Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 48

48

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

Ivory

Everyone walking out of this restaurant thinks Benedikt and I are getting married tomorrow. If they only knew all that planning was a waste, that no one is walking down the aisle, and guests will need to be called early in the morning to inform them of a great tragedy instead. Flowers will need to be returned, the cake I had Dascha design will end up in the trash.

Benedikt won’t live to see another day.

That thought is what got me through the entire rehearsal dinner. The rehearsal itself was so awkward and tense, even the reverend seemed uncomfortable, having us go through the whole ordeal only once before sending us on our way.

Dinner was no better, but at least there was food and alcohol to fill the silence that so often claimed the table. My mom tried to start and carry on conversations, but my father was too busy shame spiraling to verbally respond, my brothers both looked like they wanted to hang Benedikt off the George Washington bridge by his feet and take a bat to his face, and Lucia kept her head down.

Benedikt’s mother didn’t seem too interested in playing pretend, either, and made curt responses at all the appropriate times. And Nadia—who I had one hell of a hard time looking at since finding out she was the same Nadia in Rio’s contacts—was glued to her phone. Benedikt also tried, playing the perfect gentleman role I once fell for and engaging with my mom as often as possible, his hand possessively draped over my thigh.

Whereas I just sat there.

Drinking.

Disassociating.

Mentally obsessing over the plan.

“I’ll see you in the morning, my girl,” my mom says as she takes my face in her hands and kisses my forehead.

I don’t reply, silently pleading with her to take a stand, to fight for me, to call this whole thing off so I don’t have to carry the stain of Benedikt’s blood on my soul for the rest of my life.

But she doesn’t.

Moisture wells in her chocolatey brown eyes, her thumbs rubbing my cheeks. She says nothing, though, handing me off to my brother. Santo has some choice words, filled with threats and alternative solutions that so closely resemble Rio’s, I almost forget why they were never friends .

“You don’t do a damn thing you don’t want to do, you hear me?” he whispers, shielding me beneath the cradle of his big ass arms. “Don’t let him pressure you into shit.”

“I’ve got this,” I whisper back. Because he’ll be dead soon. “I’ll be okay.”

Santo squeezes me a second time and sets a kiss to the top of my head, then passes me to Alessandro, who’s standing tall again after his injuries. “Drop him off at the nearest football field. I’ll have the whole team dogpile his ass.”

Lucia says her goodbye next… and then comes my father. He tries to envelope me in his embrace, remorse oozing off his person, but I step back and hold my head high. I can’t even look at him, still unwilling to believe he’s making me go through this. It’s a tough pill to swallow when I was always Daddy’s girl, always— and he just threw me aside like spare change.

I say a quick goodbye to Polina and Nadia, as rude as it may be, and I march my ass to Benedikt’s car, waiting beside the passenger door for a good five minutes until he finally emerges from the shadows. The locks click open, and I slide inside before he can bother with the door, inhaling a deep, steadying breath.

Slam!

Benedikt expels a breath beside me as he shoves the key into the ignition and brings the Camaro to life. “I told my mom you’re tired.”

Apologize. Be nice. Don’t come off too eager. Build up to the moment…

“I’m sorry.” I turn my head toward him, apologetic eyes in place. “I’m just…overwhelmed. Pre-wedding jitters and all that.”

He seems thrown by the sweetness in my tone but doesn’t question it. In fact, he flashes me that lopsided smile and holds out a hand for me. “I’m nervous, too. But only because I want to make this right. I want us to be happy, malish, and I know we can be. We were once.”

God, is he delusional?

We went out on one date! Two, if you include the night at the club. Does he not remember our meeting wasn’t by chance? That I was dropped dead-center into his world for a reason? That I, essentially, played him? Does he not care? Does he really and truly believe our connection was one hundred percent genuine? Another woman might be flattered he wants to make this work, but all I see is some twisted obsession to own me.

Still, I slide my hand in his and nod as genuinely as I can manage. “We’ll get there.”

We ride like that the rest of the way to my apartment, exchanging small bits of conversation here and there. Mostly, I keep my thoughts on Rio, on how all of this will be over soon and the only obstacle to worry about will be our families.

And to be honest?

The thought of unraveling their worlds by spouting the truth doesn’t seem as daunting anymore. Not after all of this. They can either live with it and choose to do better for the sake of their children, or they can disown us and continue their long standing, ridiculous rivalry.

I don’t care.

Rio certainly doesn’t care .

We want no part of it. We just want to be— together. Freely. Out of the shadows and into the light.

Benedikt pulls up to the curb then and throws the Camaro in park. Just looking at my building and knowing that I have to go in there to play the role of a lifetime spikes anxiety—and fear—to the point I almost can’t breathe.

I’ve never felt so much pressure to succeed in my entire life.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks, draping an arm along the seat.

“Down the aisle,” I affirm, trying not to flinch as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Sleep well, malish.”

Just as he starts pulling away, though, I reach out for him, luring curious blue eyes to where I sit. “Do you want to come in?”

Now he’s intrigued, cocking a dark brow. “Really?”

“Yeah, I… I kind of made you something. I was gonna wait until tomorrow to give it to you, but I don’t want to risk getting your tux dirty. It’s silly, and you can say no if you?—”

Benedikt seals a hand over mine, trapping the remainder of my offer on the tip of my tongue. “I’d love to.”