DEVIL IN DISGUISE: A Russian Mafia/Second Chance Romance (Saints and Sinners Book 3)

by Sophia Henry

  Spurred by excitement and drive to do this, neither of us wanted to wait until after graduation. We had an extensive plan, we had the funding, and we were determined to make it happen. But once we put the plan in motion it was a nonstop frenzy.

  With help from many of the Commons family’s contacts, we were able to get things going quickly. We secured a space in a popular strip mall off Park Road. As the store was being redesigned, we purchased fabrics in bulk at a huge discount from one of Mr. Commons’ friends in the textile industry. We purchased sewing machines and used borrowed warehouse space to set up a place for our multiple teams of seamstresses to work on the clothing designs. We bought eclectic, affordable accessories from local artists as well as from overseas.

  Harris worked on marketing while I acted as Project Manager, making sure we were on track and staying within budget. Despite having full class schedules at NCU, at least one of us—but usually both—spent almost every weekend in Charlotte. It was stressful, exhausting—and absolutely exhilarating.

  With all the help we received from Commons friends and associates, we were able to open the store within six months from the date we signed our lease on the space. The best thing we did was hire two seasoned retail professionals to manage and run the store. They reported everything to Harris and I and told us if we needed to be there—outside of our weekend trips.

  There are always a few hiccups when getting a business started. Thankfully, Harris’ parents were able to help while we were in Chapel Hill. They’ve also been invaluable resources for efficiency ideas and troubleshooting. The entire experience gave me insight into a whole new world. A world where families support and motivate each other and having power and connections make things happen.

  It’s a world I’ve tied myself to. This business is half mine even if things with Harris and I don’t work out. It seems callous to think like that, but I have to look out for my own best interests because there’s no one to save me if this doesn’t work out. I don’t have a wealthy family to fall back on like he does and I’m never going back to Mama’s ways.

  * * *

  Normally, we would have gone to Charlotte this weekend, but I have a surprise for Harris, so I made sure we stayed in Chapel Hill.

  “The Rolling Stones are in Raleigh right now and I don’t have tickets. The Rolling Stones! Thirty minutes away” Harris moans, for the millionth time. If his face were any longer, his chin would hit the floor.

  “It’s okay, darling. You’ll have plenty of other chances to see them,” I say, trying to console him.

  Part of me feels bad because The Rolling Stones really are Harris’ favorite band and he’s devastated he couldn’t get tickets. Before we started dating, I could name a few of their songs—the really popular ones. But now I’m a mega-fan-by-default having heard all of their albums a thousand times.

  The part of me that doesn’t feel bad knows I have two tickets to the show at Carter Finley Stadium tonight in my purse. I bought them as soon as they went on sale and I’ve been keeping it a secret ever since. It’s killed me because of how much agony Harris has been in.

  “Um, Cookie, this is the Rolling Stones. They haven’t toured in years because Mick and Keith were in some kind of feud,” he explains. “Hell, with the life they’ve led, no one knows how long either of them will even be around.”

  I grab my purse and put a hand on the doorknob. “Are we still going to dinner or would you rather mope around all night?”

  “Can we play Tattoo You in the car on the way to dinner?” he asks. The man is just pitiful.

  “Absolutely, Sugar.” I rub his back as he slides up next to me. He holds the door open so I can go out first. Always the gentleman even when he’s upset.

  When we get into his car, he cranks the engine and starts to back out. “Where do you want to eat?”

  “There’s this great place near NC State that I’ve been wanting to try,” I say, rummaging in my pocketbook.

  Harris breaks hard and turns to me. “You want to go to Raleigh for dinner? Cookie! I’ve got a nine a.m. class tomorrow!”

  “I know, Sugar,” I say, pulling the tickets out and holding them in front of him. “I thought we’d want to grab something close to the show.”

  Harris eyes are popping out of his head. “Cookie, are those—” he plucks the tickets from my hand. “Oh my fucking God! You got us tickets to see the Rolling Stones!”

  “Well, don’t go takin’ the Lord’s name in vain now,” I chastise.

  “You—" He looks from the tickets to me. “—You are the most phenomenal woman on the planet!”

  “I know,” I wink at him.

  After dinner at a cute little diner, we rush over to Carter Finley Stadium at North Carolina State University so we don’t miss one moment of the action. The opening band is a new artist called Living Colour. Both Harris and I have only heard one of their songs, a hit called “The Cult of Personality,” and we want to hear it live.

  When it’s time for the main act, Mick runs out in a long, green leather jacket with tails and the skinniest black jeans I’ve ever seen. I’m slightly jealous of how good his legs look in them. When the band breaks into “Start Me Up,” The entire crowd cheers and starts clapping in rhythm with the song. Harris puts his thumb and forefinger between his lips and whistles loudly.

  He hugs me to his body as a thank you, then we both join the crowd bouncing and clapping. The entire concert has an electric feel. The crowd is buzzing. And Jagger has so much stage presence you can’t help but enjoy the show.

  I’d never been so proud than the day I skipped all my classes and waited in line—for hours—to get tickets for The Rolling Stones concert. I may have been beaming as I handed over my money—money I earned from our thriving business. I’ve never had the means to spend money on something fun and frivolous before. It makes my heart happy to finally be able to buy such a significant gift for Harris. It’s finally not a one-sided relationship when it comes to finances. Maybe I couldn’t contribute as much before, but now I can.

  Harris and I are equals.

  14

  Harris

  When headlights flash through my bedroom window, I glance outside to see who’s visiting.

  “Not today,” I groan when my brother jumps out of the car. The store has been slammed and I didn’t get home until after eight p.m. I’m so exhausted I could sleep for a week. The only thing I want to do right now is eat my supper in peace. I don’t have the mental capacity to barb with Beau.

  I disrobe quickly, tossing my dirty clothes in the hamper before heading downstairs to the dining room. My shower can wait. Let Beau smell me after an extra-long day in retail.

  “What’s happenin’, hot stuff?” I ask, quoting Long Duk Dong from Sixteen Candles on my way down the stairs.

  “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, asswipe,” he says, slapping my head as I blow by him. He misses, which earns him a burst of laughter from me.

  “What’s that smell?” he asks, following me into the dining room. “And why don’t you have any clothes on?”

  I smirk, but don’t answer. Instead, I beeline to the kitchen to grab the plate Mama left in the refrigerator for me. When I remove the tin foil, there’s a heaping portion of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and collard greens.

  “Mmmm mmmm! Mama looooves me!” I sing as I pop it into the microwave and toss the foil in the trash. Then I grab a fork out of the drawer and wait for the time to tick down. The glorious scent wafting through the air makes my stomach growl.

  Beau chuckles. “I do miss Mama’s cooking.”

  “LuAnn doesn’t have stove skills?”

  “It’s fine. It’s just a variation of the same four meals every week. We order pizza every Friday,” he replies. His voice is further away than I expect. When I glance over, he’s inspecting the wine rack as if trying to decide what bottle to open.

  “Aha!” he exclaims, pulling out a Concha Y Toro and examining the bottle like a prized trophy. “Cabernet Sauvignon,”
he mutters as he reads the label on the bottle.

  I shake my head in amusement. Beau is the only person who can get away with touching Daddy’s prized wine collection without asking.

  “That’s a lovely wine. Dry with a distinct cherry grip.” My mouth waters just thinking about it. The alarm on the microwave goes off, and I grab my plate.

  “Good Lord, you’re a freak.” He opens the top drawer of the buffet and removes a bottle opener. “A teenager with the taste buds of an old man.”

  “I’m twenty,” I correct him, then wave my hand flippantly. “But never mind that.”

  He shakes the bottle in my direction as I slide into a chair at the dining room table. That thing better not slip from his hands and make a mess on the floor because I’m not in the mood to hear Mama wail about red wine stains on her carpet.

  “Tonight, we celebrate, Harris!” he announces happily.

  “What are we celebrating? My belated twentieth birthday?” I ask, before shoveling a scoop of mashed potatoes into my mouth.

  He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a taste. “This is the good stuff, brother,” Beau concludes with a satisfied sigh.

  “And yet, you drink like a savage, Captain.” I shake my head. “Get two glasses from the kitchen cabinet. And grab the butter while your over there, would ya?”

  “What’s the news?” I ask which makes him smirk.

  “Now you’re interested.” He rolls his eyes as he places the butter and two long-stemmed glasses on the table.

  After slathering my potatoes, I push the container back toward him. “Take care of that.”

  He stops pouring and lifts his gaze to mine. “Do I need to beat your ass, brother?”

  I snort and continue eating.

  “You’ve finally proven your worth in our family!” he announces after we’ve drained our glasses and refilled them. Beau’s still grinning like a possum.

  “That’s pretty vague,” I drawl, the alcohol already altering my mood at double the usual time. Commons department store has taken off, but Cookie and I haven’t shared our numbers with anyone yet. So he can’t be taking about that.

  “That’s some good shit,” I mutter, glancing at the bottle on the counter.

  “Remember when you were talking to Richard from King Electric?”

  “Yup.”

  I shot the shit with the owner for an hour or so on a job site at the beginning of the summer when I went to say hi to the guys I used to work with. I’m too busy with the store to work on site anymore, but I do try to see the guys every once in a while.

  “That conversation turned into some big talks between Daddy and Richard over the last few months. Old Man King must’ve taken a liking to you, because he called Daddy that very afternoon and discussed selling.”

  Interested, I stop eating and look up. “Selling what?”

  “Selling King Electric to Daddy to be an offshoot of Commons Property Development. We’ll have our own electricians. Cuts our costs and gives us more control.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Would I have let you two knuckleheads share a bottle of my favorite Concha Y Toro if he were?” Daddy’s voice booms from the doorway.

  Beau and I both look up. I swallow hard and straighten in my seat. “Good evening, Sir.”

  “Looks like your brother told you the big news.”

  “It’s amazing news,” I agree. “Were you even looking for an electrical company?”

  “No,” Daddy strides into the room and lifts my wine glass. “But I’ve never been the kind of man who passes up an opportunity when presented with it.” He takes a sip.

  Truer words have never been spoken. Daddy is a risk taker and an opportunity grabber. His decisions and acquisitions took Commons from a small development company in North Carolina to multi-million-dollar corporation with projects across the South.

  “King’s been thinking of retiring, but didn’t have anyone to take over his business. He said he got the idea to approach us after talking with you.”

  “The man even said that you might just take my place if I wasn’t careful,” he laughs. “The conversation got me thinking of my own retirement,” Daddy says. “I want you and Beau to run the company together.”

  Beau opens his mouth without giving me a second to digest Daddy’s statement. “Just think, Harris, with the two of us at the helm, Commons Property Development will dominate the market.”

  I take a deep breath, taking a moment to contemplate the full-court press they’ve got going on. All my life, the only thing I ever wanted was to be as important as Beau—and to run Commons Property Development. They’re offering me my dreams on a silver platter—with a glass of the finest Cab.

  It finally dawns on me why Beau wants me on board so badly. I’m the idea man. I’m the hard worker. I’m the guy that makes things happen. And he’s the guy who wines and dines clients.

  “What do you say, son?” Daddy asks, smoothing down his Tom-Selleck-wannabe mustache, seemingly uncomfortable by my lengthy silence.

  My shoulders drop as I release a breath. “Thank you. I mean, I’m flattered and blown away by the offer, but—”

  “But?” Beau asks, setting his glass on the table with a little more force than called for. “How is this even a question?”

  Daddy doesn’t speak, but his intense eyes narrow, waiting patiently for my answer.

  “The store is blowing up,” I reveal unable to keep the elation out of my voice. “Cookie and I plan on presenting the numbers to you soon, once we have something concrete drawn up, but revenue has exceeded our expectations.”

  “By how much?” Daddy asks.

  “We were able to pay back your initial investment in the second quarter.”

  I’ve never seen my father dumbfounded, but that’s the only word I can think of to explain his expression. But I’m not going to stop there because I really want to knock his socks off. “We’re averaging thirty-five percent top-line growth and twenty percent profit growth per quarter.”

  “Are you kidding?” Beau asks. “Are those real numbers?”

  I nod and lean back in my chair, gladly accepting my place as man of the moment. “I don’t have the exact numbers on me right now, obviously. But I remember that much. It’s been absolutely mind-boggling.”

  “I—well—that’s”—Daddy stutters, searching for words.

  I’ve never seen him speechless. I can’t wait to tell Cookie.

  I pour what’s left of the bottle into my glass, then look up, remembering I should have offered it to someone else first. “I earned this, right?” I ask sheepishly.

  “I’d say so.” Daddy nods, his expression blank as if in a fog and trying to figure out how the conversation took such a twist. “I’ll be honest, Harris. I didn’t expect to hear that about the store. I’m pleased, don’t get me wrong, but I’m surprised.”

  “You and me both, Sir.”

  “Guess we’ll return to this subject at a later time. There’s no hurry, since I’m not retiring anytime soon.” He winks. “I’d like to see those numbers as soon as you have something ready for me.”

  I nod. “Absolutely, Sir. Cookie and I will work on it this weekend,” I say as my father strides to the door.

  I can’t even look at Beau right now. I’m sure he’s as surprised as he is disappointed. If the store continues this kind of growth and profit, I’ll never work for Commons Property Development. I’ll never be his puppet—making moves and taking the company to the next level in the background while he revels in the glory.

  Daddy stops in the doorway and turns around. “I know we’ve had our differences about her in the past, but that Cookie really is quite a girl.”

  My jaw drops. After three years of arguing with my parents about my choice of girlfriend, I never thought I’d see the day my father would accept Cookie. But I know why.

  It’s because she proved her worth in his eyes. She may not be from one of Charlotte’s elite families, but she’s been instrumental in every
single aspect of the store from conception to success. Hell, it was her idea.

  I haven’t kept her role in the shadows. Unlike Beau, I know the spotlight can be shared. If Commons Department Store becomes a household name, I want everyone to know my future wife helped me build the empire.

  Katrina MacIntyre is the embodiment of a new, Southern woman. She has the intelligence and tenacity to hold her own in a board room with Daddy and any one of his peers.

  And she makes one hell of a Pecan Pie.

  15

  Cookie

  “You should’ve been there, Sugar!” Harris exclaims after telling me the story of his trip to his parent’s house this weekend. Unfortunately, I had to stay in Chapel Hill to finish up a group project.

  We’re lying in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms after a round of passionate, sweaty sex. Harris is never rough and demanding. He likes to build up the tension with foreplay, then consume me until my toes curl and waves of powerful orgasms wash over me. He treats me like a treasure. Something to be handled with care. It’s one of the many things that I love about him.

  “I wish I would have been,” I say, stroking his hair softly.

  “Seeing both Beau and Daddy absolutely dumbfounded at our success was one of the best moments of my life.”

  His choice of words makes me smile. “Our success.” Harris always makes sure he praises both of our efforts. It’s such a relief to be with someone who does that without thinking. Many men would take all the credit—especially in front of their older brother and father. Harris grew up with a powerful drive to prove himself, and has every reason to take the credit—yet, he didn’t.

  “You should have seen Beau, scowling at me, when I said I didn’t want to be a part of the development company right now. It’s like his lazy-ass finally realized he’ll actually have to do work.”