His is at the end, on the left, and I watch as he fishes out his key and guides me inside.
“Nicola Ricci,” he says, his voice a deep timbre that goes directly to my core.
I blink, gulping as I lift my gaze to his. “Benicio Martinelli,” I whisper.
“Your father’s an ass,” he snorts.
Shrugging a shoulder, I take a step toward him. “Yeah,” I agree.
He reaches for me when I’m close enough for him to touch. His hands clamp down around my hips and he hauls me against his chest. His eyes search my own, never leaving me.
“Keeping you, Nicola,” he announces.
I blink, the water filling my eyes as I shake my head. “For some reason, I wish that you could,” I breathe.
He smirks, dipping his chin before his mouth touches mine. “Oh, you do, passerotta. Trust me.”
His mouth slams down against my own and I forget everything my father wanted me to do. I forget the fact that I’m being whored out to him and that I have a purpose. I forget that he’s like all the rest. I forget it all.
For the first time in my life I feel like a girl, kissing a boy that she wants to kiss—a boy that she likes.
No… a man. Benicio Martinelli is a man. All man.
Chapter One
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
TAKEOVER OF THE RICCI FAMIGLIA
BENICIO
The house is quiet. It feels like a lifetime ago that I stepped into this foyer, paid to fuck a principessa and then ended up ultimately being screwed by her in the end.
The zoccola.
I wonder if she even knows that her father and brother are dead? I wonder if she gives a fuck? I know that my sympathy for those twisted motherfuckers never existed and it sure as fuck doesn’t now.
“Hello?” her sweet voice calls out.
I didn’t expect it to affect me, yet it does. Pinching my eyes closed, I open them just in time to see her steps falter along the staircase.
“Benny?” she breathes.
Fuck. I’d forgotten that she called me that. Eighteen months may not seem like a long time, but when you’re in this kind of business, it’s like a goddamn lifetime. She pauses in the middle of the staircase.
My breath is stolen from my chest. She’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her body is a bit rounder in all the right places. It feels like I haven’t seen her in for-fucking-ever.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice a bit louder.
Grunting, I take a step forward. “I’m in charge of the Ricci famiglia from now on. Your brother and father are dead.”
It’s probably not the nicest way to deliver the news, but I don’t give much of a fuck. I need to keep her at a distance, keep her far fucking away from me or she’ll end up beneath me.
If that happens, I’ll lose my head, and heart, all over again. I can’t afford for that shit to happen, not ever again.
I watch her for a moment. She reaches forward and grabs ahold of the banister with both hands. Her eyes never leave mine and then I see it. The move is subtle, but to me it’s gigantic. Her entire body relaxes. Her breath leaves her in a whoosh and she nods once before she straightens herself.
“What happens now?” she asks.
All business, and I’m surprised, because my Nicola was not about business at all, or at least that was the side that she showed to me. Maybe she was all about the business and she was just a good actress.
Tilting my head to the side, I watch as she continues to descend the stairs toward me. “You don’t care that they’re dead? Your own blood?” I ask.
She snorts. “Did you think that I lied about the way that I despised them when I confessed that to you almost two years ago?” she asks.
“I don’t believe a word of what you told me, Nicola. So yeah, I think that you lied about that, too.”
She flinches from my words. I’ve hit her directly where it hurts, and I don’t feel an ounce of regret about it either. In fact, no matter what I do here, I’ll not feel any regret about it. No matter what that means for her, or her future.
I plan on tearing this entire famiglia to shreds and rebuilding it from the ground up. That means that her future here is completely up in the air. And I’m the person who decides what happens to her.
Arlo seems to think that she’s an innocent in this world, he thinks she’s like his cousin Luciana. He doesn’t realize that this little zoccola would twist the knife in someone’s back if she could. I have to tread carefully, but I will find a place for her, a life that she fucking deserves.
“Well, your hate for me is misplaced, Benny. I can see that you won’t listen to me though, so I’ll leave you alone.”
I chuckle. “Maybe I’ll use your services while I’m living in this house, don’t go too far.”
She blinks, lifting her gaze to mine. Her once brave demeanor completely shifts. “You’re living here?” she asks.
“Too far from my place in Brooklyn. So, yeah, until further notice, I’m your new roomie. Do you have any gentleman appointments that I need to know about?”
She flinches again, except this time her entire body jerks with my insinuation. Direct fucking hit and I can’t even feel bad for it. She’s a whore. It’s what she is. It’s what her father turned her into at a young age. If she doesn’t see that in herself, then I don’t know what to tell her.
“No,” she whispers. “After you, I refused,” she says and holds her arm against her chest in a protective stance. I don’t know what that means, and I want to ask, but I don’t. “That’s why my father was pushing for Mauro and Luciana so badly.”
I nod once. Makes sense. Without his little whore to do his dirty work, he switched to finding a new one. A beautiful principessa for him and his son to torture as a daughter-in-law.
Luciana is lucky as fuck to have ended up with Gavino. No matter how their relationship started, he will always treat her infinitely better than Mauro ever would.
Nicola straightens her spine, her eyelids hooding much like they did the night that I met her. Those lips are still full and kissable, her hair even longer than it was, and I know without a doubt it’s soft as shit to the touch, too.
“I’ll stay out of your way. The office is unlocked. There are several empty guestrooms. I live on the third floor, so you won’t have to worry about seeing me unless I come down here for food or to use the gym. If that bothers you, I can work out upstairs and ask the cook to deliver my food to me up there.”
Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair with a heavy sigh. “You’re not on house arrest, Nicola.”
She narrows her eyes slightly and shrugs a shoulder. “I’ve never not been, Benicio. I’ve been isolated my entire life. If you don’t want me anywhere near you, since obviously the sight of me angers you, then I can just make arrangements to stay out of your sight completely.”
“What do you mean you’ve been isolated? I’ve seen you at different events,” I practically shout, growing angry at her lies.
More fucking lies.
She shakes her head. “You’ve seen me here with my father and brother. You’ve taken me to your apartment. You’ve never seen me out in public, because I’ve never been. I don’t have girlfriends. I don’t see family unless they come here. I don’t see anyone unless they come here. My closest friend was the cook and I haven’t seen her for years.”
“Why does she keep her distance?” I ask, my voice harsher than I intend it to be.
Nicola juts out her chin, looking down her nose at me. “You know my father. She was caught making me a birthday cake and he beat the shit out of me for eating it. Then he docked her pay, threatened to kill her and her entire family, if she ever made me anything sugary like that again. She’s said a total of five words to me since I turned thirteen years old.”
Fuck.
I knew Mauro was a mean bastard. I knew Mauro Junior was a crazy bastard, but I had no idea the depths of their insanity. The depths of their nastiness. Th
en a thought pops into my head. I have never heard rumors of the woman, but maybe she’s locked up in here under house arrest as well.
“Where’s your mother, Nicola?” I demand.
She laughs, it’s haunting and I think that I will hear the pain in it until the day that I die. “Beat her to death for daring to miscarry his child, a boy.”
Nicola doesn’t say anything else. She turns around and walks back up the stairs. I almost demand that she stays down here with me, but I decide to give her space. I need it too, probably more than she does.
I wish that both Mauro Riccis weren’t already dead. I’d like to torture them a little more than they were. I have a feeling that the little I know about Nicola Ricci doesn’t even begin to penetrate the surface of her pain.
Maybe I shouldn’t be so fucking hard on her. Maybe what she did wasn’t necessarily to fuck me over, but was more for self-preservation. Shaking my head, I try to erase all of the thoughts.
It doesn’t matter what the circumstances were, Nicola betrayed me. She betrayed the Zanetti famiglia. She knowingly did all of that and didn’t tell me what was going on behind the closed doors with her maniac father. I would have saved her back then.
I would have killed him for her.
I would have done anything for her.
I fell in love with her.
I’m still in love with her.
Too bad she’ll never know, and I’ll never tell her.
NICOLA
Locking myself in my room, I inhale a deep breath and force myself to breathe. The only man that I have ever had any feelings for, ever, is now in my home.
My father and brother have finally met their maker. I hope they’re enjoying the warm atmosphere where they are. I know that nobody, not a single soul here on earth will miss them. Including me.
Unable to sit still, I pace. The only bad thing about my father and brother being dead, is that I no longer have any sense of security, false or otherwise. My fate is up to Benicio Martinelli and judging by his anger, it will be an ugly fate.
I don’t have any money or education.
I’m completely dependent on Benicio right now, and unless I break ties with the entire famiglia, abandon everything that I have ever known, I am under his control.
Stopping my pacing, I look at my reflection in the full-length mirror that’s attached to the back of my closed bedroom door.
My knee length pencil skirt is form fitting, showing off my slight curves. My jade green stretchy body suit is skintight, the swells of my small breasts being showcased by its low-cut scoop neck. My hair is long, styled with loose curls that hang down, skimming my lower back. My shoes, black pencil stiletto heels and expensive.
All demands of my father on how I should look, how every mafia woman should look. Skirts and dresses always, never pants.
Hair long and curled, makeup flawless every second of every day. Tops tight and showing just enough to make every man on earth look twice and keep whatever man is at your side still interested.
He informed me that my mother didn’t follow his demands. God punished her for being a bad mafia wife and he was forced to kill her for that sin.
I wasn’t sure what kind of sin it was to not be a good mafia wife, but my father wasn’t a nice man, a normal or decent human, therefore he wouldn’t allow anyone to question him—ever.
My cell phone chimes with an incoming message and I cringe just thinking about who it could be. I may have fibbed a bit when I told Benicio that I was some kind of recluse. It’s true that I don’t go anywhere alone, but there is one little secret that I’ve been able to keep hidden, even from my father.
Q: TONIGHT?
I bite the bottom of my lip as I stare at the question mark. I should tell him no. I should forget that part of me, that need that I have that only he understands and can fulfill. I continue to stare at my phone, unsure of what to say.
My head knows that replying, that sneaking out, would be so wrong and possibly could get me in serious trouble with Benicio. He already thinks that I’m some kind of master manipulator and doesn’t trust me, this could send him over the edge with his rage and anger toward me.
Q: I WILL COME FOR YOU.
I shake my head like he can see me. My fingers move quickly over the screen of my phone and I reply, hoping that he won’t come here and cause more problems than what I already have going on for me.
NOT TONIGHT. DRAMA AT HOME.
Q: I KNOW ABOUT YOUR FATHER AND BROTHER.
My heart stops beating. My breath hitches and I drop the phone as if it’s on fire. I watch as it bounces on my bed. He’s not supposed to know where I live. He’s not supposed to know my last name or anything about me.
I was assured everything was completely anonymous. I don’t even know his first name, he doesn’t know mine, but now I wonder if he does. My hands start to sweat, my body starts to tremble and I look around my room, wondering if he’s watching me.
Lifting my hand to my lips, I touch my fingers to them, trying to keep from crying out with fear. My entire body trembles and I jump when I hear my phone alert me to a new text. My hand shakes uncontrollably as I reach for the device.
Q: I’LL SEE YOU SOON, NICOLA.
Powering off my phone, I open the nightstand drawer and toss it inside. I can’t look at it, I can’t have it near me. I’m fucking terrified. I don’t know who this guy is, how he’s figured out exactly who I am and who my family is, but I can’t have this. Not now. Not with everything that’s just been thrown at me in the last hour.
A knock sounds on my door and I let out a small yelp. Smoothing my palms down my skirt, I straighten my spine and reach for the handle.
Turning the knob, I lift my gaze to meet the dark blue eyes of the man that I will never get over. A man who has owned me from the moment he watched me sip my red wine across a crowded room.
Benicio Martinelli.
Chapter Two
BENICIO
Standing in front of her, I don’t know what the fuck I’m thinking. Why I’m about to do what I’m about to do, but fuck it. Clearing my throat, I jerk my chin.
“You’re going to sit in on these meetings with the Capos.”
“Why?” she asks.
I search her face, looking for some kind of manipulation. I don’t see any, not that I would, I thought that she loved me eighteen months ago. I never would have guessed that she was going back to her father with every goddamn detail of my life, Gavino’s life, or anyone else that happened to cross our paths—yet she was.
“Because. C’mon,” I grunt.
I don’t need to tell her the inner workings of my brain, she’ll never know what I’m thinking or why I do what I do again. I owe her absolutely fucking nothing.
Turning away from her, I make my way down the stairs from her third-floor apartment. That’s exactly what her area is as well. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she could just stay up there and never leave. There are four bedrooms and she has them all set up for herself.
One room is a small area with gym floor mats, a television and small hand weights set up on a small rack. Another room has been transformed into a closet.
Then there’s her bedroom and another room that looks like a fancy seating area with a large screen television, sofas, and big chairs set up.
Other than to eat, she’s got a whole set up here and I find that I don’t like it one little bit. I don’t want her to hide away up here.
Now that she’s so close, now that I’m completely in control of her life, her present and her future, I want to make her uncomfortable and even suffer a little.
I’ve never lost my head over a piece of ass like I did her. She needs to atone for what she did to me. How she went behind my back, manipulated and betrayed me for a piece of shit like her father.
Once I’m at the bottom of the staircase, I step to the side and watch as she walks past me, continuing on toward the office. I watch her ass in her skirt, grinding my teeth together, I make a decision.
A probably unwise decision.
Smirking, I decide that I’m going to take my anger out on her ass, maybe then I’ll feel better about how she did me dirty. If I use her like the zoccola that she is, fuck her and send her up to her room as I see fit, maybe that will make me feel better about everything that happened eighteen months ago.
“Benny?” she asks, standing at the entrance to her father’s office.
Jerking my body, forcing my feet to unstick from the expensive marble flooring, I make my way toward her, then past her and into the room. Walking around the desk, I sink down in the old school plush leather chair.
“Sit,” I order, jerking my chin toward the chair that is directly in front of the overbearingly large wooden desk.
I can’t fucking wait to redecorate this room. The decorator has already been called and should start tomorrow.
“In a few minutes all five of your father’s Capos will be making their way in here. I’m going to be holding interviews and trying to decide if they get to walk out of here alive or be carried out in body bags.”
“And you want me here because?” she asks, arching a brow.
Her lips are slightly turned down in a frown and I want nothing more than to slide my cock between them. I’m going to do just that after this meeting. There’s nothing like killing a traitor to work up a sexual appetite.
“I want to know who paid to fuck you out of them. I want to know who is loyal, who needs to die, and who needs to be tortured.”
She snorts, those light brown eyes lifting to meet mine. Fuck, my heart, it stills at the sight of the hurt slicing across her face at my words.
She’s trying to hide it, but it doesn’t work. I see through her, that hurt is deep and I’ve just called her a whore, again, then told her that I was about to rub her face in it.
Becoming his Possession: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel Page 2