Asher Black: A Fake Fiance Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 1)

by Parker S. Huntington

  “And this was all legal?” I ask in disbelief.

  “I didn’t always fix situations through legal means, but in terms of my business consulting, that was mostly legal. I was paid a consultant’s fee and even filled out a W-9 for my work. My income was taxed by the government, too. Fully legal.”

  I don’t believe it. “But some of those businesses are money laundering schemes.” I read that on a blog that follows the Romano family.

  He looks startled by my knowledge. “Are you sure you’re not a spy?” But the lack of heat in his tone tells me that he’s only joking. “They make a lot of their money through legal means, but one of the on paper businesses is a money laundering scheme.”

  “Which one?” I ask.

  He glances at me. “Are you sure you want to know? You can’t un-know it, and this can be dangerous knowledge.”

  I think about it. I don’t really want to know, but my gut is telling me that I need to learn as much about the situation, about him, as I can. Ignorance is often more harmful than knowledge. Just ask Mary Jane Watson when the Green Goblin dragged her all over the city. She’s a damsel in distress, which I refuse to be.

  I’ll settle on being a scaredy cat with random bouts of courage.

  I nod and say, “Un-know isn’t a word, and the Asher Black the world knows wouldn’t let anyone harm his fiancée.”

  He barks out a stunned laugh. “No, he wouldn’t.” He’s silent for a moment. “It’s the strip club chain.”

  I roll my eyes. “Figures.”

  “It’s actually one of my more brilliant ideas. Stripping is a cash heavy business. The IRS knows and accepts this. The Romano family has their boys come in with their cash earnings, and they spend all that money on tipping the strippers and waitresses. The girls pool the tips, which go to Frankie Romano.”

  Frankie Romano is the head of the Romano family.

  I finish for him, “Let me guess. The girls are legal employees that get paid in wages, which come from the tips and cover fee, while the boys keep their share of profits and tip the rest. The tip income and club employee wages are even taxed as legal earnings.” I laugh. “You probably even have the tip policy in the employee contracts.”

  Asher looks impressed. “Exactly. The feds can’t touch the Romano family. The only ones involved in the illegal dealings are technically just customers of the clubs. They’d have to target those guys individually, and even if they’re caught, it doesn’t trace back to the Romanos. There’s no way to cut the head off the snake. Just a never ending supply of tails that are pointless to go after. Tails always grow back.”

  I study Asher’s profile. This is the most animated I’ve ever seen him. It flows into his appearance, and he looks both refreshed and invigorated—and far less scary than usual. The effect is enough to make my heart skip a few beats.

  I whisper. “You’re pretty smart, aren’t you?” I shake my head, clearing it of whatever just possessed me to compliment him.

  He sighs, and it reminds me of why he’s telling me this stuff in the first place. I need to know as much as I can about my new “fiancé.”

  “Not smart enough.” His fingers clench harder against the steering wheel. “I signed a contract for 10% of the earnings of all of the businesses I helped create for the Romanos. It was a lot of money, and I used it to invest in my own businesses. All of my businesses are under one company, Black Enterprises.”

  He pauses, allowing the information to sink in. “One of the board members is trying to vote me out based on my suspected mafia ties, and he can point out my shares in Romano businesses as evidence. Even if they’re technically not illegal, those businesses are tied to the Romano family, which has a notorious reputation for organized crime dealings. They’ve mostly turned away from the hardcore stuff, but it doesn’t paint the most favorable picture of me.”

  “The one that’s trying to vote you out… He’s the one that was sneering all night, right?”

  Asher gives me a dry laugh. It’s amused and irritated all at once. “Yeah, that one. His name is René Toussaint. He thinks that, if the board votes me out, he’ll be promoted to CEO. The man’s after my bonus and power, and he doesn’t care how he gets it. Hell, if he can get his hands on my majority shares of the company, he won’t hesitate to take them.”

  “Is there grounds for your dismissal?”

  “There’s no proof that I’ve done anything illegal for the mafia, so he can’t attack me from that angle. What he’s been doing is painting me as young, inexperienced and unstable in order to prove that I’m a threat to the wellbeing of the company. It’s a smear campaign, through and through. I haven’t exactly made it hard for him, either. In the business world, I am young, which automatically makes me inexperienced to them.”

  He’s only 25. Whereas I see that as something that only makes his achievements even more impressive, I can see how René can depict it negatively.

  “As for my instability, all of the board members have wives, kids and homes. That’s their view of stability. I’m single, have no family, and am living in a penthouse apartment.”

  “Which is where I come in,” I say, putting the pieces together. I can handle this, being involved in an office dispute rather than a mafia one.

  “If I have a fiancée, René can’t argue that I don’t think about the future, that I’m not putting down roots.”

  “And as a ‘ghost,’ they won’t be able to pull up any dirt on me.” I don’t bother telling him that Lucy isn’t even my real name. It’s not like I’m a criminal.

  “Exactly. Couple in the fact that you attend an Ivy League and spent the last two years of your life volunteering, you’re practically a saint. You’re an even better candidate than Nicole ever was.”

  I can’t help myself. “Why was she a candidate anyways?”

  “She made sense, because she was someone I’d been fucking regularly.” He says it so casually, I don’t even blink. “We’ve attended events together a few times, she’s pretty, and she has a clean record. It was believable. But you’re the jackpot. You won’t just not make me look bad. You’ll actually make me look good.”

  I almost don’t register the compliment. The way he says it isn’t flattery. It just is.

  I’m silent for a moment. “So, tell me. Why should I go along with this fake engagement?”

  “Easy. You have no choice.”

  And just when I am starting to get comfortable around him, he says something like that. I’m almost thankful for the much needed reminder of the looming threat to my life. I was letting myself relax, which could have been the death of me.

  I turn to him and give him a serious look, recognizing that I should nip the threat to my life in the bud if I can. “That’s not true. At any moment, at any second, I have the power to give you up. What’s stopping me from doing that?”

  “I’m a dangerous man.”

  “That may be true, but I don’t think you’ll hurt me.”

  “No?” He’s amused. It’s written all over his face.

  “No.”

  I remember his words from earlier today.

  You’re an innocent. You stepped wrong, but you’re still an innocent.

  After spending more time with him, I believe him now more than ever before. Maybe there actually is a line he draws, a moral code of conduct he possesses. Am I really willing to risk my life on a maybe?

  I deliberate my next words carefully. “You won’t hurt me. Not when there are better alternatives. You’re a business man, so sell this to me. Convince me to willingly agree.”

  Since I owe him and the deed has already been done, I’ve mentally committed myself to pretending to be his fiancée, but he doesn’t need to know that. I figure if I’m going to be his fake fiancée anyway, I might as well get something out of it. I recognize an opportunity when I see one.

  He stops the car at a red light and turns to stare at me, his eyes appraising. I don’t understand what I’m seeing in them. Is that… admiration?


  “Are you trying to renegotiate our terms, Ms. Ives?” There’s amusement in his icy blue eyes.

  I nod and clear my face, taking a lesson from one of Aimee’s textbooks—you don’t go into a business meeting with emotions. “As far as I’m concerned, we haven’t even begun to negotiate.”

  The light turns green, and I watch as Asher turns right. We pull into the garage of a building. I catch a glance at the street name before we’re driving underground. I am pleasantly surprised to learn that we’re only a block from Wilton, perfectly within walking range.

  Hell, Asher’s place is even closer to the main campus than Vaserley Hall is. I’ll be able to wake up later in the morning an—… I catch myself before I finish my sentence. I haven’t even agreed to move in, yet I’m already making plans.

  I’m silent as Asher drives the bat mobile deeper into the garage. I see another garage door, and when he presses a button, the door lifts. My brows lift, too. He has a private garage within the garage. Of course, he does. He parks beside a line of empty cars and kills the engine. Instead of exiting the vehicle, he leans his seat a little further back and looks at me.

  “You’re flipping the tables on me,” he says, his eyes sparking with interest and something akin to appreciation.

  I hold my ground, stomping out the stupid butterflies that jitter at his unspoken praise. “I’m just trying to make this a fair deal.”

  I study him, waiting for him to speak, to tell me whether I made a wrong move or the right one. As I watch a myriad of emotions flit through his face, I’m shocked to realize they’re there. I thought he was cold, a killer, but since I stepped into Rogue today, he hasn’t been the ruthless killer the city paints him as.

  “Have you actually killed someone?” The words slip out of my lips before I can stop them. I cover my mouth, horrified by my lack of filter. “I-I d-didn’t mean t-that.”

  He stares at me, studying the fear on my face. When he finally speaks, I’m dumbfounded by his words.

  “Not in a while.”

  He reaches out for my trembling hands, causing my heart to still as he removes them from their position over my mouth and returns them to my lap. He lets go immediately after, but his eyes remain on mine.

  “Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t be this meek, little girl. Be the woman that challenges me. That’s the one I want to be engaged to. I have no use for the cowering little girl that shakes at the mere sight of me. I need the strong woman I know you are. The one that sees an opportunity and takes it. The one that just flipped the tables on me, demanding a fair trade… The one clever enough to test me when all she wanted was for me to slide my cock deep inside her tight walls.”

  I suck in a sharp breath, unable to exhale until I absolutely have to.

  … Sink my cock deep inside…

  His words are on repeat in my head—the honesty, tenderness, and vulgarity all slushing around in there, causing my heart to quicken and my face to flush. This girl he described...

  That isn’t me, is it?

  Nevertheless, I want to be her. I’m startled that he wants that, too. It’s harder than it looks, though. When he’s like this, honest and open, it’s impossible to reconcile my experiences with this side of him to the one that pinned me against the wall on campus and stalked me to my classes, toying with my emotions and fear.

  That’s the Asher Black of legends. The one rumored to have executed a hit on more than a dozen members of a rival family in one night. This Asher, the one demanding me to be stronger, is even stranger to me than the killer alter ego. I don’t know which side of him to expect, and it’s giving me whiplash to accommodate my dueling perceptions of him.

  I don’t know whether to be fearful or fearless, so I endeavor to be a woman worthy of my own admiration. Strong. I shake away my nerves and replace them with courage—not because he asked me to, but because I’m sick of being weak when I’m capable of being strong.

  I turn and make eye contact with him, ignoring the satisfaction on his face. “Why should I agree to this charade?”

  He accepts my change in attitude easily, altering his tone to a sexy, dominating boardroom voice. “I’ve seen your finances and your scholarship situation. You have enough to pay for tuition, but you can’t afford to keep living in the dorms. Your job at the coffee shop is enough to pay for the books and a little bit of rent, but what happens when the rent increases in Vaserley? And it will. It does every year.”

  “I’ve been looking at jobs in the city.”

  “And all the money you’ll be making at an entry-level summer job will go to your rent. You’ll be burnt out by the start of school. That’s a shit plan, and you know it.”

  “I can move out of the dorms and find a cheap apartment,” I protest.

  “Nowhere near campus, because there’s nothing cheaper than five grand a month in this area. This is prime New York real estate. Are you really willing to work that much just to live in a studio apartment?” He softens his voice until it’s a seductive lull. “Move in with me, Lucy.”

  Gosh, the way he says my name is a lullaby. I hate that it’s working wonders on my resolve. He really is the perfect predator—danger wrapped in a deceptively beautiful package. Except I’m smart enough to know better. I have to be, for my own sake.

  “I’ve already paid rent for the rest of the semester,” I say, weakly.

  “Send me your leasing contract, and I can get you a refund. I’m familiar with real estate law.”

  Of course, he is.

  “But what about Aimee?” I ask, pulling out my last trump card.

  “She’ll get her own room in the dorms. It’s a sweet deal.”

  “Until some stranger she might not get along with moves in.”

  “After the school year has begun? That almost never happens, and you know it.”

  “But… I don’t even know you. You’re connected to the mob.”

  “I haven’t been involved with the Romano family’s illegal dealings for a while, and when I was, I never hurt women.”

  I believe him. My internet research supports his words, and looking at him now, I can’t help but believe his sincerity. No one is that great of an actor. Not even Leonardo DiCaprio can lie so convincingly. I’ll admit that, and I’m the biggest DiCapriHo you’ll ever meet.

  I’m grasping at straws now. “You could just give me money in exchange for my services.” I wince. I sound like a damn hooker.

  Thankfully, he ignores my innuendo. “Any cash or electronic exchanges of money runs the risk of showing up on a financial background check, which René will undoubtedly perform. What I can do is alleviate you of some regular expenditures in a way that won’t draw suspicion. If you move in with me, you’ll save tens of thousands of dollars on rent without raising any eyebrows. I can also supply you with groceries, which would save you another $12,000 over the course of the year.”

  I choke on a surprised laugh. $12,000 a year on groceries? For one person? Does he eat gold?

  He ignores my mocking laughter. “Once you graduate, you’ll need a job. I can write you a letter of recommendation. As the CEO of a multinational company, it’ll hold a lot of weight.”

  I sigh. Even I know that’s too good of a deal to not accept. I can focus on my studies instead of working and worrying about rent. And when the time comes to get a job, I’ll have a letter of recommendation from one of the most powerful men in the city. I’m silent for a few more minutes, trying to think of more reasons not to agree and failing miserably.

  He takes in my face and nods. “Good.”

  It’s decided.

  I’ve officially agreed to move in with Asher Black.

  Chapter Ten

  Courage is what it takes

  to stand up and speak.

  Courage is also what it takes

  to sit down and listen.

  Winston Churchill

  There are a lot of cars in Asher’s garage. I can’t imagine they’re all his, especially since some of them are carbon co
pies of one another. Asher leads me past the line of cars and into an elevator that’s located in his private garage. It takes us straight to the penthouse.

  I’m impressed to find that, instead of elevator music, the news is playing in the background. It’s a rerun of a Mad Money episode from yesterday, in which the host discusses Black Enterprise’s rumored acquisition of IlluminaGen, a pharmaceutical company whose work I am actually intimately familiar with through my coursework at Wilton.

  I turn to Asher and lift a questioning eyebrow.

  He smirks. “I can’t say anything about that.”

  A grin graces my lips as I tease, “Not even to your fiancée?”

  The grin slips from my lips.

  What the Hell was that?

  His face turns serious. “Hey. No second thoughts, okay?”

  I nod, but I’m still frowning by the time the elevator doors open. The elevator leads to a hallway with a single door in it, the entrance to his apartment. After we enter, I am in awe as Asher gives me a tour of the main area.

  The kitchen is large, with clean and shiny state of the art equipment. The penthouse has an open floor plan, so I can see the kitchen, the living room and dining area at once. It makes the already oversized space even larger. This amount of room is almost unheard of in New York City.

  “The whole place is bullet and soundproof. There’s a panic button in each room.” He points to the one in the kitchen, which is hidden in one of the cabinets. “If you press it, my guards will come in.” At my widened eyes, he adds, “Don’t worry. It’s just a precaution. No one involved with any of the families would dare come after me. It’s really just protection against corporate espionage now.”

  I nod dumbly, even though I’m not even processing half of what he’s saying. I’m too overwhelmed by the grandeur of the place and terrifying words like “espionage,” “bullet” and “panic.” Ignoring a wide hallway on the first floor, Asher leads me up a spiral stairwell and straight to a bedroom. It’s large, spanning at least 800 square feet.