Sweat mixes with tears and when he finally pulls out of me, I’m spent. I have nothing left. My knees buckle and he lifts me in his arms and I just cling to him.
It’s a long while later when we’re upstairs and he’s bathed me and put me in his bed when I ask him:
“Why, Sergio?”
It’s that song, the melody haunting me now. He had it on repeat. I don’t know how many times I heard it. Don’t know how many times he’d heard it before I got there.
“Why don’t you sleep at night?” I ask.
He looks away from me. Rolls over on his back and stares up at the ceiling.
“Sergio?”
He turns his head. Studies me for a long moment before answering.
“Because time is running out.”
16
Sergio
Eric had managed to get video footage from a neighbor’s security camera that showed the man who’d left the flowers on Natalie’s doorstep. But people aren’t stupid. He’d had on a hoodie with a baseball cap underneath, the rim pulled low over his face. It could be anyone and I didn’t really expect whoever had done it to be waving their fucking hand in the air. This was to let me know they’d found a weakness. That they are not above using that weakness, hurting it—hurting her—to hurt me.
This is mafia life. No one is safe, not if you’re the fucking boss, not if you’re a foot soldier. Not if you have any connection to any of us. Because it’s what I would have done, too. I’m not above exploiting my enemies’ weaknesses, no matter how fucking innocent.
Karma. What goes around comes around. I guess it’s coming for me.
And that’s fucking fine. Me. Not her, though. She’s clean. She’s not part of this.
“Why are you so quiet?” Natalie asks. She’s sitting beside me and we’re driving up to my father’s house for Dominic’s birthday. I’m planning on spending the week up there, but Natalie needs to be back by Monday for classes.
“Nothing. Just preparing myself for the visit.”
“You’re making me nervous and I’m already a little anxious. Nauseous even.”
Things are happening at break-neck speed for us. I know she’s feeling a little swept up. And there’s nothing I’d like more than to slow down time for a little while. Maybe take that trip Salvatore suggested, go away with her. Somewhere warm and quiet. Somewhere where it’s just us.
Because time is running out.
Last night in the study with Natalie, that music, her, us together, it’s haunting me. My own words keep repeating in my mind and I can’t help but feel their warning. It takes all I have to keep it from dampening everything. From stealing the joy from everything.
It’s dark when we arrive at the foreboding gates of the Benedetti family home a little before seven at night. They open as we approach, closing only once we turn onto the long drive leading to the mansion looming in the distance.
I glance at her, squeeze her knee. She’s staring wide-eyed at the house. “Ready?”
She nods.
“Don’t look so worried. I told my dad he’d better be nice to you.” I wink, but she pales. “I’m kidding. Relax.”
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s stupid.”
“You’re with me. Don’t be nervous,” I try to reassure her. “Oh, there is one thing. Dominic can sometimes be a dick. Just ignore him.”
“Aren’t we here for his birthday?”
“Yeah, more for my mom than anything else, though. And he’s her baby. I know parents don’t technically have favorites, but they do.” As I open the car door she puts her hand on my arm.
“Sergio?”
One leg is already out of the car when I look back at her.
“How long does she have?”
I take a deep breath. “Hard to say. Months. She won’t survive the year.” I try not to feel anything when I say it, but that’s impossible. “Come on, let’s go in.”
She opens her door and by the time she climbs out, I’m at her side, our bags on my shoulder. I take her hand and turn to the large wooden doors illuminated softly by the old-fashioned lanterns on either side. I love this house. Always have. And one day, it’ll be mine.
The doors open as we approach and my father stands at the entrance. He barely glances at me. He’s been waiting to see Natalie ever since I told him this morning that I was bringing her.
“Dad,” I say as we climb the stairs. “Were you watching out the window?” I give him a hug and he pats my back.
“First girl you bring home? Yeah, I’m watching out the window.”
Natalie stands tense beside me. My dad’s not hiding the fact that he’s looking her over from head to toe—taking her measure. He’s gauging whether or not she’s worthy of me. The real question is are we worthy of her.
“This is Natalie Gregorian,” I say. “Let’s try and not scare her off before she’s inside, okay?”
My father’s eyes are on hers and he lifts his chin a little. There’s a moment of awkward silence before he extends a hand to her.
“Welcome, Natalie Gregorian.”
I swear I hear Natalie swallow. My father can be overbearing, and that’s putting it mildly.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Benedetti,” Natalie says, sliding her hand into his. He doesn’t quite shake it, just holds it in his and I swear he hasn’t blinked.
I look at him, try to see him as she is seeing him. Not like his son. His favorite son.
Dominic may be my mom’s favorite, but I’ve always been my dad’s. I almost feel sorry for Salvatore.
Not for the first time in my life, I see a coldness in my father’s eyes. A ruthlessness. Is that what she sees? I wonder how much like him I am. Wonder if I should feel anything about that, because I don’t.
Natalie finally drops her gaze and clears her throat.
“It’s cold,” she says to me.
I get the feeling she doesn’t mean the weather. “Let’s go in.”
As the door closes behind us, voices come from around the corner. Salvatore and my mom. I’m doing the same thing now. Seeing them the way she must see them. My mom is the opposite of my dad. Warm and welcoming, her smile authentic and immediate.
Salvatore looks like a giant beside her, she’s lost so much weight. He’s a big guy, big as me, but that’s not why she looks so small.
I shift my gaze to my brother, wonder what Natalie’s seeing. If she recognizes the darkness that clings to him. That shadow of somberness. But maybe that’s because it’s hard not to think about the fact that this may be the last time we’re here like this. With mom alive. Not in a goddamned box.
“Sergio,” my mom says. I take her in my arms, feel the flesh and bone she’s become. Curse the fucking cancer that’s raging a war inside her.
“Mom. You look good.” She’s wearing a light pink headscarf.
“No, I don’t, kiddo.”
No, she doesn’t. What I told Natalie is right. She won’t last the year. She has months and I’m unprepared.
“Mom, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is my mom.”
She shifts her gaze to Natalie, takes her outstretched hand in both of hers. “Natalie,” she says, then pulls her in for a hug. “It’s so good to meet you. We’re glad to have you here with us.”
The warmth of her reception is so opposite my father’s.
“It’s good to meet you too, Mrs. Benedetti.”
“Sergio’s never brought a girl home,” she says, winking, pulling back to look Natalie over. She cocks her head to the side and studies her eyes for a moment longer than is comfortable. But then she gives her a nod. “I see what he sees in you.”
I glance at Natalie, see her blush.
Dominic clears his throat and walks around the corner. My cocky younger brother is tucking his phone into his pocket and devouring Natalie with his eyes.
“This is my brother, Salvatore,” I say, ignoring Dominic, knowing it’ll piss him off to be introduced last.
“Nice to meet you,” Natalie say
s as she and Salvatore shake hands.
“Finally, a girl who can stand my brother,” he says.
Dominic clears his throat. “And I’m Dominic,” he says.
I step closer to her, wrap my hand around the back of her neck. “My baby brother,” I add on.
I see Dominic bristle at the introduction. He’s so damn easy to fuck with.
“Go get Natalie settled. I’ll see you in my study,” my dad says before turning to walk away. “We have some business to discuss.”
“Franco, I said no business,” my mom starts.
But dad waves off her comment.
“It’s okay, mom. I’ll make sure he keeps it short.”
I watch him go but I have to force the smile on my face.
“Your mom and Salvatore seem really nice,” Natalie says once we’re out of earshot.
I chuckle. “My dad’s okay too. You just have to get to know him. This is my room.”
We walk into my bedroom and I close the door. It’s a spacious room, lavishly decorated in dark grays and blacks.
“Did you grow up here?” she asks.
“Here and in Philadelphia. My mom wants to be here now. It’s her favorite place.”
“It’s a beautiful house.”
“Thanks.” I walk into the closet, switch on the lights to make sure the dress I ordered at the last minute is here. I didn’t see anything in her closet for tonight’s dinner. It is and it’s perfect for Natalie. I switch out the light and return to the bedroom. “You okay?”
She nods. “My stomach just feels funny.”
“Nerves. Why don’t you relax. Have a bath if you want. Dinner isn’t until nine. I’ll go see what my dad wants, and I’ll be up to get you.”
“Okay.”
“There’s a dress in the closet for you. Wear it tonight.”
“A dress?”
I smile, walk to the door.
“Sergio?” She asks when my hand is on the doorknob.
I turn. “Yes?”
“Um…It’s nothing. Never mind.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, just a long drive. I’ll go have a bath.”
I nod. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I walk out, close the door behind me and don’t like the feeling of leaving her alone. But I have to get this meeting with my dad over with. He doesn’t know about the flowers at Natalie’s house. I didn’t tell him because it’ll only worry him that someone would get that close to me. But I wonder if that’s what he wants to talk about anyway. If it isn’t the Lucia DeMarco situation he’s more interested in discussing. In getting my acquiescence once and for all, especially now that Natalie’s in the picture.
“Dad,” I say, entering his study without knocking.
He’s sitting behind his desk. “Pretty girl,” he says, resting his arms on his desk and looking at me. “Close the door.”
17
Natalie
My phone rings a moment after Sergio walks out of the room. I pick up my purse which I’d tossed on the bed and dig inside for my phone. It’s Drew so I answer.
“Hey Drew.”
“Hey. You there? At the house?”
I smile. “Yes.” I plop down on the bed. “Weirdo.”
“Well, what’s it like?”
“Huge. Lavish. I wonder if it’s haunted.”
“Ha. Did you meet Franco Benedetti?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He’s just like you’d expect. Cold. Sergio’s mom’s nice though. And one of his brothers seems okay.”
“Yeah, well, what did you expect? I still can’t believe you’re with him.”
“I know.” I know Drew doesn’t approve. He thinks I’m going to get hurt and I can see how he’d think that, especially given what just happened. I lied to him for the first time since I’ve known him, too. I told him the flowers were from Sergio. But I force that worrying thought from my mind. “How’s Pepper?” He took Pepper for the weekend.
“She’s fine, you don’t need to worry about her.”
“Thanks again for taking her on such short notice.”
“Don’t worry about it. Hey, I heard something about Professor Dayton taking a few weeks off.”
Shit. “Is he?” I play dumb.
“Heard your boyfriend paid him a visit.”
“Drew—”
“Just be careful, okay? These are dangerous people.”
“He told me he loved me.”
My comment is greeted by silence on the other end of the phone. “Did you tell him?” he finally asks.
“Not yet. But…”
“Nat, I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. He won’t hurt me.”
“It’s not him hurting you that worries me. It’s you knowing him putting you in danger.”
I know this already. “I have to go.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, I actually called to tell you to have fun. I don’t want to be a shitty friend.”
“You’re not. You never could be.”
“So go have fun.”
I chuckle.
“And call me ASAP with any gossip!” he adds on, making me smile.
“You’re worse than a woman.”
“I know. Love you.”
“Love you.”
After slipping my phone back into my purse, I open the closet door, and walk in. There, hanging between several suits, is the most beautiful red dress I have ever seen. Beneath it on the floor is a pair of matching red pumps.
I touch the dress, feel the silky material, rise up on tip-toe to lift the hanger off the rack. The tags are still on the label, and I don’t recognize the name of the boutique but I do know the Italian designer. I don’t want to think about how much it cost.
I carry it back into the bedroom and walk to the ornate, full length mirror standing in one corner. I hold the dress up to myself. The long, layered skirts fall to mid-calf, and thick straps leave a wholly exposed back. The color is perfect, a deep, rich crimson. I love it.
Laying it on the bed, I walk into the bathroom. It, too, is large, and old-fashioned with a clawfoot tub set in the middle of the room boasting copper fixtures. I plug the drain and turn on the water, adjust the temperature and let it fill up as I wind my hair on top of my head and check out the soaps, shampoos and bath oils. I choose one that smells of jasmine, drop a few droplets into the rapidly filling tub and stand back to watch as I undress. I then climb in, letting the splash of water tickle my toes as I look out the window onto the dark, starry night.
This is why I don’t mind the cold. The skies are clear then and out here, a million stars dot the midnight sky.
Midnight.
Like Sergio’s eyes.
I close mine, and take a deep breath in and slowly sink deeper into the tub as I switch off the water with my foot. The scent of jasmine steams upward and I let myself relax, listening to the drip of the last few drops from the tap.
This weekend is important to Sergio for his mother’s sake. I get the feeling this will be one of the last times they’ll all be together and that she’ll be healthy enough not to be confined to a bed.
I open my eyes and look up at the ceiling, follow the intricate pattern of the crown molding along the edges, around the light fixture. It’s a mini-chandelier. I have to smile, shaking my head, wondering just how much money the Benedetti family has. It’s a kind of wealth I don’t think I can grasp.
But then I think of how they earn that money.
That thought sobers me. Reminds me where I am. And with whom.
I shouldn’t get too comfortable. I can’t forget what the last few days have brought. What it means for me. What Sergio Benedetti loving me means. Because he’s right, I did walk into this—eyes wide open. And I’m not naïve enough to think Sergio’s hands are clean.
I push those thoughts away and pull the plug on the drain. Water pours off me as I stand, grab a thick towel off the stack nearby and wrap myself up. I walk to the mirror, glance at m
y reflection, wonder how I got here, wonder how much I’m willing to ignore to be here.
Wonder who I am.
I’m dressed but barefoot and sitting on the floor in front of the mirror braiding my hair when Sergio walks in a little before nine. I meet his gaze in the mirror, but my smile falters. He looks strange, like he’s got something on his mind, and in his hand, he’s holding a tumbler of whiskey. He closes the door, stands just inside and watches me as he takes a sip of his drink and I wonder if it’s his first. It doesn’t look like it.
“Hey,” I say quietly, returning my attention to braiding my hair, feeling my fingers disappear in the thick mass as I create a long, intricate pattern.
Sergio moves, he pulls a chair up behind me and sits, takes another sip of his drink before setting it down. His legs are on either side of my shoulders.
“Okay?” I ask.
He nods. “You look good.”
I finish the braid, but I don’t get a chance to tie the end of it together before he puts his hands on the thick straps of the dress and pushes them off my shoulders. I look at myself, at the dress as it slips down to my waist. Look at my bared breasts. At how the braid is already beginning to unravel.
“Don’t you want to get changed for dinner?” I ask.
Sergio reaches down and cups my breasts. Draws his fingernails over them. He takes the already hardened nipples between thumb and forefinger and rubs.
I swallow, my eyes locked on his in the mirror. “We’re going to be late,” I say weakly.
“Turn around,” he says.
I kneel up, put my hands on his thighs and face him so I’m kneeling between his widespread legs. He touches his thumb to my lips, then smears the dark red lipstick across my cheek.
“What are you doing?” I ask quietly, beginning to rise as I touch the corner of my mouth. But he takes my hands and shakes his head.
“I want to mess up your face,” he says, undoing his belt, the buttons of his jeans.
Sergio: a Dark Mafia Romance Page 11