Page 12 of Useless Love

“Let’s eat,” Bencivenga says, “then we can talk business.

I’m not hungry, but I play along. The food is good, but it would’ve tasted better in different circumstances. I notice that the women all gather at a smaller table away from the men to eat. I force myself to stop glancing at the twins, reminding myself that it doesn’t matter how hot they are. I’ll fucking kill them too with the rest of this family.

When lunch is finished, the servers and women leave the room. All of the guards remain for protection.

Finally, my old man decides to tell me what they’ve been planning. “Bencivenga has offered his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

I stare. “To which one?” I hope it’s not the teenager. I’m a sick man in my own ways, but I’m not into that.

Dodging my questions, my old man says, “What are your thoughts?”

“Well, what are the terms? If I agree to this, what truce does that bring us?” I glare at Bencivenga as I talk.

I’m honestly not too surprised. An arranged marriage makes sense. Considering my age, I figured that’s how things might play out. Every woman I picked got killed, so the only way I’ll have a wife that stays alive long enough to give birth is through some agreement. I just never expected it would be with our mortal enemy.

Is my father really this stupid? No matter how they look, any Bencivenga bitch would likely get pregnant with my baby, flush it down the toilet, then kill me in my sleep. I can bet my dumb ass father never thought of that. What if Bencivenga has planned all along for one of those faces to be the ruin of our Gaudino family?

I need to play it cool.

“The terms are permanent peace between our organizations,” Bencivenga says sternly. “I don’t plan on killing my future grandchildren. You want peace, this is the only way.”

My old man comments, “Bencivenga and I are tired of war. You lost siblings, but I’ve lost children. It hurts more when a parent must bury a child. I hope you never learn that.”

Whether he is being truthful or not, I don’t have the mind to care. This sounds risky, so maybe I can get in, impregnate the bitch, and then keep my distance until I determine her loyalties. If Bencivenga isn’t being a lying scumbag, peace means I can save my mother and sister, plus have the time to make sons.

“Which sister are we talking about?” I ask again. I actually never knew they had identical twins, only that there were three daughters. Our information on this family is so weak.

“Arianna is the only daughter I’m offering. It’s her or no one,” Bencivenga firmly adds.

“Is that the young one?” I say it in a way I’m hoping will rile Bencivenga up.

It works and he smacks his hand on the table. “No. Not my youngest. Arianna is one of the twins.”

I’m enjoying seeing this asshole worked up, so I say, “What if I want the other twin?”

His face actually goes get and my old man clears his throat. “Forgive my son for overstepping.” Then my old man shoots me a look.

Fuck, he’s so weak.

“Got it. Arianna,” I say. “But it sounds like your other daughters are better. Arianna must be bad if you’re not letting me pick and just tossing that one at me.”

Bencivenga relaxes but his eye continues to twitch. “I’m not tossing her away. She’s my strongest daughter. There’s no one else who can withstand being Mrs. Gaudino. My other two are gentle creatures.”

Sounds like I’d prefer the other twin a lot more. I don’t do well with tough, demanding bitches. But I’ll give it a shot for my mother and sister’s sake. I admit that I also like the idea of fucking Ariann and feeding on those tits. If she gives me lip, I’ll just stick my cock in her throat to shut her up. Sounds fun.

“When is this wedding supposed to take place?” I say, resigned.

“I’m not forcing my daughter to marry you. She has to choose. So do you..”

I frown. What? That’s not how these things work.

“You’ll spend some time with the girl,” my old man says with a noticeable smirk. “Then if you both decide you can stomach each other, you can marry.”

“If marriage can end the war, why not just order us to marry?”

Bencivenga waves a dismissive hand. “You both have strong personalities. If forced, you might both start another round of war.”

“I hear she’s the female version of you,” my old man teases as he takes a sip of scotch.

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