, wrapping around him like silk and pulling him back towards the bed. Mia had sat up and pulled her shirt off. A guttural grunt lodged itself deep in Benson’s throat at the sight of her curvy breasts and milk skin. When she crooked a finger at him, the noise made its way out of his mouth and he sprang across the room.
Hovering over her, their eyes caught and a thousand unsaid words were understood. That night when they made love, it was different than it had been before. Each thrust and tender kiss was laced with vulnerability. Benson and Mia were marked, their souls woven together in an intricate pattern that told a story of possession and love.
Chapter Twelve
The Dark Room was definitely a Ward Industries venue. It felt effortlessly hip while being meticulously planned. After passing through a solid red exterior door and channeling through a hall draped in black curtains and a glowing red light that housed security and admission, the venue opened up to a jaw dropping scene. Two sets of stairs painted black lined with thick LED lights flanked either side of the room, leading up to a second floor that overlooked the stage.
The walls were a mix of exposed brick and black drapes. The floors were a stunning refurbished wood that flowed seamlessly from one section of the room to the next. On the brick wall near the stage, a red neon sign spanning nearly the entire dance floor displayed the name of the venue. There was a large curvy red sectional in a corner, white lights strung above it. Stainless steel barstools and tables were scattered loosely around the main area surrounding the bar located in the middle of the room. The bar top was plastered with Polaroid pictures. Some were of buildings and attractions around New York. Others were of people dancing or smiling goofily. Two moderately sized flat screens were mounted on the top of the bar.
The dance area was sunken, accessible by two wide sets of three steps. The area was surrounded by a modern black metal railing lit with more bright lights. There was a narrow barrier at the front of the floor where security was positioned. The main floor curved around the sunken in area, providing extra standing room for guests.
The stage itself held the same refurbished wood as the rest of the venue. Black curtains that sparkled were tied back on either side. The wall behind featured The Dark Room logo, though it would be covered with the banner of whatever band was playing. Behind the stage was the wide open area that housed equipment and more red sectionals. There were two soundproof dressing rooms with décor that matched the rest of the venue, including the TV monitors that would display the show. A private bathroom separated the rooms.
Though it was a few minutes shy of five o’clock and the show didn’t start until eight, the building was buzzing with activity. Benson and Mia strolled in to the sound of Burnside practicing on stage, their temporary drummer working hard to mesh with the rest of the band. A few VIP music journalists lingered by the bar chatting idly and eying the stage. Roadies meshed with the designers and executives that were there finalizing every detail.
Benson wore a white shirt with the first few buttons undone under a casual blazer, a pair of black pants, and a pair of dark suede chukka boots. His hair was perfectly disheveled after he spent the entire day running his long fingers thorough it in anticipation. Mia’s chiffon leopard print blouse, tight black jeans, and high stilettos fit perfectly with his attire. A thin gold belt accessorized her waist.
When they strolled in, they took care of the official business they both needed to cater to. Some were joint issues, other were not. When she finished talking with the music journalists, buying them an early round, she went in search of Tyler. She had briefly spoken with him that morning and he was a wreck. Their stand in drummer was an incredibly quick learner and was doing a good job of filling in for Max, but there was a lot of tension off stage. The guys all felt guilty about playing without him, even though Max himself assured them it was what he wanted them to do.
There was a frenzy of bodies backstage, none of which were Tyler. Mia went to grab her cellphone from her back pocket when one of the dressing room doors opened. Charlotte’s Drive filed out, each man more handsome than the last. All devilishly good looking and insanely talented, the group was a force to be reckoned with. She herself had even swooned under a glistening smile, even when she was with Grant.
Grant. He followed them out. She sucked in a breath. He looked good. She had seen him sporadically since they broke up, mostly when she threw her conscious away and let him in her bed when he was in the city. Grant had an edge to his look. He didn’t read as a bad boy. He was more so the untouchable cool kid in high school who had a large brain to match. He had just passed the thirty year mark, yet he looked as good as he had the day they met.
He spotted her and his smile dug a knife in her heart. He strode towards her casually and she took a step backwards. Directly into a hard body. Mia spun on her heel and looked up at Benson. His stern gaze wasn’t aimed at her, though he instinctually held her arms as to comfort her.
“Mia Barnes, you look as lovely as ever.”
His voice. She turned and gazed directly into the chocolate pools that tore her to shreds. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she blamed her lapse of consciousness and sanity on Benson. She typically handled situations involving Grant with ease. But Benson stirred something magical inside her, and standing between her former lover and current lover was enough to make her forget how to think.
“Grant,” She nodded curtly, unsure of what else to say.
He smiled. It was a grin that could convince someone dirt was gold. His mouth twitched as he looked at Benson.
“You must be Benson Ward, the proprietor of this stunning venue,” Grant stuck his hand out for a shake.
“And Mia’s boyfriend.”
Benson didn’t take Grant’s hand. Grant didn’t falter. He shrugged and shoved the hand in a pocket, casually leaning to the side while he sized the two up.
“Of course. You two make a great couple. Hey, Meez, didn’t you wear a top like that when we were in Mexico? I faintly remember being on the beach and seeing you in some leopard get up. What a crazy few days, right?”
Benson’s fingers curled tightly around Mia’s arms, threatening to cut off circulation. He was
two seconds away from lunging at Grant when Mia fumbled to interject. Any lingering emotion towards Grant and his use of her pet name were wiped out when he took a low jab, bringing up their time in Mexico.
“I burned that shirt after seeing you with those other women. Anyway, we have some things to finalize. Good luck.”
It wasn’t the best way to defuse the situation, but was enough so that she could pull Benson away from the situation. His feet were like lead as she tugged him along, and then suddenly he was dead weight. Just as she looked back with curiosity, he tugged her back in the direction they came. Immediately, she began pleading with him to stop.
“No, Benson. Please don’t fight him. Your face is too pretty to get all bruised, and I promise he’s not bothering me. He shouldn’t bother you, either. He’s insecure and stupid and-”
They passed right by Grant, who was wearing a cocky smile as he talked with his band. Benson growled something as they walked by, but he didn’t even glance in Grant’s direction. He pinned Mia against a black wall a few feet away from the group, draping himself over her with his hands above her head.
“What makes you think I’d lose in a fight?” He muttered with a sly grin.
Mia couldn’t help but let a tense laugh out, “I don’t know if I’d want to risk it. Like I said, you’re too pretty.”
“He wouldn’t lay one punch,” Benson said smugly. His tone got more serious. “Why didn’t you tell me you went to Mexico with him?” When she didn’t answer he dipped lower and smacked the wall. “Did you wear that tonight because you knew you’d see him?”
“Fuck, Benson!” She hissed, pushing at his chest. “Why the hell would you say that?”
She knew Grant was watching them, probably sharing a laugh with his bandmates over how he effortlessly got the couple riled up. What neither Grant nor Mia expected is when Benson lifted a small panel in the wall exposing a tiny keypad. After a few strokes the wall beside them popped open revealing a door that had been seamlessly hidden in the smooth black wall. Mia barely had time to look at Benson in surprise before he grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her through the passageway, slamming the door behind them.