Brutal & Raw: Mafia Romance & Psychological Thriller (Beneventi Family Book 1)

by Sonya Jesus

  Once 327 is dead, there’s no ifs left that matter. Dead is dead. There’s no bringing her back from the other side of the pearly gates, not that I’d ever be allowed up there, and there’s no point in thinking about something I won’t be able to live without, because without conscious effort, my body will provide enough contradicting proof. If I can breathe without her and blink without her, then I can live without her.

  It will be simple and effortless. I’m getting good at lying to myself.

  Another impatient knock works on my nerves, and I snap my head to stare down the door. The no sleeping thing has made me hyperaware of all the fucking things that annoy me. Like, my subordinates’ impatience. All of these people eat because of me. I put the dirty money on their clean plates, so they better have a modicum of respect, or I’ll have to stop making examples of them, and shoot them on the spot.

  Knock- Kno—

  “Finish that fucking knock, and I’ll make sure your hand is jarred and hung on the door.”

  The knob twists and in walks Magdalena, like she owns my space. “Well, I’d be more attached to it if the ring was on it.”

  I sigh and plop the tumbler down with a little bit too much emphasis. What is she doing here?

  Her cold, calculating eyes snap to the glass, and her narrow-eyed expression does little to contradict the she-crazy rumors.

  I stand up, impulsively sliding my hand over my holster and checking for my gun, in case she decides to satisfy the bloodlust and carve her name into my chest. “You’ll get it,” I say with about as much patience as she’s giving me.

  “Hmm,” she says in a skeptical tone and drops her purse on the chair before walking over to the window. She keeps her back turned to me.

  I grab the bottle of agua ardente Romolo brought me after taking care of the squealer’s wife and pour it straight into the cup. I don’t bother asking about ice for two reasons: one, ice on burning water defeats the purpose, and two, Magdalena likes everything straight-up, men included. Lying to her is either the stupidest thing I’ve done or the last thing. “What are you doing here, Magdalena?”

  She swivels her head slowly around, catching me from her peripheral vision as if the sight of me disgusted her. “Really?” Her thin and precisely sculpted eyebrows curve upward and flatten out.

  Nothing more follows her facial gesture, which really pisses me off. The last thing I need is Magdalena in the same room as 327. “I’m expecting business.”

  “Ah…right.” She sounds almost normal, which spurs my crazy alert.

  How sane is responding with interjections? I hand her the drink in my hands, hoping the alcohol will break the ice. “What can I do for you, Magdalena? I don’t have much time, but you deserve all my free minutes.” The obvious lie gratifies her, and she turns her temperamental-self toward me.

  I step back and rest against the edge of my desk, keeping eye level with her. It’s dangerous to give her the upper hand. It’s even more dangerous not to give it to her. “Do I get a kiss?”

  She smirks her plump lips in my direction and saunters over to me. The sway of her hips, like waves of lust, clearing the room of ease. She comes closer, wedging herself between my legs. With one hand, she holds her drink, with the other, she smooths out the shirt on my chest. Her long fingers scamper over my arm and reach the back of my neck. They linger, scraping her long fingernails over the skin before they move to my scalp.

  The feeling is uncomfortable and yet so fucking hot. She takes control, as if it belongs to her alone, and undoes the button on my jeans with her one free hand. Then pulls down the zipper.

  I shut my eyes, pretending like the woman in front of me is someone completely different, but it feels wrong.

  Wrong? I scoff to myself as Magdalena’s fingers dip into the waistband of my shorts. I moan and suck my breath in when she frees me, lifting my hips to let her slide my pants down a bit. It’s been awhile since the hand wrapped around my junk belonged to someone other than me.

  “I’ve been thinking about you…” she whispers into my ear. The harshness in her husky voice strikes a nerve, and all the adrenaline rushes downward. Her grip doesn’t loosen as I expand in her unyielding grasp.

  There’s a fine line between exciting and terrifying, and I’ve always liked that line. I glare at her, daring her to make her next move.

  She smiles as she squeezes me, only easing up when I grunt from the unease. The friction of her dry touch is rough, but there’s never been anything gentle about Magdalena. With her free hand, she unzips the red dress, exposing her nakedness. She has nothing on underneath.

  “You missed me?” Being missed by someone is nice, even if that someone had a few screws loose.

  “Miss is a strong word…” She lifts her knee up and places her heel on my desk, opening herself to me, not so I can touch, but so I can watch the tiny, thin hairs of her slit glisten from her arousal. She likes to show men she doesn’t need them to get her wet. “I have thought a lot about you these last ten days, and about us. Have you?”

  “No,” I answer honestly. Immediately, the pointy heel of her shoe digs into my testicles, right over the material of my pants.

  She smiles wickedly. “Want to try again?” she orders, dangling threats and seduction as if they are one. I harden instantly, anticipating her next move is more foreplay than the hand pumping up and down my shaft.

  “You trying to scare me?” I tilt the liquid contents of my glass down my throat to appear indifferent. The worst thing to do is show fear. She lives off that shit, and she doesn’t like weakness. That’s why she agreed to marry me. “It’s not working.”

  Thankfully, I really like rough, and I’m still hard. I slide my hand to her foot and hold the shoe. She slips out of it and then the other one before hoisting herself around my waist, aligning her core with mine.

  “Magdalena…” I hiss in protests as she guides me inside her, bare. I release my drink, not offering any help. I want her to stop, but I wouldn’t mind if she kept going. Sex could help pass the time and stave off her anger. Romolo said he’d call, and there hasn’t been any contact yet.

  My anxiety pools in my stomach, and I channel it to sex with Magdalena.

  She rides me, using every deep thrust to tell me a list of her body’s demands until they become verbal. “I want to get married next week.” She buries herself to the hilt and lifts up again. “On Saturday.” Another thrust. “In a small chapel in Italy.”

  “What?” I grip her hips and pull her off of me, the weight of her words finally sinking into my brain. “Are you insane?”

  “Yes,” she says deadpan.

  Well shit. My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I reach for it, knowing it has to be about 327.

  “Don’t!” she orders, zipping her dress open. I give in, but only because her kind of attitude isn’t to be fucked with. She grabs my phone from my hand, testing me. No protesting on my part. There’s a passcode on there that she—unlocks.

  How the fuck does she know my code? I get to my feet quickly, but don’t reach for my phone. Snatching it out of her hands will incriminate me, so I tuck my junk back in and zip up. “Magdalena, I don’t have time for this, so either fuck me or get the fuck out.”

  “The mood is gone.” She taps my phone against her lips awkwardly, drawing too much attention to the effort.

  “Yeah.” I grab her barely touched drink and let the burning liquid cool my nerves. “Don’t make that a habit. I don’t like to be teased.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, and I really don’t like women touching my phone.”

  “Well, I’ve done both. You really should be more cautious of your private stuff.” Her gaze flickers to my crotch area, but I’m sure she meant my phone.

  I pluck the phone from her hands and slip it into my back pocket, before she decides to go through it. There’s nothing much but encrypted messages and a protected file that is only accessible via a certain application one of my men created. It looks like a photography
editor, but is really a way to transmit photos between the guys and me. You learn a thing or two from being infiltrated in the black market. “How did you know my code?”

  She pumps her shoulder and walks over to the couch, making herself comfortable. “I’ve watched you unlock your phone a lot. It’s not hard to do. 0327.” She mimics the direction of the numbers in the air, mimicking a keypad. “Have you ever considered fingerprint or retina unlock?”

  “Not my thing.” I recall how that information goes into a database, which can be later accessed, just like those DNA sites. I don’t do anything hackable or traceable. “Are you expecting me to change it?” I ask, knowing this was all some fucked-up test of hers. “Because you’re going to be my wife and you know pretty much everything.”

  She smiles triumphantly.

  Shit. What trap did I just fall into?

  “There’s no reason for us not to move up the wedding, then?”

  There are a lot of fucking reasons, like my house isn’t in order and a girl, but I can’t tell her that. “Magdalena, next week? That’s rushing it, won’t that draw attention? No one even knows we are dating and serious.”

  She chuckles and waves her hand dismissively. “Everyone knows.”

  I don’t find that hilarious. “How do they know?”

  “Even mobsters have social media.”

  I don’t. Digital fingerprinting is dangerous for our line of work. Then again, Magdalena doesn’t really give a shit. “The Commission, I doubt, has any kind of social shit, so cut the crap. How do they know?”

  “Dad plays golf with Sovrano, and there’s been confirmation of sorts. I posted a picture of the two of us at the New Year’s Party about a month ago with a comment about us being months in the making. Relax…” She flips her long hair off her shoulders. “I didn’t show your face.”

  My jaw clenches so tight I can almost hear my molars crack under the pressure. “What does your father think of this?” I know he and Costa discussed a long engagement, two years or so. Once everything was settled and things fell into place, we would make our move. I moved up the engagement because of saving Kelsie, things couldn’t have changed that much. The idea was to overthrow the head of The Commission, who everyone calls the sovereign king, Sovrano, and take his place. He has no male heirs, and after his divorce, the girls were uninterested in this business. Everyone is vying for his seat, and he likes the Cabralis. Luca isn’t interested, because he’s in love. Fucking pussy, like Stone. Magdalena, however, lacks a dick, but she has the balls of a man.

  “He thinks I’m pregnant.”

  “Are you shitting me?” I growl and rush for her. “I thought you were sterile.” I snap my head back and shake it fiercely, my muscles tense. “No,” I replay the words in my head and rush for her. “You specifically said you were sterile and clean, that’s why you agreed to this arrangement.”

  “I’m not pregnant.” Her monotone is dismissive. “But I checked The Farm. They picked up a girl who is pregnant.”

  So many women have passed through The Farm, and not once did we have this predicament. For a second, I’m more concerned with being the last to know about my business, than the fact someone from my business divulged information. I latch on to her arm and wrestle her to her feet. “Who the fuck told you the details?” I ask, shoving her toward the wall. “And why the hell are you getting involved in my business?”

  She chuckles, throwing her head back. “Our business, you mean?”

  I impel her against the wall, not caring if I hurt her. She’s messing with me, and I don’t like it. “No, it is my business. You have yours, and I have mine. Just because we fuck, doesn’t mean that gives you a say in my world.”

  She shakes her head, enjoying the shift in the mood. “What is mine is yours, baby.” Her voice elevates toward the end of her sentence, and she plasters a smile on her face. “I’m not the type of girl who stays home. I’m a bitch-a-peneur.” She giggles manically and pops her shoulder. “Or that’s what my brother calls me.”

  She’s a bitch all right.

  “So, instead of harvesting her… let’s make her an incubator.”

  Disgusted with her callousness, I release her and add distance. I shake my head as the anger rolls off of me in waves. “No!” I glance back at her, her hard nipples clearly evident against the material of her dress.

  She’s staring intensely at me, watching my every move.

  “Just an idea,” she says melodically. “It would solidify us as a couple, and if we combine our businesses and our men, we can double our income. If you want power, you need money, and a lot of it. Well-paid people work the best, and we want the best of the best, don’t we? I’ve been studying how your side of the business works. The recruiters are handsome, but they aren’t paid well. And how hard is it to find men who are shooting blanks to break your girls in?”

  “Not that hard,” I answer honestly. “And some of them are pretty angry.”

  “I mean,” she takes a seat on my couch, “I’m all for a little torture, but what’s the purpose of breaking the girls in? They’re taken to the clinics, aren’t they? Isn’t breaking them in a waste of good men? You pay them to have fun.”

  I pay them to keep those fuckers off the street. But she has a point. “With their tempers, they would do something to draw attention to us. Part of being a good boss is knowing where to put your employees, so they’re more productive.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question though. If you need pregnant girls, or dead girls, why have the in-between steps? Lock the bitches up and pluck them out when it’s time to go to the clinic.”

  I watch Magdalena carefully; there’s an expression of genuine curiosity on her face. Which makes sense— humanity isn’t a sociopath’s strong suit. “They’ll try to run, or kill themselves. So, we break them down, not exactly break them in.”

  “It makes them fear you?”

  “It makes them obey us.”

  Another wicked smile. “You like to be obeyed?”

  “I prefer it. I don’t really like when people do shit they aren’t told to.” I raise my brows at her, indicating she, in fact, is one of those people. “Stay out of my business, Magdalena.”

  “Is that an order? Want me to be your obedient little wife?”

  It’s not the first time I’ve explained to a woman what happens at The Farm. Kelsie nearly chopped my balls off, but Magdalena is turned on by it. She’s on my desk, spreading her thighs apart. She dips her fingers into her folds, but I catch on quickly. Sex is her diversion from the fact she’s doing shit she shouldn’t be.

  I rush for her, snap her hands from inside her pussy, and hold them up between us. “Don’t make me ask you again. The Farm is for me to worry about, don’t talk to my men. Ever. Again.”

  Her gaze bounces between her fingers and my mouth, daring me to suck.

  I drop them as if they were bug-infested and get up. “And no, we aren’t fucking incubating a pregnant girl so you can have a leg up in the business. The child has no DNA match to any of us, what if we’re looked into or something happens to it and we need to take it to a hospital?” I lower my voice to a growl. “So, my answer is no. She’s a crop.”

  “Is that so?” She sits up and crosses her legs. “Guess, you’re the boss.”

  My phone rings again, and this time, I answer. “What?”

  “Be there in twenty, Boss.” Romolo’s voice is not as calm as I’m used to.

  I glance at Magdalena, who doesn’t look ready to leave, and answer him, “Okay.” I hang up and slide the phone on my desk.

  “Business?” she asks nonchalantly.

  “Yes, we are working on upgrading the system,” I lie, but not completely. “It’s going to take me a bit, but I can reschedule.”

  She relaxes a bit and smirks. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I haven’t seen you in a couple weeks, and my balls don’t look good in blue.” I rather not, but this is what she needs to hear. “Give me three minutes...”


  “No,” she says softly and gets up. “You go ahead and take care of business, I have some things to do on my end. Luca is probably wondering where I am. I didn’t tell him I was coming over here to see you. He gets annoyed when I slip out unnoticed.”

  “Does it matter?” I ask as I grab a couple of files from the bottom drawer and pretend to search for something. “I didn’t know Luca disapproved of me.”

  “Luca is my handler,” she says, picking up my stapler and playing with it. “He reports to Daddy, and gets paid for every incident-free day.” She goes off into her own head a moment before continuing, “I think if Luca wanted to be one of us, my father wouldn’t even give a shit about me.”

  I drop the folders on the desk and give her my attention. This is the first honest thing she’s said all night. “Is that why you want to please him? This whole baby thing and early wedding?”

  She smiles half-heartedly. “Guess deep down, I still want him to be proud of me. The lengths a girl would go for a father, right?” She places the stapler back on the desk and looks toward the door. “I’ll make the arrangements for next Saturday?”

  “Not in Italy.” What choice do I have? The Commission and her father know. Going back on my word would cause problems. I nod and sit at my desk. “Guess I should call Stone.”

  “Think Kelsie would be my maid of honor?”

  I swallow, my gut churning as she smiles happily, as if she didn’t just come in here and wreck whatever calm I had left. “Don’t count on it,” I answer honestly, because no way in hell would Kelsie be by her side at the altar. “Did you really mean it about going to Italy?”

  “No!” She guffaws. “I was just testing you to see if you were listening.” She comes over and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a couple days?”

  “Couple days?” I ask, finding it a bit weird she wouldn’t be stopping by tomorrow.

  “Well, you can always come with me.”