Monster: A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance

by Vanessa Waltz

  The wave of bliss burned behind my eyes. Suddenly, I burst into tears, overwhelmed. The orgasm was like sunshine hitting my face, pure and joyful. I lay in a flood of liberation. I wanted to hold him.

  I groped the sheets, searching for him.

  Tony backed away. His warmth left me, dousing me in ice.

  What the hell?

  I flipped over.

  Tony’s shirt still hung on his back. His bronze skin cast darker shadows over the lean muscle, and I could’ve run my tongue over the valleys. A pang hit between my legs at the outline of his perfect cock.

  I imagined him taking it out and rutting me. I expected him to.

  But he didn’t.

  Shock flew through me as Tony buttoned his shirt. He dressed like the room was on fire.

  What happened?

  I wiped my face, thrown by his behavior. “What are you doing?”

  Tony threw the dress at me, his voice detached. “Leaving.”

  Cold struck my belly. “You are?”

  He’d owned me. Made me come so hard I’d cried. The space where he’d filled me ached for more. He should finish what he started, not leave me wanting.

  “I was never going to fuck you.” Tony zipped up his slacks, his mocking drawl in full force. “Just had to see how badly you wanted my cock.”

  Heat blistered my cheeks.

  He winked.

  Then he left.

  Four

  Tony

  3 oz prosecco

  2 oz Aperol

  splash of soda

  Garnish: orange wedge

  I thought about them.

  Every night, their faces pressed into the silk fabric of my mind. I relived the things I’d done. Depraved acts that made my heart thump and the blood rush to my cock. I’d escaped that place, but I wasn’t free.

  I opened my eyes.

  It was dark, the sort of pitch-black heaviness that can’t be penetrated, invading my lungs and devouring my being like smoke belched from a fire. I was a charred husk, angry and empty. My rage heated the bed as I lay there. No relief could be found in this darkness, only more torture.

  I tossed.

  I turned.

  I lost minutes…hours before my brain paused its war on itself. My head hit the pillow. I drifted, but there was nothing peaceful about my sleep.

  Wood creaked.

  Heavy boots scraped the floor.

  I rolled over, stomach tensing.

  A faint glow crawled into the room as the door swung. More footsteps, then a man’s strong silhouette stood in the threshold.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  I froze at the familiar face—round cheeks framed with shaggy blond hair—the face of my enemy.

  What was he doing here?

  Shock yielded to the pounding in my ears. I shot upright, fists clenched.

  His lips curved.

  I launched at him.

  He flew back, skull cracking into the wall. Plaster splintered. He shoved me. My feet slipped on the wood as he hammered blows into me. I gritted my teeth, holding him back.

  Then his fist slammed into my shoulder. Agony plunged into my flesh. The pain jarred me into consciousness.

  I bolted upright, blinded. I gasped for air as I groped for the curtains. I yanked them so hard they broke from the rod.

  My pulse galloped ahead as light spilled across the bed, illuminating tousled sheets. The compression on my lungs eased. I rubbed the two-inch scar. The comforter poured onto the carpet of a room I didn’t recognize. My feet hit a bundle of clothing.

  A hotel room.

  Right. I got married.

  Married. It still seemed unreal.

  The digital clock on the nightstand bled with red numbers—six a.m. She was probably asleep. My awareness drifted to an object that pressed into my palm. The metal bit into my skin before a ripple of shock zipped up my spine.

  A knife.

  Christ. Get it together.

  My breath stalled as the door trembled with a knock. I gripped the knob, hiding the blade behind the door. The lock unlatched, the door swinging open to reveal my cousin.

  “Morning.”

  I gritted my teeth. “It’s too early for me to deal with you.”

  Nevertheless, I stepped back. Vinn strolled inside, dressed down in jeans and a hoodie. He frowned at the knife in my hand. His gaze flicked to my face, to the weapon, to me again.

  Vinn might’ve been boss of the Family, but I pulled the strings. Officially, I wasn’t involved in the mafia. Dad had kept me out of the mob, but everything had changed when he died. He’d left me the accounts and contacts. The whole empire was mine, locked in trust funds and real estate that made Vinn’s position mostly symbolic. I owned it all, except Vinn had wanted me to stop funding the biker wars.

  My feud with Legion MC was terrible for Boston. I backed street gangs like Rage Machine financially and bought them weapons. In return, they hammered the shit out of Legion, who then retaliated by bombing Italian businesses, which forced the mayor to summon the National Guard. The mandated curfews and violence killed small businesses throughout Boston, which affected Vinn’s bottom line, and the mafia was all about money. After I’d funded a local politician’s efforts to pass a heavy-handed drug trafficking law, I suddenly found myself tied up and thrown in a car.

  Legion was keen to get me off their ass forever. They were paying hand over fist just for peace. This marriage was supposed to end the feud between the groups, and having a baby with Evie would cement that alliance.

  The injustice clawed at my insides. It demanded reprisal. This match was so ass-backward I couldn’t see us lasting more than a few months, during which I’d lose my mind. We would never work. I couldn’t accept this—the very idea disgusted me.

  Vinn had done this.

  It was his fault.

  My throat tightened, and I resisted the urge to lash out—Aperol cocktail recipe. I breathed in deeply. Three ounces of Prosecco.

  “You should return to her hotel room,” he said in his low, deep voice. “You don’t want people to talk.”

  Two ounces of Aperol. Less, if you prefer a dry cocktail.

  I held out my hand. “Give me my fucking phone.”

  “No.”

  I could’ve punched his throat. All last night, I’d endured his smug grins, his glib comments, his pats on my back.

  A splash of soda water. Garnished with—

  “What more do you want?” I bellowed, blood rushing in my ears. “I married the girl. She’s moving into my apartment. She hates me, and I can’t stand her, but we are together.”

  “You both agreed to start a family.” He pulled the cell from his pants and slapped it onto my palm. “No more messing with bikers. You will embrace domestic life and focus on her.”

  I shoved the phone into my pocket, annoyed Vinn hadn’t disappeared. “Leave before my hair-trigger temper gets us both killed.”

  Vinn gave me an unfathomable look before he shook his head and left. As soon as he’d gone, I swiped through my texts. I shot a message to my lawyer friend. I’d headed out the door before I remembered my wife.

  Damn it.

  Heaviness centered in my chest. An odd twinge nagged at me as I changed directions and strolled next door.

  Last night was a disaster.

  The rage had built in me as she drank Aperol spritzes, which happened to be my favorite summer cocktail. I hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in ages, but watching her drink them had triggered me. I could’ve sucked her tongue dry.

  God, the way her cunt gripped my fingers. Evie was more tempting than a line of Colombian powder. I’d almost held her down and fucked her. She’d begged me to, but I took it way too far. She’d made me lose control.

  I was off balance.

  Fuck.

  A clawing sensation gnawed my throat. I shut my eyes, inhaling through my nose. I had to master this crazed impulse.

  I slid my keycard in the lock.

  The door yawned. Wide-op
en curtains glowed with the faint light, washing her sleeping silhouette in blue. What I wouldn’t give to be that blissfully unaware.

  Her cheek pressed into the pillow and her mouth was parted. Her brown mane fanned on the sheets, the perfect bun from the wedding undone. Without the makeup, she looked younger than her twenty-two years.

  I kicked the bedframe. “Wake up.”

  She startled horribly, dragging the sheets to her mouth. I braced myself for pleading and begging, but Evie groaned like I woke her up for school.

  “Get up. We’re leaving.”

  Evie pulled the comforter over her head. “Too early.”

  “We need to go.”

  She didn’t move.

  I ripped the covers from her body.

  She hissed, legs curling under her satin slip. “Fine. Jesus. I’m getting up.”

  She rolled off the bed and stretched. Light kissed her, illuminating her bewitching face. Dark, mysterious eyes frowned, furrowing slender brows. Her plush pink lips offset the gentle slope of her chin. Her skin complemented the golden room. She seemed of the earth, pure, and desiring her felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  Evie’s beauty was the devastating kind that hit a man in the chest, and if I didn’t pull back, I would lose sight of my goal.

  I could never love her.

  So I set my heart on hating her.

  Five

  Tony

  3 mint leaves

  ½ oz simple syrup

  2 oz white rum

  ¾ oz lime juice

  club soda, to top

  Garnish: mint sprig

  I spied on my wife.

  Cameras placed around the house provided me with constant access to the biker girl. I kept an eye on her, and it gave me an excuse to stay the hell away. Evie hardly seemed the type for espionage, but who the fuck knew. Her family was the sickest bunch of bastards. I could still feel the things they’d done to me.

  I sat in my dad’s office, watching Evie on my tablet. His spirit surrounded me, whispering from the dusty volumes that filled the shelves, the desk splotched with grappa stains, the framed photo of me at eight. Dad would roll over in his grave if he knew who I’d married.

  Knox winked at me, spinning a pen in his tapered fingers. I’d called him over to help me figure a way out of this mess. The twenty-five-year-old genius was night and day from me at his age. He’d already achieved what most men couldn’t in a lifetime.

  He’d graduated from MIT at fifteen with a double major in engineering and political science. At eighteen, he launched some software that had consumed the tech world. By twenty, he was the CEO of a cybersecurity firm worth $2.4 billion. Two years later, Black Prism was under fire for hacking into phones of slain foreign diplomats. When they dragged him to the Court of Appeals, he fired his defense team, represented his company, and won. Then the asshole took the bar exam just for kicks.

  “How’s married life?”

  “Exceptionally dull,” I muttered as Evie moved a large sketchpad over her lap. “I haven’t seen her since the wedding.”

  It’d been a couple of weeks since I’d dropped her at my penthouse in Beacon Hill. Fourteen days of wearing my father’s ring, dodging my mother’s calls, and fantasizing about being single.

  “Is that your wife?” Knox put down the pages of lawyerese and peered at the screen. “She’s attractive. Decent body, too.”

  My neck flushed. “It’s more than decent, you shit.”

  Today, she wore a black leopard-patterned dress generous to her feminine contours. She was sitting on the rooftop garden, staring out into the city. Her dress rode the wind, floating, as though it could be blown off, and she could be undone.

  She bent over, displaying her rack to the overhead camera. Big and natural, just how I liked them. Her nipples would fit nicely in my mouth. The breeze played with the flyaway fabric, the top sliding way too high, and the strands slipping down her arms.

  My balls squeezed with a pang.

  Knox’s whistle blast was like sandpaper on my cock. “She missed her calling as a porn star.”

  I punched his arm. “Get the fuck away from the screen.”

  My eyes grew hot as she returned inside and stretched out on my couch. I burned with the need to kiss her soft lips, and it sickened me. The last thing I needed was an obsession with my enemy’s daughter. I had to do something productive and stop fantasizing about all the dirty ways I would fuck my wife.

  This marriage had screwed up everything. My professional and personal relationships went up in smoke. I’d compromised my reputation by marrying a woman from that family.

  For a year, I’d been associated with like-minded wealthy businessmen. Three of us made The Dark Circle—Knox, Cainan, and myself. Our goal was dismantling the biggest biker gang in Boston.

  Harder than it looked.

  Even with our resources, a conglomerate like Legion hadn’t folded under the pressure. When I’d first joined, I thought it’d take a matter of months.

  Try years.

  Legion MC had thousands of chapters nationwide. They had multiple revenue streams. They were involved in drugs, prostitution, murder for hire, loansharking—anything illegal.

  I was committed to the cause, but now my loyalty would be questioned. Vinn had forced me into an awkward position.

  “I didn’t choose this, Knox.”

  “I know. I figured you were dead when you didn’t answer your phone for three days,” Knox murmured. “Cainan was super annoyed when he saw your wedding photos on social media. He thought you’d relapsed.”

  “You and half the fucking world. Help me get out of this marriage.” I threw the tablet on the desk and raked my hair. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Family law isn’t my specialty, but it looks like Vinn went through great pains to stop you from exploiting any loopholes. Why on earth would you sign this?”

  “I had a gun to my head. He kidnapped me.”

  “Sounds right for a mafia family intervention.” Knox glared at his phone, thumbing through a document. “Why not just kill you?”

  “I’m too valuable to Vinn.” I didn’t mistake it for familial affection. “If I die, he loses sixty percent of his revenue.”

  Knox made an indistinct sound as he typed notes. “We can say you were under duress, but they’ll expect charges to be filed. That means a police report.”

  Against the boss of the Family?

  My stomach tightened. “Out of the question.”

  “Yeah, he probably figured you wouldn’t do that.” Knox licked his thumb, swiping through the stack of papers. “She gets a hundred grand per incident of you cheating on her. I’ve heard of crazy prenups, but this is wild.”

  “I’m glad my misery is entertaining you.” I rose from the chair, buttoning my jacket.

  He extended his leg, blocking my exit. “Tony, hold on. I can get this thrown out. We can argue that you had reduced mental capacity. You relapsed on your sobriety. You have a history of substance abuse. It fits. I’m not worried about that part. It’s what comes after. Your cousin.”

  I rubbed my face. “Vinn is the least of my concerns.”

  “Tony, your guards report straight to Vinn.” Knox’s voice dropped as he leaned forward. “Put this aside. It’s not worth the trouble.”

  “I’ll hire private security.”

  “That’ll be hard. You’re the son of a notorious mob boss. They’ll think you want them for illegal activity.”

  I did, which made my estrangement to Vinn so inconvenient. Still, there were other options.

  “What about street gangs?”

  “I wouldn’t. They’re flocking to Legion now that they’re patching in other clubs.”

  That was news to me.

  “Since when?”

  “They’re allowing rival MCs the chance to defect to their side, no questions asked. It’s a limited-time offer that expires in the summer.”

  “Well, maybe I should get my hands dirty.”
>
  “Tony, that’s a bad idea.”

  I didn’t care. I wasn’t giving up.

  They stole everything from me. Ruined me.

  I had no intention of honoring a cease-fire. My cousin had overstepped in a big way, and I would punish him. First, I needed to wrangle in the new wife.

  I opened the tablet and found her relaxing in the living room. I traced her silhouette. She swiped through the phone I’d given her. She grinned, pressing the cell to her ear.

  That smile held secrets.

  I’d find them out.

  Six

  Evie

  I’m grateful my husband gives me plenty of space.

  Tony disappeared for weeks.

  Good riddance.

  After he dumped me in a spacious penthouse downtown and gave me the rundown of his rules, which I wouldn’t follow, Tony had vanished. He must’ve owned another property because the front door never opened except for Christian, sometimes accompanied by a younger man.

  I couldn’t complain about my new living situation. Tony’s digs in Beacon Hill beat the hell out of my mobile home. A private elevator took me straight into an old-world penthouse with two floors, a deck with a pool and garden, and four bedrooms. I soaked in his clawfoot tub overlooking cobblestone streets, sat on the rooftop until my teeth chattered with cold, and admired the brick and black leather that dominated the décor.

  My gratitude for it all grew every day.

  My love for its owner did not.

  Tony ignored me. He didn’t call. He refused to text. He acted like our goddamn wedding had never happened. I had questions about the house, but God forbid he answer the phone.

  I rolled over, head pounding from my caffeine withdrawal. I slipped from the king-sized bed, blinking from the late afternoon light. Tendrils of heat wrapped my limbs, and then a pair of male voices drifting under the door chased it away.