30. Voluntold Proposal
Voluntold Proposal
Bianca
Messing with someone’s high should be a punishable offense in a court of law. After a morning from hell, I deserve the blunt I found in Benny’s room, the cheese tray I ate right after, and this cloudless sky whispering sweet nothings over my bikini.
A high with edible blessings.
“Trouble,” Benny sighs.
Until he ruined it.
“Don’t ‘Trouble’ me with another thing.” I sip my lemon water. It’s really lemonade with a splash of salt, but I wasn’t about to argue with Benny’s grandmother. That lady doesn’t need another reason to complain to Big Sandals about me in a confessional.
Breakfast was already awkward with a side of a language barrier. It’s not the least of my worries since Nonna’s grandson wants me to be a No Limit Soldier.
“Baby.”
Oh, this smooth-lipped Sicilian DeBarge.
I giggle. “Now I’m baby? Boy, bye.” I scoot in my pool lounger to drift away with my lemon water, snacks, and full determination to enjoy the vacation no one wants me to have.
A large shadow blocks the sun. I peek at Benny on the pool ledge in a damn halo of light over his suit.
Glistening motherfucker.
“My uncle knows you’re here.”
“So? There’s space in the pool for him.”
He tips his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. “Are you drunk?”
“High,” I say, matter-of-fact.
A hint of a smile flashes. Benny removes his loafers and socks. His pants are next, rolled up to his shins. Hello, pretty feet.
“It’s a problem that the Preda knows who you are, love.”
“Then put me on the first plane back to the land of my business,” I counter, adjusting a bikini triangle. The sunglasses back on his face are no mask for the gaze roaming across my body.
“If you go now, I can’t keep you safe, love. I embellished our situation to buy time to deal with threats,” he says. “Masking your identity keeps you protected.”
“A mafia boss, Benny? No other identities came to mind?” I shake a chip at him. “Government official. UN ambassador. Kindergarten teacher. Secret Service agent. What the hell do I know about a mafia to run one?”
I don’t like sauces rubbing against each other on my plate half the time. How would I deal with blood and torture?
Benny sits on the pool ledge and extends his leg to drag my pool lounger. “Your last position wasn’t too far off from an underboss. Managing day-to-day operations. Being the liaison between staff and the CEO. You already possess the skills to be a mafia leader. Now it’s time to act like a boss.”
I suck my teeth. “Don’t butter me up like you didn’t voluntell me.”
“I don’t play fair, love.”
Dickhead.
My inhale is sharp as his hands massage the base of my foot. “I’m still pissed.”
“I know.” He kisses my toes.
If it weren’t for this high, I’d throw him into the pool. The only mafias I’ve seen are on screen. How do I look acting like Tony Soprano around real goons? I’ll get shot twice.
“You do realize I’ll have a bigger target on my back if we do this? Stop sucking my toes, I’m serious!” I laugh. “Look at me, Benny.”
This freak still has my toes in his mouth.
“What’s stopping Tino from coming after me, regardless? Or the don whose daughter you won’t marry?” He tried to slip that little detail in like I would miss it.
“I’ll protect you.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Man on Fire. Don’t expect anyone to fear me because you say so.”
I’m na?ve about mafia politics, but I wasn’t born yesterday.
“I expect them to fear your potential husband who would go to war for his wife.”
Say what now?
“Wife?“ I repeat, the cannabis lifting from my body.
“Touching my wife in any way is automatic death,” Benny says, eyes trained on me. “Both mafias honor tradition. The Scilari doesn’t, but we follow the same code that wives and small children remain untouched.”
“Wife?”
It doesn’t sound half bad, to be honest.
Bitch, you’re still high.
“Marriage is a fail-safe. If it comes to it, we’ll keep it in place until it’s safe to dissolve it.”
“All these lies make no damn sense, Benny. Just let me go.”
“No.” The chill in his voice ripples across the pool.
“You are so stubborn.”
“Pot meet kettle is what you Americans say, right?”
My brows pinch. “Don’t be a dickhead. You won’t marry someone else, but you will marry me. Why?”
“Because I care, Bianca!”
Silence bends and stretches over the pool.
“I can’t change how we met, or my earlier actions, but I promise to protect you with my life,” he says softly.
I’ve been kidnapped, drugged twice, kept in a dungeon with an area rug, interrogated in a kill container, eaten to the bone in a sex club, and transported with a pillowcase and a Lunchable.
If Vin Diesel pulled up in a Nissan and told me we’re riding to Sea World for family, I’d get one of my scarves and call shotgun. At this point, nothing surprises me.
Except for the way Benny looks at me.
How he considers me and supports my goals.
His desire to protect me with a just in case marriage in his back pocket.
“Okay,” I say.
“Andrea will make a new identity for you to review. You’ll have the final say before he—“
“We’re getting married.”
The backyard stills. I wait for my conscience to kick in, but Jiminy Cricket must be off to lunch or lighting up from the same stash I found.
Benny blinks once. Then twice. “I—excuse me, what?”
Why am I so calm?
“That fail-safe? I’mma need it as a shield now. I don’t play about my life, so consider yourself voluntold about those nuptials.”
I stare longer than intended, because high, and wait. Benny swallows hard, but eventually nods.
“We’ll get married this weekend,” he says.
I squint to do the math. Still high.
“In four days, you’ll be my wife.” Benny’s voice is low, smooth.
I let out a breath. “I need to make a phone call.”
“Bitch?”
“Bitch!”
Benny jumps at Stephanie’s squeal through the speakerphone. The acoustics in his study carry. It’s the size of the New York Public Library.
“Girl, I thought you got kidnapped and were on somebody’s black market,” Steph whines.
“You’d be correct,” I say.
“What?!”
“Bianca,” Benny warns from the other side of his desk.
I raise a brow. “Where’s the lie?”
“I’m calling Vince.”
“No!” Benny and I yell.
“Let me find out you were running for your life for real,” Stephanie snaps. “It’s nothing for Vince to get out there and extract you.”
“Vince’s hip won’t make it past security,” I snort. “I promise I’m safe.”
“He’s not forcing you to respond?”
“I can’t force her to do anything, least of all listen,” Benny mutters, looking at his other phone.
“Is that Mr. Citrus Grove talking shit after kidnapping my friend? Call me on video, Bianca.”
“Use my computer.” Benny moves around his desk, which is the same color as the recessed bookshelves in the aged brick walls. Standing bookcases tuck his office area into the back of his study.
He leans over my shoulder to type a password. Spice and citrus skate across my neck, tickling my nostrils. He chuckles at my whiff and kisses my temple.
“The line is secure, though I wouldn’t encourage you two to be loud.”
“Us, loud?” I gasp, hand to my cleavage, cleavaging in this sundress.
“Behave.”
“That look might scare men, but you’ve gotta come harder than that with me, crime boss.” I wink and dial Stephanie’s number.
Her grin widens.
“Steph.”
“You are glowing.“ She beams, thick black curls spiraling down her scrubs. “I’m concerned about the kidnapping, but whatever this is, keep it. The braids are cute.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you good for real, or do I need to bake a cake?”
I laugh at Benny’s frown. “No, dummy.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t get tied up in some dungeon,” Stephanie huffs.
“There was an area rug,” Benny says, thumbs scrolling his phone.
“You know those rich people get weird with their basements.” Steph’s face sours. “Remember Kevin? Just eating arms and legs, looking like he sells Bibles on the weekend.”
“Stop watching Sin City!“ I cackle.
She snickers. “Elijah Wood played that role a little too well, with his hobbit ass.”
We burst out laughing. Steph slides down her chair and adjusts her wig when it tilts to the side. Tears scald my eyes.
“Bianca is alive and well,” Benny announces over our hollering. “She’ll be in touch.” He motions for me to wrap the call up but gets a side-eye.
“Anyway. How’s your contract going?” I ignore Benny. He might run businesses, but he’s not running this conversation.
Stephanie groans. “Bitch.”
“That bad?”
She drags a hand down her face. “I might let myself get kidnapped if it means peace in the sun.”
I suck my teeth real slow. “Make sure he lets you enjoy a vacation, doesn’t steal the batteries out of the remote, or tell you to pretend to be a mafia don.”
“Girl, what?” Stephanie’s cackle shakes the badge clipped to her chest.
Benny snaps his fingers. “Up.”
“Don’t rush me,” I scold.
“Stealing batteries out of the remote is diabolical.” Stephanie snorts. “Why you picking on my friend, Citrus Grove?”
I sigh when Benny motions for me to stand. He reclaims his office chair, pulling me onto his lap.
Stephanie’s eyes widen before a smirk creeps onto her features. “Oh. Is this the man behind that sexy Italian voice?”
“I’m Sicilian,” he says.
“And he’s grumpy?” Her tone matches her grin. “What’s this about a mafia boss?”
“What I’m about to tell you cannot leave our trust circle,” I say carefully.
“The lockbox?” She arches a brow.
I nod and explain how my solo vacation turned into Goodfellas with a dash of Taken.
Benny stays quiet, rubbing circles into my thighs.
He doesn’t censor what I say or threaten Stephanie to stay quiet.
We’re loud, but we’re not dumb. I’d kill Benny if he ever tried to hurt her. She wouldn’t snitch anyway.
Stephanie’s face goes through a spectrum of emotions but lands somewhere in rage. “Where is Diana, with her two-hundred-meter dash running ass? She needs her ass beat.”
“She’s dead.”
“For real?” Stephanie and I say.
I stayed in a dead woman’s penthouse?
“Sometimes you get what you get.”
“Stephanie.“ I frown. She might as well pick out her subdivision in hell now.
She shrugs. “I’m not speaking ill of the dead like that. I hope her wig catches fire wherever she is. She was an agent of chaos who listed her penthouse on a housesitting site while on the run. That lady knew what she was doing, requiring you to pretend you were her.”
“Now I need to pretend to be a whole don because this one here just lies his ass off while putting me in harm’s way,” I pout.
“I told you I’d protect you,” Benny reminds me.
“Which is why you’re marrying me.” The look I aim over my shoulder dares him to challenge me.
“Marriage?”
“In four days,” I add.
“Bitch!”
“Don’t yell! I meant to tell you earlier, but I’m a little high,” I say to Stephanie. “Nobody will touch his wife, which gives me protection until I go home.”
“You’re not leaving there, Ms. Tuscan Sun.” She smirks. “Are you calling Vince? He’ll flip if he finds out.”
“The marriage won’t be real, and I don’t want him worrying or getting himself killed. When Vince walks me down the aisle, I want it to mean something.”
Benny’s hands still.
Marriage and family got pushed to the back burner with everything else in my life. The union I’m entering for my safety will be for show, witness protection paperwork for crime bosses to leave me alone. No one falls in love with their captor after weeks together.
“Can you get out of Wyoming early?” I ask.
Stephanie’s chin wobbles. “Are you asking me to be your maid of honor?”
“My consigliere too,” I say through a string of tears. “I need my sister.”
Benny rubs his temples at our sobs. He can blame his weed dealer for why I’m so emotional. The marriage will be a sham, but that won’t stop my best friend from being with me every step of the way.
“I gotta start my shift.” Stephanie fans herself. “I’ll be out there the day after tomorrow. Save my number, Sally. Miss you, bitch!”
“Miss you too!” I whine.
Benny shakes his head when the call ends. “You two are a mess. Tell her not to call me Sally.”
“Tell her yourself when she gets here.”
“Where?”
“Our home, husband.“ I cackle at his pout. “The plan was always for her to stay with me for a month. Should’ve thought twice about kidnapping me.”
He nips at my neck. “You and your mouth. I’ll hold up my end of our deal, but you need to hold up yours. We start tonight.”