Perfect Monster: A Dark Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “Days,” I admitted. “We’ve been busy.”

  “You should call her soon. Before the ceremony.”

  “I will.”

  “But don’t invite her. It’ll be too dangerous.”

  I let out a breath. “My wedding is too dangerous to invite my best friend. How messed up is that?”

  “You can back out whenever you want.”

  “No, I can’t, and I won’t.” I stood on my toes and kissed his lips. “And you won’t let me.”

  He released my one hand and laced his fingers through my hair. He gripped hard and stared down at me, his muscles rough and intense, his jaw locked down tight. He was in pain, struggling with something, and it stabbed him in the guts.

  “I care about you Cassie. I care about you much more than I thought I ever could.”

  “I know.” I touched his cheek. The stubble pricked at my fingers. His lips opened, his tongue ran along his teeth. “I care about you too. As insane as that may be.”

  “When this is over, I don’t want to let you go. I need you to stay.”

  “I don’t plan on leaving.”

  He nodded and kissed me, tightening his grip on my hair. I wanted him to say it, finally say the words that lingered between us, but when he pulled back, his eyes shining and fierce with devotion and passion, I knew the words didn’t matter, because he looked at me like I was the only important thing in this world.

  Before he could speak, his phone rang. He cursed and went to silence it, but as soon as he did, it began to buzz again.

  “Emergency,” he said, pulling the phone out. “It’s Erick.” He answered and didn’t say anything. His face turned pale and he stepped back away from me. “Are you sure?” he asked. Then he hung up. “We have to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “There’s been an attack.” He reached out a hand. “Come.”

  I followed him to the car. As we approached, another black SUV pulled up, slamming on its breaks. The door flung open and Erick jumped out, looking around like an assault was imminent, his gun drawn.

  Several people stared, and at least one took out his phone to call the police.

  Erick grabbed Roman’s arm. “Get in. We got to go.”

  Roman shook him off. “How bad?”

  “Bad. Everyone dead.”

  “Take me there.”

  Erick shook his head. “We have to go somewhere secure. You’re not safe.”

  Roman shoved Erick hard enough to make the man stumble. “You will follow orders.” Roman was shaking with anger.

  Erick stared at him in surprise, then nodded, his face clouding. “Yes, sir.”

  We piled into Erick’s vehicle. Roza poked her head out the window of her SUV, but Erick told her to stay put and she actually listened.

  Erick sped off. Roman was silent on the drive. I could tell he was struggling with fury, barely suppressing his emotions.

  I didn’t know what was going on, but it had to be bad.

  An attack on the bunker.

  But how? I thought nobody knew about it?

  It took me a while to realize that driving in a car didn’t bother me anymore, not ever since I told Roman about what happened. It was like he loosened something inside of me that was constantly trying to get out, and now I was free.

  Unfortunately, my epiphany didn’t last long.

  We reached the bunker drive. Roman cursed softly and his fingers pressed into the dash in front of him.

  The front gate was a ruin. The drive up was like heading into a war zone.

  Bodies were left in the sun.

  “I bribed the local cops already,” Erick said as he parked. “Nobody’s coming. As far as they know, the gunshots were fireworks.”

  “Good.” Roman got out. “Keep the car running.” He walked toward the smoking topside structure.

  I leapt out after him. “Roman, wait.”

  He ignored me, kept going. I ran over, trying not to look down.

  Dead bodies everywhere. Blood and guts. I wanted to scream and cry as panic raced through my skin.

  But I forced myself to follow my Roman up the steps and in through the front door.

  The fire was dying down. The room was smoky and I coughed against the haze, but it was clear enough to breathe. A sprinkler system drenched everything. Roman walked to the elevator, ignoring the wreckage of his house, and pressed the call button.

  Nothing happened.

  He jammed the button again and again, until there was a loud beep.

  “God damn it.” He stalked over to a control panel, tapped the screen, and pulled up several camera feeds.

  Each one showed the same thing: water.

  Standing water everywhere.

  “He flooded it,” I whispered. The damp concrete outside suddenly made a lot more sense.

  “That fucking bastard.” Roman slammed his fist against the controls, cracking the glass. “He’s going to die for this. It’s going to rip the Oligarchy apart, but damn him, he has to die.”

  I put my hands on his arm. “We should go. Are there still people inside?”

  “There are other ways out, emergency stairways. I’ll have Erick make sure the staff’s accounted for.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.” The whole place was a graveyard, a pit of death and destruction.

  But Roman didn’t move. “His room.” He said the words so quietly, and it broke my heart.

  His brother’s room. Little Ant.

  Down there, drowned.

  God, what a nightmare.

  “I’m so sorry, Roman. I don’t know what we can do right now.”

  He stood staring at the broken screen. He didn’t talk for a long time, and his face was blank, like he’d lost the ability to think or move. It terrified me, like he was suddenly empty, until he pulled back and took a shuddering breath.

  Like he broke up onto the surface again.

  “I’ll rebuild it,” he said, meeting my eyes with such an intense stare that I felt my knees shake. “All of it, I’ll rebuild. And then I’ll kill Darren for this.”

  “I know you will.”

  “But first, we have to get married.” He grabbed my wrist and held it tight. “None of this matters if we don’t go through with the wedding. I will finish Oisin, and you will be my bride.”

  “I know I will.”

  He kissed me, pulling me against him, wrapping his arms around my body. The kiss was pain and pleasure, his teeth and lips pressed tight into mine, his soft tongue rolling around, and I moaned like he bent me over and spanked me, unable to help myself.

  Roman was suffering. I could taste it on him, the anguish, the rage. And there was nothing I could do but give myself to him.

  And so I would.

  All of me, everything I had. I would be his.

  I’d take this risk for him and when it was all over, I wouldn’t walk away, because I needed him as much as he needed me.

  My scar, the incident—it all paled and blurred when he was around.

  I didn’t feel broken, cut apart, shattered.

  I hadn’t thought about that night since I told Roman all about it.

  Even when my dad did his whole bullshit apology—

  It hadn’t ruined me.

  I was whole. I was a person again.

  Because of Roman.

  And I wanted to give that gift to him if I could.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I tugged on his hand and he followed. We walked back down the steps together, the building smoldering behind us. Erick paced nervously next to the SUV.

  “What’s the plan?” he asked, eyes darting around.

  “Make sure everyone’s evacuated from down below,” Roman said. “Get more muscle to replace what’s lost. But first, drive me to the airport. We have a wedding in Atlanta in two days and I want to be prepared.”

  Erick nodded and climbed behind the wheel.

  Roman kissed my neck then followed him.

  I allowed myself one more look at the corpses litte
ring the ground like fallen leaves.

  This was the world I stepped into.

  The world that made me feel like a human again.

  I didn’t know what that said about me—and didn’t care.

  I got into the back and Erick drove off.

  35

  Cassie

  Roza flitted around the room like a fairy on speed. “You look perfect,” she cooed and tugged at my dress. “Oh, my god Cassie. I wasn’t sure about you, but yes, you’re incredible.”

  “Thanks, I think?” I frowned as she adjusted my veil, then tried to fluff up my boobs. I swatted her hands away. “It’s fine, stop fussing.”

  “Fine? Fine?” She glared at me. “This is your wedding day, girly. You’d better be into more than fine.”

  I sighed and looked at myself in the floor-length mirror. It was vintage, like everything else in the room—vintage dresser, vintage bed, ancient rugs and ancient wall art.

  Roman chose the venue. We were on the outskirts of Atlanta in an old refurbished hotel from the 20s. It was converted into an events space with some of the rooms reserved for guests. The building was gorgeous: white-washed stone with vines growing up one side, the place dripping with southern decadence and beauty. Silver railings, bronze doorknobs, intricate tile work on the floors and hardwood that must’ve been straight off the Mayflower.

  And none of it mattered to me. I had no say in any of the details—Roza took care of all that. Even the flowers were her choice, although I had to admit, they were very pretty, a mix of wild and domesticated, understated but still colorful and charming. Roza had amazing taste, and I was lucky that she put this all together.

  But it wasn’t me. None of it was me.

  And that had to be fine, because I wasn’t here to fulfill some lifelong dream.

  “Alright, you’re looking depressed. Either tell me what’s going on or I’m getting champagne.”

  I tugged at my dress. It was gorgeous and perfectly tailored to my body, the bust revealing just the right amount of cleavage, my chest covered in delicate lace, the beading understated yet elegant, the train short and easy to walk in. I looked like a goddess, like a character from a TV show—

  And I never would’ve picked it out in a million years.

  “You know the cliché? About all girls wanting a wedding and stuff?”

  Roza nodded and leaned against my arm. She stared into the mirror and put her head on my shoulder. “I know this isn’t what you pictured. But it’s pretty nice, right?”

  “It’s amazing. Seriously Roza, you did such a good job. If I had planned everything, it wouldn’t be half so nice.”

  “Thank you. I’m amazing.”

  “But it’s not me, you know? None of it is me.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie. If it helps at all, it won’t matter for very long.”

  I shook my head. It didn’t help, but she was right anyway. “I’ll get over it. Just having a little moment of melancholy, that’s all.”

  “Well, here, I have a surprise for you.” Roza walked over to her purse and fished out a phone. She dangled it in the air, unlocked it, then tossed it to me.

  I caught it, but barely. “Hey, careful. I’m not exactly athletic.”

  “No shock there. Open the phone app.”

  I did as instructed—and sucked in a breath.

  Winter’s number was programmed in and ready to go. I looked up and beamed at Roza.

  “How’d you know?”

  “I figured you’d want to at least talk to her before walking down the aisle.”

  “Think she’ll answer? She might be working.”

  “She’s home. I checked.”

  “You think of everything.”

  “Like I said, I’m amazing.” She stretched and cracked her neck like a boxer warming up for a fight. “Now I’ve got to get downstairs and make sure the caterers aren’t fucking up. You talk to your friend and I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Okay. Roza, seriously, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, darling. Just doing my job.” She blew a kiss and left.

  I hit the call button and put the phone on speaker. It rang twice before Winter picked up.

  “Cassie! Girl I thought you might be dead! Why haven’t you called me in like three days? Not a text, not an email, no communication from you at all, and meanwhile you’re running around with that rich new man of yours getting into god knows what trouble and I’m stuck here worried sick in Sea Isle—“

  “Winter,” I said, cutting her off before she could spiral further.

  “Right, sorry, hey. It’s really good to hear your voice.”

  The knot in my stomach unclenched and I walked over to sit down on a big velvet chair that looked like it cost almost as much as the absurdly gorgeous dress I was wearing.

  “Same to you. How are things back home?”

  “Things are fine here, you know how it is. Where are you right now?”

  “Atlanta. I’m about to get married.”

  She laughed loudly and let out a shuddering breath. “God, what a weird situation. Are you okay?”

  “I think so. I wasn’t for a little bit, but talking to you helps.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  So I told her, leaving out the details about what we were actually doing at this place. She listened like she always did, without interrupting her adding her own judgements or ideas, and when I finished she let out a long sigh.

  “Girl, I can’t even imagine. You’re about to walk into someone else’s wedding.”

  “But it’s my own.”

  “Are you okay with that? I mean, are you safe?”

  “I’m okay with it and I’m safe, just having a moment.”

  “I hear you. Look, you know I love and support you no matter what, right? I feel like I should ask, are you sure about this? Is this guy Roman worth all this trouble?”

  I closed my eyes and thought back over the events of the last few days.

  “Yes, I think he is.”

  “And is this wedding about more than, I don’t know, business or whatever it is?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  “Then walk down that aisle with your head held high and kiss that man on the lips. Slip him a little tongue too, remind him why he’s there.”

  “You make it sound so gross.”

  “Trust me, it’s not gross when I do it. Well, a little, but in a good way.”

  “I really miss you. You know that, right?”

  “I know it.” She laughed but it sounded hollow and strained. “If I could be there, I would.”

  I curled my legs under me, tucking the dress in so it didn’t hang on the ground. “Tell me everything that’s going on back there. The tourist are showing up, right?”

  “Tons of them. You should’ve seen this crew that rolled into the Lobster last night. Biker shirts, torn denim jeans, that sort of crap, and they ordered the silliest pink drinks and thought it was hilarious. Great tippers too.” She went on about the other employees and about the manager, and the more she talked, the more homesick I felt. I wished I could go back there and curl up Winter’s couch and listen to her chatter on and on for hours. I missed laughing with her, missed feeling more confident when she was around.

  But Roza poked her head into the room. “We need you in five.”

  I nodded at her and waved.

  “Winter, I have to get going.”

  A short pause on her end. “You sure about this?”

  “I’m sure. I love you. I’ll come see you when this is all over, I promise.”

  “You better. Make that man bring you to me. I want to visit that house of his.”

  “You’ll love it. Private beach. Stupidly luxurious.”

  “Sounds like I’m moving in.”

  “I’ll make it happen. Talk to you soon, okay?”

  “Break a leg or whatever people say to a bride.”

  I hung up the phone before I got emotional and ruined my makeup. Roza spent an hour maki
ng me look like a model and I didn’t want to mess up her hard work. I had to take deep breaths to pull myself together.

  Roza appeared again. “Showtime, darling. You ready for your man?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  I followed her into the hall and down the steps.

  36

  Roman

  The main hall was a marble-filled monstrosity of gold and bronze and silver. The chandelier was original from the twenties and likely cost more than the entire building that housed it, and yet I couldn’t focus on the finery.

  I stared at the guests filtering into the space.

  Most of them Oligarch-adjacent. Men and women I worked with and who owed me favors. Members of the Drozdov, a couple lieutenants from the Polish mafia, several from the Ukrainians, even the boss of the Japanese Yakuza appeared and gave a respectful nod.

  And I didn’t give a damn about any of them.

  “Where is he?” I asked Erick softly.

  “He’ll show.”

  “He’d better. We’ve lost too much for this to fall through.” I tapped my foot, unable to contain my nerves. Upstairs, Cassie was getting ready with Roza, and she was a big part of the twisting in my guts. I wanted to see her badly, to kiss her and make sure she was okay, but most of all to stare at her in whatever dress Roza picked out.

  I knew she’d be gorgeous. She was beautiful all the time, but Roza would outdo herself as always, and I felt a fluttering in my chest thinking about my lovely bride.

  My wife, my future.

  What started out as a business arrangement turned into so much more.

  The guests crowded into the main banquet hall and filled in the chairs. I took on the central staircase looking down at them, keeping my bodyguards between me and the rabble. I didn’t want to get distracted by shaking hands and making small talk, even if that was expected of me.

  None of that mattered, not really.

  “Boss.” Erick nodded toward the doors. “Look.”

  Eamon Ward stepped inside wearing a cheap black suit. He glared around him like the walls were covered in live snakes, then turned and motioned someone forward.

  A wheelchair was pushed in after him. Sitting with his hands folded in his lap was Oisin MacKenna. A massive bodyguard rolled him forward and swiveled him to follow the flow of people congregating toward the chairs and the ceremony.