Beautiful Trouble: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Oligarchs Book 2)

by B. B. Hamel

  “I thought you weren’t his creature.”

  “I’m not. Put on the bracelet.” She tossed it to me.

  I caught it. Simple band, basic clasp. I opened it and placed it around my wrist. It felt like manacles. “What is it?”

  “GPS tracker and heart rate monitor. If you take it off, we will know.” She stepped forward and snapped the bracelet shut, clicking it into place before I had a chance to tell her to fuck right off to hell and never come back.

  “I didn’t agree to any of this,” I said, unable to fight the rising anger.

  “It wouldn’t be a kidnapping if you had. Now, would you like the tour, or will you be eating?”

  “Tour,” I said through my teeth. “Please.” I needed to get a sense of this house, and while I could do that on my own, it’d be faster with someone guiding me.

  Chika nodded and put a hood over the tray to keep the meal warm. “Come then.” She strode out of the room.

  I hurried after. She strode down the hall so fast I was nearly jogging to keep up. She was tall and lean and looked like she could run a mile in under four minutes without breaking a sweat. She pointed to various rooms and named half of them as off-limits. “Laundry there, billiards there, piano in there and other instruments if you play.” She took me down the staircase at the end of the hall and through another series of passages which left me completely lost.

  The manor was a maze. Some rooms were tiny and cramped, and some were sprawling. “Formal ballroom.” Chika gestured at a crystal-adorned massive space with a dance floor and perfectly polished mirrors decorated with gilt around the edges. “Informal ballroom.” Chika pointed to a similar cavernous area, though slightly less opulent.

  Kitchens, bathrooms, more bedrooms than I could count, several sitting rooms, two tea rooms, a sauna, a pool, and that was only in the east wing.

  “How big is this place?”

  “The manor sits on fifty acres.”

  “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

  “The house is extremely large and very old.”

  “It looks like it’s been expanded constantly for the last hundred years.”

  She pursed her lips. “That’s more or less accurate.” She led me down another hall and to a staircase that may or may not have been the one we first descended when an open door caught my eye. I stepped toward it before she could stop me and peered inside.

  Darren sat at a massive mahogany desk in front of several computer monitors. I saw him in profile—that perfect nose and sharp chin. A fire crackled behind him, though the house was strangely warm already.

  I shoved the door open and strode inside.

  Darren looked over.

  And so did all the men on his computer screens.

  Several pairs of eyes stared at me.

  He was on a video call.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

  Chika stood in the doorway looking like she wanted to rip my skull from my shoulders and punt my head into the ocean.

  Whatever. Chika could sit and screw. So could Darren.

  I sucked in a breath and held up my wrist. “We have to talk.”

  “Later. I’m in a meeting.” His eyes darted to Chika.

  But she didn’t move.

  I realized these men were important. They looked like a bunch of half-dead old white guys to me, but that didn’t always mean anything. I suppressed a smile and waved the bracelet in the air.

  “Should I start explaining why it’s so wrong for you to put this thing on me? Because I’m sure your friends would find it interesting.”

  Darren sighed and looked back at his computer. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He jammed a key, and the screen went dark.

  When the men were gone, Chika strode over and grabbed my wrist. She bent it back, jamming it up and nearly ripping my arm from its socket. I gasped in shock and pain, grimacing as I bent over. She forced me down to my knees, her fingers digging into a pressure point on my wrist.

  Holy shit, it was the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life.

  “I thought you weren’t his,” I said through my teeth.

  Chika said nothing, only held me there with an impassive look on her face.

  Darren sighed. “Thank you, Chika. I’m sure my mother will be proud. You can let her go.”

  Chika released me. I gasped and slumped forward. “I apologize for the intrusion,” she said. “We were on a tour of the premises. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, thank you. Go report to my mother, as always.”

  Chika didn’t deny it. She turned and left.

  I took deep, gasping breaths. My wrist felt like it was broken, and my shoulder throbbed. If Chika could do that to me without much effort, I definitely didn’t want to piss her off.

  Darren stood and looked down at me. “Get up.”

  I tilted my chin in the air. “Or what? You going to hurt me too?”

  “I might if you don’t listen. Get up.”

  I climbed to my feet. I throbbed, but I was otherwise unhurt. Nothing broken, nothing permanent or long-lasting.

  “The bracelet,” I said, glaring death at him. “What the fuck is with the bracelet?”

  “Mother’s idea. Sometimes she’s clever.”

  “I’m not some dog you get to chip and keep on a GPS leash.”

  “You’re not chipped. Think of it more like house arrest.”

  “Think of it more like I’m going to break it off and shove it up your ass.”

  He smiled and seemed genuinely amused. “Shall I call Chika back in here? I got the sense she relished that little interaction.”

  “Good, get the help to fight your battles.”

  He strode toward me in two long steps. I staggered backward, surprised at the sudden advance, and ran into a bookshelf. A statue clattered and fell over, toppling to the floor.

  I glanced down. It was a sparrow in jade with a broken wing.

  Darren’s hands pinned my arms to my sides. His face came close, lips parted, eyes steady. The smile was gone.

  The heat from his palms radiated down my skin.

  I hated him. He smelled incredible.

  “Understand something. I want to make this easy. I like you, love. But Chika will not be kind, and my patience has limits.”

  “You keep using Chika to threaten me. I still don’t see you fighting your own battles.”

  His fingers dug into my flesh. I grunted in pain but tried not to let it show.

  “You want me to hurt you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Do you like it when it hurts?”

  “I’m sure you know since you did so much research about me.”

  “I know about your old boyfriends. I know you’ve never been in a relationship for longer than six months. You have quite the string of broken hearts behind you.”

  I nearly snarled. “Why do you give a shit about my love life?”

  “Because I’m curious.” His grip relaxed. One hand moved up my arm, along the back of my neck, and into my hair. He grabbed it tight and pulled.

  I gasped in surprise but struggled to keep my eyes on his. “Fighting your own battles now.”

  “You’re trying to test me. I know what you’re doing, but it won’t work. You can push all you want, but you’re not in control here.”

  “Tell that to the hand in my hair.” I smiled as if this was exactly what I wanted.

  Except this wasn’t. Not even close.

  I wanted to piss him off. That was true. I wanted to knock him off balance to see if I could get him to do something interesting or to make a mistake.

  I didn’t want him this close. I didn’t want his hand in my hair or on my arm.

  His smell wafted all around. His gorgeous lips parted.

  I didn’t want this feeling buzzing down between my legs.

  Equal parts hate, fear, and desire.

  It was disgusting. Reprehensible.

  I wanted him to pull my hair tighter.

  As
if he could read my mind, he gave me what I wanted.

  I gasped in pain.

  “Keep playing games,” he whispered. “Go ahead. I like to play. I think you’ll find that I’m the perfect partner.”

  “Take the bracelet off.”

  “No.”

  “I’m not a dog.”

  “But you are my pet, little love.”

  I slammed my knee forward, aiming for his crotch.

  It was stupid. I’ll admit it. I shouldn’t have resorted to trying to physically hurt him. That wouldn’t end well, and I knew it.

  But as soon as he called me his pet, I saw red.

  I wasn’t exactly a cool, calm, and collected sort of person.

  My knee barely missed. He twisted as if he expected my attack. I smashed into his hip, then struggled forward, but the hand in my hair ripped me back and the other arm shoved across my chest, pinning me against the bookshelf. The wood dug into my spine as I snarled at him.

  “Don’t you ever call me that again.”

  He smiled, eyes sparkling. “Which do you hate more? Spring or pet? I think I’ll call you both.”

  “You asshole.”

  “Keep fighting. Come on. Fight harder.”

  His arm on my chest moved as his hand palmed my breast.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Time paused.

  My nipples were hard. I knew he felt it. He knew I was excited, riled up.

  But this was a step too far.

  I threw myself at him. “Don’t touch me.” I tried to hit him, slap him. He caught my wrists and turned me from the bookshelf, then held me down against an overstuffed easy chair.

  I was breathing hard, raging and wild. He grinned down at me, his hair messy from my attack, at least one long scratch down his cheek where my nails had bitten into his perfect face.

  He loved it. And the way his body controlled me sent a dizzying, confusing mix of revulsion and need through my guts.

  “Are you done?” he asked. “Or do you want to fight more? I’d enjoy making you submit, love.”

  “Get off me.” I said the words as calmly as I could.

  Maybe that was all he was waiting for. Maybe he had to get back to his meeting. I didn’t know why, but he released me and stepped back.

  I sat breathing hard and trying to compose myself.

  He’d touched my breast. He’d felt my hard nipple through my thin shirt and my bikini top, and I’d fucking liked it.

  I’d liked the rough hand in my hair, the masculine smell of him, his massive arms and domineering smirk.

  It was fucked up and raw and every inch of my skin tingled with desire.

  I wanted to wrap my legs around his hips and ride him until sweat poured down my back.

  Which only made me hate him more.

  “The bracelet is too far.” I stood up and straightened my clothes. I was a rumpled mess, and my dignity was long gone, but I still wouldn’t let him win. “I’m not going to wear it.”

  “I’ll speak with my mother and see if we can’t come up with an alternative.”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Now, I have the heads of four mafia families waiting for me. Am I dismissed? Or do you want to attack me again?”

  “I attacked you only because you grabbed my breast.”

  “Purely on accident. Although I’ll admit, I think you liked it.”

  I held back. “Asshole. Enjoy your little meeting.” Then stormed out of the room.

  I lingered in the hall, seething.

  That bastard. He was supposed to be the one all riled up and tossed around like a ship in a storm.

  So why was I barely keeping myself together?

  I heard someone clear her throat nearby. Chika stood with her hands clasped. “Right this way whenever you’re ready,” she said.

  I didn’t speak, only followed her back up the steps, down a series of halls, and into my room.

  When she was gone, I wolfed down the food, took a shower, and worked up the courage to survive this godforsaken hell with my sense of self intact.

  4

  Darren

  I got three quiet days.

  Three blessed, quiet days.

  We compromised on the bracelet. She wanted to melt it in the fireplace. I wanted to embed it beneath her skin.

  So the rule became she had to wear it whenever she left the house.

  Neither of us was happy with the situation. She felt like the guards were enough. I felt like she should be a little less pushy for a girl that’d been kidnapped.

  After that first argument, Winter went silent. She took long walks around the grounds (with the damn bracelet on), sat out by the pool (bracelet), and wandered the halls (sans bracelet). It was the calm before the storm, I knew, but there were no more interruptions.

  As pleasant as that initial outburst had been.

  There was something wildly erotic about the way she’d glared at me defiantly while I pulled her hair, and something incredibly arousing about the stiff nipple I’d felt when I teased my hand across her chest.

  She’d liked the intense, rough play. That only made my heart thud faster than normal.

  I couldn’t go down that road, though. As much as Winter tempted me, I had a reason for taking her.

  I had plans, and they didn’t involve her beyond pressuring Roman into doing what I wanted.

  “You shouldn’t be so mean to Winter.” Penny lounged near the fireplace in my office. Every damn room in this house had a fireplace. I kept mine crackling because my sisters wanted to stay far, far away from the extra heat.

  Apparently, that didn’t matter today. Erin lingered in the corner, scowling at her phone and glaring up at me.

  “I don’t know why you care. She’s only temporary.” I didn’t look up to meet Penny’s judgmental gaze. I knew what she thought of all this, and I didn’t need to hear it again.

  But I would, of course.

  “I know your position in this family comes with a lot of unpleasant tasks, but do you really need to kidnap innocent girls? Surely there’s some other way for a big, bad Oligarch to get what he wants.”

  She was baiting me. I knew it; she knew it. Hell, even Erin knew it, and she could be oblivious to anything beyond her own nose sometimes.

  I still couldn’t help myself.

  “Winter is expedient. I could take the hard road and kill a few dozen more of Roman’s men, but that seems like a waste of life and resources.”

  “And not to mention an escalation in this little war,” Erin added.

  “Is everything really guns and guts with you?” Penny scrunched up her nose. “There have to be other ways to hurt him. Financial, political, whatever. I don’t know.”

  My sisters were my life. It was a strange thought, but a true one. I kept them far away from my work, or as far as I could manage, considering we all lived in the same house. They were everything to me, especially after what had happened to Liv, and I’d do anything to protect them.

  I’d die for them, if it came to that.

  And one day, it might.

  But for now, I tried to save them from the worst of my business. They weren’t stupid and certainly weren’t naïve, but Penny still retained some measure of childish innocence, while Erin refused to let herself care about much of anything. That gave me some space to maneuver without them hanging over my shoulder—and it helped that my mother agreed that we should ensure the girls were given as normal a life as possible.

  If you could call this place normal.

  “Believe me, Pen, if there was a better way, I’d take it. Winter’s more trouble than she’s worth.”

  “Then let her go,” Erin drawled, rolling her eyes.

  “I didn’t know you cared,” I said, glaring at her.

  She didn’t look up, too absorbed in Instagram or TikTok or whatever. She was only two years younger than me, but sometimes it felt like she’d never grow up. Her deep red hair was down around her shoulders, grown long over the
past couple of years and stylish and wavy. We all shared the same bright green eyes, though Erin’s facial structure took after our father, while Penny and I looked more like our mother.

  “I don’t. I’m just tired of hearing you two argue.”

  “You could always leave my office.” I clicked my pen over and over as emphasis.

  “I like Winter,” Penny repeated. “I want you to promise that you’re not going to hurt her.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “I already told you, she’s not useful to me dead.”

  “Dead and hurt are different things.”

  “I can’t make that promise then.”

  She smacked the arm of her chair. “You can be a dick sometimes, you know that?”

  “And you’re not as nice as you pretend.”

  Erin whistled. “Low blow, brother dearest.”

  “She can take it.”

  Penny jumped to her feet, seething. “You’re an asshole.” She gestured around at my office. “What’s all this worth if we’re just a bunch of broken monsters living in a pretty house?”

  “You’re being dramatic.” I looked back down at the papers stacked in front of me. Letters to sign, financial accounts to pore over, plans to read and reread. Running a war against another Oligarch wasn’t exactly cheap or easy.

  Before Penny could lob out the incredibly intelligent and cutting rejoinder she had perched on the tip of her tongue, the door slammed open. Anthony strode in, grinning hugely and breathing hard.

  He was the youngest of our family at only twenty-three. We were nearly ten years apart, and although I’d resented him when he was first born—I was a little kid back then, in my defense—we’d grown close. What had happened to Liv only sped up that change, and though he’d seemed like an outsider during those early days, I loved him as fiercely as I loved my sisters.

  “You guys have to come see this.” He was breathing hard like he’d run ten miles. “That girl’s going nuts.”

  I perked up. “Winter?”

  His grin got bigger. “Seriously, you have to get out here.” Anthony had a way about him—magnetic, exciting. It made people want to be his friend and even I wasn’t immune to that charming smile and boyish mop of dark red hair. His eyes were a light blue—so different from everyone else—but his face was all my mother.