Bound by Temptation (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles #4)(61)

I tried to scramble off immediately but didn’t get 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 tied down by the fabric. And I panicked. Panicked like I’d never had before, not even when I saw the torture scene in the basement.

Benito lowered his face down to mine and then he kissed me again. I turned my head to the side so he slobbered all over my cheek. His fingers clutched my chin, forcing me to face him. His cigar breath washed over me and his chapped lips were too close. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Listen, sweetheart. We can do this the easy or the hard way. For your sake, I hope you work with me. I don’t give a shit either way. I like it rough.”

He meant it. He’d force himself on me if I kept up the struggling, I could see it in his eyes. I couldn’t expect any kindness from my husband tonight. Tears and pleading wouldn’t change his mind.

I willed myself to relax beneath him. He smiled in a condescending way and shifted his body, finally giving my dress free. He pressed up against me, his mouth wet on my throat. He licked his way down to my collarbone. I tried to imagine it was Romero and when that didn’t work, I tried to stop thinking about him altogether. Tried to be empty and numb, tried to cast my mind to another place and time, away from my husband who would have his way with me, no matter what I wanted. Benito shoved my skirt up and slipped his hand up my calf. He grunted appreciatively and pressed his body even closer against mine. I could feel how much this excited him. Whenever I’d felt Romero’s erection, I’d been excited, but this? Oh god. I couldn’t do this. But he was my husband and I was his wife. I’d chosen this way to protect everyone 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 so could I.

I hated the sounds my husband made, the smell that wasn’t Romero’s, the way his clumsy fingers tugged at my dress. He was my husband. His hand traveled 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 lay my palms against his chest and pushed him off me. I wasn’t sure where I took the strength from. Benito had at least seventy pounds on me, but he lost his balance and fell to his side. I leaped off the bed but my dress was slowing me down. I staggered toward the door, arms extended. My fingers were mere inches from the doorknob when Benito caught up with me. His fingers bruised my forearm with their grip, and he flung me back toward the center of the room. I couldn’t gain my footage quick enough and fell forward, hipbones colliding with the desk in the corner. I screamed out from pain. Tears burned in my eyes.

Benito pressed up behind me as I was bent forward and his erection dug into my butt. “Tonight, doll, you are mine.”

And there it 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 because of my lack of reaction. I gripped the letter opener. It felt good in my hand, cold and hard. My husband tore at the edge of my corset. I tightened my grip on the opener and jabbed my arm backward as hard as I could. Benito stumbled away with a gurgling gasp, giving me free. I whirled around. The letter opener stuck out of his right side. Blood soaked the white fabric of his shirt. I must have hit him really hard, maybe even injured him seriously. I’d never done something like that.

My lips parted in shock. I’d really plunged a knife into my husband’s stomach. His wide eyes stared. “You bitch, I--” He gasped and dropped to his knees. His ugly beetle eyes grew even wider as he rasped in pain.

I stumbled away from him. What if he called for help? What if someone saw what I’d done? I’d stabbed my own husband. They would kill me for that, and even if they didn’t, Benito surely would beat me to death if he survived the wound.

There was only one thing I could do, only one person who could help me and I wasn’t even sure if he still would after everything I’d put him through. After what I’d said and what he had to witness today. Maybe he wasn’t even in Chicago anymore. Maybe he’d already taken the next flight back to New York to get as far away from me as possible.

I rushed toward my bag, ripped it open and fumbled for my phone. With shaking fingers I keyed in the number I knew by heart. Benito seemed still dazed but he had gotten up on his elbows. He was gasping for breath, obviously trying to find his voice to scream for help. What if he came toward me? Could I finish what I’d started?

A new wave of panic hit me hard.

After the first ring, Romero’s familiar voice rang out. “Lily?”

I’d never felt more relieved in my life. He hadn’t ignored my call. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate me.

“Please help me,” I whispered, voice hoarse with tears. They were streaming down my face. It wasn’t because I’d just stabbed someone with a letter opener, I felt no regret over that.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

“Bedroom.”

“Don’t hang up,” he ordered. I wouldn’t have. I could hear him moving, could hear his calm breathing, and it calmed me in turn. Romero would be here soon and then everything would be all right.

After everything that had happened, he still rushed to help me.