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“What does Ilarion have to do with it?”
“Ilarion saw the whole thing,” she explains. “And from that moment forward, Benedict had to throw his weight around, had to prove he was the alpha.” She leans over and steals a gnocchi from my plate. “He started strutting here and there in the courtyard, ordering men around, scrapping with the security, too bullheaded to see that none of thevorswould engage him because of his last name. So he decided to pick a fight with Ilarion. He suggested they have a sparring match. Nothing too serious. Just a dick-measuring contest, really.”
“Ilarion agreed to that?”
“Not at first,” she admits, her skin slowly flushing. “Ilarion had a good head on his shoulders. He didn’t want to get into it with Benedict, and he said as much. That just pissed Benny off even more. I guess he assumed that Ilarion was looking down on him or something. So, he decided to give Ilarion a reason to fight.”
“Oh, no…”
Mila sighs. “Benedict figured the fastest way to piss Ilarion off would be to mess with me.”
“He didn’t!” I gasp before I can stop myself. “Please tell me he didn’t…he didn’t…” I can’t make myself say the horrible word. “Did he?”
Mila raises her brows. “Oh, fuck no. He didn’t get that far. Hedidforce a kiss on me, though.”
“Shit,” I breathe. “How old were you?”
“Thirteen, just about.”
My eyes go wide. “Mila…”
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry—it wasn’t my first kiss. But you have no idea how many times I’ve wished it was.”
That takes me by surprise. “What?”
She seems to collect herself. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that.”
But even that doesn’t sit well with me. It’s almost like she feels bad forsayingit, rather than for feeling it. For suffering through it.
Whatever “it” may be.
“Anyway, Benedict had his hand halfway up my skirt when Ilarion heard me shout. He pulled that bastard off me and accepted his ‘sparring match’ right then and there.”
“And he beat Benedict?”
She smiles. “Oh, yes. He beat Benedict stupid, surrounded by both Zakharov and Bellasio men. The cheering pulled the old fogies out of their meeting and our fathers watched Ilarion whoop the absolute shit out of him.” She pauses for a second and sighs. “I think it was the first time I’ve seen our father look so proud.”
“What about Benedict’s father?”
“Like any mob boss, he mastered the poker face, but even I could see how angry he was at watching his chosen heir get embarrassed in front of everyone who mattered. Once Ilarion let him up, the old don walked up to his son, put his foot on his chest, and spat on him. Then he left with his men. Benedict had to find another way home.”
I shiver. “That’s awful.”
“I know it seems brutal to you. But that’s mob life.”
“Is it?” I ask. “Seems to me that’s just hell.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Mila sighs. “But if this is hell… what happens when we die?”
60
ILARION
The click of Benedict’s gun echoes through the room. I release the golden doorknob, sighing at how close I was to getting out of here without any bloodshed.
Then I turn to face themudakI’ve embarrassed too many times to count already.
He and his stooge are both bristling. Both have guns in their hands trained in our direction.
