AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s far away.”
She frowns. “W-what?”
“Our intel says he’s not in the country.”
Her frown turns into open horror. “Yes, he is. He came to see me a few minutes before the shooting started.”
Oh, fuck.
I’m about to grab my gun when I feel the shadow descend.
“Make another move and I’ll blow your brains out, Zakharov.”
I freeze, seeing only his outline in my peripheral vision.
“Good. Now—turn around slowly.”
I keep my hands where he can see them as I pivot toward the door.
Benedict Bellasio is standing there, dressed in dark tailored pants and a long-sleeved shirt. His light blue eyes are trained on me with the mocking hunger of a predator.
“Benedict,” I say darkly.
He gives me a wry smirk. “Pleasure to see you, Ilarion.”
43
ILARION
The first time I met Benedict Bellasio, I was seventeen.
It was my father’s turn to host the dons’ council meeting that year. It was also the first time that the Bellasios would be in attendance. Andrea Bellasio brought along his only son and I watched hidden from the staircase as the two of them bickered.
“Why can’t I come in with you?” Benedict whined. “I’m twenty years old!”
“This meeting is for the men, not the boys. Keep arguing and I will have to make an example of you. One day, you will lead my soldiers, and they’re not going to have respect for you as their don if they’ve seen him get disciplined by his father.”
Benedict scowled and glanced around for bystanders. Even then, he had this furtiveness about him that anyone with half a brain immediately mistrusted. I wouldn’t have trusted him to watch water boil for me.
“They need to see me as an equal,” he protested. “They need to respect menow, if I’m going to be their don later.”
Andrea grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him forward. “You arenotan equal,” he spat in his son’s face. “You want their respect? Earn it. And that starts with submitting to me. Don’t make me correct you again. Those who see it will never forget.”
He shoved Benedict away and strode into the meeting room. That’s when Benedict turned to the side and spotted me. I still remember how his face twisted into a horrified grimace.
I was the witness to his humiliation.
Thirteen years later, it’s clear from the look on his face that he still hasn’t forgiven me for what I overheard.
“I could shoot you right now, you know,” he remarks, inching into the room and closing the door behind him.
“No!” Celine screams. “Please, Benedict—don’t!”
I glance at her in surprise, noting the way she uses his first name. There’s a familiarity there that I wasn’t expecting. “Celine, dear,” Benedict says, shaking his head, “I have enjoyed our time together. But not enough to convince me to spare thisstronzo.”
“Spare me?” I ask. “That implies you have the upper hand, my friend.”
He scowls at me. “I’m the one holding the gun.”
