Page 63 of Dirty Mafia King
“You call Mr. Beneventi Bastian?”
I shrug, downplaying it. “Father-in-law. Mr. Beneventi…”
“He lets you address him with a casual nickname only his closest friends use?”
Every fiber of my being stills.
“Holy shit, Alessia. Keep away from him. Sandro may hurt you, but Sebastiano Beneventi could kill you. Like, literally.”
I understand her concern. But he offered me a glimpse at a different side of himself. A man who loves his sons. A man who’d defy his father to protect them. Family matters to him. And I’ll be part of it.
Even if I’m on the periphery.
“I saw something when I was twelve that terrified me,” she whisper-yells. Luckily, because of the mafioso visitors, the guards are spread out around the estate and aren’t within earshot.
“Maybe it’s best if you don’t share…”
“They hauled a man inside the grey shed off the driveway. It’s where the lawn mower, snowblower, and landscaping tools are kept.”
I hold up a hand. “Zoey, don’t—”
“Remember how I lived here for a while? My parents were out of town one weekend, and I was sneaking back onto the estate. The guard at the main gate let me in, or I would have used the staff entrance. I was halfway across the front lawn toward the staffing quarters on the north end when I heard the Weedwacker start up.”
“Stop. Don’t.”
“I didn’t know it was the Weedwacker. If I did, I’d never have stolen a peek inside the shed.” Her brows pull together as a shiver races up my spine. “Mr. Beneventi was covered in blood, and two fingers lay by his feet. The man was whimpering—saying things about Benny Manocchio, who is a big shot capo in the South.”
I glance around nervously.
“I ran away when I realized what was happening. Sometimes I wonder if Mr. Beneventi saw me.” She swallows. “But I’m still alive, so…”
“Please,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Don’t ever share this story with another person.”
I knew this about him—I mean, he threatened my father, didn’t he? Being here, on his estate and inside his casita, and living inside this bubble, it’s easy to forget he’s a ruthless and violent man. I’m lucky to be graced with a bit of freedom. To have earned his trust in some minute way. But I’m delusional to believe the man in the bubble bath wouldn’t fire up the Weedwacker and dismember my body if I betray him.
Sebastiano Beneventi is the wrong man to lust over.
We both sit taller in our chaise lounges when mafiosi exit the kitchen door. The meeting must be over.
For a long while afterward, we doze in the hot sun. My head hurts. My heart hurts. And my obsession with Bastian might very well be what ends up hurting me the most.
CHAPTER23
BASTIAN
“Why is Zoey Mangioni hanging around with my fiancée?”
I glance up from my computer to glare at Sandro, but I can immediately tell he’s not going to let this shit go. He likes to be in control, and at all times. An admirable quality, if he wasn’t always strutting around with a stick up his ass.
“I gave permission for her to be here.”
He looks dumbfounded. “Why?”
Well, isn’t that the question of the century? I was dead set against Miss Deep-Throat’s presence until Alessia gave me little-girl-who-lost-her-puppy eyes and I caved like some pussy-whipped stronzo. I might praise my partners and call them “good girls,” but I’ve no interest in babies.
My partners have been groomed to perfection. They understand my peculiarities and the little things that turn me on. They satisfy my voracious appetites, and the ever-changing menu—like the harder scenes I’m into lately. One never seemed enough. Two felt like a competition for my attention. And three has even started to bore me. Still, why would Alessia believe I’d play with someone like Zoey Mangioni?
My long silence has Sandro seconds from erupting. “You’re an uptight little shit,” I grind out.
