by Hart, Gemma
I mentally shook myself. A doe in a glen? Who the fuck are you now—Shakespeare?
“How did you sleep on your first night?” I asked.
Halle had moved in last night into the east wing rooms. I had watched her things being brought in. She had literally had only one medium sized suitcase with her. Where were all the trappings most women brought with them? All the shoes? The accessories? The endless parade of outfits?
Halle looked down at her hand, still trapped within mine. I could almost hear her thinking. I wondered what she would say. Would she look up with those luminous blue eyes, lips quivering, begging me to let her go? Would she maybe just go pale, too nervous in front of the infamous Marco Desmond?
I had been careful in the past to keep my work with the Family as hush hush as possible. But that didn’t mean paparazzi didn’t love to follow me around as I hit the town with one woman or another—actress, model, high priced call girl, I’ve had them all.
Oh god, I thought with disgust. She wouldn’t faint would she? I could already feel the tired idea boring me when suddenly I felt the small fingers in my hand tighten around my own.
I looked down in surprise.
Slowly, she started gently stroking the inside of my palm. I could feel each finger play across my hand, stroking softly. Each touch sent a small sizzling electric bolt through me.
Then, without warning but with a sudden grace, she leaned in towards me and raised her eyes.
But there was no hint of fainting. Not even a sign of fear or nervousness, damn her.
Instead there was a faint smile playing at her lips. The same smile echoed within her eyes. I remembered the shock and fear that had played across that delicate face the other day when I had surprised her in the den.
That felt like almost a hallucination of a memory now. Because there was no fear or shock in those ocean-like eyes.
There was a warmth. A heat. A quiet promise.
“Mr. Desmond,” she said, mimicking my mock formality, “I slept very well.” She had a clear, clean voice like the sound of a bell. And even as she whispered, I could hear her voice still echoing within my brain like the end of a sweet note.
I opened my mouth to say something although I had no fucking idea what I was supposed to say when she leaned in even further, practically resting on my chest.
“I slept very well knowing how much we’d be working together here,” she said. Her lips, soft and pink, gave me a teasingly short glimpse of a playful smile before she pulled back.
She pulled her hand away and this time, I let her go, not even aware we had still been holding hands. “It looks like I have some work to get started on,” she said with that same glimmering smile. “But any help you can provide would always be appreciated.”
And with one final eye fuck, she turned and strolled out the room.
Leaving me standing there.
What. The. Fuck.
A few beats of silence passed.
Then from the bottoms of my feet all the way up, I felt a deep chuckle escape me. My shoulders rocked as I let it out.
“Oh that’s how you want to play, kitten?” I said aloud quietly to the empty room.
Women had been strolling in to the Desmond Mafia and Family compound for literally decades. Every single one of them carried the dream of landing a Desmond man. The power, the wealth, the infamy—it was too tempting for most women. From the age of fifteen, I’ve had full grown women throwing themselves at me.
I stared with aroused amusement at the doorway where Halle had just left. A burst of intriguing excitement shot through me.
I still couldn’t figure out why someone like Halle Margot would be in a place like this. Perhaps she was just like those many other women who had come through, hoping to land herself the title of a crime lord’s wife. Except she was trying to be clever by pulling herself above those regular whores and presenting herself as an actual competent worker.
I shook my head, unable to stop grinning. For the first time in a long time, I suddenly felt a sense of anticipation. And hunger.
Miss Margot, you better watch yourself.
Because when I get the anticipation and hunger for a chase, I never lose.
Chapter Six
Halle
I looked across the expanse of my new large desk. This was probably the nicest office I had ever been in and probably would ever be in.
I had no idea what kind of wood the desk was made out of but I could tell that it was high quality with impeccable construction. The entire room was the same. All the incredibly expensive furniture was made out of leathers or woods I couldn’t identify but just by their appearance, I could tell they were not from a store I could find in the mall. These were all custom pieces with their materials sourced at most likely expense of the environment.
And above it all, a mound of paperwork sat in front of me, nearly swamping me.
I ran a hand through my hair, my bun having come loose several hours and many files ago. Just looking at all the work in front of me made me want to go cross-eyed.
I had always figured the Desmond network was very extensive. Everyone in the public knew that. People knew Roy Desmond had more than a few politicians comfortably in his pocket. He even owned a majority stake in a popular online news website, convenient whenever there was negative press exploding around the Desmond Family.
And yet, seeing it all before me in black and white, I never realized just how incredibly large and varied the scope of the organization was. The Desmond Mafia had fingers in everything—including charities! It was incredible.
I had yet to be tasked with any new, upcoming deals or mergers, much to the frustration of Agent Hadfield and Truman. I hadn’t even heard someone whisper the name Juarez yet.
All I’d been expected to do so far was to organize my predecessor’s files which had been left in a complete mess. I suddenly lowered the papers I was holding. Perhaps they had been left in a complete mess because he had been removed from his job so suddenly….
It was always jarring to have these sudden reminders of just how incredibly dangerous this mission was. I was in the heart and center of the most powerful crime family in all of America where within a few thousand square feet, hundreds of guns and weapons were loaded and carried about like toys by nearly every man in sight.
If I were to be caught as an undercover FBI agent here in the Desmond Compound….I shuddered even thinking about the possibilities.
I shook my head, trying to clear it of such dark and morbid thoughts. Refocusing my attention on the work at hand, I tried to make sense of everything. Although none of this stuff was related to the Juarez trade, Agent Hadfield and Truman were pleased at the sudden pile of information I was now privy to. They drilled it into me to carefully review each file and to take note of anything highly sensitive or suspicious.
I picked my papers back up again and read down the sheet. It was a listing of small manufacturing plants held in Germany. Erlösung Manufacturing.
At this point, I was hardly surprised to see the name of another country on these files. The truth of the Desmond reach had already been shown to me.
But I squinted at the paper. These manufacturing plants were quite small. They made a special type of processor chip that was used by specialty computers. Definitely a successful business that had a good monopoly on the market but it was a niche business. Very niche.
They were smallest business holding that I had yet reviewed. Almost all the Desmond business ventures, no matter the industry, brought in several tens of millions of dollars per year, making them an incredibly wealthy family.
But this string of plants were barely scraping by in the low millions. Some of the plants were only making profits in the six figures. These were a pittance for the Desmonds. Why would they want plants like these?
In a short time, I could already tell two things about Roy Desmond. One, he was an incredibly suspicious man, which made him erratic and cruel. And two, he was very, very greedy. He only wan
ted the best. And these plants would never have registered on Roy Desmond’s radar.
I ran my finger down the paper till I saw the name listed as the owner.
Marco Desmond.
My body stilled at the name. Marco.
If enigma could be personified, Marco Desmond would be it. My body immediately flushed as I remembered meeting him in the den, my hand pressed forcefully against his body. I had felt every carved muscle, every hardened groove of his body.
And caught so off guard, I had let my shock and shyness get the better of me.
But I was on a mission. I had a target. And that target was Marco Desmond. And that mission?
Seduce him.
Seduce the notorious mobster and find out the details of the potentially enormous merger that would be happening between the Desmond Family and the Juarez Family.
But could Agent Hadfield or Agent Truman truly understand what they were asking of me? Had they looked at Marco Desmond?
He was fiery passion and taboo desires on two legs. With one glance, he could make you feel as if your bones had melted along with all your clothes. I had seen all those paparazzi photos of him with famous and glamorous women. It was easy to understand how those women could flock to such a dangerous man.
But this was a mission. My very first one. And if I failed, it could also be my very last one.
I had managed to snatch an opportunity to finally follow in my father’s footsteps and show him just how hard I could work.
Paper crinkled as I gripped the documents tighter in my hands as I remembered the other day when I had been formally introduced to Marco. I had wanted to hide in a corner, sure that he could see every forbidden desire crossing my mind.
He had such confidence. He was a man who was used to women falling at his feet. He expected it. And if I had not been on a mission, I would’ve fallen like countless others.
But swallowing every shaking nerve, I had forced myself to turn the tables. I had never been much of a flirt but this was my mission. And shaking and quivering in front of a man hardly seduced him. Especially if that man was Marco Desmond.
And to be honest, I thought smilingly, I had quite enjoyed that look of shock on his face as I had pressed close against him, his hard chest against mine. Not bad, Margot.
I looked at the crinkled paper.
Marco Desmond.
But I had to be careful. I was playing with fire here.
Seeing Marco’s name on the document was surprising in more ways than one. For the son of Roy Desmond, he sure had very little claim throughout his father’s empire. I hardly saw his name on any documents.
In fact, there wasn’t much information on Marco Desmond anywhere. Even the FBI knew very little about him. We knew he was trained from a young age to work for the Family but how he was trained or what he was trained to do was still a mystery.
Well….a little bit of a mystery.
The other day, on my way to my office, I had passed by a large lounge. Several women were piled up on couches, drinking champagne and talking. They hardly gave me a second glance. With my gray pantsuit, I stood like a shadow against their spangling dresses and loud makeup.
“He’s just my type,” one of the girls said as I passed. “I’ll get Marco Desmond if it’s the last thing I do!”
I knew I shouldn’t but hearing his name, I couldn’t help but press myself against the wall, eavesdropping on the conversation. I knew so little about the man I was supposed to seduce. Any information helped.
Another girl scoffed. “Evie, you and every other bitch around here wants that man.”
The woman, Evie, made a protesting noise. “But they don’t get him like I do!” The other women all made exasperated noises but Evie persevered. “I could tell he’s just like me! He’s not the kind of man to get in the thick of it. He’s happy just kicking back and taking care of business from an office.”
There was a pause before a third woman suddenly said, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“He’s laidback,” Evie explained. “He knows his father’s done all the hard work of building up the Family. All he has to do is kick back and enjoy it. That’s my kind of man—”
“Are you fucking crazy?” another woman joined in. “Do you even know anything about this Family?”
“She’s still new,” a woman said, lamely defending Evie.
“Then learn this good, honey,” the woman said. “Marco Desmond built this Family. He’s done all sorts of things for this business. Not too many people know since he kept using aliases but he’s done everything dirty and rough you can think of to build up this Family from the ground up.”
Evie was quiet.
“I never heard that,” she said quietly, almost in a pout.
“Of course you hadn’t, you nut!” the woman cried. “If you had, you wouldn’t be talking so fucking crazy.” Suddenly the women’s voices dropped a notch. It was as if they all leaned in towards each other conspiratorially. I found myself leaning in against the wall as well.
“You’ll hear this around sooner or later so might as well hear it now,” the more experienced woman said in a low voice. “Marco Desmond was and probably is still the Desmond Family’s hit assassin.”
There was a sharp gasp from Evie.
“He’s probably done more hits than you’ve had handshakes. So you be careful, honey,” the woman advised. “Don’t you be playing him like some fool. ‘Cause he ain’t.”
Aliases.
That was how Marco had kept himself so firmly entrenched in the shadows of the Desmond Family. His whole life, he had used various aliases to cover the work he had done for Roy and the Mafia.
But why?
It almost seemed he didn’t want recognition for his work. For a man who had clearly contributed a lot of blood, sweat, and tears for the Family, he seemed almost reluctant to take any credit.
An assassin.
A hitman.
It was entirely believable. Marco carried a powerful grace that spoke of a complete control over his body. He knew exactly how to exert his strength and how to execute his power. As a hitman, he must’ve been lethal.
But now, what was he? Was he still an assassin? Or, as I looked down at my file, an owner of a random string of moderately successful manufacturing plants? What a mystery.
I groaned as I stretched for the first time in hours. I’d had enough for today. The numbers and accounts were all starting to run together. I could finish tomorrow.
As I gathered my things, I nearly ran into a chest as I turned towards the door.
I cried out as I hastily took a few steps back. I looked up at the startled but amused face of Gus, one of Roy’s men.
“You scared me,” I said, a hand to my chest. My heart was still beating like a hummingbird’s.
Gus’s craggy face burst into a sinister grin. The man couldn’t blink without looking sinister. He had clearly been born for a life of crime. “I can see that,” he said, his eyes glimmering with an ominous air.
Catching my breath, I looked up at him. “Did you need something? Did Mr. Desmond ask for me?”
Gus shook his head. “No, I’m just here to deliver a message,” he said. “The dinner tomorrow. You’re coming.”
Well, that’s one way to invite someone.
“What dinner? Tomorrow? Where?” I asked, completely confused.
“There’s a regular dinner about once a month. Everyone’s required to attend. As the newest hire,” he gave me long look, “you definitely need to be there. It’s in the house. The main dining hall.”
Only a place like the Desmond Family compound could have a dining hall and then a main dining hall.
“What is it? Is it like a…a formal event?” I asked, still unsure what I was supposed to do.
Gus grinned again. “Not really,” he said. “Just look decent.”
He paused at the door before leaving. He gave me another one of those leering looks. “After all, it’s time you’ve met the Family.”
>
Chapter Seven
Halle
I smoothed down the front of my simple black dress. Gus had said that the dinner wasn’t really a formal event and yet I was pretty sure I would be frowned upon to come in in jeans and a t-shirt.
The black dress had been the only formal wear I had brought. Matching them with nude heels and my hair pulled back into a low ponytail, I hoped I was dressed suitably for the dinner.
Walking down the grand spiraling staircase, I took slow breaths to help compose my face. This was a tightrope I was walking. I had to be calm and believable as the newest Desmond hire while looking attractive and alluring enough to catch Marco’s eye but not so alluring that I also attracted unwanted attentions from the other men.