Chapter One

Benecio

King Midas was a fool, and perhaps I am the same, I thought as I watched Karen cross her fingers on top of her desk and study me silently. The middle-aged woman who coordinated agreements for Infidelity could have a spot in my company if she ever left her current position. She could stare down CEOs, princes, politicians, and—in my case—self-made kings, with ease. It still didn’t lessen the blow of her news.

“This is most unusual, Benecio. While your selection was arduous, we have made connections with even more stringent requests. However, after two agreements, you have not decided to continue a contract past the initial year. I’m sure you know what this means.”

I leaned back in my chair and rested my ankle on my knee. Yes, I knew what it meant, and the very idea rankled me. Benecio Rey was unwanted, what a boring and repetitive concept. My father was a pentito—a snitch on the Sicilian mafia—and my mother had to leave Italy after renouncing the man she married to give me a new life. I was a man without a past, and a hell of a future if it didn’t involve a woman I could share my empire with.

A plea rumbled out of me, irrevocable and useless—just like a small boy hoping his alcoholic father would love him instead of hit him. 

Pathetic. You used to be that boy, Benecio. 

I know. 

"Are you sure there is no one?" The question was ash on my tongue, choking the life out of me even as it filled my throat. I fucking swallowed it anyway. I never learned. No matter how hard the no, I always ignored it, pushed against it, and forced it to bend to my will.

Karen shook her head. "There are no mistakes, Benecio. As much as I'd like to commiserate over this development with you, I've got several pressing matters to attend to. I promise your information, except a trigger to our system that states you have been matched, shall be removed from our database. We have been happy to have you as a client, despite the result."

But Karen was an indomitable force, an unbreakable “no,” and I knew it.

It was easy for her to dismiss me. Had I the inclination, I could splatter her all over her pristinely decorated walls, tap dance around in her blood, and then walk out, daring someone touch me. I could … but I wouldn't. Lennox Demetri—with enough underground connections to make me take notice—was a man no one wanted for an enemy, so I reserved the urge. Today was her lucky day, I supposed. I didn’t like hearing the word “no.”

Does it make you feel better when they bleed, Benecio?

Only partially. But it's better than nothing at all.

Just like King Midas, I felt nothing. I starved for something I never tasted. Hungered for riches I couldn’t bring to reality, even if my cursed touch turned everything to gold, water to wine, a home into a palace, and a corporation into the underworld kingdom of unbroachable power. But I couldn’t have the one thing I expected Infidelity to grant: companionship and a malleable partner to live my life with. 

Or better yet even, a woman I could turn into a bride before my empire went crashing down around my ears. I’d spent too long trying to do it the right way, and now time was of the essence. Without a bride of my own choosing, La CosaNostra would choose their own for me to bring my fortune under their fold. Memories were long-lived in the underworld, and though I’d given up my family name, they still knew who I was. I could be a made man, rejoin the fold, and take my rightful place, and all I had to do was give them my kingdom. They weren’t likely to accept no either. Given time, and the buffer of a wife—which their own code required them to respect—I’d have space to shore up my stronghold by producing an heir. But it wasn’t Karen’s problem, and I wasn’t going to beg. I never begged. I’d learned long ago that bowing before anyone only ensured a swift stomp to the throat. Fuck, I’d done it to others.

“Thank you, Karen.”

As I stood and buttoned my suit jacket, I noted the faint tremor of Karen’s hands. Well, she was not completely unaffected by my presence. Smart woman. I left her, with her heart beating and her day a bit brighter with me gone, and stalked my way to the elevator. The beautiful, scrolling Infidelity sign was the last thing I saw before the doors closed and the elevator whisked me off.

Two million dollars down the drain. At twenty thousand dollars monthly, over two years, I’d spent half a million on salaries for two companions from Infidelity alone. Add to that their clothing, living expenses, travel, and severance packages, I’d made two women very wealthy for a year of their time. And I had nothing to show for it. Absofuckinglutely nothing. The first woman was more interested in what I could pay her, which was fine, except the frigid bitch cried the moment I spanked her too hard. The second? I cringed remembering her threats to call Infidelity to report me for abuse. Pain was pleasure, and she never understood that. I couldn’t tie myself to either of them, and Infidelity didn’t know the extent of control I needed to have over the women in my bed. Heat spread over my neck, and my flesh itched under my collar, but I put one foot in front of the other and exited into the public face of Infidelity—the first-floor reception hall. My driver and bodyguard, Nathan, stood unobtrusively at the doors, awaiting my descent. I paid him a ridiculous amount of money to keep what belonged to me safe, along with a small army of men I had at my disposal when times called, but his place at my side went deeper than that. We were both illegitimate offspring of tossed-away mafia men.

And getting our hands dirty was commonplace.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked. He didn’t look at me, and his mirror-lensed sunglasses covered his ever-scanning gaze, but he sensed my moods well. By the time he asked the question, we were already in motion and heading out the doors.

“I need something wet.”

Barely breaking stride, he accepted my code phrase with a brief nod and opened the door to my charcoal Phantom. “Preference?”

“None. She won’t last long anyway.”

Again, not a word, and I closed my eyes as I slid along the cool leather seats before leaning my head back and sighing. The door closed with a dull thud, and I gritted my teeth. I knew the psychology bullshit that often was thrown at me on the rare occasions I believed therapy would fix what was broken inside of me. Like a cutter, I needed pain to deal with the stresses of rejection, or any form of frustrated desires—and typically not my own pain. With my fortune, women bent over backward to give me what I wanted, no matter how fucking sick and depraved, just to have the chance to have access to my wealth. Sometimes I let them, but most times I played with their bodies—and their hearts—until both were broken nearly beyond repair. By then I was aptly bored and moved on to the next.

I accepted every word they called me as a statement of fact. Bastard-born, monster-brewed, and heartless. I didn’t give a shit about their pretty diamond tears unless their mouth was wrapped around my cock to thank me for the pleasure of their pain. Today, though, I craved more than a sycophant I’d have to scrape off to get her away from me when I was finished. I needed a woman who knew the ropes and very clearly came to me because of my wealth. With her ulterior motive worn on her sleeve, I didn’t have to care about anything but what I’d get from her: clarity, pleasure and, for a brief time, freedom from the memories that still messed with my life.

Tomorrow, I’d deal with finding a wife.

Tonight, I simply wanted a whore to fuck.

A phone rang, but knowing who was on the other line and that Nathan would handle it, I ignored it. In a few short minutes, he hung up and we were in motion. Central Park faded from view as we traveled away. A crash somewhere on I-278 sent us up Bruckner to get to the Bronx. I wouldn’t be staying in New York, but I knew the state well and did plenty of work there. I contracted Mistress M’Pulsive enough, as well, for the services of ones in her stable. She knew how I liked it, and my chosen girl for the night would be walking down my appointed pick-up street. Nathan would ensure I was taken care of. As my cock thickened with anticipation, the stress from the day faded just a bit.

 

 

She was a raven-haired beauty, but her knees knocked, her navel ate its way to her spine, and her features were drawn. I shouldn’t have been looking at her. She was nothing like the corseted blonde just a few feet away, with smoky eyes and Louis Vuitton on her feet. I knew the blonde was who M’Pulsive had provided for me, but the dark-haired woman with the empty eyes watched me with indifference. No artifice, no attempt of sale. For a moment, I fell into her gaze. The nothingness in her eyes dragged my own ineptitude to feel anything but anger out in my face. I hated her on sight, yet I couldn’t look away. A dirty black skirt barely covered her long legs, and she wore a bright-pink bikini top that exposed her slender stomach. A stomach streaked with delicate white scars.

You wear your scars on the outside. I wonder how deep they go and if you’d let me pick at them.

That ratty mess of hair hid her face, but her bow mouth was full, if a bit chapped from her picking at the flesh as she was now. Her piercing green eyes grabbed me, daring me to look away. Dared me, one of the most dangerous men walking the planet. She knew the ropes and the way of the streets. This was no young, stupid girl who'd run away from home. I liked a woman who knew the rules. My dick swelled with interest. What pretty, pretty prey.

"How long you been out here?" I asked the raven-haired girl. The escort I’d ordered opened her mouth, but I lifted a hand to cut her off.

"Long enough to know how to suck you until your knees go weak, baby. A hundred makes sure you get it real good," the dark-haired girl said.

I opened my car door and swung my feet to rest on the ground with a crunch. I expected her to fall to her knees, desperate for the almighty dollar. Instead, she studied me for a moment before her weary gaze darted back and forth. 

“You may leave,” I told the blonde escort, and she spun around on her heels in a huff.

“You’ll pay my night fees,” she tossed over her shoulder, but I didn’t care enough to respond. Not verbally anyway.

I gripped her hair and rolled my eyes when she screamed, scandalized I was sure. Her knees hit the harsh pavement, and I jerked her head back, forcing her gaze to mine.

“What you meant to say was ‘Yes, Sir,’” I hissed at her.

Her spindly fingers dug at mine, fighting to get my hands off her, but I only clenched tighter, pulling her blonde strands tight. I looked up at my chosen prey for the night, and she watched me, wide-eyed. But there was no fear, not really, and I couldn’t describe how that made my dick harder. So I jerked the blonde against me, and she wailed. But this show was less about control and more about seeing fear in the other woman’s eyes.

Fear me.

She blinked and looked away. “Yes, Sir,” she said, her pulse thumping in her throat.

“I didn’t ask you to answer for her,” I admonished.

When her startling gaze swung back to mine again, resignation leeched into her features. “I know.”

I released the escort and barely registered her scrambling away. “You know I’m going to have you.”

"Show me the money first," my prey said. 

So be it. I pulled a wad of cash out of my billfold. How good was she? Would she try to slit my throat and run with the money? I was interested in finding out. A delicious thrill swirled up my back. Something new, something different, feeling. I wanted more of it.

Fucked-up lives have a way of craving to test the odds. 

"What else you want? Pussy? Ass? I can take it good," she told me.

"All of you."

She craned her head, watching the entrance of the alley before looking back at me. "Not much left of me. Three holes, unless you put more in me, and I'd rather live today."

She spun on her heel and walked away. The action only sealed her fate. 

I hated the word no.