Sinful Illusions

by Morgan James

  With a single hard nod, he turned and slipped out the door again, leaving the room empty and silent. Curling my legs into me, I waited for what seemed like forever before the door cracked open again. An older man barely taller than myself stepped inside, and my gaze landed on his smiling face.

  “Hello,” he held out a hand as he approached, and I slipped my palm warily into his to shake. “Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” I shot a look at Fox hovering in the doorway, a dark expression on his handsome face. Turning my attention back to the doctor, I spun so my back was to him as he directed. I flinched when he removed the stitches.

  “Looks good,” he finally replied. “Any headaches? Issues with sight? Anything notable?”

  If I lied, would it get me out of here? I darted a look Fox’s way and immediately decided the answer was no. Whatever course of action he’d set, he refused to deviate from it. I could probably bleed out right here on this bed, and he would refuse to take me to a hospital. “No, sir.”

  “Glad to hear that. If that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”

  I desperately wanted to reach for him, call him back as he packed up his things, then moved toward the door.

  Fox dipped his head at the doctor. “Callum will show you out.”

  With that, he closed the door, leaving us alone once more. He took a few steps toward the middle of the room and pointed once more to the dinner tray. “Now that your stitches have been taken care of, you need to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “So goddamn stubborn. You think starving yourself is going to help?” He stared at me. “I have half a mind to—”

  “That’s awfully generous,” I muttered.

  He blinked, looking caught somewhere between baffled and furious. For a moment, I was extremely proud of my snarky quip. Then he exploded. “What did you say?”

  I shook my head. “I—It was nothing.”

  I forced my trembling muscles to still as he thrust his face so close to mine our noses almost touched. “Such a big mouth for such a little girl. Look around you,” he snapped. “Do you think you’re in any position to speak back to me?”

  I glared up at him. “What do I have to lose?”

  “Everything.” He growled. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re completely at my mercy. No one is coming for you.”

  “They will.” My voice shook, belying my confidence.

  “You’re mine now,” he said as he pushed off the bed. “Get used to it.”

  “Please!” I shifted to my knees, reaching out to stop him from leaving. I made one last effort to appeal to him. “My family has money. They’ll—”

  He barked out a mirthless laugh as he spun toward me. “What? I should ransom you?”

  “Well…” Wasn’t that what he wanted?

  “Do I look stupid to you?”

  I couldn’t help but shake my head at the rhetorical question. He looked dangerous and huge and unyielding—but never stupid.

  “I don’t need money,” he continued. “And with ransoms come the authorities. Rule number one for a man like me is to stay as far away from the authorities as possible.”

  I swallowed hard as that knowledge sank in. He would never contact them, even if I told him who I was—especially if I told him who my family was. If he learned I was the mayor’s daughter, he’d probably kill me and dispose of my body the way he had with Elle. He wouldn’t risk raining hell down on himself just for ransom money.

  Satisfied that he’d made his point, Fox straightened and tugged his suit jacket back into place. “Eat. You’ll need the energy.”

  With that, he departed the room, and I slumped back against the wall as tears stung my eyes. I was well and truly trapped, unless my family came to my rescue—and that prospect was looking less and less likely every day.

  Chapter Six

  Fox

  I lifted my head at the single, hard knock before the door swung open, revealing Callum. “Sir? Your guest is here.”

  “Thank you.” I stood and buttoned my suit jacket as Callum stepped aside and gestured for the man to enter. I nodded to Callum, who closed the door behind him, ensuring our privacy. The dark-haired man crossed the room toward me, and I rounded my desk to meet him.

  “Mr. Capaldi, good to see you again. How are you?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  I motioned for Matteo to make himself comfortable on the couch. “Care for a drink?”

  “Scotch, if you have it.”

  I tipped my chin in acknowledgement, then crossed to the sideboard. I spoke as I poured both of us a drink. “How’s business?”

  “Same,” he grunted. “Ever since the marriage contract fell through, the war with the Russians has become increasingly worse.”

  “So I’ve heard.” His cousin had been set to marry Nikolai—the future Bratva captain, and a particularly heinous human being. His previous wives had all mysteriously disappeared, but there was no question as to what had happened to them. I’d never forget the marks he left on wife number two. We’d moved in the same circles, though he didn’t let her out much. She lasted only a few months in his care before he killed her. Death was surely the better option than dragging out the pain of living with him.

  Rather than subjecting herself to the same fate, the Capaldi girl had fled town. I hoped she was far, far away. A furious Nikolai had taken another woman instead, a sister to one of the members of the Irish mafia who roamed the outskirts of town. The Russians and Irish were now banded together and putting pressure on the Capaldi family to concede.

  I passed him the tumbler, then I settled myself in the chair across from him. “What’s your plan?”

  “That’s why I’m here, actually. Massimo would like to arrange a meeting.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “For what purpose?”

  Matteo stared at me. “We need an ally. I would like that to be you.”

  “I’m not sure how that benefits me.”

  In truth, I had no desire to put myself in the middle of a feud between the Italians and Russians. They’d been going at it for years, fighting for control of a city the way they had been for generations. There was no progression, only the same shit they’d been doing every day for decades. In a situation like this, I preferred to remain impartial. This wasn’t my war. They could kill each other for all I cared, but I wouldn’t risk my business. It was a precarious balancing act to offer support while maintaining distance. One had to be incredibly selective of their partners so as to not be screwed over.

  I carried out my own operations on the outskirts of the city, controlling the flow of drugs coming down from the border as well as the gambling ring beneath the very club we sat in right now. Noir had been the perfect cover, built right on top of an underground city rife with tunnels. It made it ideal if we ever needed to vacate the premises in case of a raid. It had only happened once, but never again since I’d made friends with several members of the city council. I still wasn’t quite sure why Matteo wanted my help. I didn’t have nearly the manpower he did.

  Matteo’s response threw me for a loop. “I heard you’re looking for something.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?” I studied him as he stared at me.

  “Information.”

  It was no secret that I’d put out feelers to try to track down a man I’d been looking for for decades. “And?”

  “I may have something for you.”

  No amount of information was worth aligning myself with the Capaldis against the Russians. It could potentially sign my death warrant, and I wanted no part of it. “I don’t believe it’s worth it to me.”

  He held up a hand. “I’ll tell you what I’ve heard. All I ask in exchange is that you agree to a sit down. You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just consider it. We would make it worth your while.”

  “And what would you expect from me?”

  “Allegiance. We’ll supply you with whatever you need. All we ask in return is a 10% prof
it from your games.”

  I almost laughed out loud. Did he know how profitable those games were? “Unfortunately, that leans more heavily in your favor. That is something I cannot agree to.”

  Matteo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We can discuss the details later. But I’m asking your help as a show of good faith.”

  I quirked a brow, curious. “For?”

  “Things within the family are… changing,” he said hesitantly. “I’d like your assistance during our transition. It will be ugly for awhile, but I need to do some in-house cleanup.”

  I nodded slowly. “And the sit down?”

  He leaned back in his seat. “I don’t have everything in place yet. I’ll have to let you know when I’m ready.”

  I thought it over. “I don’t promise to agree to anything.”

  “Understood. So let’s get to what you want to hear.” His dark gaze speared me. “I’ve heard rumor of a shipment coming across the border.”

  There was no question in my mind what he was talking about. I was apprised of the drugs coming into the States from the north, but this was a different commodity entirely. “How reliable?”

  “Extremely. This is the third shipment in the past six months.”

  Son of a bitch. The asshole—whoever the hell he was—was either incredibly brave or stupid, or both. I was certain he had extensive far-reaching contacts to make something like that possible. “Same product?”

  His gaze darkened. “Unfortunately.”

  Anger simmered in my gut. “I appreciate your information. Any idea who might be responsible?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve dropped questions in a couple people’s ears but no one seems to know who’s bringing them in.” He paused for a second. “What will you do with the product?”

  I met his gaze and held it for a minute. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He pushed up from the couch and gave me a slight nod. “I’ll be in touch. I appreciate your time and consideration.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I hadn’t gotten a name, but I was one step closer. I needed to intercept the shipment. It was so close I could taste it. One of these days I was going to pull the thread that would lead me to the man who’d ruined my life—the man responsible for turning me into the monster I’d become.

  I braced myself as I took Matteo’s outstretched hand. The moment our palms touched, images flashed before my eyes. Matteo himself sat at a table across from another man—or, rather, what was left of him. The older man sat sprawled in his chair, head drooping listlessly to the side, the back of his head a gory mess. In my mind’s eye, I saw his blood and brain matter splattered over the walls and ceiling. A young woman, her startling green eyes filled with fear and horror, knelt on the floor next to him. So this was the housecleaning he’d spoken of.

  A handshake sealed the deal for me. People said it was the measure of a man; over the course of my thirty-eight years on this earth, I’d come to understand that it meant the difference between life and death—literally. My visions were imperative to my business and who I aligned myself with.

  The visions had plagued me for years, yet it never got any easier. I hated to be touched, and I despised having to touch others. Sometimes, though, it couldn’t be helped. And sometimes, like now, it was incredibly convenient. I recognized the man from Matteo’s vision, so I knew it hadn’t yet happened. Sometimes my visions showed things that had already happened. Other times, it foretold the future. It was difficult to tell sometimes how useful a particular vision would be, but more often than not, I was able to determine a person’s true nature with a single touch.

  I was still a child when I discovered how different I was. My first instance of this was growing up in the orphanage back home. A man had come to visit Sister Agnes. It was a moment that had changed the trajectory of my life irrevocably. He’d entered the office with Sister Agnes and had stayed there for what felt like forever. I remembered feeling impatient, because the nurse who typically oversaw us was busy, and I wanted to ask her to go outside and play. When they finally came out, I had grabbed her hand. The moment my palm connected with hers, images flashed in front of my eyes, things I was too young and naïve to understand at the time. Children chained. Caged. Bloodied. Sobbing.

  When I asked Sister Agnes about the children, she’d immediately pulled me aside. A scared look entered her eyes as she questioned me. Like the babe I was, I told her everything I’d seen. She swore me to secrecy, told me never to reveal to anyone what I was capable of. She warned me not to speak of them to anyone, then told me that she would pray for me. She should have prayed for herself instead.

  I’d learned to hide my affliction from others, but I’d never forgotten that moment. Sometimes the people we trusted the most were the ones who could hurt us the worst. Pushing away the dark memories plaguing me, I held the door for Matteo as he exited the office, and we made small talk as I showed him to the front door.

  Once he was gone, I retreated to my office. Opting for the couch instead of my desk chair, I slouched against the plush cushions and closed my eyes, drawing the vision into my mind’s eye and replaying it. The future was not looking good for the Capaldi family. Fucking Italians. They knew nothing of loyalty, always the first to roll under pressure. It had never been like that for me. Forced between life or death, there was no choice. You did as you were told, no questions asked. Fortunately for me, I was now the one giving orders instead of taking them.

  Speaking of… I sat forward in my chair. It was time to see how my captive fared.

  Chapter Seven

  Eva

  The door flew open, but I didn’t bother to look up. I didn’t need to. The hard-edged voice announced my visitor before the steel door hit the wall with a resounding bang. “Get up.”

  Fox moved into my peripheral vision, dressed once again head to toe in black. Like a snake striking, one hand whipped out and grabbed my ankle, then tugged me toward him. I let out a soft cry as my atrophied muscles protested. He released me and swore under his breath when I pulled my legs in close to me again, curling my arms protectively around my shins.

  “Enough of this,” he snapped harshly. Without waiting, he slipped one hand under my knees, and his other arm wound behind my back. “I won’t let you sit in here and starve yourself. If anyone is to be responsible for your death, it will be me.”

  I didn’t dare look at him as he carried me through the doorway and into a spacious, dark-paneled office. Sunlight streamed in through the large windows along the wall to my right, and I squinted my eyes closed. Though the lights had remained on in the cell, they were dim compared to the bright light pouring into the room. Allowing my lids to drift shut, I let my head loll against his chest as we moved through the house. I knew I should be watching my surroundings, taking in every detail for later—when I escaped. But my mind and body were so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open.

  Initially, fear and hunger had kept me awake. For the first few days I’d hardly slept a wink, terrified that he would storm in when I least expected it and kill me. After his second visit—several days ago, by my calculation—my concern had faded away. I still didn’t trust him, but he didn’t terrify me the way he had when I’d first woken in that tiny room. After the dozens of horrific stories I’d heard, I fully expected him to torture me, draw out my death until it was slow and painful. Instead, he’d brought me food and water each day as if he were concerned for my well-being, had a doctor come to care for my wound.

  I didn’t know how much more I could take. I’d hardly moved from the bed, and my body ached from being confined to one position for so long. My stomach had stopped growling long ago. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten anything of substance. Days, maybe? I’d picked at the food here and there to keep from starving completely, but I would never give Fox the satisfaction of eating the full meals he had delivered. I knew it was stupid, but I couldn’t help it. I should be eating and building my strength, but I contin
ued to hope that Fox would enter the small cell and tell me that I was free to go home.

  Ensconced in his arms, I felt the jarring motion as we moved up a set of steps, and my eyes flew open. On the second floor of the house, Fox stepped into a large bedroom, then crossed to the en suite bathroom. Stopping next to the large bathtub, he gently lowered my feet to the floor. Dizzy from fatigue, I swayed, and he let out another soft curse. “Sit.”

  He lowered me to the edge of the tub, keeping one arm around my waist for support. With the other hand, he plugged the drain, then turned the handle on the large soaker tub. Soon, steam rose and curled into the air as it began to fill with warm water. Fox turned back to me, and I shivered under that intense, dark gaze. His fingers curled in the hem of my shirt and practically ripped it off. I could smell myself as I raised my arms over my head, and I somehow summoned the energy to blush. Fox’s hands moved behind my back to unclip my bra and slide it down my arms. The second it hit the floor, I moved my hands to cover myself, but he batted them away.

  “You’re not the first naked woman I’ve seen, nor will you be my last,” he said as he lifted me to my feet. Grasping the waistband, he worked my dark pants down my legs, taking my panties and socks with them.

  When I was completely, embarrassingly bare, he rose to his full height and stared down at me. “Do you need to use the toilet first?”

  My eyes darted to the side, and I gave a little nod. One huge hand grasped my chin and lifted my gaze to his.

  “Are you going to do something stupid?”

  I shook my head. Those dark eyes seared into mine for a long moment before he finally nodded. “You have two minutes. I’ll be right outside.”

  Releasing me, he scooped up my discarded clothes, then strode out of the room, closing the door in his wake. I stood frozen for a moment before I pushed myself into action. I grimaced as I made my way across the room. My legs felt sluggish and sore, almost like they were asleep. I used the toilet, then moved back to the bathtub. The large mirror over the sink caught my attention, and my eyes widened at my reflection there.