Until Tomorrow Comes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Beauty in Lies Book 1)

by Adelaide Forrest

  The Russian's body was sprawled out at the foot of the stairs, requiring me to step over him to start up the upgraded fireplace and turn to the table of dust covered supplies and blow them off so that I wouldn't have to go back to Isa covered in filth. I stripped off my suit jacket, folding it and draping it over a chair next to the table before I turned back to the man who writhed in pain and groaned on the floor.

  "Who are you to Pavel?" I asked, without turning back to look at him. I knew exactly where he crawled along the floor.

  I always knew where everyone was when they were around me, in tune to the energy in the air. The skill had been born out of necessity, trapped in a childhood where not knowing could mean a beating coming my way when I wasn't ready for it.

  As the fire raged to life in the fireplace, courtesy of modern technology even if the room itself was dated, I ran my hand over the variety of fire pokers on my table. The brands on the end all varied, specifically forged for individual crimes. The one I desired was the largest of the bunch, and I touched the Cuélebre once before setting it into the coals of the fire to heat high enough that it would melt his skin.

  "I'm one of his trusted men," the man coughed, watching as I turned my back on the table and leaned my hands against it. Studying him as he maneuvered himself to a sitting position, grimacing in pain with every movement he made.

  "If that were true, he wouldn't have sent you here to die," I said. "He knew very well what I would do to you when I found you watching me again." His eyes went to the burning brand in the fire, and he swallowed back bile as reality set in. He wouldn't walk out of the basement alive. In fact, most of him wouldn't leave the basement at all.

  Just his head.

  He moved as quickly as his beaten body would allow, clambering for the steps while I grabbed one of the pokers off the table and used it to swipe his legs out from under him. His face bounced off the step as he fell, rolling down the stairs for the second time. When he landed with a heavy thud the second time, his eyelids fluttered but he didn't move.

  A pity for me, since I liked to watch them struggle against the pain.

  Slipping fireproof gloves onto my hands and taking the brand from the fire, I pressed it to his forehead quickly. His body jerked beneath me, his hands reaching up to grasp the metal of the poker as he tried to pull it away, and only managed to burn his flesh in the process. But the heat of the brand served to seal the metal to his skin, the heat melting his flesh until I pulled it away and stared at the Cuélebre of the Ibarra family crest.

  When he finally went limp and stared up at me with glassy eyes as his breathing shallowed, I stripped off the gloves and dumped the brand back to the metal table to cool off. Rolling up my shirt sleeves, I took the surgical saw in hand with a sigh.

  I wished I had Ryker's hatchet. Cutting through the cervical vertebrae with a saw took longer than I wanted to spend with the bastard.

  He heaved out a sigh, fear filling his half closed eyes as I leaned over him and kept my body as far from the blood splatter as I could. He didn't struggle when the first cut severed his trachea and blood poured from the wound.

  Even after he took his last agonizing breath, I kept sawing until the surgical saw struck the concrete floor.

  I had a package to mail.

  24

  Isa

  Chloe wouldn't answer her phone, and Hugo went silent after texting me to let me know he'd gotten himself and Chloe out of the club and safely away from whatever had gone down. Fear for Rafe was only overcome with my own fury. I was so fucking done with being ushered away when people he knew made themselves known. Was he ashamed of being with me? Was there a reason he shouldn't have been with me?

  Or was I just really so far in over my head that I couldn't even begin to fathom the reality?

  My fingers twitched on my phone, anxious to hear from my friends and not knowing if I should finally take the leap and find my own answers in a moment of desperation. Nothing could be worth the secrets between us.

  People who loved one another didn't keep secrets, and the thought was a jarring reminder of a single truth that I'd somehow let myself forget and needed to be reminded of.

  Rafael Ibarra didn't love me.

  If he had, he would have said the words. He'd have told me the truth in a bid to get me to stay with him, but he'd never so much as asked me to extend my stay in Spain. He'd never hinted that it might be what he wanted. His passionate comments about me being his weren't enough.

  In my heart, I'd wanted to believe they were some dramatic confession of his love for me. That they were the words of a man who didn't know how to express his heart, but Rafe wasn't a high school boy. He had no problems communicating what he wanted me to know.

  I'd let myself fall in love with a man who would never return those feelings, and tears stung my eyes with the realization that some part of me had clung to the hope that he would reciprocate. That going our separate ways when it ended would somehow be easier knowing he loved me and thought of me when we were an ocean apart.

  I'd still have gone home. I'd still have done what was expected of me, but I would have done it with a bittersweet smile when I remembered him at every turn. When the next man couldn't compare, I'd think of him and hope he was happy. I’d smile and remember that he’d shown me how to live, even just for a little while.

  Knowing I'd been so stupid stripped all that away from me. I couldn't even blame him, since he'd made me no promises beyond our week together. Like always, my decision to trust the wrong person rested on my shoulders entirely.

  Hopefully this time, it wouldn't hurt anyone else. I couldn't survive that guilt again.

  His odd statement as he'd tucked me into the car and sent me away was the only piece that I somehow still clung to. Even as the jagged shards threatened to tear through my flesh, I held tight to the one remote possibility that men in his world protected their queen at all costs. My blood coated the fragments of hope as I thought back to all our time together, wondering if I was the Queen he would protect.

  But he didn't call me his Queen, he called me Princesa.

  So who was the Queen in his life?

  The first tear tracked down my cheek, startling me into shock as I hurried to the balcony and threw open the glass doors. The warm night air hit my face as I leaned over the glass railing, looking down on the beach and where the slight waves lapped at the shoreline in the dark.

  It felt like hours had passed since I'd returned to an empty suite, staring at the reminders of Rafe all over the room. Looking everywhere he'd touched me, everywhere he'd sat and smiled at me as I fell deeper in love with him every day. Tears dropped onto the railing steadily while I waited, frozen in place and unable to find the strength to move. I turned to look back at the bedroom door, considering my options and the bag I'd kept packed to make a quick escape if I needed to.

  My phone rang in my hands, terrifying me so much that I jolted in place and dropped it to the floor with a heavy thump. Chloe's name flashed on the screen, the photo of us together at graduation staring up at me from the floor as I picked it up with trembling fingers. I swallowed and considered not answering, despite how much I wanted to know if she was okay.

  Somehow, I knew in my gut that whatever she had to say would break me. That those shards would shred the last pieces of my soul that I clung to. Still, I took a deep breath and hit the button to accept her call.

  "Isa," Chloe's harsh whisper said over the phone.

  "It's me," I said, my voice quivering as I tried to hold it steady. "You okay?"

  "Get out. God, Isa you have to fucking get out of there right now. Before he comes back."

  "What?" I whispered, hating the fear that filled her voice. Fear for me. Fear that I felt down to my bones as I moved to the closet and shoved the last of my things into the bag. I tucked it back behind Rafe's suits so he wouldn't immediately see it when he came back.

  Even with the warning filling my body with dread, the thought of never seeing him again tore
me in two.

  "He's a murderer, Isa," she whispered on the other end as a loud banging echoed in the background. "Get out. Go to the embassy. I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

  My voice didn’t convey the shock I felt. Nothing could come even close to hinting at the feeling slithering through my body. "Are you sure?" I asked.

  "I wouldn't do this if I wasn't. Just get out," she growled. The line disconnected as I went back out to the balcony to grab my purse with my passport and wallet. I hurried forward on shaky legs, snatching it off the table where we'd played chess only the day before. It felt like a lifetime ago that I'd done something so simple with him.

  I'd played chess...with a murderer?

  My mind was a jumbled mess as I clutched the strap in the palm of my hand. I spun to go back inside through the door, stopping mid-step as my eyes landed on the face glaring at me and then at the purse in my hand.

  He tilted his head, stripping his jacket off slowly as he closed the distance between us. I backed away a step, forcing a smile to my face as my butt connected with the railing at my back. I put my hand on top of the sleek glass half-wall, feeling the bite of it as my hand slid along the top and it dug into my skin. "You're back," I said, making a show of dropping my purse to the floor.

  With my phone gripped in my hand, I watched his eyes fall to the purse at my feet. They trailed up over my bare legs, over my body encased in the camisole dress he'd put me in for the club. When they landed on my face, his mouth tensed as he clenched his jaw. Darkness like I'd never seen swirled in his gaze, taunting me. Daring me, as if he knew everything going through my head.

  The man I loved was gone, replaced by a cold-blooded murderer as he transformed in front of my eyes. Nobody would look at this version of Rafael and question how he could kill someone.

  "Were you going somewhere, Princesa?" he asked, the name feeling like a mockery of everything I'd thought was sweet in that cold, expressionless voice that was so unlike Rafe.

  I shook my head, staring straight at him. I held up my phone, deciding to let my self-preservation take over. "I've just been trying to get in touch with Chloe and Hugo. They aren't answering the phone, so I'm worried about them." He took another step toward me, and I made myself stay casual as I dropped my other hand onto the glass railing and my phone lay balanced on the surface precariously within my grip.

  He closed the distance between us, his body nearly against mine as he stared down at me with those haunting eyes. One of his hands raised, touching my cheek under the eye with the heterochromia in it. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you Isa?" he asked, his voice dropping lower as he touched his forehead to mine.

  My heart pounded in my chest.

  My breathing came ragged as I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to suddenly be a better liar. But I wasn't, so I did the one thing I'd gotten skilled at over the years. I deflected. I answered his question with a question of my own, easing the tiny margin of guilt I felt by not lying again. "What reason would I have to lie?" I whispered, opening my eyes to find his intent on mine. He touched a hand to my shoulder, sliding it down to caress the skin of my arm as he wrapped his fingers around my wrist. My hand twitched in response to the shiver that wracked my body, sending my phone teetering over the edge of the balcony.

  I stared back at it in horror, watching as it disappeared into the darkness below. There was no chance it had survived the fall, and I'd officially lost all my contact with Chloe and Hugo in a moment.

  "That's a shame," Rafe said, watching my face as I dragged my gaze back to his. He didn't say another word about the phone, sliding his fingers through mine as he guided me away from the balcony and toward the bedroom. I swallowed my fear as I eyed the closet with my belongings, remembering the words he'd spoken at the waterfall.

  He'd follow me. He'd chase me if I walked away.

  "You haven't asked what happened at the club," he observed, guiding me over to the bed where I sat on the edge cautiously. His fingers worked open the buttons on his shirt slowly, methodically undoing each and every one while my eyes narrowed in on the movement and the smooth expanse of skin he revealed.

  "You told me not to ask questions if I'm not ready for the answer. This feels like an appropriate time to be cautious of what I ask," I said in response. He chuckled, pulling the shirt out of his pants as he slid the sleeves down his arms and tossed it to the side. His rippling muscles were at eye level with me, but for the first time, the overwhelming attraction between us was the last thing on my mind.

  "That's probably wise. You look as if you've seen a nightmare," he said, toeing off his shoes and kicking them to the side as his hands went to his belt.

  Not a ghost.

  A nightmare come to life.

  "I'm sure your friends are fine," he said, sliding his pants and boxer briefs down his legs so that he stood entirely naked in front of me. I bit down on the edges of my tongue, trying to decide what I could do to get away from the tension in the room.

  How I could escape the fear that permeated every single pore.

  "I'm sure you're right," I whispered. They weren't the ones trapped in a bedroom with a supposed murderer.

  Rafael touched my face, his eyes knowing as he stroked a thumb over my cheek. "So beautiful, mi princesa," he murmured, his voice finally softening from the demonic echo of evil that had resounded through him since he walked into the room.

  A chill crept up my spine as he slid his hand down my face and over the front of my throat. That darkness played in his eyes the moment his fingers touched the front, teasing with a light caress before he moved on to the straps of my dress and pushed them off my shoulders.

  I sat frozen in place, unable to find the strength to move. Part of me knew the smartest choice I could make would be to pretend everything was fine. To pretend I didn't know any better and that he was still the man I'd thought I fell in love with.

  But I couldn't move as his hands trailed over the skin of my chest and pushed the dress down to reveal my bra. He slid a hand inside to cup my breast, dragging the rough pad of his thumb over the raised nipple as I shuddered in response.

  Desire filled me despite my fear, something darker and more forbidden taking over my body as he watched my reaction. "Is something wrong?"

  I shook my head, knowing that I had to choose between two impossibilities. The fear of my own forbidden desires as they crashed over me and he took me when I didn't want to want him, or the possible consequences when he found out I knew what might be one of the secrets he'd kept from me. "I just don't like secrets," I told him. Trying to skirt my way around the real issue in an attempt to diffuse the situation, I brushed off my lack of response to his touch in a way that would make sense given the circumstances.

  "Sometimes a relationship means protecting one another from the truths they aren't prepared to handle," he murmured, reaching around my back to unclasp my bra and guiding it down my arms.

  "Relationship?" I asked stupidly.

  His hands stilled on my body as his nostrils flared lightly. He licked his lips slowly, sinking his teeth into the plump flesh of the bottom one before he spoke. "What exactly do you think this is between us?" he asked, enunciating every word and wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. The pressure at the base of my head made me tilt my head up to look at him, my lungs heaving as he gripped the sides of my neck harshly.

  "I'm not sure what to call it," I said, licking my dry lips as he used the hand at my neck to pull me to my feet. His free hand shoved the dress down my body, the slinky fabric pooling at my ankles as the air touched my skin. My body overheated with his proximity, the air feeling like he absorbed all the warmth into his skin.

  Like a phantom from hell, come to drag me to the fires kicking and screaming.

  He stared down my body, reaching his free hand inside my thong to slide through my lips in a teasing glide. When his gaze came back to mine, his lips twisted into a cruel smirk that felt different than all his rest. "My pussy seems to know exactl
y who it belongs to, mi princesa," he murmured, slipping a finger inside me.

  Nothing could compare to the horror I felt when he slid through my flesh easily thanks to how wet I was.

  This was a possible murderer. This was a man who'd threatened to chase me.

  My heart raced with both fear and arousal as I stared at him, condemning me to the fate that had always lurked at the edges of my life. Darkness seeping in, taunting me and tempting me toward the red sea of flames.

  He slid his hand free from me, depriving me of his touch as his hands came down on the front of my shoulders and he shoved me back onto the bed. My legs bent as I fell, my toes barely scraping the floor with the sudden change in position. He grasped my underwear in his hands, ripping them off.

  Once they were off my ankles, he tossed them to the side and climbed up onto the bed. With his knees on either side of my hips, he pinned me down with the weight of his body and straddled me. Wrapping his hands around my waist, he shimmied us further up the bed until my feet were on the mattress. Staring down at me, he took my wrists in his grip and pinned them above my head as he leaned forward and touched his lips to mine.

  The gentle kiss contrasted everything about the moment, the helplessness I felt with him looming over me and controlling my body so efficiently. "How should I show you that your pussy is right?" he asked, dragging the head of his cock through my folds. With my legs pressed together, the pressure of him as he nudged against my clit and then slid through me to bump against my entrance seemed even greater.

  He pushed himself inside me in a single stroke, pressing through me in spite of the tightness he met as a result of the position. I gasped, staring up at him as he groaned and drew his hips back only to thrust harder into me. Whimpering, I pulled at his grip on my wrists. "Condom," I moaned, reminding him and staring up at him as indecision crossed through his eyes for a moment.

  Temptation couldn't distract me from an unwanted pregnancy. If he was truly a murderer, if there was something as off as seemed likely, given the look in his eyes, the last thing I needed was to have his child.