Carlyle: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Raven Scott

  “In a way, I am sorry for you, Oran. I think it might be time to reevaluate your relationships. Maybe, try monogamy? It’s easier when there’s only one to keep track of.” There was a deeper, darker reason behind my words— Oran so desperately wanted control, so he created it in a microcosm. I had two choices here, and he clearly intended to stick around a while, which sucked some major ass for me.

  But, even cockroaches were useful for some things.

  “Give me the damn keys! I’ve fucking had it with this place!” Esmarissa didn’t notice me immediately as she tried to wrest Carl’s keys, but he was much taller than her. She stomped her heel on the asphalt, the breeze of early autumn blasting through the tunnel created by the bridge that served as an exit. “God damnit, you tall bastard.”

  “What are you doing?” My words sliced through the mild sunlight and Esmarissa whipped around as I strode across the lot. “Did I tell you that you could leave?”

  “You know what, Carlyle? You can’t keep me here anymore. Whatever you planned on having me involved with, I’m not doing it.” Arching a brow, I cocked my head when she crossed her arms over her bust, and her scars shimmered between the shadows they made. “I’m going back to Nevada.”

  “Okay.” Holding out my hand to Theo, I took his gun and pointed it at her dog, and she tensed as horror blazed in her eyes. “Move a single fucking muscle towards that car.”

  The damn snake . . . I was so sick of her shit. She didn’t even blink, and I sighed heavily as I stalked towards Esmarissa. Her striking, blue hair seemed to fluff out as I got closer, and I held the gun on her dog as I grabbed her chin with my free hand.

  “Now.” Pressing the gun muzzle against her cheek, I relished Esmarissa whimper, the paleness of her cheeks, the fear in her eyes. “You have one chance left, Esmarissa. I am not in the habit of giving a third opportunity to those who repeatedly show they won’t fix their behavior. When I call, you come, and you stay until I tell you that you can leave. I gave you a grace period after you took over Katherin’s slut factory because I was being generous. Every time I give you an inch, you take a mile, and that is going to end right here . . . right now.”

  Putting a little pressure on her cheekbone, I licked my teeth when she whimpered and nodded hastily before stepping back. Handing Theo his gun, I rubbed my jaw and neck and rolled my shoulders to ease some of the tension there.

  I was entirely against animal cruelty, but if I had to threaten it, then so be it. Esmarissa never had to know that I wouldn’t actually shoot her dog, just that I considered it an option.

  The misery you know is better than the misery you don’t know.

  “You have good timing, at least. The reason you’re here is them.” Pointing at the car, I appreciated that Carl opened the door— it added to the dramatic effect that I liked to put on. Four girls of the same body type and color filed out, and at first glance, they didn’t look like what most people considered whores. They were all modestly dressed, with nice hair and clean faces, and truly not very trashy looking at all.

  “One of these is not like the others. It’s your job to tell me which one.”

  39

  Carlyle

  “I don’t recognize any of these girls, Carlyle. Do you know how many I see on a weekly? And that’s even considering she crossed my desk.” Folding my legs under me, I ignored Esmarissa’s exasperated complaining for the moment as I set my gaze on these girls. We’d traded the nice day and fresh air for concrete walls and a steel door. I’d been down in this basement far too often lately. On the other side of the wall, the pained cries and sobs of those men being tortured filtered through the thick concrete, and each of Oran’s sluts clearly knew something was up.

  Although, I could see the one looked a little more nervous than the others, trying too hard to seem just the right amount of worried and failing hard.

  “It doesn’t matter who did it, Carlyle. What’s the point of trying to find out?” Oran’s voice was deadpanned, and my eyes narrowed as they flickered between all the girls. The one he’d had the longest, probably the one he confided in the most, cast him a look, and I cocked my head. These girls were not stupid by any means, even if they were quite a bit over the line separating rubbing his feet and licking them.

  “There is no point that’ll matter in the end, Oran, but I still want to know . . . which one of you is a spy for the Italians.” All eyes were suddenly on me, and I clenched and released my jaw as three of the girls simultaneously jolted in shock. Training my gaze on the fourth, situated in the middle as if it’d help her blend in, I couldn’t help the malicious smirk stretching my lips. She went pale, a shiver jerking her shoulders, and her girlfriends’ eyes all moved to her in unison.

  “Roquelle. I bought her at an auction about two years ago.” It fit the timeline, and Oran’s voice dropped low with betrayal, although, I wasn’t sure what he expected. He screwed up these girls, who didn’t want to be sex slaves. He gave them good treatment, bonded with them— essentially, they were with him because of a particular form of Stockholm Syndrome. Nodding with a grunt, I glanced at my brother as his expression turned to stone to hide his realization.

  No matter how much he messed with them, these girls always had the ability to betray him.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before. If she did come across my desk, I dismissed her.” Esmarissa’s input was nil, and Oran shuffled to his girls to very gingerly touch their cheeks one after another— but not Roquelle’s. His shoulders curled, his back showing what his face wouldn’t, and my heart ached for him. It must’ve been awful to be in a situation like this— that much, I recognized.

  But my brother did this to himself.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Whispering the question to the girl he was closest to, Oran caressed down her neck, and she noticeably gulped.

  “I told you I didn’t like her. I didn’t know why, so you dismissed it.” My brows twitched in surprise at that, and I frowned deeply as the nameless face twisted in sadness. “I don’t want to die for your mistake.”

  “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” Her sad smile widened slightly as Oran wrapped both his hands around her neck and rubbed her jaw with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.”

  “I hope you live a long, long time.” She leaned forward and kissed him, and my stomach roiled even as I refused to look away. Oran’s fingers flexed, and the soft sound of her breaths turned to wheezes as her face tinged pink. They stared each other right in the eyes the entire time, and only when her orbs rolled back did he snap her neck with a deft jerk.

  And she crumpled to the floor, the only sound in the room being her head smack against the concrete.

  My brother repeated the action three times, saving a shivering, crying Roquelle for last as she struggled to stand. The arteries and muscles in his neck bulged with his effort to contain himself, and Oran sniffed hard and loud as he rolled his shoulders.

  “It’s my fault, I know, but if you’d told me, we could’ve worked something out, and you would be able to live. They all could’ve lived.” Oran’s voice trembled, first with unfathomable sadness, but it slowly morphed into anger that rang in the concrete room. Across the wall, Vanessa’s gleeful giggles only added to the tense atmosphere, and I unfurled my legs to cross my ankles. Gripping the edge of the table as the world stilled, I clenched my jaw hard before Oran just . . . snapped.

  He backhanded the girl across the face so hard she fell over the body to her right, and the audible snap of bone echoed in my ears. She cried out, holding her face as she tumbled to the floor, and Oran straddled her to land punch after punch on her. Grunting with the effort, he heaved his whole body into the power behind his fists, and his rage radiated from him in palpable waves.

  Oran grabbed Roquelle’s head in both his palms to smash it against the concrete, and his bloodcurdling, gut-wrenching scream could probably be heard all the way on the third floor. Her brains seeped out of her ears and between his fingers, the smell of her death
mixing with the others in the room, but the stench of blood was all her. Solemn, silent, I watched him struggled to his feet only to fall back onto his knees before he pummeled her still chest.

  Turning to Esmarissa as she watched in horror, I frowned under furrowed brows as I contemplated what to do with her. If she became more of a problem, she’d very well end up down here, and I was going to make it explicitly clear.

  “Don’t ever get bratty with me again, or you’ll end up like her. The only difference is that I’ll do it myself.” She gulped, her blue hair shimmered when she nodded curtly, and I waved in dismissal. “Tell Carson I want all the dogs from his next litter. Leave, and you better make sure I don’t call you back.”

  “Yes, sir.” Very meekly, Esmarissa walked out, and I slid off the table to walk over to Oran. Theo and I grabbed his arms, and he panted viciously as we dragged him off what bloody bits remained of Roquelle’s head and chest.

  “Come on, little brother. We’ll give them a proper burial.” Knowing now that it truly and irrevocably was Oran’s fault, and that his little pets had tried to warn him, I actually felt a little bad. “Let’s go.”

  “N-no! No!” Oran’s glasses weren’t anywhere to be seen, and I nodded at Theo when he started thrashing and screaming. Holding an arm back, I waited for Theo to get Oran in a headlock, and it honestly wasn’t that hard. My brother wanted to get back to Roquelle, to make her completely unrecognizable as a human being, and he barely even swung at us. Flailing about, his tears streamed down his face, and he rasped hard pants through flared nostrils as spit and snot dribbled down his chin.

  “Yeah, take a nap . . . easy.” Sputtering hiccups, Oran went limp, and I released his arm before Theo slung him over his shoulder. “That wasn’t what I expected her to say.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. Oran should’ve listened to his pets. If they all said the same thing, they probably weren’t wrong. He’ll have to wrestle with it by himself.”

  “Yeah. It just sucks ass that it had to be this way. If she did become a double agent, would you have used her?” Rubbing my jaw on the way out of the room, I shrugged carelessly. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I quickly shot a text to Llane, and she replied almost immediately.

  “I still would’ve killed her rather than risk being double-double crossed or whatever it is. The others, they would’ve lived. I think, for Oran, that’s the part he can’t stand. He could’ve prevented this, but his arrogance and high-horse attitude got in the way. Like Illya said; hopefully, he’ll learn some humility and be a little more humble and self-accepting. I’m not sure what he’ll do next, but I honestly don’t care. All my business is done. Once you drop him off with Llane, go make arrangements with Illya. You never know when someone else might come in and fuck you up.” Theo didn’t offer a reply, and I punched the elevator button with my thumb to lean against the concrete wall and run my palms up my face. “I think I’ll do the same. I owe Valerie and Natasha a trip to Vegas.”

  40

  Valerie

  Hopping down the stairs, I pushed open the door at the end of the hall to cross the bridge, and a small smile permanently tilted my lips. No one really liked Monday, but I could feel it in my bones that something great was going to happen today. We had ample time to set up our plan, and Carlyle promised to take me on a date tonight. All the buzzing activity had calmed down seemingly overnight, and I could barely feel all the alcohol I’d drunk yesterday.

  “Good morning!” Emerging into the borrowed conference room, I paused at the intensely serious air that hit me like a brick wall, and Fred glanced up from his tablet absently. “What’s up?”

  “We got a lot of work to do. I wasn’t able to recover nearly as much from my tablet as I thought. Carlyle’s guy even went through it, and no luck.” Frowning slightly, I nodded as my mind whirred, and Marshal gestured to a random seat from his own at the back end of the table. “Get to it, Valerie. Where’s Natasha?”

  “I thought she was here already. She wasn’t home when I woke up.” I sat down to grab the sketch pad laid out for me, and Marshal grumbled to himself as he rubbed his face. “It’s fine. Her laptop was in her room, so it wasn’t affected by the blast, right?”

  “I’m just upset. I have to go back today to get my mail. My landlady said a certified letter came for me.” A soft ‘ah’ breached my lips, and Fred scoffed lowly from his seat across from me.

  “You need to set that bitch straight. You two have been married for thirteen years, and it’s not like you’re neglecting her or anything. Just because she fell out of love with you doesn’t give her the right to act like a bitch.” He seemed arguably more bitter about Marshal’s impending divorce than even Marshal did, and Fred shot his friend a stern look. “Did the lawyer Carlyle promised you get back to you yet?”

  “Yeah, he said he’ll be up from New York City on Wednesday, and we have that meeting with the marketer on Thursday, and . . . I’m not nearly prepared for that. The good thing, if there is one, is this lawyer is confident he can force Jenna to drop her claims. I’m sure she would once she knows what I know about the situation, but I looked up his name, and he’s really, really aggressive.” I wondered for a moment if Marshal was more torn up about his wife leaving him than what she wanted him to shell out. They’d married for a reason, after all, and her change of tune happened before we’d even met. Truthfully, I wasn’t going to pry, but Marshal didn’t seem to need any prodding as he sighed heavily. “I don’t understand why Jenna’s going after me for the house, the cars, everything. She makes more than I do . . . always has.”

  “It sucks, Marshal, but everything will be okay.” My reassurance fell flat, but I had nothing else to say because I’d never been divorced. Fred grumbled to himself, and the atmosphere was decidedly negative as I tapped my pencil on my pad. Glancing between the two, I rolled my lips between my teeth as they sat, still and unproductive. “Do you guys wanna go out and have some bro time or something? We’re not going to get anything done, and the meeting on Thursday, it’s just with a marketer. It’s not like we have to pitch anything, just have a general marketing plan.”

  “Yeah.” My lips twitched up sadly, and Marshal leaned back in his chair to rub his face roughly, curling his fingers into his hair. “You’re right, Val. It’s not a pitch.”

  The doors at the front of the room swung open, and I twisted in my seat as Natasha and Carlyle came waltzing through. My heart stuttered at her huge smile that had never dimmed, remaining bright and perpetual like the sun.

  “We’re going on vaca-a-a-tion!” Dancing a little on her way towards me, Natasha gripped the back of my chair to swing me side to side, and my brows raised in surprise. “The Vegas trip is back on! Woo!”

  “What? But what about the meeting Thursday?” Confusion lilted my voice, and Natasha shook her head as Carlyle sat on the edge of the table. We had a lot to do, and vacation right now wasn’t exactly on the agenda.

  “It’s not a weeklong trip, just two days. After the past few weeks, I thought you two could use some stress-free, guilt-free fun. We’ll be back late Tuesday night.” Answering my whirling questions, Carlyle caught my gaze and held it, and the gravity of his stare dragged down the corners of my mouth. “I know you were excited to go. I still have to make a trip to Reno, but the flight is only an hour.”

  “O-oh . . . we were going on a date tonight.”

  “We are.” My brows rose higher, and he nodded at my sister even though his gaze didn’t leave me. “I’m an innocent bystander in all this.”

  “Do you just not talk to me first and go around making plans without me that involve me? I don’t really want to go right now. We have a lot to do, and you said it yourself, Carlyle. You’re not going to help us more than you already have. We succeed ourselves.” His lips thinned, and shadows played in his eyes as I crossed my arms and slumped back in my chair. “Why not let Natasha, Fred, and Marshal go together? We were just talking about them having some bro time because we’re not gonna get anyt
hing done like this.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Bro time, by definition, excludes me, so . . . ”

  “We were going to exclude you for sexy time, so what’s the difference?” Flopping my head back, I frowned at my sister as she tinged pink in the face, and I inhaled a breath through flared nostrils. “I don’t want to go. Fred and Marshal want to do something, and Carlyle only wants to go because he thought I wanted to go. What’s the difference, spending time here or in a hotel room in Vegas?”

  Turning to Carlyle as I spoke, I arched a brow quizzically, and he only shook his head mutely. Silence met my question, and I hoisted myself out of the chair to walk the short distance to him. The closer I came, the more stony his expression, and my heart ached for him as I palmed his sides.

  “You don’t have to have anywhere to go or anything to do to entice me to spend time with you, Carlyle. We . . . we talked about this, remember? And the only reason I wanted to go was that we could spend time together.” He had to decency to look a little guilty through the crack in his facade, and I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth to gnaw diligently. My brows furrowed, and I cupped his chin very gently when it seemed like he’d look away. “Hey, it’s hard to change what you always knew. I get that.”

  Carlyle never had to answer to anyone but his father. He made decisions, and people fell over themselves to obey. He had an idea, and other people changed their plans to accommodate, not him. Everything he did was right, even when it wasn’t.

  “Does anyone care if we want to go?” Carlyle blinked as Marshal cleared his throat roughly, and I didn’t protest when he leaned back to run his hand through his thick hair. Sliding off the table, he tugged smooth his jacket and physically shirked his feelings for the moment to nod firmly. “Because I’d really enjoy going, honestly. I have some money saved up that was supposed to go to a lawyer. Maybe, I’ll get lucky and win something cool.”