Monster: A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance

by Vanessa Waltz

  “K drugged me,” she said, tearing into my chest. “He ripped off my clothes. He took pictures of me while I was helpless. Then he shoved me in a suitcase. He made me feel like trash. Less than an animal. A thing. If you go on a rampage, you’re making this about you.”

  My vision clouded with terrible fantasies.

  I couldn’t hold this in me anymore. My self-control had frayed to an invisible thread, and it whittled with every confession.

  It happened to me, too.

  I found her father at a bar.

  Typical.

  My fists tightened on the steering wheel. He should’ve been razing the streets, looking for his daughter. Using his manpower to kick down doors, as my family had done for me.

  Jett drowned himself in Budweiser.

  Unbelievable.

  I sat in a van surrounded by street gang kids. Young and stupid. Hungry for action. Perfect for my purposes. I risked Vinn’s wrath by grabbing his soldiers, but at the moment I couldn’t look at someone in leather without the desire to kill them. It’d been only too easy to drive by the neighborhoods and throw open a door, asking for help. They’d piled in without a second’s thought after I gave them each a thousand dollars cash.

  The vibe in the car was silent reverence. Most of them were distant relatives, cousins of cousins, half-Italians, associates who couldn’t be made into members. They worshipped guys like me with a direct line to the Costa throne.

  The one in the driver’s seat was their leader, a gangly twenty-year-old who I’d seen at a few weddings. A vape pen hung from his mouth. Steam blew from his crooked lips as he reached for a baseball bat.

  “Mr. Costa. We doing this or what?”

  I nodded. “I’m going in first.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll kill the bouncer and the bartender. Don’t come inside until I’ve fired.”

  “Does Vinn know about this?”

  “Nah.” I smirked at the kid, whose jaw went slack. “This is dangerous, but I’ll take full responsibility. I’ll understand if you change your mind, but I’d appreciate the backup, and I’ll pay it forward in the future. For all of you.”

  He raised his brow. “So you’ll owe me a favor?”

  “Yep.”

  He offered me his fist, and I knocked mine against it. Then I did the same for everybody in the van. Someone got the door for me.

  I jumped down and strolled across the street. I wouldn’t blame the kids for taking off. Picking a fight in a biker bar was stupid, but I had no hope of confronting Jett in the clubhouse and I needed to send a clear message.

  Five young faces gaped at me as I approached the grizzled prospect.

  He held out his hand. “ID.”

  I opened my wallet. Cards slipped through my fingers and fluttered to the ground.

  “Shit, sorry.” I kneeled, feigning drunkenness as I groped for the plastic. “Here we go.”

  I gave it to him.

  He bent as his penlight zoomed on my face.

  I took out my knife, and the blade sank into his neck. He shouted, palming the gushing wound. Wide-eyed he stumbled backward. I threw him aside and wrenched the knife out. No blood on me. Good. I tucked the knife into my jacket and removed my gun, heart pounding.

  I bumped into the door. It swung into the dive. I headed for the counter, the barrel hidden in my sleeve. The bartender looked up as he cleaned a mug.

  I lifted my hand in a friendly wave, drawing his attention away from the gun. I aimed and fired. The glass he held shattered. Crimson blossomed from the hole in his chest. I squeezed the trigger, firing at the drunken members. A man at the pool table sprinted at me. I wheeled my arm. Fired.

  He crashed to his knees.

  I ducked behind the counter as top-shelf liquor exploded. My feet swam in glass and booze. I returned fire, and then the street kids burst inside, a perfectly timed whirlwind of chaos. They shattered neon signs, smashed the unbroken bottles, and laid waste to the popular Legion bar.

  I stood, gun drawn.

  I locked gazes with a dark-haired biker, fists clenched and trembling. Evie’s almond-shaped eyes stared at me, fear flickering in them. I hesitated. For all his faults and flaws, he was her father.

  Jett reached into his holster.

  I whipped my Glock across his face. The blow knocked Jett off the stool. He sputtered, his beard running with beer and blood.

  “Where’s my daughter?”

  “She’s safe, not that you give a shit.” I lowered so that my lips hovered near his ear. “The only reason your brains aren’t decorating the floor is because of Evie. I suggest you remember that.”

  “You think she’ll want to be with you? After all this?” He pushed himself upright, grinning a crimson smile. “You’re crazy. You’re fucking mental.”

  My ears pounded.

  Visions of Evie storming out the door clouded my head. The idea of her leaving rocketed my pulse and dried my mouth.

  “She won’t leave me.”

  “You’re sure of that?” Jett chuckled, spitting out blood. “Keep my secret and I’ll keep yours, Costa.”

  Fuck you.

  Fuck you, fuck you.

  I stood, my grip tightening on my Glock. “I’m not the same guy you chained up. Consider this a warning.”

  Twenty-Five

  Evie

  I’m grateful that roses have thorns.

  Where was Tony?

  What was he doing?

  Hours ticked by with nothing from him. I sat in the living room, an afghan draping my lap. The doctor had already examined me and left. Tony’s mother never picked up the phone, so I was alone. My only light blazed from my phone, which I checked compulsively.

  Dad: Are you okay?

  Dad: Talk to me.

  Me: I’m fine.

  I couldn’t stand exchanging another sentence with my father. He’d let me down so badly. I couldn’t breathe without pain stabbing my ribs. I wrapped myself in blankets, as though the vivid images would disappear with enough heat. My mind buzzed as I pieced together my arrival into the hotel and the girls on stage.

  I’d seen wild things at patchover parties. Public sex didn’t offend me, but it was different with vacant-eyed women and the men with zero regard for them.

  My eyes fought to stay open but sleep was out of the question. So was tearing my gaze from the door. He had to come back. Tony had the answers. Minutes…hours passed as the golf ball in my throat swelled.

  The elevator pinged.

  I scrambled from the sofa.

  The doors opened. My disheveled husband stepped inside, carrying a takeout bag and a drink caddy. He tossed his keys and strode into the kitchen, setting everything on the counter. Tony’s button-up was rather wrinkled and his expression pinched, but he seemed all right.

  Thank God.

  My body sagged, and the fatigue slammed into me at last. I dropped onto the tiles. Tony stooped, gripping my upper arms.

  “What’s wrong? Didn’t you sleep?”

  “I couldn’t until you got home.”

  Tony’s brows furrowed, as though he couldn’t imagine why I’d sacrifice my health for him. “Jesus, you must be dead on your feet. Let’s get some food in you.”

  Orange light shot through the grim Boston cityscape as Tony led me into the living room with the wall-to-wall windows. He sank onto the couch, dragging me beside him.

  “Want some?”

  He offered me a pastry, but I sprawled over the cushions and put my head in his lap. A mistake, because the position reminded me of what happened shortly after being drugged.

  I fisted his slacks and fought against the urge to cry out. He stroked my hair. Then he broke off a piece of croissant and held it to my lips.

  “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

  “No.” I nuzzled his thighs and kissed him. “Only this helps.”

  The hand on my hip squeezed, and he let out a tense breath. His touch set off lightning strikes under my skin, even if he touched me wit
h bread.

  “Eat, baby.”

  I obeyed, the butter exploding over my tongue.

  “Is this a thing now?” I murmured, adjusting myself on his leg. “I never imagined you’d have a feeding fetish.”

  “Not my kink.”

  “And yet I feel hardness under my cheek. Way to turn a sweet Hallmark moment into a something naughty.” I turned, facing him. “What would your mother say?”

  His full mouth tugged into a bemused grin. “She’s Italian.”

  “You keep throwing that out like it makes sense to anybody but you.”

  “Family is important in our culture.” He said it pointedly, sending a ripple of heat through my chest. “Mom is always in my corner, no matter what. So if you cry to her about me, she’ll blame you for not servicing your husband. She’ll say I have a man’s needs and you should do your duty.”

  Somehow, I doubted that. “I think your mom is happier with me than with you.”

  “She did threaten to disown me, so you may be right.”

  “What for?”

  “Being an asshole to my wife.”

  His palm cradled my cheek, the shock of him behaving this way running through my body. The touch upset my balance even though I lay still. He stroked me, temple to the back of my head.

  “Tony, why are you doing this?”

  “I like taking care of you, and there’s not much I enjoy anymore.”

  He kissed my temple lightly.

  The imprint of his lips and his bewitching smile warmed me, and then he scratched his nose. Blood smeared his shirt in a long gash.

  Holy shit.

  I struggled upright, seizing Tony’s arm.

  “Broken glass. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Did you kill anyone?”

  He shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  Ice twisted my stomach. “Where were you?”

  “Running errands. No biggie.”

  “Tony, I am not an idiot,” I burst, pushing from his lap. “Please don’t lie to me.”

  “I went to see your dad. We had a disagreement.”

  “You mean fight.”

  “He’s in one piece, hon. Swear to God. Call him if you don’t believe me.”

  These days, Tony had more of my trust. My pulse raced. If I hadn’t married Tony, where would I be? Who would I be forced to service after being sold into slavery?

  I glanced at Tony. “I don’t feel like talking to him.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  He followed as I stormed into the bathroom, slamming cupboards and drawers until I discovered a first-aid kit.

  Then I ripped his sleeve to the elbow. As a president’s daughter in the club, you saw a lot of injuries. Fixing them wasn’t my forte, but I preferred it to him bleeding everywhere.

  Tony sat on the closed toilet, quietly enduring it. He held out his arm when I asked. He let me dab on antiseptics. Bandage. I had the feeling his cooperation was directly related to my close shave.

  “Thank you.”

  He pressed his hot mouth into my cheek, lingering for a moment too long which urged me to catch his tempting pout. Tony took me to bed. He peeled the sheets and slid inside, his head hitting the pillow beside mine. He gripped my hand, brushing the spot where my wedding band used to be.

  “K stole it,” I said bitterly. “I was drugged. I couldn’t stop him.”

  “I’ll replace it.”

  He sounded wooden, but his tawny eyes sparked with fury.

  “It won’t be the one you picked for me.” My chest tightened with the knowledge I’d never get it back. “I planned to make some changes to the band, but now I’ll never…why does that piss me off so much?”

  He went silent for a while, his distant stare echoing his hollow voice. “This never should’ve happened to you. I’m sorry.”

  The shadows darkening his features seemed to grow, and I felt along his stubbled jaw. His beard had thickened and sweat streaked his hair, and I wondered when the last time he’d taken care of himself was.

  Tony leaned into my palm and grabbed my hip, gently stroking. “Anything he did…it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

  I looked up, and my heart lurched madly.

  He kissed my hand.

  Warmth burst across my cheeks. “I’m so sorry you’re caught in the middle…Dad didn’t mean for me to get kidnapped. I’ve done this before and never—safety has never been a problem.”

  His eyes bored into me.

  His gaze reminded me of being wrapped in his arms and fucked. Losing my virginity had been the most intense experience of my life. My body still ached where he’d filled me, and suddenly it pulsed with a yearning. He channeled so much sexual energy and it was beyond me to resist.

  “Your father sucks at being a criminal, Evie. He launders money through your business but does it poorly. I don’t think you’re aware of how badly he’s screwed you. If you ever got investigated, Evie…you can say goodbye to all your dreams because once the world associates Evie with the shit your dad is doing, you’ll be canceled. You’ll never be able to sell a bracelet.” Tony pushed himself to a seated position. “He steals from you, he messes up your financials, he makes you do appraisals with violent men. He doesn’t bring enough backup, giving slime like K a golden opportunity to rob him blind. So the fact that he didn’t mean it? Who the fuck cares? He treats you like trash.”

  I shook my head, tears blinding my vision.

  “I know he’s bad. He does awful things, but he’s been there since I was a baby.” I wiped my face, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “He cried with me when Mom walked out on us.”

  I used to stare at the doorway and imagine her strolling through, wrapping me in her lilac-scented arms. In my mind, there was a perfect explanation for why she’d gone, but a universal truth steered me toward a less sunny conclusion—people let me down.

  Repeatedly.

  Tony’s palm fell on my shoulder. “What happened to your mom?”

  I shrugged. “She took off.”

  “Just like that?”

  “I woke up. She was gone.” I inhaled deeply and adjusted my smile. “At least I had her for twenty years.”

  Tony raked his espresso waves and stared at me. “Did anyone file a missing persons report?”

  “She’s not missing, Tony. She always talked about leaving the MC. I thought she’d take me with her, but she was telling me what I wanted to hear. She abandoned me. My dad didn’t but he hurts me, too. I love them but I can’t rely on them, so I go inward for strength. Everybody has to look after themselves. People will let you down.”

  The hand caressing my back paused.

  “Huh. I don’t agree with that at all.”

  I blinked. “You don’t?”

  Tony shook his head, resuming his restless stroking. His hold glided to my shoulder. He pulled me until my head nestled in the crook of his neck.

  “I’ll die before I let you down.”

  Twenty-Six

  Evie

  I’m grateful that my passion is my job.

  For a week, I woke up to my husband perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. A smile would tick across his rugged face, and he’d push a latte in my direction.

  We developed a routine. We ate breakfast together. Sometimes he wanted me on his lap as he sipped coffee and read the news. Other days, he scooped me in his arms and took me back to bed, fucking me before he took off to do God knows what. No matter what, Tony always delivered me lunch.

  I treasured these small gestures.

  Even the fact that he drew pictures in my coffee’s foam made my eyes well with emotion. The thoughtfulness reminded me of my mom, the things she’d done before she vanished. I never knew how much I needed this. I cherished every moment with Tony, but at the same time it freaked me out.

  How long would he stay before disappearing?

  He was only here out of guilt. As soon as I healed, he’d vanish, and that’d hurt like hell because I loved having
him around. He was better than everyone else’s husband. Nobody was as loyal or brave. I’d never known a man so ruthlessly devoted to protecting his woman. He humbled me. He was trying to stop me from being a victim of the MC, just as he had been. It made me ache for his respect and admiration, which I’d never sought from anyone.

  I dreaded the moment he’d go back to wherever holdout he had before now, so I threw myself into distractions.

  I fielded my dad’s calls. I sketched. I worked on Tony’s gift when he took showers or went for a run, and I contemplated my life, all the things I’d done to support the club.

  Knuckles rapped the doorframe.

  I hid the object in my hands under a microfiber towel and straightened over my makeshift workbench, which Tony had set up so I could finish the pieces I’d been commissioned to do. It wasn’t safe to visit the jeweler’s studio, so Tony cleared his desk and let me use it.

  He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. The sight of my husband’s well-built frame stretched out in the doorway filled me with steam. He’d tucked in a thick cotton T-shirt into navy dress pants. Brown leather, matching his loafers, cinched them tight.

  “Hi, honey.”

  Tony approached with a half-cocked smirk, amusement flickering in his deep eyes. He bent and kissed my cheek, setting off fireworks beneath my skin.

  I turned my head, my lips brushing his ear. “My ass still has marks from your hand.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice warming. “You showed me during your striptease.”

  I bit my lip as Tony’s face wrinkled with a small grin. It’d been in the morning. The memory of Tony’s cock from the night before got me so wet that I plugged in the camera facing the bed. I texted Tony. Then I sat right in front of it and…played with myself. After I’d finished, my phone pinged with an emoji from Tony.

  A flame.

  “I figured it’d get your attention.”

  “It got me through a tedious meeting. Thank God I turned off the sound.” His low laughter tingled across my face like tiny electrical shocks. “You make the most delicious moans when you come. I might set them as my ringtone.”