Possessed by the Killer (Dark Possessive Mafia)

She came toward me, wiping her hands off on the apron. I went to meet her halfway and she beamed like she was pleasantly surprised to see me.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors,” she said. “It suits you.”

I smiled al little. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you’re getting tan.” She pointed toward my arm. “Look at that.”

I looked and laughed. “I’m not sure I’d call this tan,” I said. “Maybe slightly off-white at best. Cream-colored, maybe.”

She chuckled and stretched her back. “I go for walks in the forest sometimes,” she said. “It’s nice to get away from the boys and their cigar smoke.”

“They do love smoking cigars,” I said. The smell of it could choke a small child. Thick wafts of clouds rolled down the hallways when Dean had his Capos in his office.

I’d been there for a week, and already it was beginning to feel like a place I could stay. That scared me more than Dean being reasonable about all this.

Bea began to stroll down the grass, past the tree, and I walked with her. I didn’t know why—but I felt like I should make an effort.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” she asked, hands behind her back, head tilted so she could look up at me out the corner of her right eye.

I didn’t meet her gaze, only looked up at the fluffy clouds. “I haven’t decided,” I said. “But it would be stupid of me to turn him down, right?”

“Oh, stupid,” she said. “I don’t know about stupid. You know what he is, don’t you?”

Of course I knew. I grew up with men like Dean, like my father, like my uncle. I was surrounded by men like that and there was a reason I hated them.

“Yes, I know,” I said.

“Then nobody would be shocked if you made a run for it.” She chuckled kindly and sighed. “I’ve seen a lot of men come and go through this family, and I will say that Dean is one of the best.”

“Best in what way?” I asked.

“He’s a good man at heart,” she said. “He grew up in the family, which means his sense of morality is skewed slightly, but he’s unceasingly loyal. If you decide to marry him, which I am not suggesting you do, he will follow through with his promises, that I am sure of.”

I nodded a little. “I got that sense, honestly. He seems like the sort of man that does what he says.”

“Very much so.” She looked off into the middle distance like she was remembering something. “I watched him grow up in this house, you know. Used to chase him into these woods sometimes, especially when his father was angry and he didn’t want to come home to face the consequences. Once he broke a lamp, a Tiffany piece from the twenties worth, oh, too much money. His father was furious, and poor Dean hid out in the woods for over a day. He eventually came home starving.”

“What did his father do?” I asked, trying to picture a young Dean, and failing. In my mind, he was born a man, and always would be.

“His father beat him then gave him dinner,” Bea said lightly. “But the beating wasn’t so bad. I think the Don was impressed that his son managed to spend the night in the wild.” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Sorry, I mean, the former Don. I still haven’t gotten used to him being gone.”

“It must be hard,” I said softly. “You’ve been working here for a long time.”

“Ah, well, Cesare was old and ill at the end, and he lived the kind of life very few men ever dream of. I think he had it good.”

Bea reached a gravel path that arced toward the pool and back to the house. She walked that way, climbing uphill, moving a bit slower. I couldn’t tell how old she was, but I guessed late sixties, maybe early seventies. She’d probably been in this house for most of her life, and losing the old Don must have been hard. But now she had the new Don to think of.

“If I marry him, will it help?” I asked her.

She shrugged slightly. “I suppose so. Dean needs your uncle’s support, and your marriage will earn it, though I never was a fan of buying and selling girls for political favors.”

I laughed and ran a hand through my hair. “You’re the first one to say it like that.”

“Well, that’s what it is.” She nodded to herself. “But yes, if you marry Dean, it will help.”

“Do you think I should?” I asked, suddenly desperate for a real answer. We reached the top of the hill and the base of the house, the patio several feet away, a long stretch of designer stone, a built-in fireplace and oven, expensive lounge chairs, and large umbrellas.