My father would fucking kill me.
And then leave what’s left of me to Uncle Phoenix and Uncle Ciro.
And because Dad had a spare in both my younger brothers, Angelo and Emilio, he wouldn’t bat an eye. Sure, Mom might mourn me, but Mom was tough. If Dad, Uncle Phoenix, and Uncle Ciro murdered me, she’d conclude that I probably deserved it.
I was the Benetti Family heir. My family was Mafia and we ruled Morgan City. In a few years, I was to take my place as the Benetti Underboss, but until then, I was learning everything from the ground up. My father ruled with an iron fist, and he did not cut his sons any slack.
Hell, none of The Holy Trinity did.
That’s what Morgan City referred to my father, Uncle Phoenix, and Uncle Ciro as. My dad, Luca Benetti, was called The Father, for obvious reasons. Uncle Ciro was called The Son because he’s always been my dad’s right-hand man and was the Benetti’s number one enforcer. And Uncle Phoenix was called The Holy Ghost because he killed unseen and was the Benetti’s number one hitman.
The Unholy Trinity was more like it.
And Aunt Frankie was called Church. She was Uncle Ciro’s sister, Uncle Phoenix’s wife, and my dad’s best friend. Aunt Frankie was special. Not that my mom or Aunt Robbie weren’t, but Aunt Frankie had twenty years of history, love, and connection with them that Mom and Aunt Robbie just didn’t have.
But that was another thing about the Benetti Organization. Mistreatment of women was a no-no. My father didn’t tolerate that shit. Even Uncle Sal treated his wife like a prize, and he was a shifty sonofabitch. Uncle Leo was a good guy, so it was a given his wife would be treated well. But all Benetti men, from the associates to my dad, were expected to treat their women well. If not, Dad would pay you a visit, and no one wanted Dad paying them a visit.
And that was another reason I hadn’t smothered my sister with a pillow. She was a girl, and we just didn’t smother them in their sleep. It wasn’t the thing to do.
Cira was convinced she should be the next Benetti Underboss because we spoiled the shit out of her when she was younger, and she didn’t like being put in her place. We were also only eleven months apart, so she ignored the whole firstborn thing, claiming we were practically the same age.
We weren’t, though.
Luckily, for us guys, we outnumbered the girls or else Cira probably could lead a revolt. I wasn’t worried about Cira, per se, but Uncle Ciro’s girls really were vicious little heathens. They were stunning chaos you never saw coming. They had all inherited their Dad’s and Aunt Frankie’s yellow eyes and if you lined them up, they could render you stupid with their gazes. It was almost like a superpower. Massimo, their baby brother, ended up with their mother’s brown eyes, but they weren’t any less dangerous. The kid was a smart motherfucker, and I was glad he was on our side.
Uncle Phoenix and Aunt Frankie’s boys, Vincent and Dante, were also super smart. And while Vincent was the oldest of us all, Dante had a touch of psychopath to him that, again, was another strike in the plus column for us if the girls ever really did band together to take over.
Uncle Sal’s and Uncle Leo’s boys were also tough motherfuckers, so that worked in our favor, too. Uncle Sal had three sons, and Uncle Leo had two sons and one daughter. We clearly had the numbers, but I wouldn’t put anything past my sister.
Of course, if they ever did cry mutiny, it wouldn’t be Cira at the helm of their little rebellion.
No.
It’d be Saveria Fiore leading the troops.
Luca Saveria Fiore, better known to her friends and family as Ria.
Luca Saveria Fiore who, if her mom was the Church, Ria was the motherfucking Vatican in my father’s eyes. My dad absolutely adored that girl, and if anyone could push me out to take over, it’d be her. Ria was immersed in the Benetti Organization just as deeply as I was. Her in-depth knowledge of all things Benetti was probably the only reason she kept refusing to join forces with Cira. Ria knew it couldn’t be done.
But even as capable as Ria was, she wasn’t a threat. She’d never be a threat. She was, however, constantly underestimated by the masses.
See, Ria was beyond stunning. She was only about five-foot-two-inches, but she packed more curves than a roller coaster. Her hair was a dark brown that fell to her shoulders, but instead of inheriting her mom and uncle’s yellow eyes, Ria ended up with an odd combination of Aunt Frankie’s yellow eyes and Uncle Phoenix’s hazel ones. The dark, thick lashes that encased them made them pop like a hypnotizing prism of color.
Ria’s facial features were that of her mother’s, but she had snatched her father’s dimples in combination with her mother’s pretty face. When she smiled, her face would light up and you just. Couldn’t. Help. But. Stare.
Luca Saveria Fiore was so fucking beautiful, people automatically labeled her as stupid, vain, or vapid, but she was none of those things. Ria was intelligent, cunning, ambitious, and hard-working. She was tough as shit, and I was the only other person besides our fathers, Uncle Sal, and Uncle Leo who knew that she’s killed a man before.
We were only twenty-one at the time, but a guy had raped one of her college friends. And I don’t mean raped her, I mean he fucking annihilated the poor girl. He had been asking her out for months, but she kept turning him down because she had a boyfriend. One night, she had been walking home from the library, and he attacked her. Brutalized her so badly, she was hospitalized with physical, emotional, and mental damage for over a month. And, thank God, her boyfriend had turned out to be a decent human being. He had stuck with her through it all and was still with her to this day.
Saveria had been so enraged, she had begged my dad not to let the guy get arrested. Since my dad wouldn’t ever deny her anything, he had called all the adults together and explained the situation. Aunt Frankie had been the one to make the call. Aunt Frankie had no illusions about who we were or what this family was about. She let Saveria make her own decisions about her life, and Saveria had made them. However, only the men knew the lengths Saveria had gone to that night.
The next night, Dad, Uncle Phoenix, Uncle Ciro, Uncle Sal, and Uncle Leo had waited at Uncle Ciro’s funhouse while I had driven Ria over. I had walked her in, escorted her to the body of Trent Hendricks hanging from the suspension chains, and stood back with the adults outside the splash zone and watched her go to work.
I had never seen anything so magnificent in all my life as Luca Saveria Fiore unleashing her rage on that piece of shit excuse for a human being, Todd Hendricks. Ria had torn the man apart and his screams had done nothing to soften her. Most people claim to be tough but hearing someone plead for their life often weakens a person. Their humanity is often touched by the act of real human suffering, so they relent.
Not Ria.
Not that night
When she had finished with him, she had turned towards all us men, still vibrating with adrenaline, and had asked, “Where can I clean up?” Her voice had been clear and steady; not an ounce of hysteria or remorse in that raspy tone of hers. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but it hadn’t been the incredible self-control she had been exercising. By then, I had already killed my fair share of trash, so I had been desensitized at that point. This had been Ria’s first kill, and she had done it in the most magnificent fashion I’d ever seen. Every man in the room had been proud as fuck.
I had also been the one who had led her to the showers because every man in that room had known the one thing that Saveria hadn’t; Luca Saveria Fiore was mine. She didn’t know it, but she’d always been mine. I had agreed with the adults to give her and me some room to grow before it became official, but that hadn’t made Ria any less mine.
And the memory of that night had burned in the back of my mind for more reasons than having watched Ria kill a man.
When I had led her to the showers, Ria had stood there, a bloody fucking mess, as I turned on the showers and got everything ready for her. It wasn’t until she made no move to undress, and I looked into her ey
es, that I realized she was still bloodthirsty.
With an intensity I never knew I could feel, I had torn off her clothes and mine, and I had ripped through her virginity underneath the water and against the tiled wall.
I had fucked everything I had into her as blood washed down the drains and our fathers and uncles had waited outside for us.
I had fucked Ria until my back had been shredded by her nails and my mark had left a scar on her neck, the blood washing down the drain was now our blood combined.
I had fucked her until she came all over me, marking me for fucking life, and her body had collapsed against mine, my name whispered over, and over again.
It was the first and only time I’ve ever been inside a girl without a condom and a part of me had wished she had gotten pregnant, so we could put this entire farce behind us, but she hadn’t.
Done, dressed, and over, we never spoke of that night since.
Chapter 3
Saveria~
Feeling special can become addicting. Especially when you’re feeling anything but. As a woman, I was prone to mood swings, and sometimes it was just simply as not feeling pretty on a random Tuesday to put me in a funk. Not that I was vain, but all girls deserved to believe they were pretty.
All girls.
And, while I knew my parents loved me, being the apple of Uncle Luca’s eye was an entirely different thing. Mom was awesome at what she did, and she never favored any of her children. Dad, however, treated us according to gender, and I got kid gloves lots of times when we were younger when Vincent and Dante hadn’t. Mom had worried that I would end up spoiled, but I hadn’t. Where Dad treated me like his only daughter, Uncle Luca and Uncle Ciro had treated me like one of the boys. It had ended up evening out.
It was also hard to argue with obvious perks I had that none of the other kids had. Well, except for Francisco Benetti. Other than him, Benetti Junior, I was the only kid who had direct scanned access to Uncle Luca’s penthouse. The only thing none of us had been privy to was the secret pathway that connected Mom and Dad’s apartment to Uncle Ciro’s and Aunt Robbie’s. There was also a secret staircase that connected Uncle Luca’s penthouse to the apartments that we didn’t have access to either. Well, as far as I knew, none of us did, but Francisco might have access to them.
I used this privilege to visit Uncle Luca today. Since I had seen Aunt Remy at my mom’s earlier, I knew it was safe to surprise Uncle Luca. It’s sad and traumatizing to say, but we’ve all walked in on our parents in rather…delicate situations, and that’s not anything anyone wants to experience if they don’t have to. It’s not a joke to say we all have a running text thread that asks where our parents are if one of us needs to drop by.
The elevator dinged and I gave Uncle Luca’s guard a wink. He grinned and winked back. Most of the guards weren’t familiar like that, but the seriousness could suffocate you if you weren’t careful.
As soon as I cleared the foyer and entered the living room, I yelled for my uncle. “Uncle Luca!” I headed towards his office and yelled again. “Uncle Luca!” When I didn’t find him in his office, I shot him a text. Ten seconds later, I received a reply.
U.L.: Gym
I headed towards the gym and smiled as my fifty-four-year-old uncle was going at a punching bag like he was still in his twenties.
“Hey,” I called out.
Uncle Luca stopped his assault and cut off the surround sound. “Hey,” he returned. “What a pleasant surprise.”
I didn’t care that he was a sweaty mess, I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. Uncle Luca was over six-foot, so I barely came up to his chest. Benetti Junior was built the same way.
I pulled back and looked up at him. “Am I interrupting?”
Uncle Luca stepped back and reached for his water. After a healthy drink, he said, “Are you ever?”
I laughed. “I can recall a couple of times when Aunt Remy couldn’t look me in the eye for a few days, thank you, very much.”
Uncle Luca smiled-something he rarely did-and chuckled, “Brat.”
Looking at Uncle Luca, it was hard not to think about Francisco. Francisco was the spitting image of his father, and it was a fine damn image. But all my family was beautiful, and I wasn’t being biased. They each had something special about them that they brought to the table and passed down to their children. The most obvious was my mom’s and Uncle Ciro’s eyes, but the entire family really was beautiful as a whole. If Cira wasn’t so damn insane, she’d be a catch.
I took a seat on the weight bench as Uncle Luca took to the treadmill to wind down. “Your daughter called me yesterday,” I smirked.
I could hear his sigh over the treadmill. “And?”
“She underestimates you men, greatly,” I told him. “That girl has absolutely no respect for you guys. But you’ll be happy to know that, while her plans have been improving, they are still far from execution level.”
“That’s good to hear,” he replied dryly.
I smiled. “You do realize the man that marries her is probably going to put a bullet in his head by their first anniversary, right?”
Uncle Luca chuckled-another thing he rarely did. “I know,” he agreed. “If it weren’t for the fact that it was my empire she was trying to take over, I’d actually be proud of her.”
I arched a brow. “She is rather fearless.”
Uncle Luca’s black gaze slid my way. “Unfortunately, she’s reckless as well,” he commented. “Impulsiveness is not a good thing in a leader.”
“So, it’s not because she’s a girl?” I teased.
He smirked. “I’d make you the Underboss if you were a blood Benetti.”
I cocked my head as he turned off the treadmill and took a seat across from me on the other weight bench. “I think that’s the problem,” I told him. “Knowing that you’re not sexist gives Cira hope.”
“Well, unfortunately for her, Francisco is very good at what he does,” he replied. “Her brother is going to carry on the Benetti traditions famously when his time comes.”
“No one can argue that, Uncle Luca,” I said. “If anyone was born to lead, it’s him.”
His brows drew downward, regarding me. “You really believe that?”
I reared back, surprised. “Of course,” I answered automatically. “He was raised by you. How could he not be?”
Uncle Luca propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together as he leaned forward at bit. “Luca, tell me what you see when you think about Francisco?” He was the only person that called me by my first name. Everyone else called me Ria or by my middle name Saveria. The only time I was ever called Luca by anyone else is if I was getting in trouble.
I thought about that question and random childhood memories ran through my head. Francisco had a wonderful upbringing, just like the rest of us, however, none of us had the pressure of being the next head of the Benetti Family. None of us had the pressure of wondering if we had what it takes to maintain what’s been built. We could afford to fail. He couldn’t. Our failures were his, but his failure wouldn’t be ours.
“I…I see a man who understands the difference between being a Benetti and being the Benetti,” I answered honestly. “I see a man who won’t fail, no matter the cost.”
Uncle Luca looked like he wanted to say something, but then he quickly shifted back to teasing. “And Cira thinks it’s enough to just be a Benetti,” he chuckled.
“And I have no doubt the Benetti now and the future Benetti know just how to handle the little lunatic,” I teased back.
He changed topics, knowing there was nothing to be done about his only daughter. “Are you staying for dinner?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight. I have-”
“Dad!”
I grimaced. “You could have kicked me out, you know.”
Uncle Luca’s lips curved. “I love my son, and he may very well be the Benetti heir, but, like he knows who he is, he also knows who you are.” He winked.
Before I could comment, Francisco walked in. He glanced at me before turning his gaze on his father. “I heard voices,” he explained. “Am I interrupting?”
Uncle Luca looked at me. “Is he?”
I smiled, full-on, all my teeth. “Nope,” I replied, standing up. Uncle Luca stood up with me and tried to hide his smile.
“Christ, Dad, why don’t you just get it over with and hand her the keys to the kingdom already,” Francisco grumbled.
Uncle Luca did smile then. “Because she’s not a blood Benetti, Son.”
I turned to look at Francisco and grinned. “Good to see you, Benetti,” I laughed.
He lifted a black brow. “Fiore.”
We’ve never called each other by our names for some reason. It started when we were small, and we’ve been doing it ever since. I didn’t know why he called me Fiore, but I called him Benetti just to let him know that I knew exactly who he was, but I didn’t care. There was only one time I’ve ever called him by his first name, and I had to look away as the memory crept up on me.
Francisco Benetti was six-foot-one of pure male perfection. He had black hair that looked like silk, and black eyes that ran right through you. His face was sharp and angular, and the only things that softened it were the thick lashes he sported and those full, soft lips of his.
And, because of that memory three years ago, I knew what he looked like underneath the suits he wore. Francisco was built like a machine, and if he could hold a woman up against the wall and fuck her without struggle when he was only twenty-one-years-old, I couldn’t imagine what he could do to one now.
The Vatican: (Standalone) (The Holy Trinity Series Book 5) Page 2