Fawn: A Dark Mafia Shifter Romance (Blackfang Barons Book 1)

by Elaina Jadin

  The building looks utterly abandoned so I expect them to be locked, but when he tugs one it opens easily, with no noise or resistance to indicate that it’s old and unused.

  Once we get past the entrance hall, the building’s interior is vastly more inviting than the darkened, dilapidated exterior. In fact, it’s extravagant, in an old-world sort of way. Thick, plush red carpets cover the wide floors, with luxurious gold brocade wallpaper embellishing the walls. Soft lights from vintage chandeliers shine down from the ceiling, but it’s still pretty dark.

  There’s nothing in the open area, no side tables and credenzas set along the walls, no sofas or other seating arranged in the middle. Nothing except one man standing at the bottom of the staircase, his posture stiff and his wide shoulders squared.

  Bryan motions for me to stay where I am, and I do, clasping my hands in front of me to keep from fidgeting. The inside of the building looks lovely, but I can’t shake the bad feeling plucking at my nerves, and it takes everything I have to stand there patiently instead of turning around and running like hell.

  The man Bryan approaches is in a three-piece suit, a very nicely tailored one, too, given that the breadth of his frame is larger than the average man. It’s probably worth more than Bryan’s entire wardrobe. He remains completely silent, issuing no greetings or welcoming words to either of us, and he barely even tilts his head to listen to Bryan talk.

  Bryan speaks in low tones, so low I can’t make out any words. But whatever he says, the large man’s eyes finally focus on me.

  Trepidation fills me as he takes me in. After a tense moment of staring me down, he seems to find the sight of me agreeable and nods once, without a word, and steps aside.

  Bryan turns around and holds out a hand for me. “Come on, baby,” he says.

  I hesitate for a moment. Bryan never calls me baby unless he’s trying to butter me up. He must really need tonight to go well. But my brief pause is enough for Bryan’s eyes to turn dark.

  “I said get over here.” His voice is low and impatient.

  I scurry over, and he grabs me above the elbow, immediately hauling me up the stairs. We proceed up several landings before we stop climbing and step into a hallway. The third floor looks similar to the one below that I glimpsed as we passed by, except it’s well lit.

  Instead of putting me at ease, the brighter glow gives the hallway an imposing presence. Danger lurks within these walls. I know it in my gut.

  Nothing good awaits us here.

  Digging my feet into the carpet, I slow us down, and clutch my fingers around Bryan’s arm. “Wait, please,” I beg, pulling him to a stop. “I don’t feel good about this.”

  “Come on, I need you, babe.” He looks at me with a reassuring smile, but there’s no warmth in his tone or his eyes.

  “Something’s not right. I don’t want to be here,” I tell him, panic rising in my chest. “Please, just take me home. Or let me wait in the car.”

  An angry annoyance narrows Bryan’s features. “You’re doing it again, Jemma—getting yourself all worked up. Pull yourself together before you embarrass me. This night is going to change our lives forever. Don’t fuck it up, all right?”

  His words do nothing to comfort me and I shake my head, refusing to move my feet as he tries to move us forward. “At least tell me what we’re doing here.”

  “Look,” he snaps, reaching the end of his short patience, “I don’t have time to explain it to you. Just do as I say, and it’ll be fine. I told you how important tonight is for me, and you’re acting like a child. Now, let’s go, people are waiting.”

  He tightens his grip on my arm and marches me to a door halfway down the hall, seeming to know where he’s going. He opens it and practically shoves me inside, and I’m mildly surprised. He said people were waiting, but the room is empty. It’s just the two of us.

  My eyes quickly take in the room, half-expecting something hideous to leap out of the shadows at me. It’s a deeply masculine office, decorated in rich tones of mahogany and chestnut.

  An impressively large desk commands my attention first. Behind it is a window draped with dark brocade curtains. Two stout leather armchairs with brass button tacks sit in front of the desk, and a matching chaise lounge is tucked into one corner of the room, beside a wall of floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with thick hardcovers.

  On the other side of the room are more bookshelves, and an impeccably stocked wet bar. A gilded tray sits on a side table, adorned with a selection of liquor and heavy crystal glassware, as though it’s awaiting the arrival of special guests.

  It’s all very… hospitable and professional. Inviting, even. Maybe I am overreacting. The lamps shining in the corners on either side of the desk give the room a warm glow and my nerves settle down a little.

  “Sit down.” Bryan pushes me into one of the deep brown leather chairs. “And don’t touch anything. I have to go meet someone now, and then we’ll be done.”

  “Wait—I have to stay here?” I turn to him, but Bryan is already opening the door. “What happened to you needing me by your side?”

  “Given your piss-poor attitude, it’s best if you wait here.” Bryan steps out of the room and slams the door closed with finality. I scowl after him even though he’s already long gone.

  I sink back against the chair, the smooth leather comfortable against my skin. It smells rich and earthy. It’s definitely real, no fake leather ever smells this good.

  Minutes stretch on, the building completely silent. I almost feel alone in the world, like Bryan’s somehow slipped me into a secluded void of the universe where no one else exists.

  I tap my fingers on the arm of the chair as my gaze roams across the room, slower this time, soaking in every detail. My eyes trail along the bookshelves and I’m itching to get up and explore them, to run my hands across the thick spines embossed with gold letters.

  Before my parents died, I used to brag about how many books I could read in a month. My dad loved reading, too, and we’d often spend our Saturday afternoons poking around used bookstores together, coming home with our arms full of twenty-five cent paperbacks.

  Now, I can’t even remember the last time I cracked open a book.

  I’m curious what type of reading material fill the shelves in a place like this, but Bryan said not to touch anything, and given the seriousness of his tone, I’m definitely not going to risk it.

  With my ass anchored to the chair as instructed, I wait for what seems like ages, but still, Bryan doesn’t come back. My nerves return, though... did something go wrong? I wish he would have told me what the fuck we’re doing here, so I’d at least have an idea of what to expect, to know if it’s normal for his business to take this long.

  As the wait drags on, my eyes grow heavy and a weariness settles into my bones, despite my jangling nerves. It’s a good thing I don’t work tonight—I would’ve been dead on my feet.

  Just when I feel like I could nod off, a sound reaches my ears. My spine goes rigid and my chest freezes as I hear something outside of the door, heavy footfalls that don’t sound human.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention again, and a sense of dread twists inside me, telling me to run, to hide, to get the fuck out of there right now. But there’s only one way in or out, unless I want to free-fall from the second-story window.

  A shadow passes under the door, blocking the glow of light from the hallway, followed by loud sniffing sounds, like a giant dog is sampling the air before a hunt.

  Knives claw at my stomach and waves of nausea wash over me, but I remain perfectly silent. I don’t think I breathe until the glow under the door returns and I hear heavy, padded footsteps moving away.

  It was just a dog, I tell myself, trying to calm my shaking body with the mental exercises I learned in therapy. Just a really big dog. Probably the same one I saw outside. Lots of people have dogs, it’s totally normal.

  More footsteps reach my ears, and thankfully this time they’re definitely
human. But they don’t have Bryan’s slow, light rhythm. The door handle twists, and I stand up from my seat, my mouth dry. I straighten my spine and I clasp my hands together to keep them from trembling.

  The door opens, and my eyes land on the handsome face of the mysterious man I danced for at the club.

  7

  Draven

  The moment I step into my office on the third floor, all I can smell is her. Her fear, her worry, the scent of her cheap soap, even the harsh shampoo and conditioner she uses. It pisses me off how much her scent sends my blood right to my groin, how it makes the wolf inside me pace restlessly.

  She’s gorgeous, this close. There’s no stage separating us, and there’s recognition in her eyes. That makes my lust surge even more—she had been dancing for me.

  Bryan brought her, as requested, but there’s a confusion in her expression that makes me grit my teeth. She does not have the look of a woman who knows why she’s sitting in my office.

  “Jemma?” I ask. “Or do you prefer Prudence Sweet?”

  She startles at the brisk tone of my voice, her legs shifting under that dress that hugs her body. I want to rip it off and put her on display, stretched across my desk. Certainly business would be less mind numbing if I have her to rest my gaze on.

  She nods, wetting her lips before speaking. The sight of her tongue darting out has me stiffening harder. “Jemma is fine.”

  Her voice hardly quivers and, damn, that makes me smile. She’s not as spineless as Bryan must think. There’s a strength in those damaged eyes.

  I feast my gaze on her, but I don’t move closer. Not yet. Not until I know I won’t pounce on her like the beast inside is demanding. She will be mine, though. It’s only a matter of time.

  “Did Bryan tell you why you’re here?” I need to know. The deal hinges on her explicit consent.

  When she shakes her head, I can’t stop the deep growl that tears from my throat, even as it makes her jump out of the chair. That man will be lucky to make it out of here alive tonight. Very lucky indeed.

  “Where is he?” She asks, slowly backing away from the chair. Her voice is soft with unease, as though she’s worried her question might provoke more anger from me. “He just told me to wait here.”

  I close the door, the sound echoing through my office, and stalk towards her. Her eyes widen and she clutches her purse against her body, like a shield. Every step I advance, she backs up two, as though she realizes there’s no safety from the wolf in this room.

  She wanted my full attention at the club, and now she has it again, but there are no bouncers here, no throng of people between us this time.

  The bookcase stops her retreat, but still she leans back into the shelves, her eyes darting to the side as if looking for an escape. I’m drawn to her, unable to stop until I’m barricading her against the shelves, the wood creaking under my grip.

  She’s so close I can’t help but run my nose over her soft cheeks, inhaling her intoxicating scent. No doubt she can feel how hard I am.

  She tries to squirm away, and I grab her jaw, my large, strong fingers pressing harshly into her cheeks and neck, making her cry out. She looks at me, her eyes terrified. I fucking hate Bryan in that moment, even though I can smell her faint arousal.

  “I knew that man didn’t have any balls,” I murmur, drinking in her face, moving my eyes slowly down to her trembling lips, wanting to do more than look. Her hair is swept back into a fancy knot, each strand lying neatly in place, and I want to run my hands through it, to make it look as wild as it did on stage. As wild as her scent makes me feel. “He didn’t even tell you that he owes us a lot of money, did he?”

  She shakes her head no, the movement so slight it’s almost imperceptible. “I… I didn’t know,” she says, a frantic denial, as if she’s worried I’ll extract a pound of flesh for each dollar he owes.

  Well, she’s not wrong there. Someone is going to pay, but whether it’s her or Bryan remains to be seen.

  “He made a deal to pay off his debt,” I tell her, and the pulse in her neck pounds harder under my fingertips. “That’s why he’s here tonight.”

  Her eyebrows come together in a silent question, the quiver of her shoulders steadying as she holds her breath, waiting to find out what her role is in all of this.

  I don’t keep her waiting. I suspect she’s already guessed, anyway. “He traded you.” Just three little words, but they make her eyes widen and she draws in a sharp breath.

  Confusion contorts her face for a few moments, before a more satisfying anger fills them. I release her face, sliding my hand down to the base of her throat. I want to explore her further, to keep going down to the tempting curve of her breasts, but I have more honor than the scum who left her here.

  “What do you think about that?” I try to keep my tone even, to project my usual calm detachment, but being this close to her is driving me insane.

  She lowers her eyes to my chest, her pulse beating rapidly against my palm as I lightly grip her neck, and I can tell there are a thousand thoughts at once whirling through her mind. I only need to know a few of them, for now.

  “I think he’s a fucking asshole,” she finally whispers, her warm, honey-colored eyes lifting to mine, and I see the fire in them.

  I let her go and step away to lean against my desk as I look at her. I can still smell the fear on her, but the sweet scent of her excitement is growing.

  She’s afraid of me, as she rightfully should be—I’m nearly twice her size and it’s clear I’m no saint—but some part of her enjoyed my firm touch. And wants more of it. I could sense the clash of emotions when I released her, both the wave of relief and the twinge of disappointment.

  She’s beautiful, with soft, alabaster skin and vivid amber eyes that are so expressive and yet, hiding so much. And she’s so fucking tiny and… delicate compared to me, to my kind. I could crush her with my bare hands, and that excites some sadistic part of me.

  How the hell Bryan got her, with the shit he pulls, I don’t know. He doesn’t fucking deserve her. That much is damn clear.

  For that matter, I don’t deserve her, either. And neither do Kade and Bishop. When it comes to us, though, we don’t care about merit points or balancing the scales of justice to ensure we’ve earned our rewards. We take what we want.

  And yet, I’ve never stooped so low as to force a woman into anything. Men? Certainly. I have no qualms about putting razor-sharp pressure on their jugular when I need to, in order to get a business deal done. But nothing like this.

  I don’t know what I’ll do if she refuses us, and that is a chilling thought. Not only because I’m the man no one dare refuse, but also because I’ve already become attached to the idea of her being ours.

  I decide to sweeten the deal, to turn the situation on its head. A part of me knew Bryan wouldn’t get her consent—who in the hell would ever voluntarily agree to work off a debt for that asshole? Even a woman like this, with little else in the world, has to have more self-respect than that.

  He thought he could dump her here, take the money, and run. Well, we’ll fucking see about that.

  “I’m in a good mood tonight,” I say, crossing my arms. Her eyes take me in, and I know she can see the bulge in my pants. She bites her lip, darting glances at the door as if she might make a run for it. “So I have a proposal for you.”

  Her gaze snaps up to mine, nervous but curious. Hesitantly, she finally asks. “What type of proposal?”

  “The original trade Bryan made was that you’d be ours, to do with however we desire,” I inform her. “Obviously, I accepted the deal, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

  I expect her to shake with fright at that idea, at the notion of being sold off to us and subject to the mercy of our whims, but instead her eyes narrow and a red flush of anger creeps onto her cheeks. There’s definitely more fight in her than Bryan knows. Her lips press into a tight line, her chest rising and falling with angry breaths as she digests that bit of news.

/>   “However,” I continue, “there was one condition—that you had to give your consent to the arrangement.”

  “But I didn’t,” she says quickly. She straightens herself, indignation in the way she rolls her shoulders back. “And I won’t.”

  “We’ll see,” I tell her calmly. “Since Bryan’s tried to fuck me—and you—on this deal, I have a new offer.”

  Jemma regards me warily, still looking ready to bolt at any moment.

  “He owes us fifty thousand dollars.” I laugh softly as her eyes go wide. The amount is nothing to us, but it’s obviously more than she’s ever had in her hands—and clearly more than Bryan ever told her about. “He wants us to clear that debt, plus give him another fifty, for selling you. That’s how much you’re worth to Bryan. A hundred thousand dollars.”

  Her expression sours and she finally looks away from me. But not fast enough to hide the tears that spring to her eyes. Tears have never bothered me—I’ve seen grown men sob countless times under my merciless wrath, but right now… witnessing her quiet suffering at learning her true value to the man she trusted… this time... if she asks, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes without hesitation.

  “So here’s my proposal,” I begin, pausing to make sure I have her attention before I continue. Her eyes flicker back to mine with a guarded curiosity. “Stay with us for the next week. At the end of seven days, his debt will be cleared, and we’ll give him the other fifty he wants.”

  She bristles with resentment at the idea. “Why the hell would I do that?”

  Exactly the reaction I hoped for. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. I let the silence linger between us until she turns to fully face me. There’s moisture shining in her eyes, but the tears have been fought back for now, and in their place is outrage at my suggestion that she work off Bryan’s debt.