“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 naïve 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.
