The Devil's Desire: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Clara Capp

  “Ok,” I pause. “So did Gary set this up?”

  “I really don’t think so. She abruptly quit med school a little over a year ago and moved from the Bay Area, so I think there was a falling out.”

  “So, this really is just a coincidence,” I mutter.

  “Yes. But I’d consider a call with Gary. We have most of LA on our payroll, but he’s one of the select few where the situation is flipped.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Taime.”

  “Anytime.”

  I put the phone in the cradle and rest my face in my hands. It’s a coincidence. But this coincidence is leading to a new set of problems. The first, and most problematic, is that I want to fuck Stephanie Hawthorne. But now that I know she’s Gary’s daughter, I can’t touch her. I have no idea how to suppress my need for her.

  The second is her role in Gary’s business. Did he send her there purposely to spy on us? Why was she at the docks at the exact time we were doing business?

  I can take care of one of those right now. I find Gary’s number in my phone and dial out.

  “The Devil himself,” he says.

  “Gary,” I say. “How are you?”

  “Good, good.”

  Gary chats about his legitimate business for five minutes and I want to rip my eyes out. I don’t care about business dealings unless they’re of the illegal type.

  “I presume you heard about the Mexican Mafia situation?” I say.

  “Of course. I am sorry about that; I had no idea when I declined them it would cause so much trouble. Is that what this call is in relation to?”

  He sounds sincere. I don’t think our business relationship is jeopardized in any way. But, I still need to find out about Stephanie.

  “No, actually,” I say. “It’s about your daughter.”

  “Stephanie?”

  So, she really is Gary Hawthorne’s daughter. Taime has never given me intel that is wrong, but I was having trouble believing this. I see their similarities now, though. Stephanie has Gary’s auburn hair, although his is now streaked with grey. She also has the same, dark green eyes.

  “She was at the docks that day. I stumbled into your warehouse after I was shot, and she stitched me up. If she hadn’t found me, I’d be dead.”

  “How much does she know?” he asks.

  “That’s why I called you.”

  He exhales, and I can tell he is very displeased. “She told me she was ill and couldn’t go. She’s about to be in a large amount of trouble for lying to me.”

  “So, she does know about the other side of the business?”

  His voice reaches an even lower octave. “No, she doesn’t.”

  “I see.”

  There’s a pause between us. Gary has about a thousand thoughts going through his head, and I know he’s about to take them out on me.

  “How did you find out who she was? You know what, it doesn’t matter. You’re lucky you didn’t shoot her when she found you,” he seethes.

  I feel the same way. Enduring with the wrath of Gary Hawthorne is something I’d rather not deal with, especially with my Eduardo problem going on.

  “Either way,” I say. “Will this be a problem?”

  “I don’t think so. The Mexican Mafia have a problem with me, thus they have a problem with you. I’ve kept Stephanie sheltered, and she’s never met any of those types of business partners. But, as I’m sure you’re aware, we haven’t figured out their intentions.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Although the reason why may be for selfish reasons.

  * * *

  “What are the fucking chances of that?” I grumble as I slump into the sofa.

  Taime is in the middle of cleaning his guns. He’s ‘going out’ tonight, which is an unspoken phrase that he’s going to kill one or more people. With the amount of guns he’s taking, I can tell it’s multiple.

  He’s the man movies are based on. The ones about the guys who can walk into rooms of people, and just take thirty plus of them out. Where a mob boss cringes when he learns the man is after him and will send teams of people to try and take him out. You can speak his name and people will cower in fear.

  Taime is the real life boogeyman. I’m glad he’s my best friend, because I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

  “I’m glad you talked me out of killing her,” he says.

  We had been texting the entire car ride. He was adamant that she be taken out, that she had seen too much, but I said no.

  “Me too.”

  “So…what’s the plan with Eduardo?” he says.

  Eduardo. I haven’t even had time to think of him because of Stephanie. I’ve been mourning that I can’t fuck her because she’s Gary Hawthorne’s daughter. Her beautiful green eyes, tan skin, auburn hair…and I’ve already had a taste. Fuck.

  “I have no idea.”

  Taime raises his eyebrow at me. “That’s unlike you.”

  “I know.” I rub my temples. “Eduardo is going to try anything to disrupt operations now.”

  Our relationship with Gary is simple. He supplies a transit for our drugs, and we provide him protection for his various business dealings. And Gary is always up to shit, so we have no shortage of work.

  Taime has killed off multiple CEO’s, investors in Gary’s competitor’s companies, and even his wife. Gary is merciless, but has other people do his work for him.

  But without him, we can’t run our drugs.

  “It’s better to be on the defensive for now,” I say. “I mean. He did steal 500,000 dollars’ worth of drugs and almost kill me, but if that’s it for now, I’d rather have plenty of time to plan.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Stephanie

  I’m not sure if I want to walk home today. I’m afraid of seeing Stranger again because everything seems to go wrong when he’s around.

  Although he scares me, there’s part of me that’s drawn to him. I think it’s his eyes. The brown-red color always has this smoldering look when he’s staring at me. It’s inevitable that I can’t hold his intense gaze, and my eyes always break away and look at his lips. How does someone that tough have such soft lips?

  I recall the way they feel against my skin, and wonder what they’d feel like on other places on my body. I turn bright red. What the hell am I thinking? I’ve never gone past kissing a boy, but I’m thinking about a random man kissing various parts of my body. I need to stop.

  Against my better judgement, I don’t drive to work. I almost forget to cross the street when I’m walking home but remember the wrath of Stranger and quickly skitter across. I’m hugging the cars that are parallel parked when I see him slam open his workplace doors.

  Oh no.

  I try to not to make eye contact with him as I pass by. Maybe he won’t yell at me if I’m following directions.

  “Stephanie,” he says.

  How does he know my name? Stranger walks across the street and stands in front of me, so I can’t continue walking home.

  “S-sorry, do you want me to take a different way home?”

  The corner of his mouth turns down. “Walk on the sidewalk. It’s dangerous to walk in the street.”

  Is this a trick, or does Stranger just have mood swings? I cower as I look at him, trying to decode his intentions. He’s a Mafia member, so he’s probably well-versed in psychological manipulation tactics.

  “But I thought you didn’t want me to walk by your building,” I squeak.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’m,” he exhales, as if the next words are very hard for him to say. “Sorry about yesterday.”

  I can tell how hard it is for him to apologize, so I’ll accept it.

  “S’ok.”

  “You headed home?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  What? No, I don’t want Stranger walking me home. He’ll kill me in the alley or nip at my flesh again, and I’m disgusted to say I want the second option.

&nbs
p; “That’s ok,” I say. “It’s only three blocks away. I can make it.”

  “I’m going the same way. There’s a small diner to the left of your apartment.”

  Hancock Street Café is a diner that caters to the workers in the area. It can’t be seen from a major street, so it’s always empty. I get the feeling it’s not just a diner, but it may be the skeptic in me.

  “I just—ok.”

  Stranger doesn’t talk as we start to walk home. Why would he offer to walk me home if he doesn’t want to talk? He can strike up a conversation about anything. If he’s feeling friendly enough, he can even thank me for saving his life.

  The sidewalk is so small that it makes the silence even more deafening. I can’t bear it.

  “What’s your name, anyways?” I ask.

  “Shudevil.”

  “Shudevil?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  That’s lame. Why would anyone choose to go by that last name, instead of their first? His first name must be horrible for him to go by that. Either way, I refuse to address him as that.

  “No, your first name,” I say. “Not your last name.”

  “I go by my last name.”

  “That’s…weird. I can’t call you Shudevil. Tell me your first.”

  “Not a chance.”

  I pause. There is no way I’m calling this man Shudevil. Sure, he may be the Devil with the way he acts around me, but that name is ridiculous.

  “I’m going to call you Shu,” I say.

  “What?”

  “I can’t call you Shudevil with a straight face. Sorry.”

  “I just…” he stops walking and turns to me. “You know what? It’s fine. Whatever.”

  We resume walking, and his hand accidentally brushes against mine. Electric tingles run through my body as his rough skin runs over mine. I like how different it is compared to the smoothness of mine, and I have the urge to rub against it again.

  “How do you know my name?” I ask.

  “Tony.”

  “Oh…right.”

  I wish he’d carry a conversation with me. I can’t stand how one-sided this is.

  “How are your stitches holding up?”

  “They were great. When I went to a doctor to get the bullet removed, he was impressed at the quality.”

  I wait for him to say thank you. He doesn’t. I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it still irks me.

  Finally, the street to my apartment.

  “Uhm, I’m going to turn here.” I point down the alley that leads to my apartment complex. “I’ll see you later.”

  Shu glares at me. “Listen to me, Sweetheart.” He comes towards me and pins me to the wall. “Don’t you ever walk down that alley again. If anything were to happen to you, no one would see it.”

  Why would anything happen to me? There are only industrial workers here, and all the ones I’ve met are nice.

  He leans into my ear and whispers. “There are bad people other than me. But unlike me, they won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

  I wait for him to nibble my flesh, but it doesn’t come. My body groans in frustration as he pulls away from the side of my face.

  “So.” He gently lifts my chin upwards. “Take the long way home.”

  “O-ok.”

  He leaves his body pinned against mine for another moment before pulling away. “Let’s go.”

  I want to scream at him to get back here and kiss my neck. Then, I want to scream at myself for having that thought. My life has been nothing but trouble since I met Shu. I’ve stolen, helped a criminal, and had obscene thoughts about a near stranger.

  I have a feeling he’s not leaving any time soon.

  Shu walks me towards the building and Rina’s outside of the complex. Oh god no. I can’t have my new friend thinking I associate with these types of people. He’s got to go.

  “Um, this is far enough,” I say. “I’ll see you later.”

  “I’ll get you to your door,” he says.

  “No, really, it’s ok.”

  Shu grabs my hand and walks me closer the apartment, and I scream internally when Rina waves at me. I don’t want my new friend to think I hang around with criminals. Because looking at Shu, you can tell he’s a bad guy.

  Tattoos run up his muscled biceps, and I’m almost positive some are Mafia related. His stature is enough to scare people off, and for the few who aren’t, the moody look he gives will do the trick.

  I’m a good girl. I shouldn’t be within sneezing distance of someone like Shu.

  “Is that your friend?” he asks as I wave back at Rina.

  “Yes.”

  “Hm.” He stops as we’re in her view, but not close enough to talk. “It’d be a shame if I embarrassed you.”

  “Huh?”

  Shu wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into him. He lightly kisses the crook of my neck and gives it his signature nibble.

  I gasp from embarrassment and pleasure. “What are you—?”

  He gives me an evil grin as he pulls away. “I had to. Your first mark has almost faded.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever been so red in my life. “I, I can’t believe you!”

  “Later, Sweetheart.”

  He smirks at me as he walks off. I glare at his back, angry that he got me again, and even angrier that I liked it. Shu needs to stop this.

  I’m still bright red as I approach Rina.

  “Is that your boyfriend?”

  She asks from the second floor and I cringe internally. We only have ten units here, so anyone that’s home heard her say it.

  I’m about to say no, but I realize it’ll make me look easy. “It’s…complicated.”

  It’s not a lie. Whoever Shu is, our relationship is extremely complicated. When I was done stitching him up and dropping him off it should have been the end. But somehow, he works half a mile from me, and still wants to talk to me. Even though he works near me—is criminal activity work?— he’s not obligated to get to know me. Maybe he thinks I’ll tell the cops. I won’t, though.

  It would be so much easier if he ignored me.

  “You guys are cute together,” she says.

  We are not cute together. We shouldn’t even be in the same vicinity of each other.

  “Thanks,” I lie.

  “Here.” She passes me a flyer through the bars of the second-floor walkway. I’m 5’9, so it’s not hard for me to reach it as she’s crouched down. “Will you go to this with me?”

  The flyer is for a poetry group. I want to hang out with Rina, but I don’t think a poetry group is for me. I’ve never been able to speak in front of groups of people. If we go, I’ll have to perform a poorly written poem I wrote. And I mean it when I say poorly written. There’s a reason I majored in accounting.

  Words have never been my thing. Written or spoken, I don’t like them. Conveying feelings to another person is too hard, and I avoid it at all cost.

  “I’m just…not sure if I’ll be good at it,” I say.

  “Me either. It’ll be nice to try something new, though.”

  Rina is doing puppy dog face. I can’t say no. “Ok.”

  “Yes! I can’t wait.”

  “Me too,” I lie.

  Rina starts to chatter about the logistics, and I nod half-heartedly. What have I gotten myself into?

  We say goodbye and I walk into my apartment.

  “Hi Slippers.”

  He heard me talking to Rina and is sitting by the door. By six o’clock he’s already looking grumpy and ready for food.

  “I know, I know.” I pet his white fur and walk to the kitchen.

  My phone interrupts me as I go to feed him. I glance at the caller ID and see it’s my dad. Ugh. I contemplate not answering it, but give in.

  “Hi, Daddy,” I say.

  “Stephie. How’s my little girl?”

  I think of the massive amount of work from the acquisition, Shu, and the poetry group I have to go to. “Fine.”

  It’s n
ot like he cares. Mom did, but she’s gone now.

  “How’s work?”

  I always regret asking. He launches into a ten-minute spiel about revenue increases and financial ratios. He’ll drone on even longer when it’s me, because he knows that I know exactly what he’s talking about. I know, but I don’t care.

  “That’s great,” I say. “Any particular reason for your call?”

  “There has to be a reason for me to call my little girl?”

  There almost always is.

  “No,” I say.

  “Well, I’ve been doing some thinking. You should come back to the Bay Area and work in the finance department. I know we had a disagreement about your future with Hawthorne Medical Supplies, but this will be fine, right? You love accounting.”

  “I like working at Flux.”

  “You can manage the department.”

  My throat tightens. I don’t want to get a management position because of my father. It’s something I want to achieve myself. I’d rather spend my life as a Senior Accounts Payable Specialist than take something I didn’t earn.

  I thought he got the picture that I’m not going to work at his company. I made it quite clear when he called me during med school. I was in the middle of inserting an IV when I walked out, drove to his office, threw my lab coat on the table and told him I quit.

  It’s not that I wasn’t cut out for med school. I’m more than capable of passing the curriculum. I just hated the material, and my dream was to be an accountant. There’s more drama than just our disagreements about my chosen career path, but that’s what drove it home for me.

  He hasn’t bothered me for months about this.

  “Sorry, no.” I muster. It’s hard to defy him, but this is one thing I can’t budge on.

  I hear him exhale over the phone. “I knew you’d say that.”

  I’m not sure why he asked, then.

  “Well, good to know,” he says. “Love you, Stephie. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye.”

  I hang up the phone right as Slippers coughs up a furball. Even he’s nauseated at the thought of working for my father.

  Shu

  “Tell me what Eduardo is up to,” I say.

  Taime and I captured one of his higher ups. We have him tied up in the office’s basement, where the dirty work takes place. It’s insulated, and no one will hear his screams of agony. And there are many screams of pain that take place down here.