THEO: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Scott, Raven

  “What about you, Mateo? You’ve been awfully quiet. What do you think about this whole ordeal?” The moment slid by on pins and needles as Mateo sunk into his seat and grumbled nonsensically, and I couldn’t help the disgust that coated my tongue. “Come now, surely you have something to say on the matter?”

  “I don’t, no.” He sounded so much gruffer than those times I’d heard him speak, and I actually felt a little bad for Mateo. He’d been through a lot— whether it was his own making or not— and his dad smiled sympathetically at him. “I don’t really care about it at all.”

  “Good of you to have the option.” Oran’s snark was back in full force, and Mateo only slipped deeper down into his seat. “Regardless, your opinion doesn’t matter, anyway.”

  Talk about family drama . . . man . . .

  43

  Illya

  “Why’d you say that Christmas was the best option when you knew it wasn’t?” Pointing an accusatory finger at Carlyle, I scowled darkly when he shrugged carelessly. “You know, trust goes both ways. Just because you’re my boss or whatever doesn’t give you the right to manipulate me to fuck with your family.”

  “The fact that you figured it out and Oran didn’t is telling.” We were outside, a cigarette muffling Carlyle’s words, and he sparked his lighter with disdain dragging down the corners of his mouth. “He thinks he’s so fucking smart, but all he does is complain. I swear, he probably doesn’t even need those glasses.”

  “Carlyle.” Holding up a hand to silence me, he took a deep drag of his smoke, and I exhaled hotly through my nose. Annoyance roiled through me, and he blew smoke above my head before leaning against the wall to cross his ankles.

  “Do you think my father doesn’t know who you are?” The question made me pause, and his frown deepened. “Nothing happens without him knowing. I may run things here in the States, but he runs everything. He has Mateo fooled, but Oran and I both know better. Why do you think Oran’s under our father’s wing? He’s trying to wrest control from me. I told you Christmas was better because the only thing that doesn’t fool my father is a genuine reaction. There’s no point in trying to lie to him.”

  “So . . . so . . . what? This is some internal power play? Why am I always getting sucked into shit that has nothing to do with me?” Frustration thickened my tone, and I ran my hand through my hair roughly as Carlyle’s cheek twitched. “Translator, fine. Drugging someone, I can probably do that. But this is dangerous, Carlyle, and I—”

  “Illya . . . ” Extending his arm to offer me his smoke like some sort of fucked-up olive branch, Carlyle’s eyes narrowed on me until I took it. Anxiety gnawed deep in my gut, and I took a huge drag in an attempt to snuff it out. “Relax. You’re not some key part. Don’t mistake your involvement in my scheme to outwit my brother with taking action. You did exactly what I needed you to do.”

  “Make your brother look like a dickhead so you could swoop in and save the situation.” Smoke bubbled from my nose and mouth as understanding pushed it from my lungs, and Carlyle nodded firmly.

  “There’s one thing I will never let happen, Illya, and that’s giving control of something so powerful to someone like Oran. I know you noticed, he’s got no sense of humility, and everyone is beneath him. Those that can’t do, judge.” I nodded dumbly, and Carlyle reached to caress my cheek with a warmth in his eyes before sneaking the cigarette from my mouth. “I’ve been playing this game a long time, and you’re right, trust isn’t a one-way street. It has to be built, and building it means taking risks. In this case, it was small.”

  “It was really obvious. Are you sure he didn’t notice you set it all up?”

  “I’m sure he did, but that’s the beauty of it. It was so obvious, so why didn’t Oran notice and back down?” My eyes widened in realization, and Carlyle smirked a little. “It wasn’t about how sneaky I was. It was about how obliviously stupid Oran can be. If he could, he’d shoot anyone that did anything he didn’t like, and that list is very long. Not to mention, if Oran did know I was setting him up, he deliberately chose to push himself into a corner, which is arguably worse. He’d save his self-dignity, make everyone around him an enemy, rather than accept the facts.”

  “I’m always so appreciative that you were born first.” Stepping out from behind the door, George smiled as I tensed, but Carlyle didn’t seem at all surprised. And if he was, he hid it well. This fucking family . . . ugh! George scanned me from top to bottom, and I stood up a little straighter. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing? Just like my daughter, God bless her soul.”

  My brows rose in surprise. That was the first thing Carlyle said to me, too.

  “Uh . . . thanks. I wish I could’ve met her.” He waved a long, gnarled hand that didn’t show any signs of arthritis at my comment, stepping out into the shadows cast from the tall buildings.

  “No, she was pretty but truly stupid.” My jaw almost unhinged at that, and Carlyle chuckled fondly as his dad’s smile widened. “From what my son has shared with me, you’re not the same. My condolences about your family. I wanted to reach out, but you disappeared.”

  “You knew my parents?” George nodded, and my eyes flew to Carlyle as his expression turned grave and stony. “You knew he knew me?”

  “Your mother was the only person to ever connect me to anything.” Nerves dried my tongue even as it sneaked to swipe my lips, and I crossed my arms over my chest. As if sensing where my mind was going, George shook his head, a sad, almost plastic expression fixed on his face. “I was upset to hear she’d passed. I offered her a job if being a policewoman ever fell through. She declined, of course. I hate wasting talent like that.”

  “I . . . I appreciate it.” Awkwardness surged through me because I believed him— even though I knew better. He might be reciting from a book, but that last bit . . . Shaking my head, I turned to Carlyle, and he exhaled smoke out of his nose under furrowed brows. “What now?”

  “Now, I wait to see what Oran will do. The problem with seeing everyone as below you is that you consider them to be inconsequential. I’m sure he’ll try something.” I nearly choked on my own spit, and my face grew hot while Carlyle sucked on the butt of his cigarette leisurely. “I don’t allow violence in my home. You’re perfectly safe, Illya.”

  “The fact that I have to be reassured about my safety, I swear to God, Carlyle, I want it in writing that if anything happens to me, I get to stab you in the arm or something.” Pushing himself off the wall, Carlyle loomed over me, but I stood my ground. I didn’t even have to crane my neck to glare at him in the eye. Taking the cigarette from between his lips, he held it out to me again, and my eyes narrowed before I reached to take it.

  “Fine. If anything happens to you, you can stab me in the arm. Right here.” Tapping his bicep over his shirt, all seriousness glittered in his eyes, and Carlyle ran his hand roughly through his hair before stepping back. “Regardless, this is a waiting game now. Even if Oran manages to surprise me, we need to set up your interview, and Mateo is a problem for me. I have too much going on to babysit him any longer.”

  “He’s my boy, Carlyle. I’ll take care of him.” For a second, George’s mask disappeared, and he developed the most monotone, flat expression imaginable. “It’s about time he grew up and took responsibility for his actions. I don’t think he’s quite got the message yet.”

  Scary . . . he really is a sociopath.

  “We’ll talk about that later. I’ve already sent out the e-mail. We’re just waiting for confirmation. The interview will happen on Saturday. That’s more than enough time to set up the live feed and make arrangements. Until then, Illya, I want you to keep going through my files and find out what you can. The rest are being sent over as we speak. I can keep them digital if you find that easier.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine. Like I said, I doubt there’s much there since you don’t use interpreters as much as your father and brother.” Nodding to myself, my mind whirred in that direction as memories of all those words flashed
in my mind’s eye. “Do these guys know I have all the transcripts?”

  “Probably, why?”

  “What if they ask about it?” Amusement drenched Carlyle’s features, and even George laughed at me as embarrassment sloshed against my ribs. “What? If they know I figured out what they’re doing, I . . . ”

  “Illya . . . ” Plopping his warm palm on my crown, Carlyle smiled a genuine smile, and heat suffused my cheeks as I held my breath. “You really are the cutest. You’re not being interviewed. When those five get here, I’m going to torture and execute them on a live stream. You probably won’t even know they’re here.”

  “Ooh.” Carlyle’s scarier than his dad, it’s official.

  Carlyle truly didn’t care about anyone. He wasn’t mentally ill, he just had no regard for human life unless it suited him somehow. Jesus Christ.

  44

  Illya

  The door to my apartment swung open like a beautiful, black hole that wanted to suck me in, and I wanted to let it. My feet hurt, my brain hurt, the cuticles of my fingernails hurt, damnit. Shuffling heavily down the short hallway to the living room, I flicked on the light sluggishly, and I had half a mind to throw myself on the sofa.

  “Finally.” A shrill shriek burst from my throat, and I held my arms to my chest to cup my face as I whipped around. My heart threatened to climb out of my throat, and Oran lifted himself from my kitchen chair . . . that he’d been sitting in . . . in the dark . . . for God only knew how long. “I was thinking you’d never get here.”

  “This is my place.” Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Gulping hard, I backed up when Oran stepped across the threshold to the living room. “W-what do you want? I’m not having sex with you.”

  “You wouldn’t have a choice if that was what I wanted.” The hairs on the back of my neck bristled, my goosebumps intensifying as Oran stalked toward me like a cat watching a bird. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “That was an awful answer if you wanted my cooperation.” His dark eyes flashed behind his glasses, and I crossed my arms over my chest despite the fierce pull on my skin. “Get out. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  “You haven’t even heard my proposal.”

  “You just said you’d rape me without even thinking twice.” My snipe sunk deep into the pit in my stomach and Oran arched a brow in surprise. “Fine. What is it so you can leave and I can lock all the locks behind you.”

  “I know you’re new here. Do you even know what it is, exactly, you’re getting into?” Oran fucking sat on the low wall separating the kitchen and living room, clasping his hands between his knees, and his surprise faded into seriousness. A barrage of emotions rushed between my lungs, and I pursed my lips thinly in an effort to regulate my breath. “You do know this is a criminal organization spanning nationality and all borders. You looked uncomfortable at lunch. I get the sense you’re not used to violence or discomfort.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Watching him now, so close that I could see the flecks of grey in his eyes, Oran didn’t seem nearly as dumb as Carlyle believed. “Why are you asking me that?”

  “Doesn’t it upset you that you’ve been dragged into this through events out of your control?” What the fuck is he getting at? Taking off his glasses, Oran stuck them in his shirt pocket, and I could clearly see that he was just as smart as he thought he was. “I’m not going to lie. You’ve had it rough. Do the benefits outweigh the risks for you?”

  “What benefits do you think I’m weighing against?” Oran knew who I was, just like his dad and Carlyle. Unless . . . My brows rose, and he frowned as something dark flashed in his eyes. “You didn’t do any research on me, did you? That’s why you’re here. Carlyle somehow stopped you from being able to, and you’re trying too hard read me.”

  Everything about Oran was a lie.

  And it was hilarious.

  I laughed an almost maniacal cackle, and tears sprang to my eyes as I sat back on the armrest of the sofa. Huge, heaving bubbled of mirth burst inside my ribcage, and Oran’s glare bounced off my chin when I threw my head back. My chest tightened, and I curled my shoulders in an attempt to ease the throbbing just under my skin. My laughter echoed through my apartment, and I covered my face after a moment with clammy palms.

  “Ooh-oh, my God, oh shit.” Sputtering wildly, I cracked open a stinging eye only to bluster a giggle through helplessly thin lips, and Oran started turning red in the face. Unable to contain how idiotically comical this was, I squeezed my achy cheeks together, but it didn’t stop my laughter. “Oh, I can’t breathe.”

  My lungs burned, everything burned, and I wiped my tears off my face before noticing that Oran had physically relaxed as he sat, tapping his heels together. The sight of him smiling faintly quenched my chortling, and he slid to his feet to saunter toward me.

  “You remind me a lot of my sister.” Bracing his arms on either side of me, his eyes glimmered brightly with affection as he came so close his nose brushed mine. Sucking in a sharp breath, my eyes widened as the fine hairs on my face bristled at his soft expression. “Do I seem stupid to you, Illya? Or is it all an act? Am I just a really, really good liar, or do I have the situational awareness of a rancid lemon?”

  “I . . . ” My voice faltered when Oran’s eyes narrowed into slits on mine, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. “No matter what it is, I don’t want anything to do with it. The same thing I told Carlyle, I’m staying out of whatever’s going on between you two.”

  “I hope you do, or you’ll end up just like her. Dead. However bad you’ve had it, Illya, it’s nothing compared to what’ll happen if you get caught in the middle of Dear Big Brother and I.” Shivering at the threat that rolled down my sternum, I clenched my jaw as Oran reached to tuck my hair behind my ear. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I haven’t regretted it so far, and just because you’re confusing won’t make me.” Thanking God that my voice didn’t waver, I frowned as I lifted my hand between our faces, and Oran leaned back with a slight, knowing, infuriating smirk. “Get out.”

  “With an attitude like that, not even my father will dare piss you off.” Oran turned up his nose at me, his smirk widening, and my eyelid twitched in irritation. Even if he was a mystery, that fucking haughtiness was all too real. “Goodnight, Illya.”

  “Whatever.” He didn’t stop retreating from my apartment at my grumble, and I only breathed a shaky breath when the lock clicked damningly on the doorframe. Slumping hard, my brain churned furiously as the past thirty-five seconds or so flashed behind my lids when they shuttered tight.

  A sociopath.

  A heartless bastard.

  An expert liar.

  “This is so frustrating.” True to my word, though, I didn’t regret coming here even if the choice had more or less been made for me. The door beeped shrilly, and the reason I was here, dealing with all this shit, came waltzing in to cast me a curious, dark glance.

  “I thought you’d be asleep by now.” Theo scanned me critically, and I inhaled through my nose as my heart stabilized against my ribs. “What happened?”

  “Today sucked.” I wasn’t sure what to tell Theo, or what he would feel comfortable keeping from Carlyle, and he grunted lowly as I dodged the question. “I just . . . I don’t know what I was expecting, but everything is so confusing and dramatic, and I feel like I’m watching a bad soap opera.”

  “If you don’t like it here, I’ll tell Carlyle to fuck off, and we can leave. It’s fine here, but that’s because I know not to let the internal politics screw with my head.” The offer knocked the air from my lungs, and Theo stalked toward me to sweep me off the side of the sofa. “We’ll sleep on it.”

  “I’m gonna wait and see how this week plays out before I think up any real thoughts.” Winding my arms around Theo’s neck, I rested my cheek on his shoulder as he carried me to my room. “If it’s a one-off. I can deal with that, maybe.”

  “Things like this heat up and cool do
wn. It’s never a one-off.” I hummed in acknowledgment as my eyelids became heavy, and Theo squeezed me reassuringly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Illya.”

  “I know. It’s the things I don’t know that make me nervous.” He didn’t reply to that, but I knew the next few weeks were going to be nuts. Tightening my arms around Theo’s neck, I soaked up his warmth. It was better to focus on him than the looming disasters waiting to happen.

  About the Author

  Did you enjoy Theo? Check out the prequel to the Syndicate! Read Today https://BookHip.com/QMVSBJ

  Mafia. Outlaw. Killer.

  It’s who I am.

  My brothers are my kin of choice.

  I would never let them down.

  Nobody threatens the Santinos, my family.

  We were born and bred to rule.

  The only laws that matter are our own.

  Loyalty and allegiance are everything to us.

  And those who betray us never live long enough to regret it.