Monstrous Urges: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

Two days after learning that Roger Fairchild has declared war on Crown and Black, we’ve marshaled our defenses. The board, with a few exceptions, seems to be on our side and opposed to selling to him. But while it’s good to have a mostly united front, it doesn’t do squat against the hard truth that we just bought a company that secretly owes almost a half a billion dollars to our biggest competitor.

Not exactly money we have lying around.

Gabriel, Alistair, and I aren’t in any sort of financial dire straits or anything: we do really well with Crown and Black. But there’s “great apartment, car, and fantastic retirement savings” wealthy and then there’s “half a billion in my Scrooge McDuck vault” wealthy. Suffice it to say, none of us is the latter.

It puts us in a scary spot.

Now… I wish I could say that the current insanity in my professional life overshadows the lurking, sultry darkness in my private one.

Spoiler: it doesn’t. Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.

Just the sight of my phone, or feeling its weight in a jacket pocket or my bag, sends a little creeping reminder finger-walking its way up my spine.

My location is on.

He knows where I am.

I’m still not staying in my own apartment, but that means nothing. I actually messaged Tech Support for the Venom app—which swears it only sees your username, not your real name—to ask them about that location setting.

It’s not just “kind of” accurate, like someone would know what building you’re in. It’s pinpointed to within a foot.

He knows exactly where I am. Always.

So, even as crazy as my real life has become, the shivering dark fantasy is still there, lurking in the shadowy places of my mind, occupying my thoughts whenever they start to stray.

I think what twists me up the most and makes my skin tingle every minute of every day is not even the knowledge that I’m being hunted. It’s the notion that I don’t know who he is.

I don’t have a clue what he looks like, aside from those piercing, icy-blue eyes and huge build. And it’s that lingering, not-knowing, tugging little sensation at base of my skull reminding me that he could be anywhere at any time that has my pulse pounding.

“Feel like joining us today, Taylor?”

Shit.

Guiltily, I wrench myself out of my own head and focus on Alistair leaning against his desk with his arms folded over his chest. Gabriel’s in an almost identical pose against the glass of the windows. They arch their brows at me as I clear my throat.

“Sorry, is this little discussion about the state of our business and livelihood boring you, T?” Alistair mutters.

I give him a middle finger, which makes him grin.

“Easy, man,” Gabriel growls, shooting his brother a glare. “We’re all on the same side here. We’re just trying to figure out a solution.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What about the idea of restructuring the debt?” I frown. “Have Eloise and the financial wizards found anything there?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “Roger’s not fucking around. The actual debt amount is three hundred and ninety-nine million, nine-hundred and ninety-nine thousand⁠—”

“And nine-hundred and ninety-nine dollars, isn’t it,” I groan.

“And ninety-nine motherfucking cents,” Gabriel spits.

Alistair’s brow furrows. “And the relevancy of that is…?”

“Roger’s LLC is based in Switzerland.”

Alistair scowls. “So?”

“You can only restructure corporate debt to a foreign company once it’s over four hundred million dollars,” I groan. “Motherfucker knew what he was doing.”

“Jesus,” Alistair hisses. “Okay, what about nuking the deal itself? We only finalized the actual purchase of Poulter and Lenz sixty days ago. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a ninety-day window for us to terminate the sale and walk away. We’d take a bath on the down payment, but we’d get back the rest after settlement.” He shrugs. “It’s still better than selling to that fuckhead.”

I shake my head. “With a unanimous board, that’s feasible. But we don’t have that. Jennifer Quan and Terence De Hoef aren’t budging. I think Roger’s gotten into their pockets somehow.”

Gabriel shrugs. “Terence, maybe. I think Jennifer is just spooked by my departure. She’s one of the longest-serving members of the board. I think she’s worried about us going down to two managing partners.”

“Well,” Alistair grunts. “The fuck are we waiting for, then? Let’s pull the trigger. I’m for either Fumi or Elsa.” He glances to me. “Guessing you vote for Fumi?”

“Well…” My lips twist as I turn to Gabriel. “Look, I want to, but⁠—”

“It can’t be Fumi,” Gabriel sighs. “Yes, she’s extremely qualified, and biased as I am, I think she’d kill it. But ignoring the fact that Elsa has longer tenure, higher billable hours, and more time in general sunk into this firm, it cannot be my wife.”

“You mean  our newest managing partner banging the Governor might be perceived as a slight conflict of interest?” Alistair says dryly.

His brother shoots him a withering look but then rolls his eyes.

“To say the least—yes. It’ll hurt the firm, unnerve the board⁠—”

“Hurt you politically,” I add.

He nods. “Well, that too. But I’m thinking about my wife,” Gabriel growls. “It has the potential to make Fumi look like she fucked her way into the job.”

I exhale. “Unfortunately, I agree.”

“Not to mention certain…family connections that might come to light,” Gabriel adds.

Yeah. A few months ago, Fumi discovered that her family has  deep roots in the Japanese Yakuza out of Kyoto. It came hand-in-hand with gradually reconnecting with her enigmatic half-brother, Kenzo.

Alistair frowns. “I hear you, but Elsa’s married to Hades fucking Drakos…”

I nod. “True, but the Drakos family has significant ties to everyday people and the voters of New York. They basically run a third of the construction projects in the city, which represents a shitload of jobs. Plus Dimitra Drakos sits on like ten different boards for immigrant rights and fair housing. That’s not necessarily a bad PR image. Meanwhile, the Mori-kai Yakuza?” I grimace. “Well, they don’t have a presence in New York at all, good or bad. But ‘Yakuza princess’ might get some PR blowback.” I exhale. “In any case, even though she’s my friend, I agree with Gabriel. Fumi’s one of the best attorneys I’ve ever worked with, but so is Elsa, and I think she’s the better choice for managing partner.”

Alistair smirks. “Are we gonna keep ignoring the pregnant elephant in the room?”

“Yes, let’s dive head-first into employment prejudice against pregnant women. That should do wonders for our public image,” Gabriel says dryly.

“She’s due, like, tomorrow, asshole,” Alistair sighs.

I grin. “Then she’ll take maternity leave. As long as we’ve got her nailed down as our third managing partner, that should do a lot to soothe Jen Quan’s boardroom nerves. Besides, you know Elsa. If we can get her to take twenty-four whole hours off after giving birth, it’ll be a miracle.”

“Okay. In the meantime, I’ll work on Terence De Hoef.”

“How the hell do you suppose you’ll do that if he’s already in Roger’s pocket?” Alistair mutters.

“Appeal to the angels of his better nature?” Gabriel shrugs. “Or there’s always murder him in a dark alley.”

Alistair snorts. Gabriel smiles one of his trademark slightly mask-like smiles that have a way of freaking me out just a little. Like, maybe I’m not the only one of the three of us that doesn’t allow the other two to see all of the real me…

“So, are we in agreement, then?” I say briskly, changing the subject. “Pending an official board vote, Elsa Guin will be the new managing partner for Crown and Black?”

“Yea,” Gabriel growls. “I can’t imagine better or safer hands to have at the helm of this firm while I’m gone.”

“It’s a yea for me, too,” Alistair nods. “I mean, at least until someone impeaches this fucker and he needs his day job back,” he grins, jerking a thumb at his brother.

I roll my eyes. “Obviously a yea from me.” I clasp my hands. “Shall we bring her in?”

“Sure, let’s roll the pregnant elephant in here.”

Gabriel shakes his head. “I swear to fuck, Alistair, you are a walking HR training video of what not to do.”

There’s a reason there’s an age-old saying about “the best-laid plans”.

After all that, Elsa ends up being a big honking “maybe”. It turns out she does have plans to take a chunk of time off after her and Hades’ daughter is born. Plus, she’s got her own reservations about her marriage to Hades affecting the firm’s reputation.

“Where I am now as an equity partner allows me certain…latitude,” she said earlier. “It gives me the freedom to do my work for the firm, but also to take on more…off the books sort of work for the Drakos and Kildare families. Being a managing partner would probably put an end to that.”

I mean, she has a point. But hey, it’s not a “no”. So we’re moving in the right direction.

Hours later, after taking her out anyway for celebratory drinks—a Manhattan for me, a virgin Mojito for her—I’m trudging back to the Soho Grand.

I really need to figure out what I’m doing with my fucking apartment. The couch is being taken out in a few days, at least, and I think that might help me purge the mental image of little miss Delta-Beta-Skank blowing my boyfriend with her ass up in the air.

I giggle to myself as I open the door to my suite, replaying the image of Steven’s OH FUCK face while his TA was earning an Academy Award pretending to “deep throat” his uncomfortably small dick.

I haphazardly drop my stuff onto a side table. I ended up having two Manhattans just now with Elsa, so I’m feeling a little tipsy as I kick off my heels and walk across the dark living room toward the bedroom.

I don’t even make it halfway there.

A huge, gloved hand wraps tight around my mouth. A massive hulking body crashes into me from behind, shoving me forward and slamming me against the windows. Adrenaline and pure fear flood every nerve in my body as my spine snaps tight and my skin electrifies.

The low, masculine chuckle in my ear sends cold liquid fear dripping down my back like blood from the tip of a knife as he holds me firm.

“Should have locked your door, baby girl…”