Carlyle: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Raven Scott

  “If I could do anything, I think I’d make romance choice games.” My brows rose at that, and I glanced at my sister as she shrugged. “I think it’d be fun. I never really thought about doing anything differently, but if I ask Carlyle and he says ‘yeah,’ then that’s what I would do. Plus, there’s a lot of opportunity with app development, and I know some of the other guys want to branch into that.”

  “I guess so.” Taking a warming sip from my cup, I opened my mouth again only to get cut off by a shrill ping, and I dug my phone out of my purse. The ringtone started to blare, and a frown dragged down my lips when I saw it was my mom’s number. “It’s Mom. What do I do? If I ignore it, she’ll keep calling.”

  “So answer it and tell her to fuck off.” Taking my brew from me, Natasha’s expression soured, and I swiped the green button on the screen to hold the phone to my ear.

  “What do you want, Mom? I’m not giving you money, so don’t even ask.” The line crackled harshly, and impatience simmered in my blood as I rocked back on my heels. “Hello? I’m blocking your number.”

  “I wouldn’t hang up just yet, darlin’.” A deep, malicious voice ripped open my eardrum, and I tensed as the blood drained from my face. “Mom here ain’t askin’ for money anymore. She owes me, so I figure why not just skip the middleman and call you myself?”

  “Who are you?” My voice trembled, but from fear or anger, I couldn’t tell, yet. Maybe I was just shocked. Shocked by what? My mom owing some nasty loan shark?

  “Name’s Sander. I’m sure I’ll be seeing your fine-ass self soon so we can discuss the terms of repayment.” Scoffing loudly, I decided on being angry, and I tightened my grip on my phone as my anger spread through my furiously beating heart.

  “You’re fucked if you think I’m gonna repay Mom’s debt.” Natasha gasped in surprise, dropping both our drinks, and I winced as scalding hot coffee splattered my legs. “Fuck you. Don’t bother me anymore.”

  I hung up, flipping my phone over to take out the battery and SIM card and smashing it all on the ground. Red seeped into my vision, and I panted with the force I used to smash my heel into the concrete.

  12

  Carlyle

  “You look wonderful, Illya.” And she did, with her hair and eyebrows dyed dirty blonde, her makeup done to elongate her face. Illya was almost unrecognizable. She smiled happily, and I rolled my head back to frown at the golden hue high above. “Don’t worry about anything. Just get to that brat, get her drugged, and get her out. I have the utmost faith in you and also in myself for distractive shock value.”

  “You really hate this chick, don’t you, Carlyle?” Nodding curtly, I sneered at the mere thought of how much I despised women like Isabel. “How long have you been planning this?”

  “Since her father offered to sell her to me about two years ago.” Tonight was the night. I couldn’t even enjoy signing papers with my father because of this bitch. Bringing my cigarette to my lips, I took a huge, toxic, relaxing breath and held it as Illya rocked back on her heels. When I’d ordered someone to do all the shopping for her, I’d taken her chest into account, and I was surprised at how good she looked. The ocean blue color brought out the fake blue of her eyes, rimmed in charcoal, and I exhaled slowly.

  It was about time to hit the road. Those stupid Italians had decided not to get together in the city, which made it easier for me. Admittedly, not all of them were stupid, but the old man was senile, and his daughter was just delusional.

  I liked the son, though. He and I had done business before, although he liked getting dirty.

  “I guess we should go do this. You’ll get there first with Theo. Wait until I arrive to do anything, though. Everyone will be falling over me, but Isabel will try to be coy and wait.” Illya nodded, her up-do kissing her shoulders, and I flicked my cigarette to crush the butt under my shoe. Catching her gaze, I reached to grab her chin, but she didn’t flinch. “Don’t fuck this up.”

  “Don’t underestimate me.” Smirking slightly, I rubbed her chin with my thumb before letting go, and Illya turned to saunter towards the car. I watched her go with a little swish in her hips and wondered how the fuck anyone could ever agree to this scheme. She was a special breed, rare and invaluable, and I was lucky to have her on my side.

  But this test would prove whether or not that lucky would pay off. Whether she succeeded or not was up to her, and if she didn’t . . . I may consider letting her and Theo run off together. At the very least, it was poetic.

  “Is something bothering you, boss?” Leaning on my car, Carl cast me a cautious, curious glance, and I rubbed my jaw absently. My mind switched from one woman to another, and my gaze trailed down to the cell phone in his hand.

  “It’s stupid, but Valerie doesn’t usually take so long to text me back.” His brows rose in surprise, and I scratched the back of my neck as discomfort lodged in my throat. “I don’t know if it’s because I sent her home last night or not. She wasn’t mad, exactly, but she did pout a lot.”

  “Uh . . . yeah . . . you know, I can only speak from experience, but if my girl gets pissed at me, she never shuts the fuck up. Maybe she dropped her phone in the toilet or something. Theo said they got pretty hammered.” I grunted in acknowledgment, and Carl flopped his head back as he slipped his phone into his jacket pocket. “We got together in high school, so, over time, we learned each other’s quirks. The dinner went well, right? So, she could just be talking with her sister and stuff and not wanting to be distracted. That’s why my girl and I ignore each other when we’re at work. Otherwise, we’d never get shit done.”

  “Maybe.” I always thought the worst, but Valerie wasn’t involved in my life enough to warrant it. Hopefully, it was something as mundane as Carl explained. “You used to drag race before I hired you, Carl. What did your girlfriend think of that?”

  “She thought my reckless stupidity was a turn on. I don’t know why. I mean, we’ve been together for going on five years, and I still haven’t figured out why she puts up with my bullshit. I love her, and I would die without her, but she confuses the shit out of me.” Carl shot me a boyish smirk, and I frowned under furrowed brows. “And by ‘die,’ I mean I’d slowly starve to death because she’s the one with all the takeout numbers, and I can’t cook for shit.”

  “Clearly, she holds all the cards.” Sauntering towards the car, I shook my head at Carl’s affirmative noise, and I opened the back passenger door to slide in. My mind churned with the possibilities, and my driver smoothly pulled out of the empty lot in which we sat. For once, he needed to drive the speed limit, so Illya got there a good bit of time before us, and I pulled my phone out of my jacket to check my notifications.

  If Valerie didn’t text me back by tomorrow, I’d just have to assume our date was off for some reason I’d never know.

  Sifting through my contacts, I tapped the one I probably hated the most, and my teeth ached as ringing trilled through the line.

  “Lucky Lady Massage Parlor. Mandy speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Yes, I need to schedule an appointment with the owner, please.” I got put on hold, and my knee bounced as agitation tightened my muscles. Memories played in my mind’s eye of the last time I’d had to do business with this bitch, and I clenched and released my jaw sharply. Renting Marcella just to blow her brains out because she tried to use them was going to bite me in the ass now.

  “Esmarissa.” She clicked her tongue ring against her teeth, and the sound grated my ears as I cleared my throat roughly. “Oh, boy. I can’t wait to hear this. Carlyle, you fucking killed one of my girls, and now you’re calling me for another one?”

  “I did you a favor, and no, I’m not calling you for another one. I want to ask—”

  “For my forgiveness!” Cutting me off, Esmarissa scoffed loudly, and I rolled my eyes as I took a breath through flared lungs.

  “No. I deal with your bitchy ass because it’s easier than shutting you down. Don’t forget that Wren Lockhart worked for me, Esmaris
sa. I’ll fucking kill every one of your girls if the mood fucking takes me.” Finally, she shut the fuck up and let me talk, and I exhaled a calming breath as I sat up a little. “Now, as I was saying, I want to ask when your next trip to New York is. We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “You know better than to ask that. Tell me when you’re available next— or, better yet, have Mandy tell my secretary, so I don’t have to listen to you until I absolutely have to.” Hanging up on her, I tossed my phone next to me as I lost my battle with my scowl, and I ran both my hands through my hair roughly. That fucking snake— I couldn’t fucking stand her, but she took over fair and square. Unless she did something I really couldn’t abide, I was stuck with her. “Fucking cunt.”

  “Why did you call her of all people?” Speaking up from the driver’s seat, Carl caught my gaze in the rearview mirror, and I scowled darkly.

  “Because I’m going to fuck the Italians in the ass, and I need someone to fill the vacuum. Since those greasy, babbling drunks work mostly in girls, I want her expertise on it. Maybe, I can snatch Mandy while I’m at it. That cunt knows her place, at least.” Why did all the women around me suddenly seem so fucking intolerable, and the one I actually enjoyed talking to disappeared?

  13

  Carlyle

  Why are the Italians so damn gaudy? The question had no answer, and I hid my scowl as I stared at the obscene, ugly mansion I’d been invited to. Wide columns swirled with gold inlay, a huge staircase leading up at least a story, and every single light on. It reminded me a lot of that rehab center Mateo liked.

  A disgusting display of wealth. How anyone finds this shit attractive to the eye, I will never know.

  “Is she in?” Glancing at Theo as he materialized next to me, I pursed my lips thinly when he nodded mutely. “I guess we’ll just have to watch The Lion King next weekend.”

  “You may be the new king of crime or whatever, but that gives you no right to reference Disney.” Smirking at the gruff, totally serious grumble, I only shook my head before Theo caught my gaze. “It’s been twenty-eight minutes.”

  “Right on time.” These damn Italians always had a reason to get fancy and waste money. I took the steps up to find several people waiting at the door. Someone to take my coat. Someone to give me wine. Someone to suck my cock and another to feed me grapes off the vine. Wait a minute . . .

  I really need that night off tomorrow.

  An absolutely enormous chandelier swung from the ceiling, and I ground my teeth at the superficial laughter and fake tits around me. No wonder the Italians were into sex slaving so heavily— they coveted physical beauty and spit on everyone else. Glancing around, I couldn’t identify Illya in the crowd, but I hadn’t hoped to spot her.

  Who I did see, however, was Isabel in a sleek, beige cocktail dress that really flattered her figure. My skin crawled under my three-piece suit when her eyes found me, and I made my way towards Diamon— as in ‘diamond’ without a ‘d.’ The irony.

  “Carlyle!” Forcing a polite smile onto my face, I grabbed Diamon’s outstretched hand as he practically bellowed to echo off the high ceiling. He and I were about the same age, but the excess of wealth clearly showed on his pretty face. “I wasn’t sure you were going to bother. I know this isn’t your scene.”

  “I’m waiting around for the old man to die. Maybe, it’ll be tonight.” A couple laughs surrounded me as a swell of people gravitated towards me, and Diamon grinned unsuspectingly. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Theo tilted his head back with his signature sneer, and a malicious satisfaction rippled up my sternum. “So, how has business been lately?”

  “It’s been fine. I’ve had some contention with my father, but I doubt his stubborn ass is going to keep over any time soon.” To her credit, Isabel didn’t push and shove her way over, but her slinking through the dozen or so people around me arguably was better for me. Theo watched her like a hawk, waiting for her to get a little too close, and I nodded as her brother opened his mouth to continue. She stepped over the imaginary line, and Theo stepped between us when she reached for me to grab her wrist and twist.

  Isabel’s horrid, shrill shriek almost burst my eardrum, but I didn’t bother containing my wince to hide my smirk. She sunk to the polished floor, holding her broken wrist, and her long, silky black hair fell over her shoulders. For a heavy moment, no one did anything, and I had to admit, if she kept her mouth shut, she was very pretty.

  If she kept her mouth shut and her head down, so no one had to see the ugliness of her expression ballooning with self-righteous entitlement.

  “How dare you!” Her head snapped up, and Isabel’s mascara streamed down her face even as her lip curled into a nasty snarl. Narrowed, blue eyes focused on Theo, and one of her cronies came rushing over to help her to her feet. Illya appeared out of nowhere and just smacked Theo right in the face, and my brows rose in surprise as Diamon hissed beside me. The ex-Marine seemed to grow, and a fraction of a second slid by on pins and needles as they glared at each other.

  “You’re gonna pay for that.” Watching them, knowing they weren’t fighting their anger as everyone else thought, I almost laughed as Illya spat the threat. Her eyelid twitched in agitation, and she turned on her heel to help Isabel to the corner of the room.

  I guess . . . it was their party, so the Italians didn’t expect anyone to try anything?

  “Go to the car.” Dismissing Theo just as planned, I waved a hand at him, and he frowned darkly. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  He whipped around and stalked off, and I turned back to Diamon as Illya walked a crying Isabel out a side door. That bitch’s bitch brother started laughing, and I shook my head at how simple stealing her was turning out to be.

  “Man, you’ve got no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that over the years. At least I got to watch.” A cautious look flickered on Diamon’s face, and he gestured me to follow him away from the crowd a little. “To be honest, Carlyle, I didn’t believe for a second that you’d taken my father’s offer, but it did worry me. Why did he offer it in the first place? Why Isabel, when no one can stand her? Why not make a deal for my other whiny little sister that might actually have a chance?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it, Diamon. Why do you ask?” Shit, not more layers of intrigue . . .

  “You’re obviously aware of what happened with Wren Lockhart. He was one of you. He and Isabel were in ‘love.’” Scoffing uncontrollably, I pursed my lips and clenched my jaw hard even as Diamon rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I know. The point is, ever since he disappeared, Isabel has been whispering in our dad’s ear, trying to get into your operation. I’m pretty sure that’s what Wren’s job was supposed to be, but, obviously . . . ”

  “I didn’t know he disappeared? Last I was aware, he was nursing his pride in a stable of million-dollar horses.” Either way, Wren was inconsequential. I didn’t need him, and he’d proven himself to be unreliable at best at covering his tracks. If that desert snake could uncover dirt on him, who knew what else was floating around about him. Nodding firmly, Diamon seemed to think on what to say next, and I frowned under furrowed brows. “What, Diamon?”

  “I had heard Isabel talking to someone about him, and how was she supposed to get information about you and your operations now that he was gone. I know my sister and I really, really doubt she’s some mastermind, even if she thinks she is. I tracked the phone number to southern Texas.”

  “Texas? What the fuck does Texas have to do with any of this?” Apparently, that snake and I have more to talk about than I thought. Covering my mouth to hide my frown, I nodded gratefully to Diamon, but he was a fucking idiot, extending this kind of olive branch at me. “Give your father my regards. I’m leaving.”

  Before he could continue, I turned on my heel and shouldered through people unabashed, and I pulled out my phone to text Theo not to do anything too bad.

  This simple killing was now an interrogation, and I didn’t usually get personally
involved, but . . .

  Isabel messed with— and Diamon trusted— the wrong man.

  14

  Valerie

  “Paul, okay, no offense, but I really have to get going on these designs. I’m working a Saturday, and I have a date tonight, so . . . ” Holding my forehead, I glared at my keyboard, and my supervisor stopped talking just long enough for me to sigh heavily. “I know how to use the software. It was a requirement of being hired.”

  “Your last renditions weren’t up to par. I just don’t want you to have to do it again.” Lifting my head, I frowned sourly at my boss for a long second as several pairs of eyes watched us none-too-discreetly. He’d called everyone in on a Saturday for no real reason, and we weren’t paid overtime. This sucks. I have more important things to worry about.

  “Why don’t you do my job, then, since you know exactly how to make it turn out the way the client wants.” Standing up from my chair, I grabbed my jean jacket off the back and my purse from under my desk. “I quit. I can’t stand you anymore. All you do is talk, and I’m tired of hearing you.”

  “Valerie . . . ” Holding up my hand sharply, I downright glared at Paul, and alarm lengthened his features as I tucked my purse under my arm with a huff.

  “No. I don’t need you to tell me I’m wrong all the time about simple things. If they’re so easy, you do it. Good luck. I know how to use Photoshop. I know how to layer images. Let’s see how good you do it since you always have to point out that you’re a Certified Adobe Technician, which, by the way, isn’t a real thing. I checked.” He went a little red in the face around his goatee, and I stepped away from my desk, exhaustion dragging my feet. “Bye.”

  I was so beaten down by the past few days, and Paul called after me as I stomped out of the office space and into the stairwell. Breaking my phone had been a mistake, I had a burn on my leg from the coffee, and I didn’t want to be here, anyway. I hadn’t slept because all I could hear was that ugly Southern twang, and . . .