The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  “Righto.” Tapping two fingers to my temple, I couldn’t help but smile when Carlyle chuckled before standing up and pushing the chair back in. “What should I wear?”

  “Whatever makes you comfortable.” Leaving me with that, Carlyle sauntered out of the kitchen and then my apartment, and I reached to ruffle my hair as my mind raced. To me, it was so easy to spot, such a simple concept to use a code in plain sight. No one double-checked this stuff but the translators themselves, so no one faulted someone for making an occasional mistake days and weeks apart, especially if they didn’t know it was a mistake.

  “I wonder if anyone caught on outside of this?” Throwing my question out there, I grabbed a short stack to flip through it, and Theo grunted from over the stove. “These translators are pretty much cycled around depending on where they’re needed, so they have conversations with the same people. Do you think any of them noticed the slip-ups?”

  “How would I know? I only speak English.” My lips twitched up at that, and Theo shook his head before gesturing to me from over his shoulder. “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter to me. All I’m good for is being a meat shield, and I’m okay with that.”

  Watching the muscles roping just under his tanned skin play along his back, I propped my cheek on my fist on the table. I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask whether or not Theo had been threatened by Carlyle, but I got the sense that he hadn’t. Which meant he came and apologized on his own.

  I wished I could say the same, but Theo would never have to know that it wasn’t my choice to take off my bandages. Everything turned out fine. I was fine.

  And I had the sneaking suspicion that things would only get better from here, regardless of how crazy ‘work’ would get. We— us— Theo and I, we would be good together.

  40

  Illya

  Adjusting my curled hair over my shoulders, I nodded at my reflection, and dull, brown eyes gazed back at me. Feminine pride bubbled up in my chest at how different I’d managed to make myself look now that I had proper products. Lightening my hair had been easy, and I flexed my toes against the carpet as I stood up with a happy huff.

  “Do you want help with your bandages?” Pursing my lips thinly at the offer, I pulled open a drawer that contained nothing but rows and rows of medical-grade bandages.

  “Uh . . . I’m not sure what I’m gonna do, yet, so . . . ” Arching a brow quizzically, Theo leaned back on the lounge leisurely. He didn’t seem offended, and I kicked the dresser drawer shut as I scratched my head thoughtfully. “I guess it doesn’t really matter.”

  “Okay?” I didn’t bother elaborating as I held the end of the roll to my hip, and my brows furrowed in concentration. “I hate watching this.”

  My heart throbbing at his grumble, and I turned to Theo as the most unhappy grimace stained his expression. The scar ripping down the side of his face flushed an angry red, and his lips thinned when I sat the bindings down next to him. Bracing my foot low against his chest, goosebumps swept up my leg at his hard, steady heat beat pulsing through me. Blood drummed in my ears as he caressed up my calf, his left hand creeping unabashed over my inner thigh.

  Dark eyes met mine, and my mouth dried with the undeniable urge to smash my lips on his. I didn’t fight it . . . couldn’t fight it. Straddling his waist, my mind went blank as Theo stuck his hand between us, and I grabbed his face to kiss him hungrily. Now that I had him, I couldn’t stop, and his groan clogged my throat when he forced his tongue between my teeth. Tangling his tongue with mine sweetly, his taste tingled along my buds, and I smiled into the kiss as he worked a finger against my clit leisurely.

  “When we get back, I’m gonna fuck you again.” The murmur sent delicious shivers down my spine, and I pulled back to gnaw on my bottom lip. I wanted to suck Theo’s cock. The urge curdled in my gut almost to the point of pain. I wanted to sit on his face and feel his beard burning my thighs. I wanted to make up for the past two months in just one night.

  “We’ll be okay, Theo.” Smooth, scarred skin brushed my cheek at my mumble, and Theo didn’t protest when I stood on my feet. Clenching and releasing my fists by my sides as need sloshed in my chest, my knees wobbled dangerously, and hot, short breaths ravaged my lungs. “The wait makes it better.”

  “I’m not so sure it can get better.” I definitely wasn’t expecting him to say that, and my brows rose as he flopped his head back to let out a tight huff. “Hurry up and get dressed.”

  “Do you remember in California . . . ” Grabbing the bandages, my heart refused to calm down, and I licked my dry lips heavily as they tingled with need. “You told me once that you wished your fingers weren’t gone so you could appreciate my ass fully.”

  Theo barked a laugh and nodded as I started my bandages at my hip again, and a fond smile stretched my lips. Things seemed so simple back then. He was kinda creepy and awkward, and I wrestled so much with it. Deep down, maybe, I acknowledged that that comment was what made me even more confused.

  Because he wasn’t just a creep foisted on me by Sylvie’s bad decisions. That was when I realized, man, I was in trouble.

  “I remember. Honestly, Illya, it’s hard to remember shit before I met you. It just seems like there was nothing there. Being with Mateo was basically a dull, endless routine of strip clubs and trips that were all a blur, and before that . . . obviously, I mean, I got blown up by a tire.” Oh, my God. I couldn’t friggen handle it anymore, and my hands trembled as Theo continued to rant, stuck in his own head. Wrapping as fast as I could without risking having to redo it, I blinked hard as saliva pooled in my mouth. “I know I said this before, but all I wanted to do was fuck your brains out since the first time I saw you at the club. After a while, I realized, you know, your chest and that shit, screwing you with the bandages on was a disservice. I didn’t want to be another name on a list of bad experiences. If I was gonna fuck you, I had to do it proper. It really . . . I guess I got more interested in that than trying to make you happy or feel accepted.”

  “That’s the thing that sucked the most these past two months, isn’t it, Illya? I mean, you’re a pain in the ass, but I only made it worse by demanding something you didn’t want to give me. That’s fucked up. After you nearly killed me on the ride home, I realized what the fuck’s the point of trying to set up everything the way I think it should be? It’s not like I’m fucking myself, you know? Things aren’t supposed to work like that.” I’d reached just under what little of my breasts were left when Theo sighed heavily, pausing to rub his face roughly. My job was shoddy, but I didn’t much care because a dress would be going over it, anyway. “I wish we both figured that shit out weeks ago. The interruptions are gonna fucking kill me.”

  “To be honest . . . ” Arching slightly as pristine, white sheets rumpled my skin together, I cleared my throat of its hoarseness as a cold sweat broke out on my back. “I have too much shit for it all to be on you, Theo.”

  “I know. I’m just sayin’ that if I was gonna cum in your mouth, what’s the point of forcing you to take your bandages off? That’s all.” My gaze snapped up at that, and Theo propped his elbows on his knees to glare at the ground without noticing how hot and bothered I was. Or, maybe, he did notice, but he just chose to ignore it in favor of having such a grave conversation. “I thought it wasn’t as big a deal as it was. I have scars, too, right, so, obviously, if I can handle it, so can you. That’s wrong. I’m sorry, Illya.”

  “God!” Blinking viciously against the fierce sting in my eyes, my squawk rasped my throat, and I whipped around before Theo saw me ruining my makeup. Forcing a breath through my nose and past the dense lump in my throat, I craned my neck and shivered violently. The strain of his words settled heavily on my shoulders, and I ground my teeth as my face grew hot.

  Theo’s rustling jeans sounded overly loud in my ears, and I tensed when he wrapped his arms around me to hold my hands. Taking the bandages in his right hand, he pressed his cheek against my crown, and shivers strafed my spine.

  �
��Shit . . . shit . . . Theo . . . ” I was going to destroy what I’d spent the past half hour perfecting, and he grumbled deeply against my back. The quake eased some of the tension clinging to my ribs, and I sucked in a shaky breath before Theo tugged my bandage taut. He basically confessed his love for me— his regret, at the very least— and I knew that it very well may be the closest he ever got to actually saying the words.

  What the fuck? What the fuck?

  Sniffling hard as Theo worked on my bandages, I tilted my head back in a futile attempt to breathe. He kept his mouth shut, his hands steady, his lips thin against my crown, and I prayed that my makeup wasn’t smudged. Because then I’d have to start over, and if I had to start over, I was gonna . . .

  “Oof.” The awkwardness in the room went from one to a hundred so fast it choked me, and I tensed as my head snapped to the door. Carlyle clearly knew what he’d interrupted even as he held up his hands in mock surrender, a fake, plastic guilt stretching his smirk. “I’ll wait in the living room, I guess.”

  My scars weren’t totally covered, yet, and I frowned when Carlyle turned out of the doorway to clamp his hand over his mouth tightly. Before he’d even disappeared beyond the frame, his entire face twisted with disgust, and all my warm, tingly feelings drained away.

  “At least I don’t make you sick with disgust.” Rolling the bundle up my back and over my shoulder, Theo grunted lowly as I managed a trembling sigh. “I guess it really doesn’t matter for other people.”

  41

  Theo

  I can’t fucking take it. Illya and I had such a good, good moment, and fucking Carlyle had to ruin it. The gun holstered against my hip burned through my jeans, and I wanted to fucking vomit as rage boiled my insides. Glaring at him even as two cars pulled through into the quad that served as a parking lot, I stuffed my fists into my jeans.

  Not that it helped at all.

  “I wonder what they’re like. Carlyle and Mateo are so different.” Illya’s mumble barely breathed the blood drumming in my ears, and I grunted lowly. My eyelid twitched with how fucking hard I glared at him, and I knew he could feel it. That dick! “Theo, it’s not a big deal.”

  “I’m gonna fucking beat him until he shits himself.” At the least, Carlyle had the decency to look ashamed of himself in Illya’s apartment. He didn’t apologize, of course, but that didn’t matter. He fucking knew Illya wasn’t dressed, and he still chose to interrupt and see that shit. Rubbing my arm, she didn’t say anything more when the cars parked in front of us, and I hoovered up a massive breath in an attempt to calm myself.

  I sincerely hoped that Carlyle would walk in on me blowing Illya’s back out so he could see the way a real man treats a woman with a little physical baggage.

  The door behind us cracked open, and I twisted to lay eyes on Mateo for the first time in months. He wore a nice suit, but he looked older, more haggard, and wouldn’t meet my gaze as he slunk past. Obviously, he had a hard time wrestling with the reality of the situation, but at least he didn’t come outside in a stained shirt and reeking of alcohol.

  Oh, the stories the maids told when they thought no one was listening. Normally, they came around twice a week to tidy up, but they had to make daily trips to Mateo’s apartment because he was such a fucking slob. I wasn’t sure how anyone could make a mess like that in just twenty-four hours, but apparently, he did.

  But Mateo crawling out of his hole also meant that his father and older brother coming here wasn’t something to take lightly. Running his hand through his hair, he stood next to Carlyle but a good distance away, and I rolled my shoulders to get rid of the tension zinging through me.

  A car door popped open, and I cleared my throat roughly of the expectation that clogged it. Truth be told, I expected a slender, tall guy with a few good wrinkles and a cigar hanging from his mouth.

  Carlyle and Mateo’s father was tall, true— he was slender, sure— but the huge, bright smile that showed off his strong features belayed the menacing attitude I was positive he owned. His bald head shimmered in the sun, and his super expensive suit and shoes were wrinkle-free and polished to perfection. He even wore a funny tie with purple polka-dots on it, and I scanned him slowly through narrowed eyes.

  “My boy!” Ignoring Mateo completely, the older man pulled Carlyle into a hug as his deep baritone crawled up the brick walls around us. Clapping Carlyle on the back, he held him by the shoulders at arm’s length to grin with pride. “I see you’re doing well.”

  “Spain’s been good to you, Dad.” The old man nodded, and my brows furrowed when he turned his full attention to Mateo. Just like with Carlyle, they hugged, but there was nothing but concern etched into that sun-baked face when they parted.

  “How are you, Mateo? You’ve had it hard, kid.” Mateo struggled not to cry in the face of his father’s worry, which, I guess, was more telling than any words. Cupping Mateo’s jaw, his dad stroked his cheeks, and I shared a curious glance with Illya. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? You’ll get through this. It’ll be hard, but I know you can overcome anything.”

  “Yeah.” Only offering that hoarse reply, Mateo nodded curtly, and I almost felt like I was watching something I shouldn’t. Tearing my eyes off them, I focused instead on the person who stepped out of the SUV after him and rocked back on my heels. That must be Oran.

  The dude was a textbook nerd upon first glance, with sleek glasses, no jacket, but he wore suspenders. However, tattoos sleeved up his arms and disappeared under his rolled shirt, the plain, white button-down thick enough to hide the ink. Oran shook hands with Carlyle but refused to look at Mateo, and dark brown eyes flickered around the courtyard.

  “I see nothing about this place has changed. It still looks like a run-down college housing building.” Disdain dribbled thickly from Oran’s mouth, and Carlyle shot his little brother a snooty look. For a moment, they glared at each other, but Oran eventually cracked a smirk that barely tilted his lips before the tension snapped. “It’s good to see you, Carlyle.”

  “How’s life across the pond?” Oran shrugged his thin shoulders at the probe, and Carlyle huffed a bare laugh.

  “Boring. I’m moving back. I can’t stand that fucking country anymore.” Keen eyes drifted my way, and Oran lifted his nose as he scanned me, his gaze pausing at the gun on my hip. “I see you’ve got a new guy. What happened to the last one?”

  “He didn’t do his job, so I replaced him.” Oran grunted lowly at that, and his eyes turned to Illya before he decided she wasn’t worth his time. “Let’s head inside so we can discuss this issue we’ve got.”

  “Right.” The father, whose name I didn’t know, popped up between his two elder sons, and my brows furrowed as confusion clung to my ribs. “Let’s head inside so we can eat. It’s been so long since we’ve gotten together. I wish your mother was here to see you all get along.”

  “Tolerating each other is more what we’re doing, Dad.” Carlyle gestured to me, and my gaze ping-ponged between the three of them before I realized neither of them brought bodyguards, either. “This is Theo.”

  “Wonderful!” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when the old man strode the short distance to me, and I automatically pulled my right hand out of my pocket. He grabbed me with a force I wasn’t expecting, and I clenched my jaw against the pain that rippled noticeably up my arm. His grin widened, this time accompanied with a malicious glint in his eye, and my pupils narrowed into fine points. “I’m George.”

  “You’re a sociopath is what you are.” This whole fucking family was fucked up, which put them all in a perfect position to lord over us commoners. George dropped his act for the briefest second, a dry laugh bursting from his throat before he shook his head.

  “You’ve got jokes. I like that.” He squeezed my hand hard, and my lips thinned as he pulled back to release my palm. My arm cramped visibly, but I beat down the pain as shrewd eyes blackened with age scanned me from top to bottom. “I think you’re a good fit for my son. Anyway, enough wi
th the trivialities. Let’s head in and eat. I’m starving.”

  I went and grabbed the door, and George hung back as his sons filed past me. When it was his turn, he shot me the most scathing, dead-eye glare possible, and my lip curled in a snarl in return.

  So, the old man’s got secrets. Of course he did. The act was convincing, and I wondered if his kids knew he couldn’t feel anything for them.

  “Stay away from him, Illya.” Leaning down to mumble in her ear as she passed, I grabbed her forearm to squeeze insistently, and Illya nodded with a knowing look. Muted concern shimmered behind her fake, brown lenses, and I frowned darkly. “He’s way more fucked up than the others.”

  “Yeah.” Releasing her soft skin, I held my own arm and flexed my fingers and thumb as my skin spasmed up towards my elbow. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Nodding hesitantly, Illya started off down the hallway, and I inhaled deeply to hold my breath. Exhaling slowly, I straightened my shoulders and stretched my stiff fingers a few more times on my way behind her. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn’t good.

  It wasn’t good at all.

  42

  Illya

  I nibbled at the edges of my plate, too busy watching the table out of my peripheral vision. The tension was so subtle, but I could cut it with a dull knife. I could taste the lies every time I opened my mouth, and— not for the first time— I wondered what the Hell I’d gotten forced into.