Liliana As people began to call Benito and me to retreat to his room, I felt the blood leave my face. Benito wasted no time, however. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, then before I knew it we were headed for our room. His palm stuck to the thin fabric of my wedding dress. It was sweaty, heavy, and too hot. Slowly he descended lower until he rested on my bottom. I repressed a shiver. I wanted to push his hand away, push him away , but he was my husband and soon he would touch me there without the protection of the fabric, touch me everywhere, see every inch of skin that should have been Romero’s alone. Nausea overwhelmed me and I almost vomited. Sheer willpower kept my wedding dinner in my stomach. I peeked over my shoulder, even though I promised myself not to. My eyes searched the crowd for Romero, but he was not there. Part of me was glad that he hadn’t had to see Benito groping me, but the other, larger part, was disappointed. That silly part had hoped that he would somehow stop it. Of course that would have just gotten him killed. He would have been shot on the spot and then war would have broken out. Many people would have died, maybe even Fabi, Aria and Gianna. It was a good thing that he had kept his oath, that he had not interfered and let me do what was expected of me. I turned around and realized that we had already arrived in front of our room for the night. Benito opened the door and half pushed me into the bedroom. I froze in the middle of the room, listening to the sound of the door closing and Benito’s footsteps. “You are a real beauty,” he said, his voice already thick with desire. “I wanted to be alone with you all night. If it hadn’t seemed rude, I would have taken you to our room hours ago.” Bile clogged my throat. I dared not move for fear of vomiting on my shoes. He grabbed my arms and turned me toward him, then before I could even get my bearings his mouth pressed against mine. I gasped and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue past my lips. He knew about the cigars he had smoked with the other men and it made me feel even worse. His tongue was everywhere. He didn’t give me a chance to do anything. God, it was horrible. My hands grabbed his shoulders, my fingers dug into his dress, and I pushed as hard as I could, but his arms wrapped around my waist, squeezing me even tighter, giving me no chance to escape. His breathing was rapid and excited. He was so impatient. I did not want this. I closed my eyes, holding back tears and trying desperately to imagine it was Romero kissing me, but everything about this felt wrong. The clumsy hands on my waist, the way he tasted, the way he moved his tongue like a dying slug. Tearing myself away from him, I took a few desperate breaths. His taste lingered on my tongue. I wanted to rinse my mouth to get rid of it. Benito stood in front of me again and approached. “Don’t worry, honey. I will take care of you. I will make you into a woman. You will never forget this night.” I knew I would never forget it. I would probably have nightmares for the rest of my life. My mother’s last words, the look in her eyes filled my mind. How had I allowed it to get to this point? “No, I can’t.” I took a step back. I needed to leave, to get out of that room, I needed to find Romero and tell him that I was not going to survive this marriage, that I only wanted him, that he was always what I wanted and would do until the day I died. I was selfish, I knew that. But I no longer cared about starting a war if the alternative meant having to spend my life being touched by Benito. Maybe Luca could have handled the situation. He was a good chief. He could have prevented the war. Right?
Benito’s expression stiffened, that sweet, sugary smile was replaced by something more suspicious and hungry. Fear settled like a weight in my stomach. She gripped my arms too tightly, making me shiver. “You are my wife and you will do what is expected of you.” “No, please. I am not ready. I need more time.” Time to find a way out of this situation without getting everyone killed. There had to be a way where no one got hurt. Benito chuckled. “Oh, don’t try that shit with me, honey. I’ve been masturbating to the image of your perfect firm ass for weeks now. Tonight I want to bury my cock in it . Nothing in the world will stop me, not even your big doggie eyes.” I opened my mouth for another pleading attempt, but Benito pushed me back. I cried out in surprise. My heel caught on the hem of my wedding dress and then I fell. I braced myself for impact, instead landing on something soft and bouncy: the bed. How had I been so close? I tried to get down immediately, but I didn’t have the chance. Benito leaned over me, his knees between my legs, pinning my dress beneath him. I was stuck. I struggled, but my legs were bound by the fabric. And I panicked. Panicked like I had never panicked before, not even when I had seen the torture scene in the basement. Benito lowered his face to mine and then kissed me again. I turned my head to the side so he drooled all over my cheek. His fingers grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up into his face. His cigar breath swept over me, and his chapped lips were too close. His eyes narrowed to two slits. “Listen, honey. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. For your sake, I hope you work with me. I don’t give a shit either way. I like it hard.” He meant it. He was going to force himself on me if I continued to struggle, I could see it in his eyes. I couldn’t expect any kindness from my husband tonight. Tears and pleading would not change his mind. I forced myself to relax under him. He smiled condescendingly and shifted his body, finally freeing my dress. He pressed himself against me, his moist mouth on my throat. He licked my collarbone. I tried to imagine it was Romero, and when that didn’t work, I tried to stop thinking about him altogether. I tried to be empty and numb, tried to project my mind to another place and time, away from my husband who would do what he wanted with me no matter what I wanted. Benito pulled up my skirt and slid his hand down my calf. He grunted in appreciation and pressed his body even closer to mine. I could feel how much this excited him. Every time I felt Romero’s erection, I was aroused, but this? Oh god. I couldn’t do this. But he was my husband and I was his wife. I had chosen this way to protect anyone who wanted to help me. This was my duty, not only to him but to my family, to the Outfit. It was the fate of many women. They had survived and I could do it too. I hated the sounds my husband made, the smell that was not Romero’s, the way his clumsy fingers pulled at my dress. He was my husband. His hand went up to my knee. My husband. Then up to my thigh. My husband. My husband. My husband. His hand reached the edge of my panties and I couldn’t take it anymore. I rested my palms on his chest and pushed him away from me. I wasn’t sure where I was getting the strength from.
Benito weighed at least seventy pounds more than I did, but he lost his balance and fell to the side. I leapt off the bed, but the dress slowed me down.
I staggered toward the door, arms outstretched. My fingers were inches from the handle when Benito reached for me. His fingers hurt my forearm with their grip and he flung me back toward the center of the room. I could not recover fast enough and fell forward, the bones in my hips colliding with the desk in the corner. I screamed in pain. Tears burned in my eyes. Benito pressed behind me as I was bent forward and his erection thrust into my butt. “Tonight, doll, you are mine.” And there he was, right in front of me. I barely noticed Benito’s hands squeezing my breasts through the fabric. My eyes were fixed on the gleaming silver letter opener. Benito squeezed again, harder, probably angry at my lack of reaction. I grabbed the letter opener. It was pleasant in my hand, cold and hard. My husband pulled at the edge of my corset. I tightened my grip on the letter opener and pushed my arm back as hard as I could. Benito staggered away with a gurgling gasp, releasing me. I turned around. The letter opener was sticking out of his right side. Blood soaked the white fabric of his shirt. I must have hit him very hard, maybe even badly injured. I had never done such a thing . My lips parted in shock.
I had really plunged a knife into my husband’s stomach. His wide eyes stared at me. “Bitch, I-” He gasped and fell to his knees. His ugly cockroach eyes grew even wider as he rasped in pain. I staggered away from him. What if he had called for help? What if someone had seen what I had done? I had stabbed my husband. They would have killed me for it, and even if they hadn’t, Benito would surely have beaten me to death if he had survived the wound. There was only one thing I could do, only one person who could help me, and I wasn’t even sure he would do that after all I had put him through. After what I had said and what he had had to see today. Maybe he wasn’t even in Chicago anymore. Maybe he had already taken the next flight to New York to get as far away from me as possible. I rushed to my bag, tore it open, and reached for my phone. With trembling fingers I dialed the number I knew by heart. Benito still looked stunned but had raised himself up on his elbows.
He was panting, obviously trying to find his voice to shout for help. What if he had come toward me? Could I have finished what I had started? A new wave of panic hit me hard. After the first ring, Romero’s familiar voice rang out, “Lily?” I had never felt so relieved in my life. She had not ignored my call. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate me. “Please help me,” I whispered, my voice rough with tears. They were streaming down my face. It wasn’t because I had just stabbed someone with a letter opener; I felt no remorse for that. “I’m coming. Where are you?” “Bedroom.” “Don’t hang up,” he ordered. I wasn’t going to. I could feel him moving, hear his calm breathing, and that in turn calmed me. Romero would arrive soon and then everything would be fine. After all that had happened, he still rushed to help me. Less than two minutes later, there was a knock. He had to be close, otherwise it would have taken him much longer to reach the bedroom. For a couple of seconds, I wasn’t sure I could move. My legs felt numb. “Lily, you have to open the door. It is locked. If I break it , people will be here in no time.” That was all it took. I crossed the room in a few steps and opened the door. My heart was pounding in my throat and only when I saw Romero’s worried face did I dare to lower the phone from my ear and hang up. I felt safe now, even though I knew I was far from it. We were both in grave danger if someone found us in that state. By calling Romero, I would have put him in danger.
How could I do such a thing to someone I loved? Had I not carried out this marriage exactly to protect Romero? Romero’s eyes roamed over my half-open corset, my ruffled hair and torn skirt, and his face lit up with anger. He entered the room, closed the door, and took my face in his hands. “Are you all right? Did it hurt?” I shook my head, which, I realized a moment later, could be interpreted as an answer to both questions. ” I stabbed him. I couldn’t stand his touch. I didn’t want his hands on me. I…” Romero pulled me against him, my cheek pressed against his strong chest. I listened to the sound of his heart pounding. Outside he looked calm but his heart betrayed him. “I didn’t sleep with him.
I couldn’t.” “He’s still alive,” he murmured after a moment before pulling back. Deprived of his warmth, I wrapped my arms around myself. Romero advanced toward my husband whose eyes darted between Romero and me as if he were watching a tennis match. His breath rattled in his chest, but he had dragged himself closer to the desk and was reaching for the phone. Romero stopped above him, then calmly pushed his arm back down to the floor. Benito fell onto his side with a gasp of pain. He reminded me of a cockroach trapped on his back, his legs pedaling helplessly over his body. I felt no pity, however. “You,” Benito growled, then began to cough. Blood stained his lips. “Did your Chief arrange this? Chicago will make him pay ten times as much. Dante won’t let you make a fool of me and everyone else.” “You’re not important enough for Luca to worry about you,” Romero said coldly. He had the same expression I had seen when he had seen the Russians tortured in the basement.
I shuddered. Awareness dawned on Benito’s face as his eyes shifted from Romero to me. “You and her.” His mouth contracted into an evil grimace, saliva clinging to his lips. “You malignant whore let me fuck you. You–” He never had a chance to finish the sentence. Romero approached Benito, pulled him up by the collar, and then with one expert movement pulled out the knife and stuck it at an upward angle between my husband’s ribs, silencing his gasping breath. Without even blinking, Romero let go of Benito, who fell lifeless at his side.