THEO: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Scott, Raven

Memories beat against my burning eyes, and shivers raced down my spine. Sylvie and I made a pinky promise so long ago, standing outside a womens’ shelter in the rain while we waited for the doors to open. With such clarity, I could remember her tone as she explained she wanted to get clean. Determination sparkled so brightly in her eyes even as she regaled me with the tale of her blowing a dude for drug money.

  Where had that gone? Why did I feel like I was the one strung out? Why did I have the ache that may never go away?

  “Fuck. Fuck, Jesus Christ. I can’t believe you!” Hissing, I was so angry, I jabbed the lock in place and stomped my foot just to release some energy. “You bitch!”

  I told Sylvie— I expressly, clearly stated— that I would fuck her up if she ever used again and I found out about it. I wasn’t going through the mood swings, the sweating, the screaming— never again. When she was in a good place, I told her straight that she’d be gone— g-o-n-e— gone!

  “Damnit!” Straightening to take a huge breath, in an attempt to calm down, I shook my head viciously, and my fake blonde hair clung to my cheeks from the sweat of my ride. “Okay, okay. I just need to calm down. I’ll do my shopping. I’ll bring everything home. I’ll go for a super long ride to figure out how to confront her, and then I’m kicking her out. I don’t care what she says.”

  3

  Illya

  Tapping my foot furiously as I watched Sylvie unlock the door through pupils narrowed to slits, I didn’t try too hard to hide how miserable I felt. It happened in slow motion— the click of the lock, the turn of the knob, and the door popped open. When the barrier swung open, my eyes snapped up, and Sylvie’s pointed features twisted like a deer getting whacked with a front bumper.

  Something flashed in her dark eyes, and I knew that she knew she’d been caught. I could tell by the look on her face that she was still under the influence, so it’d been less than two hours since she bought that shit behind the dumpster.

  Well, she won’t have anywhere to go but that damn dumpster in a minute.

  “Don’t even try to deny it. Get your shit and get the fuck out.” To be honest, the drug use was bad enough, but Sylvie had lied to me to do it— the same, bullcrap story as every other drug addict. Her face froze at my hard-edged demand, and my eyelid twitched in agitation at the notion that she’d try to lie to me again. I had a pretty alright phone with a pretty alright camera, and there was no way she’d convince me that what I saw was something else.

  “Illya, I can explain. That wasn’t for me. This girl at work pays me a little to go get it for her, like . . . like a middleman.” A harsh guffaw burst from my throat, and I shook my head as Sylvie walked over to me with panic slowly settling on her features. Her voice heightened, developed a little stutter as her mind tried to keep up with her lie, and an ugly, black blotch opened up in my chest. “Please, I swear, I didn’t use. I wouldn’t . . . I would never jeopardize— ”

  “Get your shit and get out, or I’ll throw you out.” In a place like this, there was no lease, no nothing, just pay my rent, keep my head down, and hope ICE doesn’t show up and clean the building out. Grinding the words through my teeth, I knew there was no help for me if Sylvie didn’t leave on her own— either I physically removed her, or I threw up my hands and walked out.

  Neither would be painless, I knew, and my heart twisted at the huge, fat tears that sprang to her eyes. Sylvie opened and closed her mouth a few times, standing there stupidly, and I grabbed her arm to yank up her thin sweater. She couldn’t react fast enough, and I ground my teeth hard at the track marks on her arm. I’d judge that she’d used three, maybe four times over the past week or two, but the amount didn’t matter. Throwing her arm back, I scoffed in disgust when she stumbled a little, and I raked my hand through my hair viciously.

  “How dare you lie to me, Sylvie?” Hissing through clenched, aching teeth, my eyes stung with how pathetic she suddenly seemed. I could barely look at her. “How dare you? Don’t you stand there and lie. Don’t say a single word. Either get your shit and get out, or I’ll throw you and your shit out the window.”

  “Illya, can we just talk about this . . . please? I made a mistake, okay— I know it— bu— ” Pulling my switchblade out of my fanny pack, I flicked open the pointy end, and Sylvie sputtered a little as her eyes grew big and her face pale.

  “I’m not gonna say it again.” She just stood there, staring at my switchblade as I twirled it around, not brandishing it per se but proving I was serious. Of course, Sylvie didn’t need to know how badly my stomach roiled, how weak my knees were. I mean, we went through a lot, and I thought we were best friends. Drugs killed more than just the physical, though. Her dark gaze flickered to mine, and I jutted out my chin in defiance even as I struggled to breathe.

  My heart pounded hard as she sort of deflated, and Sylvie shuffled heavily over to her cot under which all her stuff was stored. We didn’t have much, and Sylvie was very much a sentimental person. Watching down my nose as she sat down heavily, I held my breath in flaming lungs while my heart made a bid to squeeze through my ribs. Holding her head in her palms, she started crying in earnest, and my conviction wavered for a fraction of a second.

  Relapsing didn’t mean Sylvie was bad, just that she was weak. She’d done well while sober, and maybe something happened that tipped her over the edge. True, she kicked the habit, but it never truly went away.

  Flames licked my throat and engulfed my spine at the notion that Sylvie would turn to drugs because she felt like she couldn’t confide in me. We were supposed to have each other’s backs, but I seem to always have yours, and you don’t have mine.

  My switch trembled slightly as I snapped it shut, and the sharp click pulled a hiccup from Sylvie from beyond her palms. Walking over on unsteady legs, I knelt down and didn’t try to hide my sneer when she peeked at me through her fingers. The hope that her crying had moved me shimmered in her eyes, and my disgust coated my tongue as my stomach flipped dangerously.

  I put my hand on her knee, and Sylvie wiped her eyes with a sniffle that grated my ears. Reaching under her cot, I grabbed her duffle bag of shit and stood up too fast for her drugged up mind.

  And I threw that shit right out the window of our third-story apartment.

  Sylvie jumped up with a gasp of shock, running to the window and half hanging out of it. I heard the distinct thud of her bag smacking into the pavement, and I propped my fists on my hips when she whirled around to glare hotly at me. A scary kind of cold gripped my bones in a vice, cooling my breaths and slowing my heart even as she trembled with rage.

  Her duffle bag had some important items in it— expensive stuff from her grandparents that she couldn’t dare part with.

  “You better go get that before someone snatches it.” I barely heard my own voice over the ringing in my ears, and Sylvie went wide-eyed as she switched emotions. Panic drenched her features, and I watched through a veil of grey when she ran out of the apartment. Shuffling to my own cot, I grabbed the locks I’d bought at the grocery store for an astronomical price, and the metal was frigid in my palms.

  It’d take me minutes to change out the locks, and I put my knife away to take up a screwdriver instead. Sylvie had clothes and stuff under her cot, but I’d throw that out when I finished securing the door.

  “I can’t believe this.” Grumbling to myself as I worked to unknot my gut and breathe a proper breath, I shook my head and sucked up air through my nose. The heat of my apartment was strangely absent, but I didn’t put too much thought on it as I started on the knob. Five years of friendship, extremely close friendship, was just . . . gone.

  Poof.

  “It’ll be fine. It’ll suck ass, but it’ll be fine.” Maybe, I could squat somewhere to save money. I really didn’t make a lot with all things considered, but I had fairly good credit, and I didn’t want to ruin that by neglecting my bills. Squatting wasn’t new to me, and I scowled under furrowed brows at the dull, brass knob as it started to come loose. “I’ll ask
around at work. Marcella had talked about wanting a roommate.”

  In the fifteen minutes it took to change out both the locks on the door, Sylvie hadn’t come back, and I tossed lock parts onto my cot to walk to the window. Her bag was gone, but she was there, curled up on the sidewalk, bawling her eyes out. Guilt stabbed my heart, but I shut the window and blocked out the heat of the day to lean on the wall and slide down to my butt. Pulling my knees to my chin, I hugged myself, and the skin on my chest strained and stretched painfully as my ribs threatened to concave on my insides.

  “Don’t feel bad. I gave her three chances. She should’ve taken one of them.” Even as I grumbled to myself, my eyes stung and my mouth watered dangerously, and I buried my face in my knees. “Don’t feel bad.”

  4

  Illya

  Music pumped through my body from all directions, even from the concrete floor, and I reached down to adjust my heel strap absently. A gaping hole had opened up in my chest over the few hours between kicking Sylvie out and heading to work. Everything at home was too quiet, too still, and I couldn’t take it. Roge was shocked when he’d seen I’d come in early, but I simply explained that I was bored at home, so I might as well come in and make some money.

  And, truth be told, I was glad I came in early because Roge put me on VIP, and at least I’d have something else to focus on.

  Straightening to fluff up my fake, dyed, red hair, I gingerly knocked on the door, and A particular type of excitement and apprehension thickened my blood. VIP meant money— thousands of dollars, sometimes— and I hastily tugged my leotard up my chest a little. Couldn’t have whatever rich asshole in this room see a huge scar and not tip me, right?

  Haha . . . not funny.

  The door swung open, and I plastered a smile on my face as my gaze traveled up. Cool air rushed around me from inside the room, and goosebumps washed my bare arms and legs. The man on the other side of the threshold was taller than me despite my five-inch heels, and I actually had to tilt my head to find his stubbled chin.

  “I’m Illya.” My fake, Spanish accent rolled off my tongue expertly, and the man’s cheek twitched noticeably to give me a glimpse of a dimple. Hard, brown eyes scanned me through fine points, and my smile widened when he stepped aside to let me in. “Thank you.”

  He must’ve been a bodyguard by the number of scars on him— just visible, there had to be a dozen— but I couldn’t focus on looking at them at that moment. Three men in nice suits sat on the crescent sofa, two occupied by my coworkers, and some relief seeped into my veins. Sometimes, VIP was a risk, especially if I was alone, and the rich guys were assholes.

  “I didn’t think they let you cover so much skin here, mi novia.” The man sitting in the middle, by himself, scanned me as I sauntered over to him, and I could feel my smile turn brittle. “Why don’t you take that off slow, huh.”

  “Aw, getting to the good part already? That’s a little fast for me.” The guy with Marcella’s ass in his face burst out laughing at my response, and I sat down in Middle Guy’s lap as he went red. Surprise tickled my chest at the brightness in his eyes, his face tinging pink with appreciation, not anger, and I wound my arms around his neck. “Let’s savor the moment.”

  “You got me. That was a good one.” He chuckled, his hand sliding up my back, and I played my part, biting down on my bottom lip when he leaned in. “I’m Mateo.”

  “Illya.” I mean, my name was foreign enough that most people thought it wasn’t real, anyway, and Mateo’s brows roses in surprise. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mateo.”

  “I’m sure it is. Do you actually dance, or do you just shake your ass?” Gesturing to my pale pink leotard, Mateo’s surprise boiled down to curiosity, and I hummed softly. Patting his shoulder, I popped up, and he sat back on the sofa to prop his head in laced fingers.

  “You’re the first person that’s ever asked me if I danced instead of shaking my ass.” Tilting my body to take off my heels, the whole world shifted at the loss of those five inches, and Mateo downright grinned at me. He seemed like a really happy guy, and my own smile became a little more genuine. “Okay, I haven’t done this in a while, so pardon me if I’m a little, well, bad.”

  “This is exciting. Theo, have a seat and watch this.”

  “Like fuck I’m sitting on that couch.” Even so, my skin tightened as sharp eyes scanned me again from the back, and I set my heels under the table, holding a half-empty bottle of tequila. Raising my arms over my head, I arched sharply and shook out my arms, flexing my thinly covered toes on the carpet.

  Holding out my arms, I blinked once— twice— before memories flooded my mind and beat against my eye sockets. My mom made me take ballet, and I really liked it even though I wasn’t super talented. Clenching my jaw, I took a stabilizing breath and viciously forced down the images that played behind my lids.

  All eyes were on me when I focused again, and I nodded more to myself than anyone else. It must’ve been a year or two, now, since I went en pointe, and I winced at the immediate sting in my toes and up my ankle. Shock sizzled in the air, creeping up my skin, but I ignored it to lift my leg in a smooth arabesque. Pursing my lips, I held my breath as a burning sensation shot up my supporting leg.

  Straightening to lower myself to the balls of my feet, I let out a huff and rolled my ankle hard. Clapping surrounded me, and I smiled a little even as I reached to rub my foot through its sheer protection. My heart raced with exhilaration, and Mateo grabbed my arm to sit me on his lap again with a huge smile and impressed glimmer in his eye.

  “Wonderful . . . beautiful . . . ” Flames licked my cheeks, and I mumbled a ‘thank you’ before Mateo turned to Theo, still standing by the door. “I told you coming here was a good idea, Theo. It’s always nice to find someone like her after dealing with nasty, slimy, lying, sneaky cunts constantly.”

  “You’re the one that fucked her, Mateo.” A dark shiver lodged between my shoulder blades, and I glanced over my shoulder only to find Theo staring directly at me. Well, more like glaring. “What does it say about you that you got involved with her, huh?”

  “She was the one that started shooting up again instead of coming to me, Theo.” The sudden sharpness in Mateo’s tone rose the hairs on the back of my neck, and I flexed my foot for good measure before taking my cue. Standing up to position myself between his spread knees, I raised my arms and swished my hips as I became part of the room. “That bitch should’ve known better, but she disappeared. And I get word today that she’s using again. That’s unacceptable. It’s also unacceptable that you haven’t found her yet.”

  “We looked thoroughly. No one’s seen her since the deal went down at Keystone Foods.” Are they talking about Sylvie? Oh . . . Rolling my lips between my teeth as the guy under Marcella spoke up, I carefully masked my expression. “Mateo, I promise you we looked under every rock. She’s gone.”

  “That’s not good enough!” The nasty snarl rolled up my back, and I gasped when Mateo shoved me unexpectedly. Tumbling to the floor, I flailed a little, and I tensed when unfamiliar, strong hands grappled my shoulders before I face-planted into the table. Surprise widened my eyes when I looked up to find Theo looming over me, but our eye contact was brief before Mateo drew all attention.

  A high-pitched squeal cracked through the room like lightning, and my head whipped up as Marcella stumbled over the side of the sofa. Mateo flew into an absolute rage, rearing his arm back to punch the guy in the face several times with practiced, quick jabs. He grunted with the effort, earning a satisfying crunch from the guy’s face, and I tried to make myself as small as possible.

  Sinking into Theo’s chest in the hopes that his broad shoulders and muscular arms would hide me, I tried to block out the sound of fist crushing cheek. Covering my ears, I silently wondered what the absolute fuck Sylvie had done getting mixed up with this guy. If she was who he was after, I would probably be top on the list of people he’d visit.

  Oh-ho-ho . . . this was bad.

 
This was really, really bad.

  “You’re fucking incompetent. You can’t even find one drugged up bitch in this city. It’s not that fucking difficult! If you turned over every stone, why the fuck haven’t you found her yet!” Punctuating each statement with a hard punch, Mateo’s voice boomed through my palms and rattled my brain. Calloused palms squeezed my shoulders, and I tore my eyes off him to find Theo, still, staring. Honestly, it was getting a little creepy at this point, and I held my breath as anxiety flooded my veins. As if sensing my rising apprehension, Theo sort of rubbed my shoulder with his thumb, and tension built to constrict my chest.

  He only has three fingers on one of his hands.

  “Oh.” Jumping when Theo stood up swiftly, I tore my eyes off him to watch Mateo drop heavily into the seat he’d just abandoned. He breathed fire through flared nostrils, his pretty face red and pinched in anger, and I scrambled to stand up. My shoulder and arm tingled wildly, and an eerie stillness descended on the room as uncertainty floated between my coworkers and I.

  Mateo cleared his throat roughly, and my chest tightened when he flashed me a pensive, apologetic smile and gestured me to him. Snatching my wrist, he pulled me into his lap again, and my heart made a bid to jump out of my chest.

  “I apologize for that. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you. You’re just a random stripper, after all. It’s not like my problems are your fault.” Anxiety curdled my blood when he started petting me like I was a kid getting blamed for something I didn’t do, and the hairs on the back of my neck bristled wildly.

  No, but I’m involved, and that’s bad enough.

  5

  Theo

  Leaning on the wall with my arms crossed tightly over my chest, I scowled as I watched Illya swish her hips with an ease that came with practice. Well, of course, she had practice. She was a stripper and this wasn’t some dumpy club accepting anything with an ass and tits. The smooth lines of her long, lean body glistened under the lights as they switched from blue to purple to pink to green and back again.