by Raven Scott
Carlyle
A Dark Mafia Romance
Raven Scott
Contents
1. Carlyle
2. Carlyle
3. Carlyle
4. Valerie
5. Carlyle
6. Valerie
7. Carlyle
8. Carlyle
9. Valerie
10. Carlyle
11. Valerie
12. Carlyle
13. Carlyle
14. Valerie
15. Carlyle
16. Valerie
17. Carlyle
18. Valerie
19. Carlyle
20. Valerie
21. Valerie
22. Carlyle
23. Valerie
24. Carlyle
25. Valerie
26. Valerie
27. Carlyle
28. Carlyle
29. Valerie
30. Valerie
31. Carlyle
32. Valerie
33. Valerie
34. Valerie
35. Valerie
36. Carlyle
37. Valerie
38. Carlyle
39. Carlyle
40. Valerie
41. Carlyle
42. Valerie
43. Valerie
44. Carlyle
Note From The Author
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, Marcella, 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 mat
ter, 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?”
“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 t
his 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.
