Descent

by Knight, Natasha

  “I wanted her to know if she told anyone what she knew, her father would also be implicated.”

  He was covering his own ass. Hardly a surprise.

  “Like I said, he’s dead now.” I turn to my father. “Homicide.” I pause to let that fact sink in, although I’m sure he’s already figured it out. I shift my gaze to Jonas. “You commissioned the photographs of Lizzie Abbot.” It’s not a question.

  “He wasn’t thinking—” my father steps in.

  “I’m not asking you,” I tell him.

  “It’s not like you can commission something from the fucking mob. I told Scava about your relationship with Percy. He wanted to take her, but I wouldn’t let him touch her. It’s because of me he didn’t take your precious Persephone.”

  My father steps toward me, puts a hand on my shoulder. He must feel the energy it’s taking me to keep control of myself.

  “I should thank you?” I ask Jonas.

  “Son,” my father starts. “Please.”

  “First Nora, now this. You’re fucking sick, Jonas. A predator.”

  He blinks several times, finally turning his gaze away. Guilt? No. People like him don’t feel guilt.

  “Nora’s gone,” my father says. “I don’t want her name dragged through the mud. You can’t go public. For her sake, not his.”

  “So, he should walk away scot-free? And what about you? Should you for your part in this?”

  “My part? You don’t care about Quincy Abbot whatever you feel for his daughter. Remember, he played a role in Nora’s downfall too.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  My father backs up a couple of steps, drops into the seat in the room. “It’s too late to make this right.”

  It’s too late for a lot of things.

  He looks up at me. “What do you want me to do?”

  I turn my gaze back to Jonas because ultimately, he’s at the heart of this. He’s the cause of it. And Nora’s part, she’s paid her price. So has Quincy Abbot. The only one who hasn’t is this piece of shit.

  “You’re gone. Disappear.”

  “What?”

  “Today. Tonight.” I turn to my father. “Make it happen. Make sure I never see or hear from him again. Make sure he doesn’t come near me or what’s mine. Or believe me.” I stalk to the bed and Jonas cringes away. “If there’s a next time, you won’t survive it.”

  43

  Persephone

  It’s late when Hayden walks into my father’s study that night. I don’t even realize he’s in the house. It’s not like he rings the doorbell or anything.

  I’m sitting behind the desk after having gone through most of his things to separate anything personal.

  “Hey,” I say, looking up at him, feeling strangely relieved that he’s here. I think about what he said about how he feels when I’m not around. I have the same with him. My mind wanders to that afternoon before my sister’s call came in. To what he told me. To those few moments after.

  He loves me.

  Hades loves Persephone.

  “Hey.” He comes inside and closes the door. I see the black envelope in his hand and remember the last time I had one of those delivered to the house. He sits down on the chair across from the desk, his stance casual. He’s still wearing his dark suit that he wore to the funeral.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  “She went to bed. She’s exhausted.”

  “I think we all are. How are you holding up?”

  I shrug a shoulder. “Okay, I guess. I have to be there for Lizzie now.”

  “You lost your father, Persephone. You also have a right to grieve.”

  “It’s weird,” I start, looking at the few stacks I’ve made. “I think a part of me knew he wouldn’t wake up, and you’d think I’d be ready, but I wasn’t. Not even close.” I wipe a stray tear.

  He’s up on his feet and pulling me into his arms. He holds me to him, touches my cheek gently.

  “I don’t think you can ever be ready for death.” He sits down, sets me onto his lap and I lay my head on his shoulder.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him.

  He smiles down at me.

  “Where did you go? After the funeral?” I ask.

  “I needed to take care of some things.”

  “What things?”

  He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and gestures to the envelope.

  I glance at it then back at him. “I remember the last one of those envelopes that was delivered.”

  “Open it.”

  I pick it up. I open the flap and take out the sheets of paper inside. I read the first sentence but sit up to re-read it as it requires all of my attention.

  “What is this?”

  “What you think it is.”

  I read the words again, turn back to him. “You’re giving me back the house?”

  He nods once.

  “But…” I turn the page, read a few more lines but I don’t follow all the legal terminology.

  “We’ll sign the papers tomorrow.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The house and everything inside it are yours.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch.”

  “Why?”

  “Why no catch?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because look at all that’s happened. Because I’ve won and look where it’s left all of us. The ones lucky enough to be standing that is. To be alive. I’m finished, Persephone.”

  I feel my face drain of color.

  “There’s more in the envelope.”

  My hand trembles as I reach inside to pull out the two torn sheets I recognize.

  Our contract.

  When I turn to him, he’s watching me.

  “Are you finished with me?” I finally find my voice to ask.

  He seems momentarily confused then shakes his head, pulling me close. “I will never be finished with you. And what I want,” he starts, then pauses to amend, “What I’ll have, well, it’s not the right time. Not today.” He picks up the contract again. “You may have missed the part about me moving in permanently.” He points to it.

  I laugh and I think it’s the first time I’ve laughed in a very long time.

  Epilogue 1

  Hayden

  Six Weeks Later

  Jonas disappeared that night after my visit. I neither know nor care how my father pulled it off but he’s gone. He sold his apartment and my father put out a press release about his starting a new venture and he’s gone.

  I’ve actually seen my father twice in the last six weeks and we somehow haven’t killed each other. I’m getting to know the man he is, not as my father, but as a man. And maybe I can forgive him his past. It’s strange how much I want to. Like the boy inside me still misses the father he should have been. Still seeks his approval.

  But now isn’t the time to think about that, not when the elevator doors slide open and Persephone walks into my office holding one of those black envelopes.

  “I was summoned?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.

  I look her over, appreciating the short skirt she’s wearing that hugs her hips and shows off her slender thighs. She slips her coat off her shoulders and saunters to the desk, perching on the edge of it.

  I pick up my whiskey and take a sip as she glances at the city out of the glass wall at my back.

  “It’s pretty with the Christmas lights.”

  I run a hand down her thigh. “You look good.”

  She turns to me as I stand, situating myself between her legs. “I didn’t know you were back.” I’d gone away for two nights mostly for business.

  “Just got in a few hours ago.” I kiss her mouth, winding my fingers through her dark hair. She cut it a few weeks ago so it just touches her shoulders. A new beginning.

  She kisses me back, violet eyes shining up at me as she undoes the top buttons of my shirt.

  “Drink?” I ask her, holding out my g
lass.

  She shakes her head. “I like licking it off your lips,” she says, doing just that before kissing me.

  “You drive me crazy you know that?”

  “I hope so.” She bites her lip as I lift her to push her skirt up and her panties down and off.

  I pull her toward the edge of the desk and look down at her spread legs, her open pussy as I undo my pants. I push her backward a little so she’s on her elbows, and enter her.

  She exhales with the intrusion, like the breath is being forced from her.

  “Fuck,” I lean down to kiss her. “I missed you. I missed this.”

  “Me too.”

  “You feel good. So good.”

  “Harder. Do it harder.”

  “That’s my girl.” With a grin, I slide her off the desk and turn her over, bending her over my desk and taking hold of her hips to spread her open and look at her. I lean over her. “You want it hard?”

  She nods, gripping the edges of the desk and pushing her ass into me.

  I slide into her wet passage and bring my thumb to her asshole. “You’re going to have to take my finger in your ass too, then.” I hook her asshole.

  “Fuck, Hades.”

  I push her hair off her neck and kiss her before I straighten, to look down at her like this, my cock buried in her pussy, my finger in her ass and her squirming, dripping and when I slide my other hand between her legs and rub her swollen clit, she calls out my name as her walls throb around me, pushing me over the brink, making me grunt with my release as I fill her up, fill her with my seed.

  And when we’re spent and I slide out of her, I lift her off her feet and carry her to the couch. From the bathroom, I bring a towel with warm water and clean her, then adjust her skirt as she lies back, fingers playing with my hair.

  I look at her when I’m finished. “You look even more beautiful after you’re fucked.”

  “You’re such a romantic.”

  I chuckle and reach into my pocket to pull out the tiny velvet box.

  “You want romantic?” I ask.

  Her eyes move to it, her mouth opens, and she shifts her gaze back up to mine, looking suddenly very nervous.

  I smile and wipe the fresh tear that drops from her eye, then open the box and turn it so she can see it.

  “Hades.” Her hand comes to her mouth and more tears slide down her perfect face.

  “I told you I’m going to keep you. Keep you forever. Marry me, Persephone.”

  Epilogue 2

  Persephone

  3 Months Later

  The sky is clear and the air crisp as I step out of the limousine that drives me to the church where Hayden and I will be married.

  Enveloped in lace, I shiver in the cold, turning my face up to the sun to let it warm me.

  I think about the story of Hades and Persephone. I think about what Hayden said to me during our first meeting. That Hades stole her simply because he wanted her, not to save her. I don’t think he’d forgotten the detail that I reminded him of that day. That Hades loved Persephone. I think he knew it all along.

  Did he love me all along?

  I smile at Lizzie as she hands me my flowers, a bouquet of calla lilies of burgundy and red. Together we walk to the church where two men open the heavy doors.

  A hush falls as soon as light penetrates the dark cavern, a moment of stillness before the pianist begins my wedding march.

  I look up to the altar where Hayden, dressed in a dark gray suit with a vest and a calla lily matching my bouquet that’s so red, it’s almost black in his lapel. When he sees me, I see him stop for a moment, like he’s struck. He looks me over, meets my eyes and when he smiles, I think I’m going to cry.

  “Percy?” Lizzie whispers.

  Hayden sees it too because in the next instant, he’s walking down the aisle toward me and he takes my arm. He tucks it into his and holds me close to him.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

  I smile faintly. “You said something once.” I don’t know why I bring it up now, but I have to. “You said he knew he’d condemn her when he gave her the pomegranate, but she ate it willingly, even knowing the cost because then she would be his. Truly his.”

  “And you’re mine. You’ve never not been mine.”

  I see notes of sadness in his eyes even as he smiles, but that’s the past, even if it will always be there. He leans down to touch his forehead to mine as I cup my free hand to his cheek.

  “You said, too, that it’s naïve to expect to be happy as adults. You’re wrong on that because I’m happy. I’m so happy, Hades.”

  “Me too. I love you, Persephone. I have always loved you.”

  The End

  Thank You

  Thank you for reading Descent! I hope you enjoyed Hayden and Persephone’s story. If you’d consider leaving a review at the store where you purchased this book, I would be so very grateful.

  If you’re new to the Benedetti Mafia World, keep reading for a sample from Salvatore: a Dark Mafia Romance.

  If you’ve already read the Benedetti series, check out an excerpt from Stefan Sabbioni’s story, Collateral: an Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance!

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  Excerpt from Salvatore

  A Dark Mafia Romance

  Salvatore

  I signed the contract before me, pressing so hard that the track of my signature left a groove on the sheet of paper. I set the pen down and slid the pages across the table to her.

  Lucia.

  I could barely meet her gaze as she raised big, innocent, frightened eyes to mine.

  She looked at it, at the collected, official documents that would bind her to me. That would make her mine. I wasn’t sure if she was reading or simply staring, trying to make sense of what had just happened. What had been decided for her. For both of us.

  She turned reddened eyes to her father. I didn’t miss the questions I saw inside them. The plea. The disbelief.

  But DeMarco kept his eyes lowered, his head bent in defeat. He couldn’t look at his daughter, not after what he’d been made to watch.

  I understood that, and I hated my own father more for making him do it.

  Lucia sucked in a ragged breath. Could everyone hear it or just me? I saw the rapid pulse beating in her neck. Her hand trembled when she picked up the pen. She met my gaze once more. One final plea? I watched her struggle against the tears that threatened to spill on her already stained cheeks.

  I didn’t know what I felt upon seeing them. Hell, I didn’t know what I felt about anything at all anymore.

  “Sign.”

  My father’s command made her turn. I watched their gazes collide.

  “We don’t have all day.”

  To call him domineering was an understatement. He was someone who made grown men tremble.

  But she didn’t shy away.

  “Sign, Lucia,” her father said quietly.

  She didn’t look at anyone after that. Instead, she put pen to paper and signed her name—Lucia Annalisa DeMarco—on the dotted line adjacent to mine. My family’s attorney applied the seal to the sheets as soon as she finished, quickly taking them and leaving the room.

  I guess it was all official, then. Decided. Done.

  My father stood, gave me his signature look of displeasure, and walked out of the room. Two of his men followed.

  “Do you need a minute?” I asked her. Did she want to say good-bye to her father?

  “No.”

  She refused to look at him or at me. Instead, she pushed her chair back and stood, the now-wrinkled white skirt falling over her thighs. She fisted her hands at her side
s.

  “I’m ready.”

  I rose and gestured to one of the waiting men. She walked ahead of him as if he walked her to her execution. I glanced at her father, then at the cold examining table with the leather restraints now hanging open, useless, their victim released. The image of what had happened there just moments earlier shamed me.

  But it could have been so much worse for her.

  It could have gone the way my father wanted. His cruelty knew no bounds.

  She had me to thank for saving her from that.

  So why did I still feel like a monster? A beast? A pathetic, spineless puppet?

  I owned Lucia DeMarco, but the thought only made me sick. She was the token, the living, breathing trophy of my family’s triumph over hers.

  I walked out of the room and rode the elevator down to the lobby, emptying my eyes of emotion. That was one thing I did well.

  I walked out onto the stifling, noisy Manhattan sidewalk and climbed into the backseat of my waiting car. The driver knew where to take me, and twenty minutes later, I walked into the whorehouse, to a room in the back, the image of Lucia lying on that examining table, bound, struggling, her face turned away as the doctor probed her before declaring her intact, burned into my memory forever.

  I’d stood beside her. I hadn’t looked. Did that absolve me? Surely that meant something?

  But why was my cock hard, then?

  She’d cried quietly. I’d watched her tears slip off her face and fall to the floor and willed myself to be anywhere but there. Willed myself not to hear the sounds, my father’s degrading words, her quiet breaths as she struggled to remain silent.