Page 27 of Dirty Mafia King
Mr. Beneventi arches an eyebrow. “Is that so?” The full force of his attention turns to Renzo. “Don’t ever tell me what to do. Not until you’ve earned the right.”
Renzo exhales sharply.
I roll my fingers into a fist. I can’t allow him to make Renzo feel inadequate, especially not when he expected his father’s praise for this brilliant plan. We’ve that in common—the inability to live up to our fathers’ expectations.
“Mr. Beneventi,” I murmur. Too softly. Too meekly. “My father will prove his loyalty.”
“Dead men are always loyal.” His statement is meant to intimidate, and it does just that.
My voice quivers. “As chairman of the gaming commission, my father can sway the committee to close Emilio Conti’s venues if there’s a suspicion of criminal activity.”
“Money laundering,” Renzo interrupts. “Conti will piss himself when the feds investigate.”
Sebastiano rolls back in his seat and clasps his hands. Never once touching his whiskey.
“Conti won’t see it coming,” Renzo continues. “And that big baboon, Bible Belt Benny, will shit himself over lost revenue streams.”
Sebastiano’s expression remains blank as he considers our plan.
Finally, he speaks. “Tell me, Sheila, can the Amatos be trusted?”
My stomach drops.
“It’s a nickname.” Renzo covers for me. “Sheila, Angel…”
“You haven’t touched your drink.”
My head spins beneath his intense scrutiny. I can’t swallow, so how can I sip whiskey?
“Too lukewarm for you? Perhaps you’d like ice.”
Oh, no, no, no. Hedoesrecognize me, and acting like we’ve never met has likely fueled his distrust.
His smug smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “No? Nothing to say?”
I flush, embarrassed to the core. What can I say? Yes, I spied on you. Yes, I admitted to being curious.
Yes, your cruel, handsome face has played a starring role in getting me off at night.
Renzo jumps to his feet. “Don’t fuck with her. I told you, she’s not like her father or sister. She’s sweet and innocent.”
“You think I’m a goddamn fool?” He slams his fist on the desk, and we jump. “If I allow a marriage, what guarantee is there another video won’t surface?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. He hates me, doesn’t he? And it hurts. I prefer his praise to his anger.
“Lessie’s a virgin,” Renzo blurts out.
Complete, utter mortification consumes me. His father has no right to such personal information. What does it matter if I’m a virgin or not? I swipe away frustrated tears and brace for more accusations.
“A virgin?” Sebastiano’s whiskey-laced voice hits deep. There’s an edge to it this time, that tempts me to look.
His nostrils flare, and I’m caught unprepared. A tic dents his jaw, and a charged energy fills the space between us.
He’s pleased.
Something stirs within me. Like a secret door’s been unlocked and I’m invited to pass through. I’ve given him a gift wrapped with great care, one headores. And pleasing him gets me off.
By nature, is this who I am? Submissive and eager to fulfill his every wish? Sebastiano Beneventi’s the wrong man to spark this revelation, but in many twisted and disturbing ways, he’s exactly right. What’s the expression? Out of the frying pan and into the fire? But what happens when you crave being burned?
