Chapter 13 Geneva
GENEVA
I DON’T TRUST BENEDETTO MALONE.
Not even a little.
He might be here under Ghost’s orders, but that doesn’t mean he’s here for my benefit.
I’ve seen a lot of men like him because of my job.
He’s dangerous, not just in the obvious ways, but in the subtle ones too.
Benedetto is the kind of man who thrives in silence, who doesn’t need threats or violence to control a room but won’t hesitate to use them.
And now he’s sitting on my couch.
Watching K-dramas.
I stare at him from across the room, arms crossed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn’t. Hours pass, and he just lounges there, sipping on my expensive whiskey, eating my food, and clicking through Netflix like he’s a teenager.
At first, I thought it was some kind of mind-fuck. He’d make me drop my guard and then lull me into a false sense of security, but no. Benedetto Malone is just… watching Crash Landing on You.
And he’s invested.
I don’t know what to do with this information.
At some point, the tension in my shoulders eases, and the ever-present thrum of anxiety fades into something else. Not comfort, but something less stressful. It no longer feels like I’m sitting in a room with a loaded gun, not knowing when it’ll go off.
If Ghost trusts Benedetto, then I will too. To a degree.
Besides, I have questions…
Ghost is a walking enigma. I know him now, but I don’t know him from before. Before he carved his way into my world with blood and fire. Before he became mine.
Before I was his.
Benedetto might have answers. If so, I intend to get them.
I push off the wall and move toward the couch, dropping onto the chair across from him. He barely acknowledges me, too focused on whatever dramatic twist just unfolded on-screen.
“So,” I say, drawing out the word, “is this what I should expect for the foreseeable future? You drinking my whiskey and crying over love stories?”
Benedetto lifts his glass in a lazy salute, completely unfazed. “You underestimate how emotionally devastating a well-written romance can be.”
I blink. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly.” He takes a sip, then finally looks at me. “Got a problem with it?”
“Nope. Just wasn’t expecting it.”
He smirks, setting his glass down. “That’s the thing about people like me, sweetheart. We contain depth.”
I roll my eyes. “You contain something, all right.”
He chuckles, but his eyes gleam with a strategic, perceptive edge. Despite his choice of entertainment, this is not a man to fuck with.
“So how long have you and Ghost been…” I pause, searching for the correct term. “Associates?”
Benedetto doesn’t answer. He takes another sip of his whiskey, letting the silence stretch between us just long enough to remind me that he’s not someone I can easily manipulate. Even with all of my education in psychology.
Finally, he exhales, rolling the glass between his fingers. “Depends on how you define ‘associates.’”
“You tell me.”
He grunts. “Ghost doesn’t work with people. He uses them. And when they stop being useful, he disposes of them.” He tilts his head. “Have you considered that the same thing will happen to you?”
My stomach tightens, and I don’t answer right away.
Not because I haven’t thought about it. But because I have.
It happens late at night, when I’m alone with my thoughts. When the logical, rational part of me reminds me that Ghost is a killer. That his entire existence revolves around violence and gratification. However long it amuses him.
I know this. And yet here I am, welcoming the monster into my bed. Into my heart.
I meet Benedetto’s gaze, keeping my expression neutral. “Yes, I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
He watches me closely. “And?”
“And I’m still here.”
His lips twitch, amusement flickering across his face. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Benedetto shakes his head. “Do you really think you’re different?”
I shrug. “I honestly don’t know if I think I’m different, or just in denial.”
The only thing I know for certain is that I don’t want to start questioning every moment, every touch, every time Ghost has looked at me like I’m the only thing in his world that matters.
“Fair,” Benedetto says. “Want a drink?”
“Of my whiskey? Sure.”
He winks at me before getting to his feet and heading to the kitchen. He retrieves the bottle with an easy familiarity that makes it clear he has no intention of ever asking for permission. I watch as he pours me a glass, his movements smooth and precise.
When he walks back to the living room and hands me the drink, I take it without hesitation. The burn of the liquor is welcome.
Benedetto smiles as he settles back into his seat and sets the half-empty bottle on the coffee table. “You drink like someone who’s spent too much time around Ghost.”
I let out a soft laugh, which turns into a wheeze. “What does that mean?”
He gestures toward me with his glass. “No hesitation. Just straight to it. Ghost has that sobering effect on people.”
“You’d know more than me. I’ve only known him for months, not years.”
Benedetto chuckles. “True. But months with Ghost probably feel like years, don’t they?”
I laugh softly, tracing the glass’s edge. “Some days, yeah.”
There’s something comfortable about this exchange, despite the topic. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d say I’m starting to enjoy his company. And him mine.
Blame it on the alcohol.
I lean back into the couch, letting the liquor settle warmly in my stomach before tilting my head at Benedetto. “So how exactly did you end up here? On my couch, drinking my whiskey, and babysitting me?”
He exhales. “Because I owe Ghost.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I heard that part, but why did you agree?”
“What makes you think I had a choice?”
“You know what I mean. Stop avoiding the question.”
He drains the last of his whiskey, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Because Ghost doesn’t ask. He takes. And when he can’t take, he forces.”
I lift a brow in question.
Benedetto pauses as though he’s debating how much to tell me. Then he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You know how most people negotiate? With threats, money, or favors?” When I nod, he continues. “Ghost doesn’t do that. He doesn’t offer deals. He creates scenarios and leverage.”
My brows snap together. “Explain.”
“Think about it. A guy like him—no history, no past, no identity—shows up and decides he wants to move freely through a maximum-security prison like it’s a fucking country club? You think he pulled that off with charm?”
“No.”
“No,” he agrees, sitting back. “Ghost pulled it off because he became a problem to my family. But it’s a problem only he can solve.”
I frown. “So Ghost used extortion with you guys.”
“That’s a simple way of putting it, but yes. More or less.”
I shake my head, trying to piece it together. “But how? The Malones are—”
“Powerful?” Benedetto smirks. “Yeah. We are. But even powerful men have vulnerabilities. And Ghost?” He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Ghost finds those vulnerabilities and fucks them raw.”
I press my lips together, my mind racing. “So what was the trade-off?”
Benedetto’s smirk fades slightly, something darker settling in his expression. He picks up the whiskey bottle, pouring himself another glass. “Ghost doesn’t make trades. He makes demands. And you don’t negotiate with someone who’s holding your proverbial dick in his fist.”
Ghost made himself a necessity. He forced their hand, inserted himself into their world, and became a problem they couldn’t get rid of. That’s exactly what he did to me.
I lick my lips, my throat suddenly dry. “So what else did he get out of it?”
Benedetto lifts his glass to his lips, his eyes glinting over the rim. “I think the better question is: What didn’t he get?”
“Fuck.”
Benedetto watches me with a bemused expression before shaking his head. “I get it now.”
I take another sip of whiskey, raising an eyebrow. “Get what?”
“Why Ghost is obsessed with you.”
The words send a strange, unexpected warmth through my chest. I know I shouldn’t view that as a compliment, but a twisted part of me likes it. A lot.
I set my glass down, meeting Benedetto’s gaze. “What gave you that impression?”
“The way he talks about you. Acts around you. The fact that he left me here to babysit you so he could personally handle the threat himself.” He leans back, stretching his arms behind his head.
“Trust me, sweetheart. I’ve never seen Ghost let someone get this close to him.
The fact that you’re still breathing says a lot. ”
I grin. “Such high praise.”
Benedetto chuckles. “Hey, in his world, that’s practically a love letter.”