THEO: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Scott, Raven

  “What do you want? It’s a slow week, and I don’t have time to chat about Mateo being grounded for throwing a girl over the sofa.” My declaration earned me a hearty laugh, and my gut rot reached just under my skin to spread up my torso. Even Carlyle’s genuinely amused chuckling seemed split between nauseating threat and this easygoing casualty, and I tensed when he clapped a hand on my shoulder. His laugh stopped abruptly, and he pushed me back ever so gently to force me to sit on the sofa before plopping down next to me.

  Leaning back as I struggled to keep a straight face, Carlyle flung his arm over the back of the curved sofa, crossed his knees, and heaved a dramatic sigh.

  “You and I have a lot to talk about.” My eyes widened at his near-perfect German, and Carlyle’s light brown eyes seemed to rip into my soul as he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Just like you know about me, Illya, I know all about you.”

  Clenching my jaw hard, my eyelid twitched in agitation, and the silence stretched as I carefully debated what to say. I had no fucking clue what was going on. Why was Carlyle here? Was Sylvie okay? If Carlyle knew I spoke German, he knew that I was Sylvie’s roommate until recently. Shit.

  I held out my hand palm up and wiggled my fingers, and Carlyle nonchalantly reached into his expensive, silk suit jacket to pull out a thin, plain, white envelope. He tossed it at me with a flick of his wrist, but I was quick, and his eyes narrowed on me with appreciation when I caught it.

  “Let’s get right to business, then.” Switching one knee over the other, Carlyle drummed his fingers on the hard support of the sofa, and I nodded mutely. “Someone is lying to me. I want you to translate for me so I can figure out who it is.”

  “You have your own translators. You came here to warn Theo that you knew about me and that he shouldn’t fuck up.” I was really, really getting tired of being caught in the middle of drama I wasn’t supposed to be involved with, and I knew it shone in my voice. Standing up, I smoothed my little, thin skirt at my thighs and nodded firmly at Carlyle. “Bye.”

  “Before you storm out, hear what I’m proposing. It’s not like you’ve got anything worthwhile to hang on to.”

  “Whatever it is, I don’t want anything to do with it.” I didn’t get anything else out before Carlyle was up so quickly, so silently, that I didn’t even notice until he pressed a finger to my lips. He stood dangerously close, his eyes glistening with just as much admiration as annoyance, and my breath caught when he pinched my chin.

  “That shit might work on others, but not me. Sit down.” He jerked my head back, and I stumbled a little in my heels as I fell back onto the sofa. Theo’s glare rose that hairs on my body, but I still refused to look at him as my eyes locked on Carlyle’s. “I set this up as an experiment to see if my little brother was capable of doing anything of substance. I hoped he would succeed— even a little, tiny bit. However, he failed miserably, and I’m tired of wasting money on him.”

  Carlyle shot his brother the nastiest, most venomous sneer possible, and he dropped onto the sofa to sigh and propped his elbows on his knees. Rubbing his palms together, he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, as if he had to physically calm himself down. Anxiety flooded my veins, and my mind whirred at a mile a minute, not capable of figuring out where this was going.

  “It’s true that I came here to passive-aggressively let Theo know he has a line to tow. I’m not stupid— I did my research on you, Illya. I don’t come into situations with half-cocked knowledge. I know your situation, and I know that Theo is at the end of his rope with Mateo. So, I figured if I was going to transfer him to my service, I might as well hire you.” Surprise lifted my brows and forced a harsh bark of laughter from my throat, and discomfort seared my veins as I shook my head viciously.

  “Yeah . . . no. There’s no way I’d ever, ever move for a guy. That’s not happening. Even if I were going to consider it for the job— which you haven’t discussed. . . ” Trailing off, I frowned deeply at the bemusement that flickered on Carlyle’s face. “If you’re offering me a job, offer me a job. Don’t think I’d pack up what little life I have and tromp around after Theo just because I blew him once.”

  “As I said, I want you as a translator, Illya. It’s not that I don’t trust my own, but it’s never a terrible thing to have a second opinion. How many languages do you speak?” My eyelid twitched in irritation. Carlyle knew the answer to that question, but he wanted me to say it anyway.

  “Six.” He shot me a sharp, expectant look, and I crossed my arms over my chest lightly with a huff. “English, Spanish, German, Italian, Russian, and French.”

  “Yet you’re working here. Let’s just say I don’t appreciate wasted talent. Keep shaking your ass for dollar bills if you want and wallow in poverty, or make something of yourself. I’ll even sweeten the deal because I’m at least partly at fault for not keeping my brother on a shorter leash.” Leaning back, Carlyle stared at me levelly, and a strange sense of foreboding flooded my veins. Whatever he was going to propose was going to be hard to turn down, and that sucked . . . a lot. “I’ll give you your own apartment to help keep you apart from the drama. Consider it a promotional gift if you take the job.”

  24

  Theo

  “A promotional gift . . . right.” Skepticism thickened Illya’s tone, and she cocked her head as I tried and failed to contain the intense desire that rampaged through my body. Apparently, this whole uncertainty thing she had going on only pertained to me, and even Carlyle couldn’t break that with a glance like usual. Fuck . . . watching her keep her cool without the slightest sign of struggle, staring Carlyle down like he was just another scumbag in a club . . .

  “I’ll let you pay your own bills if it makes you feel more comfortable. Rent excluded, of course.” It occurred to me that Carlyle knew something about Illya that made him go so far, but I didn’t bother with that for now. He was going to ship me off to New York with him, and that was great! Not. “So, what do you say, Illya?”

  Her name rolled off his tongue like butterscotch— thick and sticky and not very appealing at all once melted. Scanning her as she cocked her head, I cupped my mouth to hide my scowl as she frowned under furrowed, slender brows.

  “I’ll think about it.” Carlyle nodded as if he expected that reply, and stood up to huff in satisfaction.

  “Good. Sleep it over, and I’ll stop by tomorrow for my answer. Oh, and I forgot to mention . . . ” Illya stood up, folding up her envelope with practiced ease, and I frowned darkly into the room. There was always something more with Carlyle, but he seemed genuinely miffed before he opened his mouth to her quizzical glance. “I’m leaving, but Mateo is staying here while I deal with his . . . mistake. Keep him company. I’m sure he knows where the ATM is.”

  “Are you gonna kill her?” Posing the question instantly, Illya did a good job muting her expressions, but she knew she couldn’t hide them all, or Carlyle would figure out why easily. Impressive.

  “Well, of course not. That thing is probably wishing for it after being strapped to a bed rotting in its own shit for a week, though.” Frowning darkly, I tore my eyes off Illya as shame sloshed up my throat only to be beaten down by rationale. Knocking Sylvie out had been a blessing. All I did was knock her in the temple with the end of the brush, and there was some relief. Carlyle walked out of the VIP room, gently shutting the door behind him, and I lifted my gaze as Illya practically threw herself back onto the sofa. Her hands shook as she covered her face, and I shuffled over to sit next to her in the growing silence.

  “What the Hell is going on?” Groaning loudly, Illya flopped to sprawl over my lap, and I clenched my gut as I struggled to force down my hard-on. Rolling onto her hands and knees, she pouted at me as my hands itched painfully to shove her face down. “You couldn’t have warned me?”

  “I don’t have your number, remember.” Her bottom lip stuck out thicker, and I bit back a groan as I reached to caress it with my right thumb. “That was so sexy. I didn’t know you had some bite to your
bark, Illya.”

  “What does he really want?” The question had no answer, and Illya sighed heavily before sitting back on her heels to pull the envelope out of her sleeve. Before ripping open the side, she glanced at me, and I buried my two fingers in her hair to scratch her scalp. “Don’t worry about what I said, okay, Theo?”

  “Said what? I was too busy trying not to storm over and fuck your brains out to listen to what you were saying.” Illya smacked my arm playfully, a soft smile stretching her lips, and my own twitched up as I leaned back against the sofa to cross my knees. “Anyway, how’d you know Carlyle would pay you just to listen to what he had to say?”

  “Because a guy like that knows a lot of unsavory shit. I work here, so while I’m here, any interaction that he wants in his favor needs to be paid for. That’s probably why he chose now— it’s super slow, even for Friday, and it’d better his chances.” Unfolding the envelope to rip open the side carefully, Illya pulled out a check and groaned softly. “I don’t have a bank account. I’m gonna have to open one, which means getting an ID.”

  “You can just get a Rush Card or something, though, right?” She only hummed at my suggestion, and I glanced over her orange hair at Mateo as he glared at his feet. “You just don’t wanna have a card on you, huh?”

  “Yeah. I don’t really have a choice, though.” Noticing my gaze, Illya twisted to Mateo, but she didn’t linger too long before shaking her head. “What’s Carlyle going to do to Sylvie?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think he’ll do anything to her.” Dark curiosity stained Illya’s pretty face, and I flopped my head back as I thought on that for a second. Carlyle was all about teaching his little brother not to be a little shit, so he hadn’t been lying— he wasn’t going to kill Sylvie. “I have a feeling that whatever happens will be worse.”

  “I feel bad for her, but . . . ” I only shrugged at that. Sylvie was a bit of a stale topic, now. Shifting my weight to ease the pressure on my cock, I spread my legs before Illya crawled to straddle my thighs. My abdomen tightened, and I gingerly set my hands on her hips as she ground her ass against my bulge.

  The honest to God truth . . . I couldn’t pinpoint why I didn’t bend her over. Gliding up her smooth back, my palms tingled wildly, and a numbness attacked my right hand. Illya was so damn sexy, but I just couldn’t make that jump. I wanted things to be even semi-okay, and she was neck-deep in misery at the moment. A small, condescending smirk tilted my lips as her words floated up in my head.

  Was screwing her really taking advantage of her, or was not screwing her really the crime here?

  Leaning against my chest, Illya blew a puff of hot air down my neck, and I closed my eyes to savor her heat. The questions fell away to simple enjoyment that this sexy-as-sin woman was on my lap, and she nuzzled my stubble with her cheek. Warmth suffused my body, and I reached to cup her face as the tenderness of the moment gripped my heart in a vice.

  “I’m probably going to take this job.” Whispering in my ear, Illya’s voice thickened with distaste, but I heard the thread of resignation regardless. “He’s probably already got everything set up— otherwise, he wouldn’t have offered me that ‘sweet deal.’”

  “Hopefully, you’ll be close by so I can sneak into your place and f— ” A soft, choked sob cut me off, and I tensed as my gaze whipped to Mateo. He was fucking crying hot, angry tears that streamed down the muscles straining in his neck, and Illya paused her movements. Mateo knew his brother better than me— probably had a much better idea of what was going to happen to Sylvie— but it was very apparent that whatever it was . . .

  It’d be humiliating beyond belief for Mateo. He was about to learn the hard way that he can’t escape the consequences, or that things rarely happen how he expected.

  “Anyway . . . ” Ignoring him, I turned back to Illya, and her brows twitched up expectantly as I gripped her hips. “When we get settled in, I’ll take you on a date.”

  “A date?” Her squeak gyrated my eardrums even as I nodded firmly, and her cheeks turned rosy from the fireworks sparkling behind her contacts. “I never thought you’d ask me on a date, Theo.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I’m not that much of an incel.” She giggled a little, resuming her swishing and swaying, and I pushed down on her hips to sigh roughly. “Take it as progress that I even told you about it this time.”

  “You should tell me about it so I can say ‘yes,’ and you can feel good about yourself.” Hot palms braced on my knees, and Illya arched her back to pop her ass against my abdomen as she spoke. Sucking in a sharp breath at the friction, I squeezed her ass cheeks through her leotard as a reply balanced on the tip of my tongue.

  “Fuck . . . I’m gonna wreck this pussy the first chance I get.” Growling through clenched teeth, I dropped Illya’s ass into my lap to grip her shoulders, and my cock ached fiercely. Her moan floated into my ears, and I pulled back on her body until I could feel her beyond the thick fabric of my jeans.

  Powerful muscles rippled under her leotard, and I got sucked into my own mind as Illya worked her magic.

  25

  Illya

  “Home sweet home.” Pushing open the door with a flourish, Carlyle sounded so excited that it banged around inside my head, and I automatically closed my eyes. His low, sultry chuckle caressed me even as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I scrunched up my face. Softly putting his palm on my crown, he rubbed like I was a dog needing comfort, and the silence stretched into discomfort. “It’s okay to open your eyes, Illya. Relax. I’ve spent the past week trying to get you to not be so nervous about it.”

  “You locked Mateo in his house, but you don’t want me being so nervous.” My grumble sent a frigid shiver to lodge between my shoulder blades, and I cracked open one eye. Carlyle owned this whole multifunctional building. I’d guessed it was his base, but he never said so specifically. Rolling my lips between my teeth as he shrugged out of the corner of my eye, I huffed myself gingerly.

  The apartment was so nice, but not lavish, and I stood in the entryway, trying to believe my eyes. A hallway with a closet protected the view into the flat, but that wasn’t what impressed me. No— it was that the paint wasn’t peeling! The hardwood floors weren’t popping up! The stench of mold wasn’t wafting in my face, and there weren’t black spots seeping through the ceiling.

  I hadn’t even stepped into the place yet, but just the hallway was miles better than anywhere I’d ever lived. Forcing my knee to bend, anxiety and excitement mingled in a volatile cocktail in my bloodstream, and goosebumps swept up my leg under my jeans. This past week had been insane— I’d quit my job on Sunday, did absolutely nothing until Thursday, and gotten on a plane on Friday morning to zip across the country.

  But I’d seen more of Carlyle than of Theo, and I fought a frown as I stepped over the threshold. This man was the exact opposite of his little brother, and I couldn’t get over the inherent unease I had from first sight. Everything he did to try to calm my nerves only intensified them. It all seemed so fake and two-faced. I half-expected Carlyle to throw it all back at me somehow, even though he didn’t seem like the kind to do that.

  That kind of tactic was brash and abrasive, and Carlyle was the guy that’d do something horrible with tact and grace.

  “So, what do you think?” Blinking hard, the question sucked me back into reality, and I glanced around at the pristine, completely unlived in living room through dazed eyes. The carpet had never been walked on, the sofa had never been sat on, and the coasters on the coffee table had never held a glass. Hoovering up a huge, stabilizing breath, I only nodded dumbly, and Carlyle practically beamed at my overwhelmed expression.

  “It’s nice.” Clearing my throat roughly, I wondered how I’d gotten to this point, but my brain refused to work. Pressing his palm against my back, Carlyle led me into the kitchen off the living room, and I leaned on the low wall that served as a breakfast nook. Things had gone from about seventeen to a hundred so fast, and exhausted hallowed my chee
ks and dragged down my eyelids.

  “All the food gets delivered. There’s an app that you install on your phone to order and set up a time. I suggest doing it at night.” That got my attention focused, and I arched a brow quizzically as Carlyle grabbed a chair, whipped it around, and straddled the back. “Everything gets checked coming in. Unlike my idiot brother, I’ve had a good number of attempts on my life, and food is the coward's golden chariot.”

  “Oh.” He so casually mentioned almost being assassinated that it could’ve been comical, and I leaned on the wall to glance around the kitchen. Every cup and plate was perfectly aligned, again, never used. Everything in this apartment was brand new, and a ball of discomfort clogged my throat. “Are you gonna tell me what you really want me for?”

  “Come with me.” The question had burned into my very soul these past few days, and Carlyle stood up to gesture me to follow him. Taking the short hallway alongside the kitchen, I rubbed my palms together as nerves tingled in my fingers. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Carlyle had really taken an interest in me, and I stiffened when he whipped around. His light eyes sparkled as he held up a hand, and my mouth dried in anticipation. “I wasn’t necessarily lying when I said I wanted you for your linguistic skills. I just don’t think wasting away behind a desk is going to do me much good.”

  “So . . . ” Waving my own hand impatiently at such a vague answer, I beat down my apprehension before Carlyle grabbed the doorknob directly to my right. He pushed open the barrier, flicking on the light to reveal a huge closet.

  A closet with a vanity bristling with lightbulbs and a huge assortment of makeup and neatly rowed dyes of the same brand I usually used. A closet with no walls, just racks upon racks of clothes of any kind, and a million pairs of shoes. A closet with a fucking sound system in it that was easily twice the size of my apartment back in California.