The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  “Let’s grab a bite. I have some things to work through because of this.” The line picked up before Theo could open his mouth again, and I held up a finger. “I need a moment of your time, please.”

  2

  Carlyle

  Tapping my foot absently as I scanned the culmination of a week’s worth of Illya working diligently, I grunted lowly. She hovered around me like a fly, but I didn’t try to swat her away. After all, she was anxious about today despite my many, many attempts to tell her it didn’t matter. Her interview was a setup, but she insisted on going through with meeting these guys.

  I didn’t understand why, and I didn’t particularly care if she wanted to torture or validate what she was indirectly responsible for.

  “Based on the financial records you gave me, it’s exactly what I expected. It’s mostly Oran and your father who got the brunt of the scheme.” I only nodded, and she dropped heavily into the kitchen chair with a sigh. “I need a week of sleep to get over all the crap spinning in my head.”

  “That’s fine, Illya. Your next assignment isn’t for thirteen days. I want you to succeed, so take whatever time you feel you need.” I’ll admit, I had a huge soft spot for Illya, and she smiled gratefully at me as I tossed the sheath of papers on the table. Frowning under furrowed brows, I rolled my jaw as I scanned her through narrowed eyes. “You look tired. Has Oran been giving you any trouble?”

  “Uh, not really. I hate his attitude, but most of the time, it’s not directed at me.” Her grumble pulled a chuckle from my chest, and I propped my arm behind my head as she sunk into her seat a little. “I wish he’d leave. Your dad is lovely, though. You’d think with him being a sociopath and stuff, he’d be less . . . nice and . . . I dunno . . . approachable.”

  “He does have that effect on people, Illya. Don’t get too comfortable with him, though. He’s just as likely to turn on you as be nice to you.” Oran and my father were leaving in a few days, and I, personally, couldn’t wait for them to stop criticizing my every move. I could sneeze, and Oran would tell me I didn’t do it right. “You seem a lot more upset about these five men interviewing you than kidnapping the daughter of a mafia don even though the same thing will happen to all of them.”

  “It’s been a long time since I had to use these kinds of skills, and they’re my peers. In some messed up way, I want their approval. Also, I’m the one who figured it all out. What if they know? Even though nothing will happen, it still makes me nervous, thinking something could happen because of what I know.” Her worries were valid, and I couldn’t help but smile when she sat up with a huff. “I still want Theo there, just in case.”

  “I’m fully prepared to let you have that. What about the princess?” Truly, Illya worried about the weirdest shit, and she shrugged carelessly at my probe. Glancing down at my watch, I stood up and pushed the chair in even though she stayed seated. “It’s about time we go introduce you.”

  “Does it make you mad that you got duped for more than two years?” Lifting herself up as she posed her question, Illya’s tone dribbled with curiosity, and I rubbed my jaw thoughtfully. We headed out of her apartment, and I opened the door for her as my mind ticked around in circles.

  Of course, I was pissed, but the fact of the matter was I’d known about it, at least had an inkling something was amiss. My suspicion coincided perfectly with finding Illya, and then, I just needed an in to get her on board with me. It helped a lot that Oran, despite being near the center of everything, didn’t realize something was going on with the translator's bank accounts until about seven months ago.

  Humiliating him was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

  “I suppose it evens out. Money’s not an object for me, but the disrespect they showed me is about to get repaid ten-fold. This sets an example as if there was any need for one. It’s been a long, long time since I personally intervened in drudge business, but I’m actually a little excited. I know my father puts his faith in me, but this just helps cement it. As you’ve said all along, Illya, I minimize my need for translators, so the fault for this whole thing lies squarely on Oran’s shoulders.” A malicious glee bubbled up like tar in my chest at my own words, and I nudged her gently with my elbow with a happy sigh. “That being said, I don’t want you traumatized unnecessarily because you insist on meeting them. You’re not going to watch the live-stream, and I really don’t see the point in actually having an interview, Illya.”

  “I just want to know I’m not shit after all these years, Carlyle.” That was exactly the answer I expected her to give, and my smile widened on the way down the hallway. “It’s their fault for trying something, no matter how sneaky or creative it was. Crime never pays when your boss himself is a criminal.”

  “Hey, hey, hey, you say that like it’s a bad thing!” I couldn’t help myself as I laughed, and she shoved me playfully, with a little scowl. “No, but seriously, Illya, how is meeting them going to help you?”

  “Assuming they won’t speak English at me, it’d be a good test. I thought after I work up enough, maybe you’d be willing to ship me off to Europe? I’ve got Spanish down packed, but the rest . . . I’ve never actually been to Russia or Italy, and I want to know how I stack up.” The none-too-subtle hint of going abroad didn’t escape me, and I hummed in acknowledgment. It wouldn’t be too bad an idea to ship her off, and it’d be beneficial to me in the future.

  “We’ll talk about it when the time comes, sure.” Bobbing her head happily, Illya practically giggled a hum, and I put my hand gently on her shoulder. Goosebumps prickled up my arm under my shirt, but I tried to beat down the roiling in my stomach at the memory that flashed behind my lids when I blinked. “It’s almost the end of August. How long has it been since you’ve seen the snow?”

  “Um . . . Carlyle . . . ” The sudden gravity in her tone stiffened my muscles with my thumb on the elevator button, and Illya turned to me under furrowed brows. “It’s about Theo.”

  “What about him?” Theo never talked to me about Illya, and she never talked to me about him, and curiosity arched my brows. “Is this about when you drove his car and—”

  “Uh . . . no. You said a few days ago that this job is about both of us, but so far, you’ve only talked about my part.” The expectation in her tone drew down my eyebrows, and I cocked my head as I punched the elevator button without looking away from her.

  “We’ll talk about it after your interview, Illya. I want to get this out of the way. You can decide when, but for now, it’s not very important.” The doors slid open just as I finished speaking, and I smiled reassuringly as I propped my palm on her crown. “One thing at a time.”

  “Okay.” I gestured her into the elevator with a slight shake of my head, and Illya huffed softly and wiggled her shoulders. Truth be told, I didn’t want to tell her any more than she had to know. Her job was simple— find a specific bitch and drug her, and Theo would handle the rest. The Italian Mafia and I were on alright terms— not exactly good, but not too shabby, either— and I didn’t want to waste this opportunity.

  To crush them under my heel.

  Who the fuck did that crusty, old bastard think he was, telling me he’d sell me his daughter? I sure as fuck wasn’t going to pay money on a deal that did nothing for me. Not to mention, she had a reputation for being a spoiled bitch.

  No, thanks. I’ll take a rain check.

  “Theo should already be there. Don’t be too nervous, Illya. You’ll do great. I have the utmost faith in you.” Steering my mind off that trail, I pressed my palm against the small of her back, and Illya took a stabilizing breath. The elevator jostled to a stop, the doors sliding open again to lead down a hallway that would eventually bring us to the bridge. This warehouse had to be entirely remodeled, but I kept the original design because having a bridge was friggin' cool, in my personal opinion.

  Nodding to herself, Illya strode a little steadier, and my smile faltered as I turned my thoughts to what came next.

  3

&
nbsp; Carlyle

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out? I’ll admit, your little scheme was inventive, but I’m honestly curious what you thought would happen.” Leaning against the table, I frowned as Jerome simply glared at me silently, but his normally dark complexion was a pasty pale. “The errors in the transcripts idea was smart. I’ll give you that. If only you’d hid your ‘secret’ bank accounts a little better.”

  “We’re about to go live, boss.” Pursing my lips thinly as I glanced behind me, I nodded curtly, and Jerry held up his hand to count down on his fingers. I stood out of the shot, of course. The last thing I needed was to be identified. It didn’t stop me from being here, have any reflective surfaces removed, and enjoying myself.

  Well, enjoying that I’d finally caught these guys— torture was a bit in bad taste. I had no problem killing someone outright, but it took a special kind of person to enjoy torturing, and I wasn’t that.

  Jerry is, though, so it’s all good.

  Gesturing to him, I sat on the table fully and crossed my ankles. The responsible thing to do right now is, at the very least, to watch what was about to happen. My father always said no to make someone do something I wouldn’t do, but in this business, underlings were important. There was no getting around that fact, and the happier I kept my employees, the better work they did for me.

  Obviously, not these five translators, but the rest of them were happy with their jobs. Of course, they all understood who they were working for and not to cause trouble.

  That was the point of this, to not cause me trouble because it’d be nothing compared to what I would do. Millions being stolen from me, my father, and my brother . . . that part didn’t bother me. I despised the gall, the absolutely huge ballsack, it took for someone to actually do it.

  What’s more was the simple fact that this wasn’t about a confession. I knew all I needed to at this point.

  Although, Illya had seemingly astounded herself with how much she’d retained. My mind flung back to barely half an hour ago, and I could picture her strutting around all happy with herself. She did fantastically, and it was almost poetic the songs of praises these men gave her on her accent, dialect, and complete understanding of the language. I hoped she found the validation she wanted, because the things I had planned for her were no small feats, and I wanted her to excel.

  A faint whimper broke the silence, and a harsh, metallic grating gyrated against my eardrums to break my reverie. Focusing on the panic dripping from Jerome’s upper lip, my eyes narrowed into slits, but he just hung his head in defeat.

  How boring was that?

  Jerry checked the computer one last time, offering me a nod at my silent question, and I leaned back to take a deep breath.

  “Why’d you do it?” Breezing past me with a pair of pliers dangling from his fingers, Jerry’s question bounced off the concrete. Jerome didn’t twitch at the abrasive sound, and I scanned him from head to toe. The guy had everything going for him— a pretty girlfriend, international travel, money in the bank. He wore nice suits and had someone else clip his toenails, for Christ’s sake . . . yet, it wasn’t enough. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I don’t care why you did it.”

  I kinda want some pizza. Apparently, even this satisfaction couldn’t keep my attention for more than a few minutes, and I sighed in defeat of my own. Hopping off the table, I left the room and quietly shut the door behind me. The basement of my headquarters was mostly storage unless I needed a room or five for things like this. Walking the bland, concrete hall towards the elevator, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and tossed back my head to groan lightly.

  “As if it’s anything I haven’t done before . . . ” My mumble smacked me back in the face, and I rubbed my jaw before punching the button with my thumb. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I quietly debated dialing Theo’s number as I waited. “I mean, I do have other security.”

  Illya is probably fucking him right now, anyway. Shaking my head slightly, I stuffed my phone back in my suit pants with a sigh. It truly was too bad Marcella couldn’t keep her mouth shut— I liked her enough to screw around, to actually take time out of my business to mess with her.

  Granted, that didn’t take much, but it was what it was.

  Riding up to the ground floor, I headed out to the parking lot and pulled a pack of smokes out of my jacket. Glancing up as I sparked my lighter, my eyes followed the line of the sun rippling against the brick until nothing but shadow remained. Pretty soon, the trees would start changing color, and the grass would start dying.

  “Are you already done, boss?” My gaze flickered to Carl as he sauntered over, and a slight smirk twitched my lips. He flipped back his long, Fabio-esque hair before pulling it into a ponytail, and I took a deep, toxic drag off my cigarette. “Where you wanna go?”

  “I was thinking of grabbing pizza. I’d order in, but there’s no fun in that.” Light, brown eyes danced with amusement when they caught mine, and Carl nodded firmly.

  “I know a place.” Carl was only twenty-two years old— younger than Mateo— but he was a damn good driver, and he pulled the keys out of his jeans to twirl them on his finger. “Not bringing the freak today?”

  “I guess not. It’ll be nice to get out by myself for once.” Heading towards the sleek, black four-door, I took another drag of my cigarette as I cast him a curious glance. “What’s your beef with Theo, anyway?”

  “You let him drive my cars.” Licking my teeth, I only shook my head a little as I popped open the back passenger door, and Carl rounded the front of the vehicle. He had a passion for cars, which was nice, but they were technically my cars. Theo’s hand didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t drive, either, but Carl worried about his toys. I kept my lips clamped around my cigarette and didn’t reply. He was young, and if he was gonna be possessive about something, at least it was a car.

  “Did those guys say anything?” Shaking my head at the question, I rolled down the window a crack as the car revved to life. “I heard one of the maids talking about how they communicated through transcripts. That’s super weird. I would’ve never thought about that.”

  “What do the maids not talk about?” Maybe Illya’s right, and I should swap them out. The maids were always talking, always sharing information, but I didn’t necessarily want to get rid of them just for that. I’d had the same team for years— years— and none of them had ever leaked information unless it was amongst themselves. True, it was nice that I didn’t have to keep people up to date because the maids were talking, and most of the time, they were accurate.

  Pulling out onto the street, Carl set a leisurely speed, and I sat back in my seat to suck on the butt of my smoke.

  “Do you ever feel like life’s dragging on and infinitely boring?” Tossing the question out there, I held my breath for a long moment before exhaling out of my nose. By all accounts, my life shouldn’t have been boring— I had a job, I did things I enjoyed, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why everything seemed so . . . mundane.

  “Not really. To be honest, I enjoy being bored sometimes. Plus, there’s always the option to do something new.” Smoke swept out the crack above my head, and I propped my elbow on the window to hold my cheek on my fist. “My girl likes doing fun stuff, so we always have shit to do.”

  “How long have you been together?”

  “A year and a half. We actually met at a rave. I did a line off her ass and knew she was the one for me.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Carl sounded so sure and proud, and he smacked the wheel to punctuate his point. “She’s in school to be a nurse. Whenever we have free time, we get really high and go for walks in Woodhaven.”

  “That sounds very picturesque.” Carl started talking and talking and talking, and I hummed and nodded as he went on about his girlfriend so passionately. I didn’t mind it so much, and I watched the scenery roll by through unfocused eyes.

  4

  Valerie

  “Let me speak to the owner, please.” Slumping in
my booth as the super old, super ugly lady in the booth behind me so sweetly posed her question, I covered my hands over my face. A foreboding groan bubbled up in my chest, and a sourness coated my tongue when I peeked through my fingers. The waitress bounced off, no doubt thinking she was going to get complimented on her excellent service.

  “Do you wanna leave before this starts?” Rolling my lips between my teeth, I shook my head at Natasha’s cautious probe, and she frowned from across the table. “We haven’t even ordered yet. We can just go somewhere else.”

  “I like this place, though.” My grumble earned me a scoff, and I glared hotly at my sister as she flipped her long, dirty blonde hair over her shoulder. “Where’d you rather go, Nat? I only have a half an hour lunch. I don’t have time to go somewhere else.”

  “We work together, you idiot. We have the same lunch.” Huffing loudly, I crossed my arms over my chest even as my cheek twitched in an effort to smile. Natasha grumbled under her breath, and I discreetly glanced over my shoulder at the old woman waiting patiently behind me. She’d done nothing for the past several minutes but talk crap about the waitress to her friend— she’d gotten the worst service— her meal was ruined because, shocker, the place was busy for the lunch rush! Not one thing did she say to the waitress’s face, and she ate the whole damn pizza between herself and her friend. Her white, curly hair and thickly wrinkled face betrayed the fact that she was a witch, and I was so, so annoyed with this day already.

  “You look like you want to punch her.” Frowning as I turned back around, I opened my mouth to make a snooty comment when I saw the waitress coming out of the kitchen. Her boss was obviously also the chef, and I held my breath as I clamped my mouth shut.