Monster Inside Me: Volume I (A Dark Mafia Romance Book 1)

by Faye Byrd

  A dark thought enters my mind, and I stand, strutting across the room and stopping as I tower over Madeline. “You’re dismissed.”

  With an encouraging grip of the young woman’s arm, Maddy meets my eyes and lifts her chin before slinking from the room. Her confident behavior perplexes me in a way that only piques my curiosity. Intrigued, I focus back on the woman of the hour.

  Taking one long stride, I stand head and shoulders above her. The tension in her frame is obvious, but it isn’t fear I sense. It’s defiance, strong and potent, that rolls off her small form in waves.

  I smirk to myself and speak in a low, commanding voice. “What is your name?”

  A deep breath is drawn and expelled before her voice rings through the silent space. “Pippa Sunshine,” she says, her dark eyes snapping up to meet mine. The fury that rages within them is dangerous. For her. It would cost her life if she were to unleash it.

  I hold her stare, cold and unaffected. “I didn’t ask your stage name. Dark Star doesn’t operate the way in which you might be accustomed.” I lift a brow, daring her to open her pursed lips.

  Rage, pure and unadulterated, flashes in her eyes, and she has to look away to conceal it. Smart girl. Surely Madeline warned her of the dangers I pose.

  With a deep, satisfied chuckle, I stalk back to the desk without further interaction. Lifting the remote, I push a button and a podium rises from the floor as music and lights create a mini replica of the main dance space, three floors below.

  The stage is set; her clock is ticking down.

  Though her head is turned in my direction, the darkness prevents me from seeing the anger I feel in her glare. I wave her off. “Save your indignation. Audition or get out.”

  Patience isn’t my strong suit, and just before mine snaps to smithereens, her body starts moving. She begins by stretching her neck back and around, a slow movement meant to tantalize, but I’m completely immune to petty tricks. She’ll need to do much better than this.

  Slipping the small silk coverlet from her shoulders, she’s up on the platform in one sudden move that’s perfectly timed with the music that pulsates from the speakers. Her body is toned and sinful, but they always are. You don’t come to Dark Star looking for a position unless you have skill. It’s an unspoken rule. My rule, but word gets out.

  I chuckle at my own thoughts and focus back on the woman poised against the center prop. Okay, it’s a fucking pole, but I don’t like the term nor the cheap implication, and no one dares to refute me, so a prop it is.

  As the notes expand and fill the room, her body seems to absorb them. Fluid and elegant, she bursts into movement as if the music is emanating from her very pores. The sway of her hips, though something I’ve seen a thousand times, is mesmerizing, and her goddamn legs ... they go on forever.

  My eyes rove over her, eager to drink in every slight fluctuation as the ultra-violet light makes her skin glow in the dark space. Methodically, she breaks through my every barrier as she caresses skin that my fingertips ache to feel. With every dip, swerve and undulation, she puts her art on full display, and I’m goddamn hypnotized.

  My normally unresponsive cock has now swelled in my Armanis, and my lower lip is trapped between my teeth. “What the fuck?” I mumble to myself as I release the tender flesh and take several deep, even breaths. “Datti un contegno,” I growl, needing to get ahold of myself.

  I avert my eyes from the sinful display and clench my jaw. It pisses me off to have this reaction. I’m not some fucking fourteen-year-old virgin seeing a pair of tits for the first time.

  I’m the fucking Underboss of the Chicago Outfit.

  What’s worse, I can’t stop my eyes from slipping back to her tantalizing display. I slam my hands on the desk, but she doesn’t react. On and on she continues taunting me with her allure, cementing my traitor eyes to her seductive movements.

  When I’m on the brink of putting a bullet through her head, the music finally comes to a stop and the room brightens, breaking the spell. She’s just an average artist again, and the relief settles in almost immediately—for all pertinent body parts.

  The room is silent of everything except her small puffs as she works to regulate her breathing. I use the quiet minutes to compartmentalize whatever the fuck just happened. By the time I’m ready to address her, I’ve convinced myself that I just need to get laid.

  With unchecked anger still simmering below the surface, I pin her with a lifted brow. “Your name?” I state in a tone that leaves no room to misinterpret the demand.

  When she stays silent, I stand, my chair flying backward at least three feet, and stalk toward her. “Let’s get one thing clear,” I say as I move across the room to tower over her. “If you want to work for my club, you’ll learn some fucking respect. So give me your name or get the fuck out.”

  “Piper,” comes the small voice before dark, deep eyes rise to meet mine. “My name is Piper.”

  I lift a strand of her chestnut hair, marveling at the softness as it glides between my fingers “Well, Piper,” I emphasize to be a smart-ass. “You do know who I am, right?”

  The defiance that flashes in her eyes causes my cock to twitch. Anger surges through me, and I wrap her hair in my fist. “You’d do well to keep that hidden. Your audition was flawless, but you’ll lose more than a job if you disrespect me again.” I take a deep breath, inhaling the musky scent that rolls from her body, and release her, turning to storm from the room.

  As the slam of the door echoes behind me, Madeline jumps from where she’s leaned against the wall. “Dante, you scared me half to death,” she screeches, her hand on her chest as she takes deep breaths.

  I stop, my fingers automatically gripping the tousled mess atop my head. “Pay attention next time,” I snap, and then I start pacing like a caged animal.

  After several glorious beats of silence, a huff draws my attention to Maddy. She’s standing there with her arms crossed and her eyebrow hiked high.

  “What?” I snarl as I struggle to get my irrational anger under control.

  “Nothing,” she answers easily as she brings her hand up to study her nails. “Is Pippa hired, or should I send her home?”

  I growl at the fucking stage name. “It’s Piper.”

  “Okay. Piper. Is she hired?”

  I huff and step closer, my face menacing. “Fine, but if she’s a fuck-up, it’s on you.”

  TWO

  ALLEY-STAINED HAIR

  “Knock, knock,” Madeline says, peeking her head around the door several hours later. “Can I come in?”

  I close out the program I’m using and spread my arms. “It is your office.”

  She pushes the door open with her foot and rounds it with a tray of food. “You’ve been up here for a while, so I thought I should bring you something.”

  “Thanks.” My brows lift. It isn’t unheard of for her to make sure I eat, but after the attitude I had earlier, she’d usually steer clear for a while. “I didn’t expect to see you again today.”

  “Eh.” She shrugs, sliding the tray across the desk. “I’m not upset. I’m just glad you hired her. She’s talented.”

  “She is.” My cock twitches at the reminder. “But how would you know?”

  She tosses her thumb over her shoulder. “She’s killin’ it on the floor.”

  “Straight to work, then?” Suddenly I’m not so hungry. Just thinking about Piper sets me on edge, and I can’t quite put my finger on why. “Are we sure this isn’t a fucking setup? Dancers that good don’t usually fall into our laps.”

  “I don’t think so,” Madeline says, her brows puckering. “But if it is, Ivan will know.”

  “I haven’t heard back yet.” I stand, grabbing my suit jacket. The tension from earlier has returned, and I suddenly have to get out of this building. “Sit and eat. I need some fresh air.”

  “Dante,” she calls to my retreating back, and I pause but don’t turn. “I run a legal business, and Ivan will expose her if she’s undercover
. Don’t wake the monster just yet.”

  I chuckle, darkness clouding my soul. “Oh, he’s already on high alert.”

  I’m out the door without another word and out of the building as fast as my feet will take me. The transition from this building to my own is easy, and I head straight to the top floor. The Busa is screaming my name, so I jump in the shower before throwing on a black high-neck cashmere sweater. Then I top it with my Givenchy leather riding jacket. A quick trip to the armory supplies tonight’s weapons, and the elevator takes me to my toys.

  My high-top leather boots thud against the concrete as I approach my baby. The thought of opening her up makes my blood race through my veins. Exhilaration fills me as I sling my leg over the sleek black machine, intimidating by its very demeanor. I slip the helmet over my head, and with the push of a button, the bike rumbles to life between my Armani jean-covered thighs.

  The power this machine exudes is unparalleled. The ’99 was the first year of the Hayabusa, and it was so fast that its speed had to be restricted in 2000. Mine has seen the 200mph mark on an occasion or two, but even for me, that’s too fast for a two-wheel vehicle.

  It was as close to death as I’ve ever been.

  With a two-finger wave at Lorenzo, I burn the back tire as I shoot toward the long underground tunnel that comes out around the block from my building. This is the one true experience where I’m completely anonymous. Just another guy on his fucking badass bike.

  By the time I hit the Kennedy Expressway, I’m already cruising at 70mph, the roar of power beneath me rocketing through my system. Twisting the throttle, I open her up, hitting 95 in mere seconds and weaving my way through the nighttime traffic. For hours on end, I ride the differing expressways until my appetite has been sated.

  Getting off downtown, I make my way through the streets as I work my way back toward my building. After passing Dark Star, I come to a stop at the light, and a slim figure moving down the sidewalk catches my eye. I rev the engine, but she doesn’t turn so I can get a closer look.

  When the light changes, instead of turning left for home, I continue straight and ease my way past the woman. Long dark hair conceals her face, but I’d know those fucking legs anywhere.

  It’s Piper.

  Alone.

  In the middle of the night.

  Walking down the sidewalk.

  I go to the next street and take a right so I can circle back around the block. But just as I see her figure again, she shoots down an alleyway.

  What. The. Fuck.

  What’s even worse is two guys notice her and slip into the alleyway behind her. Anger surges through me. I pull back on the throttle, and the Busa surges to life beneath me, roaring down the city street faster than is legal.

  By the time I turn into the alley, there are three silhouettes near the other end. Two large bodies have the smaller one against the wall, blocking her escape. I pull in the clutch and rev the engine, but they don’t react. I let off the clutch and burn the tire across the asphalt.

  The two hulking figures take off, exiting out the other end, but my sights are on the woman. I stop in front of her and snatch off my helmet.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I yell, the tension from earlier making an abrupt reappearance. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  Piper, who was still cowering against the brick wall, turns from frightened to enraged before my very eyes. She steps forward and points her finger in my direction. “What the fuck are you doing here? Haven’t you already treated me like shit enough for one day?”

  I lower the kickstand and pull my leg over the bike, standing to my full height. “I was saving your fucking life!”

  She huffs and crosses her arms. “You really think I couldn’t have handled that situation? That I’d be dead if you hadn’t ridden up on your metal monster and saved me?”

  My jaw clenches and I step closer, the fronts of our bodies almost touching. “I seriously can’t fucking believe this. I save your life and you have the audacity to mock me.” My eyes flit down her body once before returning to hers. “Did you misunderstand my earlier warning?”

  Her eyes widen in pure unadulterated outrage. “How dare you! How fucking dare you!” Her finger lifts and starts jabbing me in the chest. “I may have to take that shit at Dark Star, but I won’t take it here. Not when I’m away from the club. I won’t!”

  I’m so shocked by her reaction that all I can do is stand there and take it. Each jab sends a spark shooting through me, and by the time she’s done, my blood is throbbing through my veins. Flashes of her dance pulse behind my lids, and the arousal from earlier returns ten-fold.

  I grip her finger to tamp down the fire, but it only makes it worse. Electricity surges between us, and a look I know all too well shines in her eyes. Desire. She licks her lips, and the urge to take rushes through me.

  “You’re playing with fire,” I say, my voice low.

  Excitement joins desire, and I suppress a groan. “Maybe I want to be burned.”

  Stepping forward, I use my whole body to push her against the brick, trapping her in place, my cock bulging between us. My mouth descends on hers, and she claws at my back to pull me closer.

  The heat between us explodes as our tongues collide in a flurry of anger and passion. My palms trace down her sides before curving to cup her ass. With a small lift, she’s up and her legs are gripping me tightly as I finger the edge of her panties.

  She pulls her mouth away, but I’m too far gone to care. Her head falls back against the brick as heavy breaths escape. My tongue travels down her neck as I start rocking my cock against her.

  She moans, her hands frantically reaching for my waist, and I’m fucking done. Without removing my mouth from her skin, I have my pants open and my cock out, sliding her panties aside and filling her in one swift stroke.

  The satisfaction is instant and mutual, but I need more. I fucking need it all. Planting my hands on her hips, I lean back and meet her eyes as I start thrusting. She braces her hands on the wall and rocks her whole body against me, tiny whimpers escaping in time with each movement.

  A shiver runs through me and I thrust faster, causing her to tighten and clamp down, her pussy pulsating against my cock. The feel of her spasming around me in combination with her sexy as fuck moans is more than I can take. I thrust as deep as I can and release with a growl, dropping my head to her shoulder in an attempt to gain control of my breathing.

  After several quiet moments, I lift my head and look around at where I am and what I’ve done. I wait for the anger or the disgust, but neither comes. I’m too goddamn blitzed out from a good fuck to even care.

  “Gesù Cristo,” I mumble, shaking my head.

  Piper’s leaned back against the wall with her eyes closed, but at the sound of my voice, they snap open. “What?”

  I run my hand through my hair and step back, easing her legs to the ground. “Nothing. I can’t believe we just fucked in an alley.”

  “Is that what you said?” she asks as she works to straighten her skimpy-ass skirt.

  “Oh.” I wave it off as I’m fastening my pants. “I said, Jesus Christ.”

  “And you said it because?” she asks, and her voice has a new pitch. It’s a little higher than usual. “You follow me here—to a dark, dirty alley—and that’s all you have to say? You don’t think ‘I’m sorry’ is more appropriate?”

  “Me?” I point to myself. “Sorry? What do I have to be sorry for? That was a mutual exchange if I’ve ever had one.”

  She huffs, her hand on her hip. “I’ll give you that.” She steps forward, that goddamn finger pointed. “Now stay the fuck away from me, Simone. I may work in your brother’s club, but I’m not your property.” She turns and stomps away, but no matter how much I’d like, I can’t let her go alone.

  “Piper, wait. Please,” I call, making her pause. “At least let me follow you home. I can’t allow you to walk the streets alone.”

  She turns then, and she’s
smiling. “That’s a nice sentiment, Mr. Simone, but it’s not your place to allow me anything, aside from my job at Dark Star.” I go to speak, but she holds up a finger, waving it between us. “Thanks for the release, but I don’t make a habit of fucking people from work.” She walks over and taps the brick we just fucked against. “This is my building. All I have to do is walk around the corner, and I’ll be home.”

  My jaw ticks, but I keep my mouth closed as she turns and sashays her fucking ass around the corner. Picking up my helmet, I sigh at the scuff across the top and put it on, straddling the Busa. I wait a minute or two before revving her up and easing my way out the same end of the alley Piper just exited. Looking both ways, I make sure she really is inside before pulling into the street, headed home.

  As the elevator climbs toward the penthouse, I wait for the anger to come, but it never does. I make it a principle to never fuck an employee, and I just blew that to hell, yet for some reason, I can’t even be bothered to care. The feel of her hot pussy clamping on my dick was just too fucking good. Somehow, I was able to forget we were in a nasty alley up against hundred-year-old brick.

  I scrub a hand through my hair and lean back against the wall. “Ho bisogno di una doccia cazzo,” I mumble, aching to wash the grime from my skin.

  Apparently, that’s not in the cards, though, because as soon as the doors open, a family reunion is happening in my living room. Interestingly enough, it doesn’t even irritate me. What the fuck has that bitch done to me?

  “Dante,” Stefano Simone, Boss of the Chicago Outfit—and my father—exclaims as I walk into the living room. “It’s nice to see you like to keep in touch with the family.” He waves his glass of scotch around the room, motioning to Ivan and Mimi, who are also present.

  I snort. “Sure, Boss, the family.” My eyes flick to Mimi, who’s nestled under my dad’s arm.