Monster Inside Me: Volume II (A Dark Mafia Romance Book 2)

by Faye Byrd

  I rub my throbbing temples. “It’s not a big deal,” I say evenly, trying to convince myself. “It’s nothing at fucking all!” I jump up and grab the glass, storming to the kitchen. Fuck him and his fucking observations. I’ll get my own goddamn water.

  And where the fuck is the Aspirin?

  Escaping to Antonio’s small ensuite, I toss things out of the medicine cabinet in search of those elusive white pills. My hand closes around the bottle like a lifeline, and the top almost pops off under my crushing grip. I breathe deeply through my nose, trying to tamp down my irrational anger at an inanimate object.

  “Come on, Dante,” Ivan says from the doorway. “Talk to me.” His voice is gentle and soothing, as if he’s trying to entice a child. “There’s obviously something going on, and I need to understand.”

  My shoulders crumple under the weight of his pleas, and I turn to face my little brother—the person who means more to me than anybody. My chest tightens, and I take a deep breath, expanding my lungs and pushing the strange feeling away. I rub my fingers over the small pang that remains as I blow out the breath.

  “Even I don’t understand, Van, so I don’t see how you can,” I reply, shaking my head sadly.

  He walks over and throws his arms around me, pulling me tightly to him, giving me a hug like I haven’t had in a long time. “It’s probably simpler than you think,” he says as he pulls away. “Now take four of those and let’s have a seat.”

  Expelling a hollow chuckle, I yank the top off the bottle and pour a few into my hand, tossing them down my throat. I follow it up by killing the glass of water and refilling it once more before trailing to Antonio’s bed where my brother’s settled.

  I sigh heavily as I take a seat, scratching at the itchy hair that’s covered my face as I’ve sat here arguing with the monster for days. “I think I’ll be okay now,” I say in a gruff voice. All the yelling and choking has taken its toll, I suppose.

  Ivan turns his baby blues my way and eyes me curiously, one side of his lip ticking up. “Is that really what you think?”

  My brows draw together. “Of fucking course,” I say with a shrug, brushing off his knowing look. “I’ve had a bad few days, but it’s nothing I can’t overcome.”

  “What about Piper?” he asks, crossing his arms.

  With his gaze on me, I make every effort not to wince at her name, but even so, I feel it all the way to my gut. “What about her?” I ask, projecting what I hope is a good game face.

  He shakes his head, his gaze falling to his lap. “You can’t just pretend it never happened. It won’t work.”

  “I fucking know it happened, Van!” I jump up and start pacing. His refusal to let this go is driving me crazy. “It was a mistake, a momentary lapse. Realizing there’s a problem is the first step in making sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Umm.” He rubs his hand over his freshly shaven chin. “Somehow I get the impression that Piper didn’t think it was a problem.”

  “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snap, irritated with his vague know-it-all attitude.

  He stands and grabs my arms. “It means,” he says as he walks me over to the bed and shoves me into a sitting position, “that while you were here, hiding from the world, Piper was constantly trying to gain access to the penthouse, though she wasn’t successful.” He rubs that fucking chin again, looking off as if he’s thinking hard, but it’s all a ruse. He’s mocking the fuck out of me because his nosy ass knows every electronic move I make.

  Fucker.

  But my irritation at him isn’t the only thing I feel. No. I feel for Piper, too. Too fucking much if I’m being honest. But aside from that, I feel horrible for whatever she must’ve felt at my disappearance and the subsequent rejection of her thumbprint access.

  “Have you talked to her?” I ask, bracing myself for his reply.

  His shoulders slump as he drops all pretenses. “At first she was confused, but now?” He shakes his head and gives me a pitying look. “Nope, she’s moved straight to pissed. I’m pretty sure you won’t have any problems making sure it never happens again.”

  “Good,” the monster says before I can stop him. A battle ensues in my mind, and my body feels as if it’s taking the brunt of the force. Receiving blow after blow, it crumples in on itself as the two sides of me war, but in the end, the monster’s right. I can’t be more for her than a fuck—and that was no fuck.

  “Da—” Van starts, but I throw up my hand, cutting him off.

  “This is the way it has to be,” I say, expelling any lingering pussy-ness. “Piper’s a fantastic woman, but the level of emotions she causes is more than I’m prepared to feel. None of us are safe if I’m not at peak mindset, and this proves I can’t be that with Piper. She fucked with my head.”

  “Or your heart,” he adds quietly, his blue eyes burning into me.

  I shrug. “Maybe. I guess we’ll never know.”

  He stands with a snort. “Only my brother would think he can control all.”

  I toss a pillow at his retreating form. “And don’t you forget it.”

  He pauses in the doorway and turns back to me. “Get cleaned up, and I’ll see you later this afternoon … At the penthouse.” His brow lifts in a dare, and I’m not one to take those lightly.

  I scrub my hands over my hairy face. “Done. Give me a little bit to shower and take a nap. Say, four?”

  “Works for me.”

  With Ivan gone and my head clearer than it’s been in days, the monster settles, happy he’s won me to his way of thinking. And he has—to a fucking extent. I’m still torn over what to do where Piper’s concerned, but only whether to apologize for my actions like a man or leave things as they are. Approaching her again can only bring a whole fuckload of trouble, but the urge to make sure she knows she did nothing wrong is thumping within me like a steady, distant drumbeat, ever-present and soul-rattling—if I had one, that is.

  My shower and shave pass by in a blur, doing nothing to clear away the murkiness that’s been left behind from this whole ordeal. I still feel … off somehow, and the only way I know to get back in the game is full speed ahead. So I do. Starting with reclaiming my fucking penthouse. I mean, Antonio’s place will do in a pinch, but even thinking I spent three days here creeps me the fuck out.

  As the elevator climbs, so does my heart, and by the time it dings at my foyer, I can hardly breathe it’s lodged so high up in my throat. A few deep, cleansing breaths allow it to settle, and I’m finally able to step from the doors.

  A faded flowery scent assaults me, and my head swims, but the monster propels me forward with a snarl. I chuckle at his hard-ass tactics as I enter my room, pausing once I’ve stepped through the doors.

  It looks like every other time I’ve entered it. Only a nightstand lamp lights the dark space. No signs of the epic disaster remain, and I release a heavy sigh. Thank fuck. I’m not sure I’m ready to face the repercussions, even in such a trivial fucking way. At some point in time, I’ll have to make a conscious decision, but for now, I just need sleep.

  I strip Antonio’s subpar clothing as I stroll toward my bed, my mind bogged down from all it’s endured in the past few days. Even the monster is sluggish after such a grueling standoff. By the time I’m beneath the downy softness of my duvet, my eyes are as heavy as the weight on my chest.

  Within seconds, I’m off to the mysterious land of my subconscious, where the monster has no sway. I’m allowed to relive every sumptuous second of the connection Piper and I shared, knowing this time that it was all real. The beauty of every action, thought, and feeling is on full display, beckoning me to embrace it, to give in and allow myself to have it again.

  An incessant buzzing brings me to the surface, my eyes too heavy to open. My hand flies out and absently slaps at the nightstand to kill the annoying alarm. The room once again falls silent, and I float halfway between here and there. A dinging sound breaks through the haze, causing me to search my mind for its origin.

&nb
sp; The elevator.

  Ivan.

  That’s why my alarm was fucking blaring.

  I struggle to open my eyes, and due to the dark windows—a leftover from the last night I spent here—the sun doesn’t scorch my retinas. Thank fucking God. I don’t know how much more distress I can take right now. My fucking chest still feels like there’s a brick house sitting atop it, even after a few hours of rest.

  A throat clears at my doorway, and my heart goes from silent, heavy thumps to thundering against my rib cage in milliseconds. Not because it scares the hell out of me. No. It’s because, even with something so minuscule as a throat clearing, the voice is highly recognizable.

  My eyes jump to the slender figure, who’s casually propped against the doorjamb like my own personal sinful demon. From here, I can’t make out her expression, but her appearance alone is enough to stir the slumbering monster. My jaw clenches tightly as I toss him into his fucking cage and throw the keys to the dark recesses of my mind.

  Piper’s here, and I hadn’t realized how desperate I was to see her until this very second. I swallow as she straightens and begins strutting across the room. Her every curve is highlighted by the tightness of her barely-there clothes, and the natural way in which she approaches shows off her womanly sway.

  I’m fucking hypnotized.

  But I always have been.

  “Piper,” I mumble, but it comes out as a desperate groan.

  “You’re back,” she says as she crawls across the bed to hover on all fours just a foot away.

  My confused eyes fall to her ample cleavage before returning to her own. I reach out, pushing her hair behind her shoulder, and lick my dry lips. “How did you … ” I trail off, afraid she’ll disappear if I finish the question.

  Her head tilts to the side. “How did I what?”

  I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  She crawls forward, pressing her upper body against my chest. Her face is so close that if I lean forward only a small bit, her lips will be against mine. The monster rattles his cage, but I nail that bitch to the ground. This is mine. I want it. I won’t allow him to take it from me again.

  She relaxes against me, laying her head against my shoulder as the rest of her settles into my side. Her hand goes to my chest and lower, drifting over the tense planes of my abdomen. My eyes fall closed, only to be bombarded with the images and feelings from last time we were so close.

  The rhythm inside my chest matches her soothing caresses, soft and steady. Though my room is dark, just like before, there’s a glow that seems to surround us.

  Her.

  I’m not sure, but it’s fucking there. I feel it as much as I see it.

  “Were you going to ask how I got in here?” she asks. Her tone is soft, not wrathful like I expected.

  Her hand slips low, beneath the duvet, and my breath catches. “Yes,” I say as I exhale.

  She brings her hand back up to my chest, her nails digging across my flesh, which only excites me further. “Oh, it was nothing. Just a childhood friend doing me a solid.”

  Her nails slip beneath the duvet again, and she runs one against my rock-hard cock on her way to gripping my balls. A gargled moan escapes as she tightens her hold.

  “Piper,” I say on a strangled gasp as her nails pierce my sensitive flesh.

  “What’s that, Dante?” she purrs, her lips just beneath my ear. “Does it hurt?” She squeezes again for emphasis. “It’s nothing compared to what I felt when I woke up alone. Fucking abandoned after the most sensual night of my life.”

  “S-sol—” I can’t even speak, her anger, both figurative and literal, causing the endearment to die on my tongue.

  She squeezes tighter, robbing me of oxygen, my body frozen in place by the utter terror of making the wrong move. “But then I thought maybe business interfered, and I’d see you soon. Until I tried to come back, that is.” Her teeth close on my earlobe, and she tugs hard, releasing me with a rough scrape. “Don’t worry, though. I won’t ever try again.”

  She releases her hold on my balls, and I curl in on myself, gripping my chest to keep my heart from following her as she sashays across my room. Once at the door, she stops and spares me one more look—it’s as cold as fucking ice—before she struts out of my door.

  And out of my fucking life.

  SIX

  COMING TO TERMS

  “Talk to me,” I snap into my phone in lieu of any pleasantries.

  “Boss,” Parks says in his usual respectful yet reserved voice. “I think I’ve found something on your mystery man.”

  “Do you think, or do you know? I’m in no mood for fruitless bullshit,” I reply, rubbing my thumb deep into my temple.

  “I’d say there’s a ninety percent chance I’ve found him,” he replies, and my interest is piqued.

  “Are you going to tell me before we get old and fucking die?”

  “Yes, Boss, of course,” he replies, and I almost feel bad for being such an ass, but that thought quickly fades as he starts speaking again. “Though he was never affiliated officially with any of the various organizations, he was a hired man and worked for several of them. As far as I can tell, he’s related to the Kents, but only by marriage and only through William and Harold’s mother.”

  “Where is he?” I ask because I couldn’t give a fuck less about any of that. I just want his ass on the other end of my fucking gun—while he talks, of course.

  Parks takes a pause before he answers, which doesn’t endear him to me any, but I wait patiently. “Funnily enough, Miami.”

  “That is interesting,” I say, mostly to myself. My mind is already spinning through ideas, even though I don’t have the full details yet. “Go on.”

  “He’s in a high-end elderly resort. Seems he had a stroke about ten years ago, and he’s been switched around to a few different facilities. He just landed at this one last week.”

  He pauses, and my mind is quick to make the leap. “A new facility may not recognize all the different family members who may visit.”

  “That’s my thought, Boss. Would you like me to make contact?” he asks.

  An evil chuckle escapes before I can stop it. “Oh, no. I’ll take it from here. You need to double check, because if my trip turns out to be worthless … do I even need to finish this?”

  “You make your arrangements. I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t confident,” he replies, and I do believe there’s a hint of a challenge in his voice.

  If I were in a better mood, I might toy with him a bit more, but as it is … I just don’t give a fuck. “Then it’s a done deal. Email me the information.”

  I toss my phone on the desk and lean back, several scenarios flooding my mind. My blood is zinging in my veins and thundering in my ears. This is usually when the monster is salivating at his bars, but that motherfucker hasn’t made a sound in the past two days.

  For fucking once, he knows better.

  After Piper left the other day, I laid in my bed, waiting for Ivan to show up and say, “I told you so,” but he never did. I spent the rest of the night and into the next day in and out of consciousness. Sometimes I buried myself in the night Piper and I spent together, and sometimes I suffered through the last time I saw her.

  I still fucking suffer.

  Small crescent-shaped scabs line my nut sack, but that’s nothing compared to the brick that’s lodged in my fucking chest. Taking a deep breath is a massive undertaking and swallowing anything aside from water is fucking uncomfortable as hell. Sometimes, I worry I won’t get enough oxygen, but there’s always just enough to fucking survive.

  The music from two floors below vibrates through the walls, and just knowing she’s down there seems to lift the weight but only slightly. I realize now how bad I fucked up, but I don’t know any way to change it. And she’s made it clear it can’t be fixed, so what’s left to do? Wait it out. The heaviness that’s almost smothering me has to go away at some point.

  Right?

  The lapt
op on the desk chimes with an email, and I lean forward eagerly when I spot Parks’ name. Upon opening the file, a series of pictures greets me, and the younger man draws me in first. There’re several of them, both before and after the eye injury, yet none of them fill in the vague image in my mind. I finally settle on the last shot—an old man, resting in a hospital-like bed, one side of his face sagging.

  But it’s the scar that sends my blood roaring. All the skin is pinched together where his eye should be. A small vertical line is the anchor to all the skin in that area of his old, haggard face. You can barely fucking tell he once had a top and bottom lid. They’re just tiny slits that blend in with his wrinkles.

  The perfect scar for a mini pocket knife.

  A deliciously evil smirk creeps onto my lips as I grab my phone from the desk. It’s answered within two rings—of fucking course. “Boss. What can I do for ya?”

  “Antonio and Carter need another weekend away,” I say, rocking back in my chair. “I’m thinking Miami this time. Carter has an uncle there in a nursing home who could use a visit while Antonio attends a weekend workshop.”

  “Is this about the Kents?” he asks.

  “Not this time, though I can imagine they’ll be in the picture before long. This is an old score that needs to be settled,” I say, my voice hardening as the screams—Piper’s screams—echo in my head. “Have Ivan set the whole thing up.” I click on the date icon on the PC. “It’s Tuesday now. He should be able to book a conference room at a decent hotel and fill a few rooms with imaginary workshop goers by Friday evening. Give him a call and get it done.”

  “Boss,” he says hesitantly, and he’s lucky I’m still even on the phone to hear him, but I expected resistance. “It’s generally not in the scope of everyday business for me to contact Ivan. Ya know, since he’s not officially connected and all.”

  I snort. “Isn’t it your job to do what the fuck you’re told?”