The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  “What benefits do you think I’m weighing against?” Oran knew who I was, just like his dad and Carlyle. Unless . . . My brows rose, and he frowned as something dark flashed in his eyes. “You didn’t do any research on me, did you? That’s why you’re here. Carlyle somehow stopped you from being able to, and you’re trying to hard read me.”

  Everything about Oran was a lie.

  And it was hilarious.

  I laughed an almost maniacal cackle, and tears sprang to my eyes as I sat back on the armrest of the sofa. Huge, heaving bubbled of mirth burst inside my ribcage, and Oran’s glare bounced off my chin when I threw my head back. My chest tightened, and I curled my shoulders in an attempt to ease the throbbing just under my skin. My laughter echoed through my apartment, and I covered my face after a moment with clammy palms.

  “Ooh-oh, my God, oh shit.” Sputtering wildly, I cracked open a stinging eye only to bluster a giggle through helplessly thin lips, and Oran started turning red in the face. Unable to contain how idiotically comical this was, I squeezed my achy cheeks together, but it didn’t stop my laughter. “Oh, I can’t breathe.”

  My lungs burned, everything burned, and I wiped my tears off my face before noticing that Oran had physically relaxed as he sat, tapping his heels together. The sight of him smiling faintly quenched my chortling, and he slid to his feet to saunter towards me.

  “You remind me a lot of my sister.” Bracing his arms on either side of me, his eyes glimmered brightly with affection as he came so close his nose brushed mine. Sucking in a sharp breath, my eyes widened as the fine hairs on my face bristled at his soft expression. “Do I seem stupid to you, Illya? Or is it all an act? Am I just a really, really good liar, or do I have the situational awareness of a rancid lemon?”

  “I . . . ” My voice faltered when Oran’s eyes narrowed into slits on mine, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. “No matter what it is, I don’t want anything to do with it. The same thing I told Carlyle, I’m staying out of whatever’s going on between you two.”

  “I hope you do, or you’ll end up just like her. Dead. However bad you’ve had it, Illya, it’s nothing compared to what’ll happen if you get caught in the middle of Dear Big Brother and I.” Shivering at the threat that rolled down my sternum, I clenched my jaw as Oran reached to tuck my hair behind my ear. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I haven’t regretted it so far, and just because you’re confusing won’t make me.” Thanking God that my voice didn’t waver, I frowned as I lifted my hand between our faces, and Oran leaned back with a slight, knowing, infuriating smirk. “Get out.”

  “With an attitude like that, not even my father will dare piss you off.” Oran turned up his nose at me, his smirk widening, and my eyelid twitched in irritation. Even if he was a mystery, that fucking haughtiness was all too real. “Goodnight, Illya.”

  “Whatever.” He didn’t stop retreating from my apartment at my grumble, and I only breathed a shaky breath when the lock clicked damningly on the doorframe. Slumping hard, my brain churned furiously as the past thirty-five seconds or so flashed behind my lids when they shuttered tight.

  A sociopath.

  A heartless bastard.

  An expert liar.

  “This is so frustrating.” True to my word, though, I didn’t regret coming here even if the choice had more or less been made for me. The door beeped shrilly, and the reason I was here, dealing with all this shit, came waltzing in to cast me a curious, dark glance.

  “I thought you’d be asleep by now.” Theo scanned me critically, and I inhaled through my nose as my heart stabilized against my ribs. “What happened?”

  “Today sucked.” I wasn’t sure what to tell Theo, or what he would feel comfortable keeping from Carlyle, and he grunted lowly as I dodged the question. “I just . . . I don’t know what I was expecting, but everything is so confusing and dramatic and I feel like I’m watching a bad soap opera.”

  “If you don’t like it here, I’ll tell Carlyle to fuck off and we can leave. It’s fine here, but that’s because I know not to let the internal politics screw with my head.” The offer knocked the air from my lungs, and Theo stalked towards me to sweep me off the side of the sofa. “We’ll sleep on it.”

  “I’m gonna wait and see how this week plays out, I think, before I think up any real thoughts.” Winding my arms around Theo’s neck, I rested my cheek on his shoulder as he carried me to my room. “If it’s a one-off. I can deal with that, maybe.”

  “Things like this heat up and cool down. It’s never a one-off.” I hummed in acknowledgment as my eyelids became heavy, and Theo squeezed me reassuringly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Illya.”

  “I know. It’s the things I don’t know that make me nervous.” He didn’t reply to that, but I knew the next few weeks were going to be nuts. Tightening my arms around Theo’s neck, I soaked up his warmth. It was better to focus on him than the looming disasters waiting to happen.

  45

  Illya

  “Do the benefits outweigh the risks?” Oran’s question raced around and around in my head, and I huffed softly. “Of course, they do. What’s gonna happen? I’ll be a street rat again, and it’s nothing I haven’t gone through before.”

  “What do what?” Glancing up as Theo wandered out of the kitchen with two plates in his hands, I scowled lightly. “Are you nervous about the interview thing that’s not really an interview?”

  “Not really, anymore. Oran was here the other night. He hung out in the dark waiting for me like a creep, and I don’t know why.” Theo paused mid-sit to frown at me, and I shrugged as my cheek twitched at the memories. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted into my nostrils, and he passed me my plate before settling into the sofa. “I don’t want to stop this train, you know? This apartment, and you, and even Carlyle, the jerk. I’ve wanted stability for so long, and I finally have it. And no rich asshole with a Riddler complex is gonna shake me.”

  “Your resolve is sexy. If you ask me, though, Oran’s a pussy that can only beat on women weaker than himself. I heard the maids talkin’ shit about him— he has a harem, apparently. That’s so fucked up. And he beats them all up, too.” Disgust slathered my tongue, and I shook my head wildly as Theo balanced a piece of toast on his fingertips. “Seriously, just ignore it, Illya. It’s not worth getting involved.”

  “You of all people should know I don’t ‘get involved’. I get dragged into shit.” Grumbling as I picked up a piece of bacon, I glanced over at him out of the corner of my eye. “Why are you so cool about some creep being in my apartment in the middle of the night?”

  “Don’t ask stupid questions?” Shooting back a question of his own, Theo took a huge bite of his toast, and the egg on top gushed everywhere. He swallowed quickly, and I nibbled my bacon as he talked through his mouthful. “You already said he did it to rattle you, and he clearly doesn’t like you for some reason only he knows. You’ll be fine, Illya. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the breakfast I painstakingly created for you.”

  “But—” Cutting me off with a sharp glance, Theo arched a brow, and I ducked my head. He sighed softly, reaching over to rub my shoulder roughly.

  “You can’t worry about shit that hasn’t happened yet, or shit that might not happen at all. Whatever it is, you already said it, right? No rich asshole is gonna shake you, Illya.” Squeezing my shoulder, he took another bite of his toast before setting it down and putting the plate on the coffee table. “Make a decision and stick to it. Do you wanna ride out what might be the best decision of your life, or do you wanna run away again and try to do it by yourself?”

  “I do.” Pursing my lips thinly, I picked up my own toast, the fried egg on top begging to be broken open. The glistening egg was mesmerizing, and my murmur slithered up from my throat softly. “I’m tired. I know I’ve done nothing for a long time, but. . . despite everything, I’m still tired. I wish things could be easy.”

  “Nothing worth doing is easy. Plus, you’re just ups
et about your job, and Carlyle’s family is here. . . you’ll be fine. Just do what you’ve always done, Illya. Persevere. It can’t be that hard with all that practice you got.” The silence was nice, and I focused on eating as my mind raced through everything I’d been through. By some twist of fate, I ended up here. In New York. I had a nice apartment, and a man, and a good job.

  That was what everyone wanted in life, right?

  And the fact that I worked for a criminal sociopath was. . . excusable. As long as I didn’t get in Carlyle’s way, he wouldn’t get in mine. I was a queen of living in the crowd, unnoticed and unwanted, and wasn’t that his whole spiel, anyway?

  Most importantly, though, I would have what I always wanted. Me. What I dreamed of since my parents died, and what I strived for by myself that was unattainable alone. Finally, after all these years of struggling, I had stability.

  “Even if it’s just right now. . . fuck everyone else. I spent way too long working for this. It shouldn’t matter what’s next. Right now, I’m good. We’re good.” Nodding firmly, I reached to hold Theo’s mangled hand, and the roughness of it rose goosebumps on my arm. Leaning over to kiss him, I opened my mouth to savor the taste and feel of him. “Carlyle and his crazy brother’s can go fuck themselves.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He ruffling my hair, and a little laugh escaped me as he picked up his plate. This, just him and I. . . a girl could get used to this. And I would get used to it, because Theo was a wonderful man. “For now, nothing is going wrong, and everything is looking like it’ll go right, Illya.”

  Smiling broadly at his blind optimism, I ducked my head in a nod and flipped my hair back to take a huge bite from my egg and toast. The yolk oozed down my palm, and I gasped when Theo grabbed my arm to lick it up. Another laugh burst from my throat, and warmth suffused every part of me.

  Not a fiery, abrasive heat. Not a frigid, angry heat. Just. . . a warmth. The benefits definitely outweigh the risks, and I’m just going to accept that.

  Carlyle

  1

  Carlyle

  Leaning heavily on the door frame, I waited for Marcella to open up, and when she did, she scowled darkly. Crossing her arms over her ample bust, she ducked her head and shuffled to the side to let me in. Theo hung around outside, and I didn’t give him much of a second thought as I kicked the barrier shut behind me.

  “Why can’t you get the hint and leave me alone, Carlyle? I did what you wanted.” Marcella complained so fucking much, and I grabbed her chin as I pinned her against the back of her pleather sofa. Her little gasp bristled my chest hairs, and I quite liked the fear bolting through her eyes as they widened.

  “Shut up and get on your knees. For someone who complains about booty calls, you still never say ‘no.’” She licked her juicy, thick lips at my growl, and I wrapped my arm around her waist to twirl us around. Sitting lightly on the back of the sofa, my knees apart, I released her face with a slight jerk. If Marcella wasn’t so easy— and easily accessible— maybe I’d do what she wanted to leave her alone.

  “You’d probably—” My brows furrowed as she clamped her mouth shut, and Marcella dropped to her knees to unfasten my pants with her long, manicure-tipped fingers. “Are you positive Illya doesn’t know I’m connected with you?”

  “You’re so worried about that, it’s kind of cute. So, did you hear back yet about your audition tape?” I honestly, truly, didn’t care about Marcella applying to that talent agency, but it’d be better for me if she wasn’t difficult. Clenching my jaw as she pulled my cock out, I gripped the hard edge of the couch as heat flooded my veins. If nothing else, Marcella could do this one thing perfectly, and she wrapped her fine lips around my head rather than answer immediately.

  “Not yet. I don’t know what’s going to happen. The word going around is that she’s based in Nevada. I might go there.” Mumbling against my shaft, Marcella glanced up at me, and my eyelid twitched as the pleasantness in my gut turned sour. “If you put in a good word for me, I might get somewhere, Carlyle.”

  “I did business with that woman for you. That’s recommendation enough. If you haven’t heard back, I don’t know what you think is going to happen.” Disgust dribbled from my tongue, not because I had to deal with Esmarissa, but because of how she came to that point. She, this no-name bitch from some shit town in the desert, managed to outwit Wren Lockhart so effortlessly. Truthfully, I thought it was as impressive as it was annoying that I had to pay for a service that should be free.

  After all, I spent enough money on Marcella. I put her in California for three years, and she still had another year and a half to go until I could ship her back to whatever shit hole she crawled out of.

  “Carlyle . . . ” My eyes narrowed on her as she squeezed, grazing her lips against my sac, and I ground my teeth together. “I would really appreciate if . . . ”

  Marcella gave me the eyes, and I cocked my head as I gestured her up. Irritation simmered just under my skin, but she didn’t notice as she rubbed against me. Her voluptuous chest swelled to peek out from her tank top, and I switched positions with her. My disgust over Wren boiled away into amusement at how she hung all over me as if it would actually work.

  Tangling my hand in her thick hair, I nosed her neck, and Marcella gasped as her knees clung to my hips. She was just a slut, nothing more, and I’d already paid for her. Anything that happened, I could cover it.

  Besides, she was never going to get that call back from Esmarissa’s talent agency. If she had even the slimmest chance, I wouldn’t have been able to lease her for five years.

  The silencer on the gun in my hand pressed against her chin, and Marcella tensed as her scent became deliciously sweet with fear and alarm.

  “Why don’t you ever fucking learn, you useless cunt?” Her breath caught loudly, chest stuttering against mine, and, suddenly, she was icy cold where her skin touched mine. Yanking her head back, I relished her sharp cry, and I put my gun down on the top of the sofa cushion to stick my cock back in my dress pants. She trembled with the urge to be still, hoping the danger might pass without noticing her, but I’d had about enough of her shit.

  “P-please don’t.” Panic-stricken, red-rimmed eyes widened when I frowned at her sputter, and Marcella whimpered. “Please.”

  “I told you already, Marcella— shut up and get on your knees. Did you honestly think I wanted to be bombarded with your worries? Who gives a flying fuck about Illya catching you? Why the fuck would I care about your futile attempts to be an actress? At what fucking point did you misunderstand ‘booty call’ for ‘conversation’?” Pressing the mouth of the silencer under her chin, I dragged the cold metal down her throat as it flexed wildly. My mumble filled the entire living room, and I forced her to meet my eyes when she tried to look away. “You suck cock and spread your ass cheeks, you filthy fucking whore— nothing more.”

  She trembled at my snarl, spit flinging across her face and forcing her to close one eye even as the other boggled. Honestly, it was a little funny how shocked she was that her little plan didn’t work. Who the Hell did she think I was, anyway?

  “I will . . . I will . . . I p—” Shaking my head, I sucked my teeth, and her lips thinned until a white line circled them. Marcella’s legs fell from around my waist, and I stepped back without letting go of her hair.

  “No, you won’t. You complicated it when I wanted something simple.” Smirking broadly, I untangled my hand from her hair, but Marcella was a deer in headlights. “Think of it this way, Marcella. Now, you don’t have to worry about Illya finding out you lied about your entire friendship and who you were. In fact, you don’t have to worry about anything anymore . . . unless . . . ”

  Gesturing her down with the gun, her wide, fearful, brown eyes flickered at the glint under the light, and she dropped like a sack of potatoes. When she went to reach for my pants, her first tears started to fall, and I got bored.

  It was always when they started crying, I got bored.

  “You know, Mar
cella, if you think about it— wouldn’t you have already gotten a callback or a visit or something if they picked you out of the pile? Surely, they have a lot of people to go through, but they probably have people to wheedle out the talentless with too much self-delusion.” Kneeling down, I propped the gun under her chin to force her face up, and her puff of a sob rolled down my wrist to curl under my shirt. “For that matter, haven’t you been a whore for a while? Long enough that if Esmarissa did know about you, she sure as fuck wouldn’t have agreed to a deal with me, right? Five years— why would she give up promising talent for five years . . . unless you’re not as talented as Mommy and Daddy told you.

  “I mean, it could be possible that Esmarissa wanted to impress me, but if that was the case, she shouldn’t have chosen you.” I put my finger over the trigger, and Marcella begged me with her eyes. Her lips trembled too hard, trying to keep quiet. Maybe, that would’ve helped her two minutes ago, when I told her to shut up and do a simple task that really didn’t allow for much talking. “I bet this is exactly how your mom thought this would end. That’s the problem with you sluts— you put value on your bodies when, really, your worthless personalities cancel it out.”

  Her eyes boggled when I pulled the trigger, retaining a glimmer of life for a fraction of a second, and the stench of shit and piss wafted up. I stood up and stepped back, scrunching up my nose in disgust as Marcella tumbled lifelessly to the floor, and blood bubbled up from the hole in her head. Careful not to get blood on myself, I retreated to pull out my phone, and a soft knock echoed through the apartment.

  Using my jacket to twist the doorknob, I frowned as Theo craned his neck with a disapproving expression.

  “Really, Carlyle?” Shooting me a sour scowl, he rolled his eyes when I shrugged, holding my phone to my ear as I breezed past him and out into the hallway. “I told Illya it’d be a few hours. What the fuck am I supposed to say if we go back early?”