DEVIL IN DISGUISE: A Russian Mafia/Second Chance Romance (Saints and Sinners Book 3)

by Sophia Henry

  It’s another first for me.

  11

  Cookie

  I thought I’d begun to understand what it means to truly care for someone with Stan, but now I realize I was only in it for what he could give me.

  Being with Harris is completely different. Harris isn’t just interested in sex or saving a damsel in distress to make-up for the fact that he couldn’t save his sister. Harris isn’t an in-your-face alpha male, though he has dominant qualities I appreciate.

  As an alpha myself, I always thought it would be hard to find someone who could match my spirit, and still take the lead, as a man should do for his woman. After years of playing the submissive part, I know what I want in my own relationship. I just never thought I’d find a man who could give it to me.

  Then came Harris. He appreciates my intelligence and independence. He’s completely smitten and treats me like a real woman. He shows me he loves me in little ways. Like the time I washed my tennis shoes. I left them on the floor of my dorm for a few days because I couldn’t be bothered with taking the time to re-lace them. One day, when I wasn’t paying attention, Harris laced them for me and put them in my closet.

  It sounds so silly, so simple, but those are the things I appreciate. I don’t need Harris to buy my things. I don’t want money or clothes or jewelry from him. I want exactly what he gives me. Affection, time, and toe-curling orgasms.

  After living in horrible conditions and being put in repulsive situations my entire life, sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this amazing life. I’ve never felt happiness like I do walking on UNC’s campus. And it’s not just because Harris is often at my side. It’s the entire vibe. I was meant to be here. I was meant to get this education. I was meant to be something bigger.

  All I can think of is that God put me through all those trails so I would appreciate this moment more than if I would have glided into it.

  There are times when the reality of who I am and things I’ve done haunt me. I’ve lived a sordid life. I stole a man’s money. What will happen when he finds out the truth about my past?

  Every day gets better and better, and I get more comfortable in my new life. Days turn to weeks and the next thing I know; I’ve completed my first year of college. Looking back, I didn’t think I would make it here at all, let alone get this far. But here I am, fulfilling my dream, and what makes it even better is Harris, who has been nothing short of amazing since we started dating.

  If this is indeed a dream then I hope nobody wakes me up.

  * * *

  Fall 1988

  One of the first projects Professor Callahan announces for our Business 201 class is to create a fictional business and come up with the steps we need to get it running from the ground up. He gave us a rough outline of what to do, but we have to do the research about our particular idea.

  I’m absolutely ecstatic. This is the kind of knowledge and experience most entrepreneurs don’t get. Starting a business is a daunting task, especially to someone with no one to ask about it and zero start-up funds.

  Then he says he’s going to assign us a partner, so we get the added experience of having to compromise.

  I’m not a group-work kind of person. I hate relying on other people to get things done and I especially hate that my grade comes down to work other people do. I’d rather have full control.

  To make matters worse, I get paired with Charles Williams, the guy who wears a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt every single day and always seems light-years away. Is he a Magnum PI fan? Is he a surfer dude like Spicoli? Guess I’m about to find out.

  When I arrive at the library, he’s sitting at one of the front tables surrounded by paper and what looks like small, thin pieces of chalk.

  “Hey, Charles!”

  He looks up, brushes his sun-bleached hair out of his eyes, and gives me a huge smile. “Hey! Cookie! What’s up?”

  “I’m ready to get started on this project,” I say, taking the seat across from him. I set my backpack in the chair next to me and I dig out a notebook and a pen. “Any thoughts about what kind of business we should open?”

  “So, like, here’s my idea,” Charles begins looking at the ceiling as if he’s reading it there. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve wished there was a place to get rad clothes without having to pay an arm and a leg. Trends change so fast these days. Some of us can’t keep up.”

  I’m so excited to hear that someone thinks the same way I do, but I bite my tongue so I don’t make a comment about trendy and his shirts.

  Now that we’re talking, I’m relieved to find that he’s actually a smart kid. His head is in the clouds, but he’s got some great ideas. And we have one huge idea in common.

  “Dude! I’ve thought the same thing,” I say, sitting upright in my seat. “Like those Swatch watches. They come out with new designs all the time. I can’t even afford one, let alone multiple options.”

  “Exactly! Man, I thought this project was going to blow, but now I’m excited.”

  “Okay, so we’ve got our business. We’ve got to plan from the bottom up, right? See what we need to do to get it off the ground. Which means tons of research, right?”

  “Yep.” He hunches over the table, getting back to work on whatever he was doing when I arrived.

  I crane my neck to look get a better look. “What are you working on over there?”

  “Just some designs ideas I had. They’re for one of my art classes.”

  “You design clothing?”

  He nods and shrugs at the same time. “Clothes, accessories, any crazy idea that pops into my head. I just draw what I see up here.” He taps his temple.

  “Charles! That’s awesome! If you design the clothing, it saves us money on our bottom line because we won’t have the cost of hiring a designer,” I jot that in my notebook. “But how do we get them made? Have you researched that?”

  “I’ve thought a lot about that, actually.” He looks up from his sketchbook and sets his pencil down. “Broke college students will do anything to make some cash, right? I’m sure we can find people here that would do it. Or at a community college or something. I can design the clothes. My wife sews, but it’s not possible for her to mass produce. She could make one set, and have the others copy her pattern. That way, we’d only need a few seamstresses. And we could pay a decent hourly wage.”

  “You really have thought about this, haven’t you?” I ask, looking up from scribbling my notebook, suddenly intrigued in ways that go far beyond a Business 201 project.

  “Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck. “It’s our dream to open a store. Nothing huge, just a small shop for regular people, like, the common man, ya know?”

  A lightbulb goes on in my head. This could be a real business—not just a fictional one for a class.

  “What’s stopping you?” I ask, tucking one leg under my butt.

  “What isn’t?” he asks, with less enthusiasm in his voice. “Money is a huge issue. There are so many costs involved in starting a business, especially one with inventory needed for a store. Rent, utilities, employees, the cost of fabric, thread, zippers, sewing machines.” He trails off defeated.

  “I get it. The store and designs are just the tip of the iceberg. There’s a lot more that goes into creating clothing than design and sewing.”

  He nods. “Exactly. Every time Jeni and I think about it we get discouraged. We’d definitely need a financial backer to start the project and we don’t know anyone with that kind of cash who’d take a chance on a random store.”

  “Good thing we go to this school, eh?” I bump his arm with my elbow. “There are potential financial backers all over the place.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He swallows and looks up sheepishly. “But it’s not that easy to walk up to some rich kid and ask for money. As if they don’t already look down on me.”

  My gut instinct is to tell him to suck it up and put aside his pride. A lot of people are born into shitty circumstances. The difference between
those who succeed and those who don’t is how they adjust and move forward. If you live as a victim, you’ll always be one. If you take responsibility for your own life, you can change the course.

  But I don’t say any of that because I know my personality comes across as brash for some people. They rarely want to hear the truth.

  Instead, I take the softer approach. “I get that, but if you have a dream you need to do what it takes to make it happen.”

  “And that’s why I’m working three jobs while taking a full course load.” He swipes his pencil off the desk and hunches over his sketch again. “I’ll make it happen.”

  I nod, my head spinning with ideas.

  With Harris’ money and name, Charles’ designs, and cheap seamstresses—we have a million-dollar idea.

  Two years ago, I remember telling Stan I wished there were affordable clothing options. Things that looked trendy and high-end for a fraction of the price than what you can find at department stores. Talking to Charles about this project sparked an amazing idea. I’ll have to talk to Harris about it, of course.

  Over the last two years, he’s has been trying to think of a way to stand out from his family. His older brother is being groomed to take over their property development company. The company is so big, there would definitely be a place for Harris, but he doesn’t want to play second fiddle to his brother. He wants to shine on his own and prove he can bring value to the family rather than ride on their coattails.

  If we could get a clothing store off the ground—and make it successful—Harris would gain respect from his family for going a different way and making it work.

  The designs are key. I’m not an artist, so I wouldn’t be able to do that part, but we could always hire a designer. Harris knows everything that goes into running a business. If I could give him a comprehensive business plan, I’m pretty sure he’d go along with it.

  For something that started as a random project for a business class, it’s turning into an idea that could make Harris and I millions.

  “What are you working on?” Charles asks, glancing at me quickly.

  “I’m making a list of all the expenses so we can start researching. You know Professor Callahan will want a thorough project.”

  “Yeah. He won’t accept half-assed anything.” He straightens up. “Leave me a list of things you want me to research before we meet up next week. I’ll get it done.”

  “I’m glad we got paired, Charles. Seems like we’re a good match.”

  “Totally agree. This project’s gonna be rad!”

  12

  Harris

  “Harris!”

  I hear Cookie burst into the apartment before I see her. Hearing her voice and knowing she’s mine still makes my heart skip a beat.

  The moment I met Katrina at Mangione’s, she enthralled and overwhelmed me. I wished I would have asked Beau for a way to contact her, but when she went off with Waylon, I dismissed the idea. When we re-met at registration, I knew it was fate, and I promised myself I wouldn’t let her go again.

  There’s something about her that makes me want to be around her all the time. Not only because she’s so grossly different from the women I grew up around; snobby kids who felt like anyone who wasn’t in the same socioeconomic bracket was beneath them. But Cookie isn’t like that, she has a down-to-earth appeal—and her smile. Oh God! Her smile could light up any room she walks into.

  She’s effortlessly beautiful—subtle, but impossible to ignore. And to crown it all, she’s nothing short of brilliant. Some of my favorite moments were when I watched her in the Lit class we shared during the first semester of our Freshman year. She always had the answers and they were always correct—even if she had to debate to prove her point.

  Watching her go head-to-head discussing Lady Macbeth with Professor Malcolm made all the blood rush to my dick.

  “Harris, I have an amazing idea!”

  “I’m in the kitchen, baby!” I call out, as I dice onions on the cutting board.

  After our Freshman year, we decided to live together off-campus for our sophomore year. Cookie stayed in Chapel Hill and worked at a small jewelry shop over the summer while I went home to work construction. Being apart sucked so much, I came back every weekend to be with her.

  Ever since we started living together, Cookie has made every meal. At first, it was a little rough, but she bought a cookbook and now the woman is like a Southern Julia Child. All she needed was some direction, something she said she never got from the aunt she lived with.

  I planned on surprising her with a homemade spaghetti dinner tonight. But I got held up on campus and just started a few minutes ago.

  “Pucker up, Harris, because you are going to want to kiss me after this!” She rushes into the kitchen holding a thick packet.

  “I always want to kiss you,” I say, leaning over and placing my lips on hers. She curls one hand in my hair, tugging gently.

  “I feel the same way, Sugar,” she whispers when we break apart. Her bottom lip glistens, which makes me want to grab it in my teeth.

  “What’s the big news?” I ask, resuming my chopping.

  “You know how you’ve always said you want to do something other than work for the family business?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “I’ve got our opportunity right here.” She slaps the front of the packet. “And I think it’s going to be huge.”

  “I’m intrigued.” I gesture for her to sit at the bar stool across from where I’m working.

  She slides onto the chair and pulls her hair into a ponytail, securing it with a pink scrunchy thing she had around her wrist.

  “Commons Department Store. Affordable fashion for the common man,” she says with her arm outstreched as though she sees the words on a billboard.

  I like the slogan. It’s catchy, but I’m not so sure about the idea. I hold my tongue before saying anything. Knowing Cookie, she has much more to share.

  “A department store?” I ask.

  “Yes!” she says confidently. “A department store for everyone selling affordable fashion. I’ve done the research.” She opens the packet and flips a few pages. “I’ve even polled people in Charlotte, Chapel Hill, Raleigh, and Greensboro. There’s a market for this.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a complete business plan.”

  “Really?” I set the knife down, sweep the onions into the pot on the stove, and wipe my hands on a towel. Then I take the booklet.

  As I flip through the pages. I’m impressed at how thorough it is. From location to employees to projections–it has everything. My dick swells with each page I turn. The woman in front of me is absolutely amazing. There’s nothing she can’t do.

  As I look at the business plan, she goes into all the details as if she’s been waiting to tell me every detail for years. She’s talking so fast, I think her head might start spinning.

  “Did you come up with all of this?”

  “Well, I had this idea years ago, but I didn’t really start planning until last semester. It was a project for Business 201. Me and a partner did it together.”

  My excitement dims slightly. I’d rather not go into any business with someone else—other than Cookie. “What about the partner? Does he, or she, want in on this business?”

  Cookie shrugs. “I didn’t ask. We came up with the plan together, but I did most of the research. Actually, I did extensive research. We used his clothing designs for the project.”

  “Are they in there?”

  “What?” she asks, grabbing a cookie from the jar on the counter. I slap her hand playfully and set the packet on the counter.

  “Are the designs in the plan?” I rephrase my question, spinning around to get a jar of pasta sauce out of the cupboard.

  She nods and reaches over, flipping to a page in the book that starts a series of design pages. “Well, we can’t use these.”

  “True,” she agrees, with a sparkle in her eye. “But we can have someone r
ecreate them with slight differences.”

  “Your mind is so incredibly sexy.”

  “Just my mind?” she asks, slowly trailing her fingers from her neck to the collar of her yellow V-neck sweater.

  My gaze slides to her chest. “I’m going to take you on this counter if you keep that up.”

  “Promise?” She winks. Then she gets up and rounds the counter to stand next to me. At first, I think she wants to get frisky, but when she looks at me, she’s back to business. “Seriously though, what do you think?”

  I twist off the cap of the sauce and dump it into the pot where I’ve been simmering onions. “The first step is calling Daddy to see what he thinks.”

  “Yeah,” Cookie hangs on my arm as she hangs on every word. Her eyes are wide and hopeful, like a child asking Santa for gifts.

  I break into a grin. “I can’t see him turning us down with all the work you’ve put into this.” I flip through the pages quickly again. “It’s got everything he would ask for.”

  Cookie beams as she looks at me. “Do you think we could make this work?”

  “We’re absolutely going to make this work.”

  I plan on making this woman my wife someday. I haven’t said it, but we both know it—we both feel it. We were meant to be together and nothing could tear us apart.

  13

  Cookie

  Fall 1989

  Before this year, if anyone ever asked me which was the best year of my life, I would have said 1987. That’s the year I secured enough money to go to NCU and met Harris (again). But honestly, nothing could have prepared me for the avalanche of amazing things that happened this year.

  Harris’ parents approved the loan to help us start the department store and seemed genuinely excited about it. We’d hoped they would say yes, but we’d also prepared ourselves for an unfavorable conclusion.

  Knowing they were enthusiastic about the store and willing to help in any way possible was a huge positive for us. In fact, I don’t know if we could have pulled it off without their connections and assistance.