99 Percent Mine: A Novel

At the office after a workout, I bump into my colleague, Ian. We worked late last night and finished off a productive evening with dinner.

He walks around me, avoiding eye contact, but something’s wrong. Deep bruises mar the left side of his jaw, and there’s a new stiffness to his movements.

“Ian, are you okay?”noveldrama

“Fine.” Jaw tightening, he adjusts the strap of his laptop bag. The movement shifts his sleeve, revealing wrists covered in livid red marks.

My stomach drops. I move around him to block his path. “Ian, talk to me. What happened?”

He flinches, his eyes darting toward the exit like a trapped beast. “Look, I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t mean anything by that hug. I didn’t know you were married.”

“Married? What are you talking about?”

Fumbling with his bag, he pulls out a piece of paper. “Here, take this.” He thrusts it into my hands. “I’m resigning. Effective immediately.”

I stare at the letter, my mind reeling. “What? Why? But you only just joined. How can you leave us so soon?”

With a shaky breath, he mutters, “I was attacked. Last night. At my apartment. Your husband told me to stay away from you or else…”

All the blood drains from my face and floods my pounding heart. Benito attacked a man for taking me out for a meal? Before I can react, Ian bolts toward the door. My voice catches in my throat, and by the time I whirl around, he’s gone.

Fury propels me back out of the building and down the steps. Benito Montesano doesn’t get to attack my colleagues.

I drive across town in a red rage and park outside the casino’s staff entrance. The pounding in my chest remains relentless, and I don’t care that I’m wearing sweaty workout clothes or that my hair is a bird’s nest.

A guard steps forward, blocking my path. He squares his shoulders, staring down at me like I’m crazed. “Ma’am, you can’t be here.”

“Step aside,” I say through clenched teeth. “I need to speak to Benito Montesano.”

“Do you have an appointment?” he asks with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t need one to see my husband,” I snap.

He scoffs, and I can tell exactly what he’s thinking. There’s no way his boss would entertain a sweaty, auburn-haired banshee, but I had Benito’s heart when he was just a boy.

“Ma’am, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

His large hand lands on my shoulder, triggering a surge of adrenaline. I drive my fist into his crotch, making him double over with a roar.

Another man rushes forward with a hand outstretched. I sidestep, my heel connecting to his shin.

“Where’s my husband?” I yell.

The first man grabs my shoulder again, his grip stronger. “Crazy bitch!”

“Let go!” I dip low, throw my weight forward, using his momentum to catapult him over my head. He lands on his back with a surprised grunt, just in time for the other asshole to grab me from behind and lift me off my feet.

A crowd has gathered around the employee reception, but I’m too far gone to care. All the rage boiling in my gut funnels into a primal scream, making me struggle against the man’s grip. I twist and kick, my elbow connecting with his rib.

In my periphery, a figure breaks through the crowd and my heart drops into my stomach.

“Get your hands off my wife,” bellows a familiar voice.

Everyone freezes.

The guard’s grip around my waist loosens, and I wrench free.

It’s Benito, and all I can think of is how majestic he looks in that sharp suit and black shirt, showing a peek of his muscled chest. He stalks forward, the tendons in his neck corded like steel cables. His jaw clenches, his nostrils flare, and his hands curl into fists.

I step away from the two guards, who exchange nervous glances. They don’t know whether to stand their ground or cower.

The one I flipped over raises his palms. “Boss⁠—”

“You touched my wife,” Benito says, his voice icy and low. His dark eyes burn with an intensity that makes me shiver.

The guard who held me steps backward. “Mr. Montesano, she came here⁠—”

Benito’s hand shoots out, grabbing him by the throat, his grip so tight that his knuckles turn white. “I don’t give a damn what she did,” Benito growls, the words laced with menace. “No one lays a finger on my wife.”

The guard struggles, his fingers pulling at Benito’s hand. His companion steps forward, only for Lorenzo and Vitale to hold him back.

“Put them in the basement.” Benito releases the man, letting him fall to his knees. His security staff springs from the crowd, yanking the guards by their collars and dragging them toward a side door.

Benito turns to me, his handsome features softening just enough to make my heart flutter. “You alright?”

My adrenaline is still high, and the concern in his eyes unleashes my pent-up frustration. I reach into the waistband of my leggings, extract the crumpled resignation letter, and wave it in his face.

“What the hell is this?” I hiss.

His brow pinches. “You tell me.”

“You can’t go around attacking my male colleagues and forcing them to resign!” I slam the letter into his chest.

His jaw tightens, and emotion flickers in his dark eyes. Wishful thinking says it’s guilt, but it’s probably impatience. Impatience at me coming here after all this time to disrupt his fine casino.

“We’re not doing this here,” he says.

Before I can protest, he takes my hand, his touch unlocking a floodgate of old memories. Benito leading me through the woods, eager to show me our new tree house. Those fingers curling around mine as he proposed on my twenty-first birthday.

I don’t pull away, letting him guide me through the staff reception, up an elevator, and through the hallways that lead to his office.

My gaze darts to the second desk he set up for me, which still has the laptop and files I used on the day we worked together. There’s even the pen I chewed, as if I haven’t been gone in over a year.

When the door clicks shut behind us, I’m the first to talk. “Why the hell would you attack my colleague?”

Benito steps closer, making the air between us thicken with tension. Heart pounding, I stiffen, waiting for him to speak. “I tolerated your association with Marcello Demartini because you said it was platonic. That bastard from last night used dinner as step one in getting you into bed.”

Frustration mounts in my belly as I glare into his dark eyes. “You don’t get to interfere with my livelihood!”

A vein pops in his brow. “I’ve been working behind the scenes, trying to restore everything I took from you. I even bought you a fucking law firm.”

“What?” I hiss, my blood running cold, my mind struggling to grasp the enormity of his claim. “Are you meddling with my career again?”

His hands fly up as if he has the right to be frustrated. “Of course not. I bought your partnership in secret because I didn’t want to use it to lure you back.”

I swaying on my feet, my mind reeling, and all thoughts of Ian evaporate under the heat of this new revelation. Does this count as Machiavellian or not?

“Believe me, I never stopped trying to be a better man for you. Not for a minute. Staying away has been agony, but I’m still working with that therapist, trying to get to the root of my need to control.”

My breath stills.

Benito steps even closer, his gaze earnest. “I’ve changed,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “But every time I think of you, all I see is the abuse, the manipulation, the danger. And when I heard you were out with another man⁠—”

“He’s just a colleague,” I snap.

“He set up last night’s date to get into your pants,” he says.

I fold my arms across my chest. “And how would you know that?”

“He admitted to planning future late nights with you to get you drunk and in his bed. I made sure he wouldn’t try again.”

“Did you force the confession?”

“My man cornered him in the bathroom,” Benito replies. “That’s where he admitted he had a plan to get you out of the friend zone. He also confirmed that when I went to his apartment.”

I search his features, looking for signs of deception, but his eyes burn with the truth.

“I protect what’s mine, even if that means stepping in front of a bullet or chasing off a horny asshole with my fists.”

A laugh bubbles up in my chest, and I force back a smile. “What are you, my own personal superhero?”

Relief crosses his features, and he steps even closer. His gaze, dark and intense, locks onto mine as though our souls finally connect. “Your husband,” he says, the words breathy. “I never stopped loving you. And I’ll never stop striving to become the man who’s worthy of your love.”

Emotion clogs my throat, stealing my breath. I nod, unable to muster a reply. The sincerity in his words is overwhelming, but more than that, terrifying.

His fingers brush against mine, igniting a spark that races up my arm and settles in my heart. The touch is familiar, yet spine-tinglingly electric, stirring months of suppressed desire. This time, when his hand slips into mine, our fingers intertwine as if they’ve been starved of each other’s touch.

“What do you want, Ginevra?” he asks, his voice desperate and hoarse.

“Mom miraculously stopped drinking,” I say. “She called me several months ago from some rehab clinic in Ravencliff Island, apologizing for putting me through hell. Was that you?”

He jerks his head to the side, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What did you do?”

“She came to the casino with a low-life who was about to get himself killed,” he mutters, his gaze not meeting mine. “I separated her from the old bastard and gave her an ultimatum.”

I gulp. “Why didn’t you call me?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I know a cheap attempt to get your attention when I see one. Besides, you were doing so well in your new job. I’d be damned if she derailed your progress.”

“Benito,” I whisper, my chest tightening. “You did that for me?”

“Wasn’t she part of the reason our relationship fell apart?” he growls. “Even if you don’t want me, I still want the best for you. Now, what do you want?”

Gratitude swells in my chest, making my pulse quicken. We’ve been talking almost every day since I kicked him out of my apartment. He’s given me thoughtful gifts, reminded me of better times. Yet he’s withheld the two most important gestures that would have me reeling with gratitude. Fixing Mom’s drinking problem and making me a partner in a prestigious law firm.

Despite all his trips down memory lane, he’s never once brought up risking his life to save mine. I can’t believe he would do something so unselfish without even using it for leverage. This isn’t the man I left.

I shake off that thought, my mind spinning. Benito has a way of altering reality so that all roads lead to him. I need to think straight. Need to protect myself from getting swept away again. Need to make sure he’s truly changed.

“Did you even apologize to me?” I ask. “Are you sorry for what you did or just sorry it backfired?”

Eyes widening, he rears back as if I’ve demanded a slice of the moon. “That’s what you want?” he asks, his words incredulous. “An apology?”

I square my shoulders. “Yes.”

In the blink of an eye, he scoops me up and slings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Benito,” I scream. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you that apology,” he growls.