Perfect Monster: A Dark Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “Fuck.” Her voice was hushed, like she wanted to hide from Roman’s men. “You’re in some deep stuff now, huh.”

  “You’re taking this better than I expected.”

  “Oh no, I’m freaking out, but I’m hiding it really well.”

  “I appreciate that. Seriously Winter, I’m fine. Roman let me have a phone so we can talk now.”

  “He let you, huh? Roman sounds like an asshole.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “So he’s not an asshole?”

  “He’s definitely something. Asshole probably doesn’t do it justice.”

  “Sounds like you like him.”

  I stopped pacing. “Absolutely not.”

  “I bet you’re at least a six right now. Which means you’re lying.”

  I clenched my jaw. She was right. Even through the phone she could see past my bullshit. “It’s not that simple, okay? Like and dislike are very much intertwined right now.”

  “That’s incredibly fucking hot.”

  “You’re insane. Seriously, when we don’t talk for a little while I forget how certifiable you are.”

  “I’m just taking you at your word. If you say you’re safe, then I’m going to trust you. And if you’re not safe, I assume you’ll find a way to tell me.”

  “I will, but right now it’s okay.”

  “Good. So you’re in some secret location with a mystery man you want to both fuck and kill. Tell me again how it’s not hot?”

  I closed my eyes. If only she knew the half of it. She’d probably storm down here herself and kick Roman in the crotch for tricking me into some crappy fake marriage for his own political gains.

  But I couldn’t tell her that much without breaking the rules.

  And if I broke the rules—

  I pushed that thought away. I couldn’t go there. Not without my cheeks burning a perfect ten and Winter would definitely hear it in my voice.

  “It’s a little bit hot. Are you happy? I sort of hate myself for admitting that.”

  “I bet you do. He’s gonna hear it, isn’t it?”

  “Probably. I really miss you.”

  “I really miss you too. Sea Isle is so dull. Tourists are starting to show up, which is kind of nice. There was this big, strapping young blond lad at the Lobster last night that was eye-fucking me all night. I considered letting him take me home, but he was much too drunk to perform. Still, you know how I hate sleeping alone.”

  “And yet you sleep alone most nights.”

  “So true. The tragedy of my life.” She laughed and I heard a cork pop from a wine bottle. It was barely nine in the morning. Good for her. “Want to hear all the gossip?”

  “I’ve only been gone for a little bit.”

  “True, but girl, this is Sea Isle. Buckle up because Jack’s being creepy to the new girl and I heard rumors of an oceanside blowjob gone wrong.”

  “Start with the blowjob gone wrong.”

  I could practically hear her grinning as she dove into the tragic tale of two young horny teens that snuck down to the beach for a little late-night oral only to be chased by a pack of angry midnight old man metal detectors.

  For a few minutes, I forgot about Roman. I let myself drift into her story and get lost in the stupid small-town gossip. Winter thrived on gossip, which was probably why people loved her as a bartender—she listened ravenously and always had a good story to tell. Sometimes I was jealous of the way she made people feel comfortable, and the one time I actually told her that, she only laughed and said she was jealous of my hips and my boobs.

  Winter was easy to love. Warm and kind and outgoing. Adored me, though I didn’t know why I deserved it.

  The opposite of Roman.

  We talked for an hour until my stomach rumbled loud enough that she heard it and ordered me to get something to eat.

  “We’ll talk again later. You got that phone now, right? I can text you?”

  “Text away, but remember, they’re listening and reading everything.”

  “Well in that case, hey you creepy dickholes, leave my girl alone.”

  “You really got them.”

  “I know. Nailed it.”

  Hanging up felt like tearing off a band aid. I stared down at the quiet phone afterward for almost a minute and wished I could go back to Sea Isle, back to my comfortable apartment above Winter, to my comfortable, quiet life.

  But then I never would’ve met Roman, and he never would’ve made that offer.

  My comfortable quiet life would lead to noting. That was what I wanted, the whole reason I disappeared into a beach town. I desperately needed to get away from my dad and the MacKenna family after what happened.

  The car, that knife, the blood.

  That smirking asshole. The pain as he sliced my stomach open. Go ahead and scream. I like it when a pretty bitch screams. Makes you clench down while I fuck you.

  My hands shook as I forced myself to breathe.

  Just like Roman taught me.

  The panic subsided before it got too bad.

  My comfortable life. The world I left behind when he shot that Italian guy in the head and whisked me away.

  I could be angry. I could fight him. Rage against him. Make things hard.

  But a man like Roman rarely offered something as precious and opened-ended as anything.

  That was worth so much more than I could ever imagine.

  My comfortable life was a dead end. It was nowhere, and as I so recently and violently found out, I wasn’t safe even hidden away.

  Roman was my chance.

  I couldn’t protect Winter, let alone protect myself. Erick found her, which meant any of the men that wanted me dead could find her, too.

  And they would, sooner or later.

  Even if I hated Roman so much it burned my skin. Even if I wanted him in equal measure.

  Even if I was so confused I could scream.

  He was my shot at true safety.

  Anything.

  From a man like him, that meant the world.

  I had to do it.

  I had to.

  It might break me, but I had to do it.

  16

  Winter

  I hung up the phone and stared down at my hands.

  They were shaking.

  “Sounds like she bought it.”

  I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to look at him. I felt his gaze crawl down my body, and once-upon-a-time I might’ve liked it—he was gorgeous after all—

  But this was so fucking wrong.

  I felt sick. My stomach was a sloshing mess like I drank too many margaritas and jumped on a trampoline.

  “Is that all you wanted?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

  And failing.

  “That’s all. Like I said, one phone call.”

  “How’d you know she’d call?”

  “I planned on taking you with me if she didn’t. I guess we both lucked out.”

  I sucked in a steadying breath. Come on Winter. Get it together. Keep in control. Don’t let him control this situation. “You promised you won’t hurt her.”

  “And I won’t. I’m not interested in your friend, only in the man that’s protecting her.”

  “Roman.” I turned around and stared.

  Light green eyes. Messy, short brown hair with a tint of red in the right light. Square jaw, lips like cotton candy. Muscles in all the right place and then some. The sort of guy I’d see at the Lobster and try to take home, or at least I’d make raunchy jokes at Cassie about him just to get a rise out of her.

  Business suit that fit him like a glove.

  And a gun aimed at my chest.

  “That’s right. Roman Lenkov. Does that name mean anything to you?” An arrogant smile. I hated arrogant men. They always assumed I was dumb and weak and worthless.

  I worked hard to prove them all wrong.

  “No, it doesn’t. And I’m sure you have something very cutting to say about that.”

  He
laughed, sipped his wine. My wine. And the good bottle too. Well, good is a relative term here. “No, actually. If you did know him, that would be an even larger problem.” He stood up, tucked the gun away, then finished the wine. “This stuff is disgusting.”

  “I’m cheap. And I didn’t know I’d be entertaining a psycho kidnapper.”

  “I’m not kidnapping anyone. I’m only paying you a visit.” He walked over and held out his hand. I gave him my phone and he pulled out the tiny little black device he had plugged into the bottom before handing it back. “If you’re lucky, my people will have traced that call, and I’ll finally know where Roman keeps his little secret hideout.”

  “And if I’m not lucky?”

  His green eyes flashed like a neon glow. “Then I’ll pay you another visit until we get it right. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

  “Why are you doing this? Who the hell are you?”

  He smiled at me. Delicious and terrible. “My name’s Darren. But please don’t mention it to anyone.” He covered his mouth with a single finger and winked. “It’s nothing personal, love. Roman is just a real piece of shit and I intend on making sure he doesn’t get any bigger than he already is. You got tossed into a game that’s way above your pay grade.” He walked toward my door. “You should be happy I’m the one that showed up here. Torin or Redmond wouldn’t be so gentle.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call you breaking into my apartment and threatening me at gunpoint ‘gentle,’ but okay, sure.”

  “Love, I put the kid gloves on for you. Forget you ever spoke with me. I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I mean your friend no harm.” He pressed two fingers above his heart and looked back at me. “But if you go against me, I’ll fill that damn bunker with enough gas to choke them all. Do you understand? I’ll kill Roman and your little friend. You never saw me and you never met me if you want Cassie to stay alive.”

  Beautiful and arrogant and deadly.

  Cassie, what did you get yourself into?

  “I’ll make sure you pay if you break that promise.”

  His smile was pure sin. “I believe it. Pleasure meeting you, Winter. Don’t feel so down. If you hadn’t followed my directions, I would’ve killed you and done it all myself. Have a wonderful life.”

  I believed every word he said. I knew men like him before—

  Dangerous. Detached.

  If I hadn’t answered that call and kept her on the line long enough, I’d be dead, dead, dead. And no good to Cassie.

  At least alive I could try and help.

  If that was even possible.

  The door clicked shut behind him.

  I collapsed onto my couch and cried so hard I nearly threw up.

  Cassie, oh god, Cassie, what did I just do?

  17

  Cassie

  The sun cast long shadows across the bunker’s parking lot. The low, modernist building that sat above ground took on a whole new context now that I realized how deep the whole place went.

  “You’re quiet. I thought you’d like being up here.” Roman watched me carefully. He leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed.

  “Fresh air’s not bad, but you don’t do anything for no reason.”

  “Maybe making you happy is reason enough.”

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “You shouldn’t. I love that little smile of yours and the sounds you make as you come.”

  “That’s not really the same thing as caring about my feelings, you know.”

  He sighed and looked out across the driveway. Several of his men roamed the manicured trees and bushes with rifles slung over their shoulders like soldiers on patrol. I felt both intensely exposed and protected all at once—a feeling I was starting to get used to with him.

  “Have you thought more about my offer?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think you’re full of shit.”

  He didn’t react at all. “I know that already.”

  “But I’ll do it.”

  That got his attention. He slowly turned to me and ran a hand through that perfectly imperfect hair, his tongue rolling over his lips.

  “You’re going to play along? Follow directions? Obey orders?”

  “But firs you’re going to promise me something.”

  “I already offered you anything, little doll.”

  I grimaced and looked down into my lap. “From now on, you’ll protect anyone I want for as long as I’m alive.”

  He let out a surprised breath. I still couldn’t meet his eye. There was too much desire there, too much anger and need all mixed together.

  “Protect anyone you want for as long as you live. That’s a very big ask.”

  “You said anything.”

  He stepped toward me. I looked up sharply.

  But he was smiling slightly. “And I meant it. I’ll give you that. Anyone you want, as many as you want, for as long as you live. But after this, there will be no more deals. You’ll be mine, Cassie. My wife.”

  I nodded slowly. I understood the deal I was making: protection for Winter and anyone else in exchange for my own soul.

  And my body.

  Because that day down at the pool, that wouldn’t be the last time.

  I knew it and he knew it.

  “I understand. Husband.”

  Another quirk of his lips. A butterfly thrill sparked in my stomach.

  “Say that again.”

  “Husband.”

  He came closer. I backed away from him and raised my hands. “Don’t get any ideas.”

  “You’re my wife now. I should be allowed to take my husbandly rights.”

  “This isn’t ancient Rome you dick. You don’t have any husbandly rights.”

  “Then you should want to give me anything I ask. What feels good to me will feel good to you.”

  “Save it. I’ll play your games, but I’m not giving you anything more.”

  He shook his head, teeth flashing, as he turned and walked down the porch steps. “Come with me, wife.”

  I hesitated. “Where are we going?”

  “We have a meeting to attend.”

  I looked back at the door behind me and groaned. I almost wished I could go back inside and hide out in my little room for a while until I fully digested what this deal really meant for me, but he wasn’t slowing down, so I followed him around the front of the hose and toward a large garage in the back.

  “You know I don’t do cars,” I called out.

  He waved that off. “We’re not taking a car.”

  I slowed and refused to follow him further. He disappeared inside and a moment later the right garage door slowly began to open.

  My jaw fell open.

  It was a motorcycle. Black and red and silver, sleek and shiny. The word Triumph was written on the side with the bottom of the R swooping down to cross the H at the far end. Two helmets sat on the seat, both of them matte black.

  He walked over and straddled the front, holding one helmet under his arm and the other out toward me.

  “Get on.”

  I stared at him and burst out laughing.

  He didn’t smile, only stared at me. I shook my head and almost doubled over. It took a few seconds before I regained my composure. “You’re joking, right? I can’t get in a car and you think I’ll ride a motorcycle.”

  “Motorcycle isn’t a car. You’re enclosed in a car, trapped inside. I don’t know what happened to you, but clearly that’s part of the problem.”

  My laughter died on my lips. “You’re being serious.”

  “Get on the back, wife. We’re running late.”

  “No way in hell.”

  He gave me an exasperated look. “If you can’t handle it, I’ll stop. But you can ride your regular bike, so you can ride on the back of this one. Now come over here, put on this helmet, and do your duty.”

  I clamped down on my anger retort and glared at him. I hated that he had a good po
int—I could ride my beach cruiser and a motorcycle wasn’t all that different.

  Except it was sleek and fast and expensive-looking and he was the one driving.

  “I’m going to die,” I said, walking over. I accepted the helmet. He pulled his down over his face. “I’m really going to die. This is going to kill me.”

  “Get on.”

  I shoved the helmet down over my hair. It was hot but soft and fit me perfectly.

  I climbed onto the back, straddling it. He put a hand on my thigh.

  “Closer.”

  I leaned forward, wrapped my arms around his waist, and hugged him tight.

  “Good. Now, lean when I turn. Not too much, but don’t fight it. Understood?”

  “Now I have to lean? Oh god, I’m really going to die.”

  “Hold on.”

  He kicked the engine and it roared to life.

  God it was loud. The bike purred between my legs and I let out a little squeal of fear and surprise. I hugged him tighter, my hands gripping his muscular chest and abs. He might’ve been laughing, I couldn’t tell, because the bike leapt forward and we began to roll down the driveway. His men stared as he went past and the gate rolled back as we approached. Roman turned into traffic and rode fast, the bike churning and belching loudly, and it took all my energy not to scream.

  But I didn’t freak out. He was right—I didn’t feel the panic like I had the last time I was in a car with him. Instead, my fear was totally normal, but even that began to loosen up as he drove expertly through Jersey City, heading toward the bridge to Manhattan. Once we were riding over the water, I stared out at the city and down at the setting sun glittering off the gently lapping waves, and my grip loosened slightly, but I stayed tucked up against his back, his strong and warm back.

  It was beautiful and exhilarating. I hated that I liked it, despised that he was right and I’d have to admit it, but I couldn’t deny how good it felt to be on the back of this bike as we drifted along with traffic into New York, the wind moving over the exposed skin on my hands and neck and blowing my hair back.

  Once we reached Manhattan, he wove through traffic until he pulled up in front of a massive skyscraper. I didn’t know New York very well and didn’t recognize the building, but evidently it was our destination. Roman killed the engine, got off, and tossed the keys to a big man in all black that approached from the front door.