Possessed By You (The Consumed Series Book 3)

by Alicia Marino

  “A gentleman, then.”

  “I mean, yeah. But I can be ungentlemanly if the lady wants it too.”

  His pass at me doesn’t land. He’s my age but clearly hasn’t come to his own yet. I met so many men just like him working at Marilyn’s bar, who tried out the same kind of sleazy lines.

  He takes one glance at the diamond on my finger and whistles. “Couldn’t give you a ring like that though. How much did that cost?”

  Maybe he wants to rob me. He’ll have no luck trying with Dimitri breathing down my neck.

  “One point five million,” Benjamin says, appearing beside him. The man immediately straightens, removing his body from the counter, chuckling at my husband’s stealth-like re-entry. Benjamin gestures over to a trigger-happy Dimitri, who has prepared himself for an ordeal. “As our bodyguard would tell you. He helped pick it out.”

  Benjamin’s warning to this poor guy takes a backseat to his admission about the ring on my finger. It’s massive, but holy hell.

  The man is dumb enough to misread Benjamin’s threat. “Holy shit, man. What do you do? Can you get me a job?”

  “Maybe if you stop hitting on my wife.”

  “All right. All right.” He holds up his hands, smiling guiltily. He gestures to me. “You can’t blame a man for trying. I mean, she’s hot as hell.”

  Benjamin places his hands on his shoulders, guiding him away. “Enjoy your game.”

  Benjamin reclaims his seat when the man returns to his friends, glaring at how I’m snickering under my breath.

  “Oh, you enjoyed that, did you?”

  “It’s always nice to be found attractive.”

  He clasps the nape of my neck. “Well, if you’re questioning it, then I’m obviously doing something very wrong.”

  He says that, and yet he keeps his distance. I don’t remember the last time I kissed my husband—really kissed him. Perhaps it was the morning of the accident, in the throes of passion and lust, just moments after waking.

  I don’t question whether my husband finds me attractive. Benjamin looks at me as if I were the last sweet piece of candy in the dish. Starting from the moment I met him, he was gracious and obvious in his desire for me. He made an unsure girl appreciate her reflection, one that had been torn to shreds by a malicious, abusive man. What I question is why does he feel the need to hold back now?

  I pick up a wing so I won’t hear Benjamin bemoan my lack of self-regard. Dimitri doesn’t leave my side, doing his best to be invisible to us, but a danger to everyone else.

  Benjamin is signing the check when Dimitri hops out of his seat.

  “Sir.”

  Another man from the group has approached and now has the solid wall of Dimitri’s hand against his chest, a warning.

  “How about you go back to your seat?”

  “How about no?” the man snaps back, clearly far more intoxicated than the other one. “My friend told me we’re among celebrities. Came over to get a picture.”

  “As I said,” Dimitri forces through his gritted teeth, “you should go back to your seat.”

  The man is tall, though much thinner than Dimitri or even Benjamin. There’s a dark bruise under his eye. He peers at Benjamin, who has a firm hand on my back, urging me up without a word. It’s clear the man has been here a while. The smell of liquor is reeling off of him all the way to us.

  “We’re on vacation. We’d prefer no photographs. Thanks for understanding,” Benjamin says, sidestepping to allow me to exit first while Dimitri keeps him away. The group at the other end of the bar, as well as the rest of the dinner guests, have their eyes on us. Mortified at the attention, I keep my head down and move.

  “And we’d prefer if you rich snobs gave a shit about working stiffs, but you don’t, do you?”

  “Connor, man, you’re pissed! Leave it alone!”

  My hand is grabbed roughly, stopping me in my tracks. I look at the man, who begins to rage about the ring on my finger, and Dimitri has slammed his forearm into the man, Connor, with enough force that his fingers slacken and release me. Just as Dimitri reaches to drag the man away, Benjamin’s unharmed arm swings—and lands, his fist connecting with the man’s jaw.

  I flinch, gaping at Benjamin’s outburst. Even Dimitri’s eyes widen.

  Multiple people stand now, some nervously, others intending to break up whatever fight is about to start. The man, who is stumbling, dizzy from the blow, goes bright red.

  I’d be worried for Benjamin if he weren’t the same shade.

  “You’re going to fucking regret that, mate!”

  “You picked the wrong day to test me, man,” Benjamin snarls, stepping up to him.

  “BOTH OF YOU, OUT OF MY PUB! OUT!”

  “Benjamin, stop!” What’s even more confusing is the way Connor’s hothead friends begin to hype each other up, actually excited that their friend is about to step into a showdown with a billionaire. All I can think of is the type of press this is going to get if we don’t get out of here.

  It’s gotten so loud between the raging men and the owner shouting that when Benjamin points to Dimitri and then to me, informing him to remain by my side, I hardly realize until he’s at the door that he’s going out with the man.

  “Jesus Christ,” Dimitri growls, looking at me.

  “You need to stop him. The police…the press…” I say, and he nods, urging me out of the bar with him. The rowdy drunk idiots are slamming into us from behind.

  “Benjamin, stop!” I shout upon finding them lost in some kind of ridiculous rage, toe to toe, landing punches on one another. The man is intoxicated and therefore not at his best. Benjamin is tearing into him with no mercy, so much so that when the man falls onto his back with no intent to get back up, the guys behind us rush around me to get to their friend.

  I’ve seen Benjamin like this before. Again, it was at a bar, when a man laid his hand on me. In many ways, this is just like then. Except even when Dimitri grabs hold of Benjamin from behind, heaving him off the ground to spare the man, Benjamin fights him, too angry to stop.

  His shirt has spots of blood on his abdomen, and I gasp, realizing the blood is coming from his stitches.

  “You don’t know who his father is!” one of the friends shouts at Benjamin, who Dimitri is hauling over to me. “He’s going to sue the shit out you, mate!”

  Dimitri spins on his heel, pointing at the man. “I know each and every one of your names. Your daddies too. His, in particular. I did a background check on every person in that room and had your information at the tips of my fingers from the get-go.” He pulls out his phone, dialing a number. I grab Benjamin, who is out of breath, just now coming down in intensity. Dimitri speaks, staring at all the men who look like frightened boys now.

  “Hi, Judge Wilkinson? I am the security for Benjamin Scott, owner of Scott—” He chuckles. “Oh, you know? Well, good. Your eldest son, Connor, laid his hands on Mr. Scott’s wife in front of multiple witnesses, which can be proven also by video footage from multiple sections of the room. He then instigated Mr. Scott to join him outside to brawl. I’m sure we’re on the same page that your son accosted Mr. Scott’s wife, and in doing so, Mr. Scott reacted in justified retaliation. Your son will require basic medical attention.”

  The bloody guy on the ground pales the shade of the sidewalk while his friends surge to their feet, pulling their friend up in the process, as if escaping will help now.

  “No, of course, we’d prefer the least amount of publicity on this as well. However, I’m sure people in the bar have begun to spread this…I’m glad we understand each other. If you have any more questions, you can reach me at this number. Goodnight, Judge.”

  The group is long gone by now, their night put to an abrupt end.

  Without another word, Dimitri walks out into the street, holding his arm out to hail a cab. Equally peeved with the impulsive billionaire still regaining his breath, I step off the sidewalk, standing beside Dimitri.

  Oh, I’ve chosen my side. />
  Dimitri holds open the back door for us before climbing into the front, informing the driver of our destination: the hotel.

  “Do you have a first aid kit?” Dimitri asks the oblivious man.

  “No, not on me.”

  “Detour to a drug store then, please.”

  This is probably the most I’ve ever heard Dimitri talk. Even when I ask about his life, he answers me in short syllables. Parked at the curb, we wait while Dimitri walks into a store with neon lights and reemerges with a paper bag.

  “Hotel, please.”

  The car ride is silent. Dead silent.

  I haven’t even looked at Benjamin, mostly because I know he took some blows, and if I see the blood, I’ll lose it altogether. Just weeks ago, this man lay on a stretcher, blood coming from him in waterfalls, and instead of backing off, instead of taking the smart way out, he endangered himself and made complications for Dimitri.

  I’ve seen Benjamin’s blood far more than I ever should have had to in my life. I’m sick by the sight, brought back to the helplessness of that emergency room.

  “Dimitri, I shouldn’t have lost it like that,” Benjamin apologizes. “I’m sorry.”

  “I am here for a reason, sir. To protect you from others…and yourself. That man could have been armed.”

  “He grabbed Darcy. I wasn’t going to just—”

  “Oh, please. You may have hit him because he touched me. But you pounding his face in? That was for you, Ben. That wasn’t in my honor.” I meet his eyes briefly with a flash of warning. When he averts his gaze and doesn’t fight it, we fall silent again, probably to the disappointment of the driver.

  Benjamin takes the bag from Dimitri and hands it over to me when we reach the hotel.

  “I’ll be up in a moment,” Benjamin says.

  I leave him with Dimitri, not sure whether he’s going to apologize to him again or cover his tracks now that he’s calmed down and realized the magnitude of what he’s done.

  The four-poster bed is re-made, fresh mints on the pillows when I enter the bedroom. After changing into pajamas, removing my makeup, I retrieve the first aid kit from the paper bag and begin pulling items out. I’m hoping he didn’t break his stitches or we’ll be heading to the hospital.

  When everything is in order, I take the time alone to think, holding my heavy head in my hands, shaking at my husband’s impulsiveness, his quick temper.

  The lock in the door clicks and opens, revealing Benjamin. In the thirty minutes that have passed since the altercation, his adrenaline has surely plummeted, leaving him looking worse for wear. He shuts the door and turns to me.

  We stare at each other in silence.

  I’m angry and relieved and confused. I want to know what he’s feeling, what spurred his violent reaction tonight.

  “Come sit down, so I can look you over.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Sit.”

  He obeys, crossing the room, taking the spot I rise out of. Before his shirt was stained with dirt and blood, it was a smooth, soft cream color. It’s one of my favorites and may need to go to the garbage now.

  He remains silent while I carefully remove it, leaving him shirtless. Upon close inspection, I’m relieved to see his stitches intact, the blood having dried.

  “You’re lucky,” I say, wetting a cloth. “You don’t have to go to the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry, Darcy.”

  “I really don’t want to hear it right now, Ben. Just let me clean this.”

  I kneel in front of him, dabbing the area, because even in my anger I’m unwilling to cause him pain. After applying ointment to the affected area, I search for more. The underside of his chin is swelling, which means the guy got at least one good punch in. I crack the ice bag in the first aid kit to initiate the cooling process, and when it’s rigid and icy, I hand it to him to place on his chin. I prepare a new bandage to replace the bloodied one, carefully avoiding his gaze.

  “We’ve never really talked about it,” I state, pressing the bandage over him, smoothing it out gently.

  “About what?”

  “About you dying in front of me.”

  He exhales, reaching for me. “Darcy, I didn’t—”

  I shake my head, crumpling the wrappers. “You did! Benjamin, you did! You were lying in a pool of blood. It was dripping off the stretcher. People were slipping on it. You were completely flatlined.”

  I see it in my dreams, nightmares every night. Sometimes I wake up in panic, expecting to be in that hospital again, with a different outcome than the one I got.

  “They had to sedate me, Benjamin.” I breathe with difficulty, wishing he could know, even a little bit, how traumatizing something like that is to witness. I lost a lot that day, but it was so close to everything. It hits now my anger at Benjamin’s recklessness isn’t even in part to the brawl or his quick temper. I’m angry because he made my pulse leap like it did on that stretcher, leap with fear, and I can’t handle it.

  “Darcy…”

  Already between his legs, I drop the items in my hands so I can lay them upon his skin, having to touch him, kiss him. My lips caress the skin beside the bandage, drifting in soft pecks over his bare stomach.

  He stares at me when I take his wrist, the force that then threw me back in my seat in protection. It’s no longer wrapped in a cast. I can kiss it without barriers. The bruises on his body are gone now, but I remember where every single one was.

  “Darcy.”

  He pulls me up by my forearms like a child wanting to swing, his grip jarringly tight. Before I can tell him how weak they are, his lips have crushed to mine, sucking the breath from my lungs. I bend to his will, relaxing in submission as soon as I taste him, his tongue, the odd tangy hint of blood from his lip.

  This is the kiss we’d been waiting for.

  One with the strength of our trauma and love combined as one.

  I stretch out, clasping his neck, devoting myself to this joining, swarmed with relief at how firm his mouth is, how he cannot contain his own relief, groaning my name between our brief inhales to catch breath.

  “You don’t think I’ve felt that?” he whispers, tearing away from me. His features are pale and hard, almost with anger at my ignorance. I gaze at him in confusion.

  “Your dress was soaking with blood. You were crying, in pain. You kept passing out. By the time I got to you, you weren’t even opening your eyes.” He cups my face. “It’s eating me alive. I can’t get past it, this anger, the regret. We had something…something so perfect, and in a second it was gone, replaced by something that could hurt you. And then the possibility was gone altogether and I just…I felt lost. I feel lost.”

  “Perfect?”

  No doubt he can see my skepticism, and behind that, infinite hope.

  “You didn’t begin to dream alone, Darcy.”

  The rattle. The clothes that are still in the drawer.

  By now I’d be showing. My stomach would be beginning to shape. We’d be close to knowing a gender. The baby would be formed enough to know that. Those thoughts are a dark cloud, a parasitic veil that must be released so it won’t fester.

  “I want to try again, Ben,” I whisper, more nervous than I can express to actually utter those words to him. “Maybe not right now, but someday.”

  His eyes revealed no resistance while also expressing how concerning those words from me are. “The risks…”

  “Look at what we’ve overcome. We’ve known separation, deceit, heartbreak, grief. Most would have given up a long time ago. We’re here, trying. I want a life with you. I want a child that looks like you, acts like you, has your heart. I can do it. I know I can. We just have to try.”

  Desperation is a tricky thing. Even more, being desperate and aware of said desperation. To ask for something with your whole heart and try to see the decision in their eyes. Is it a yes? A no? If it’s yes, is it pity? Is it something years later they’ll regret? If it’s no, will it ruin us? Will we be able to get p
ast it?

  I want Benjamin to want it as much as I do. I want him to accept the risks and go into this with an open mind.

  The doorbell rings while I’m searching his expression.

  “We don’t need to decide anything today.” I kiss him softly. “Think on it. We have to both want it.”

  I scoot from his grasp, bending to retrieve the items I’ve dropped. The doorbell rings again, and Benjamin rises to get it. I’m not surprised to find Dimitri there.

  “The judge wants to meet to insure we won’t press charges.”

  “Where?”

  “Hotel bar.”

  I step into the room and retrieve a clean shirt for Benjamin that buttons down the middle, less of a hassle to put on.

  “Downstairs?” he says.

  “Yes. He’s bringing a lawyer.”

  “Christ. Superstitious son of a bitch,” Benjamin mutters. I hand him the dress shirt. “When?”

  “He’s already here.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Dimitri exits, and I begin buttoning up Benjamin’s shirt while he straightens out the collar.

  “I’m sorry I’m leaving like this.”

  “Don’t be. It’s fine.”

  “We’ll talk…later?”

  He wants to talk more?

  He’s never been one to encourage it.

  I nod, smoothing my hands over the shirt, ridding it of any wrinkles. “I know I don’t need to wish you luck.”

  He leans in, kissing me gently. “I like kissing you. You know that?”

  ***

  My fingers dance along the bed, rattling against the mattress. It’s only when I realize I’m alone that I open my eyes, reluctant to meet the light. The sun is rising, brighter due to the clouds that the rays beam around onto London.

  A brief search around the room and the lack of warmth in the turned-out covers tell me Benjamin isn’t here, but he was. Forcing myself to leave the warmth of the sheets, I move into the bathroom to splash water on my face and brush my teeth. The robe hanging on the door cures the out of bed shivers. The suite outside the bedroom door smells of coffee—fresh coffee.