Perfect Monster: A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance (The Oligarchs)

I practically kissed the driveway when Roman let me out of the car.

Three years. Three whole, agonizing years I’d spent avoiding car rides. That wasn’t exactly easy. I’d moved to Sea Isle because the town was small enough that I could bike pretty much anywhere. I biked to the grocery store, to the coffee shop, to any of my jobs. I could even bike to the other beach towns if I wanted.

It was easy to hide out and to blend in, and the ocean calmed me. I didn’t know why, maybe something about how big it was, how vast, how many secrets there were still at the bottom.

That comforted me, somehow. Like if people didn’t know everything about the planet we occupied, then maybe we couldn’t know everything about ourselves.

And I wasn’t doomed to be broken forever.

Roman’s house in Avalon was a beachfront palace tucked back behind a screen of trees. I could only guess how much it cost—millions, at least. The building was glass and white stone with large peaked roofs.

The sound of the ocean droned in the background.

Roman took my arm gently and steered me to the front door while Erick parked the car. I wanted to ask about him, but I wasn’t sure how to phrase the question.

I wasn’t sure about much of anything.

What’s worse than a gangster? What sort of man were killers afraid of?

Because that was fear I’d seen in Manzi’s eyes when Roman confronted him, and fear again when he put the gun away and ran.

Fear of what Roman would do to him.

But what would the son of a mafia don have to fear?

The inside of Roman’s house smelled like saffron and cinnamon—a stronger version of his own scent. The floors were black tile grouted with gray, and the walls were a sleek, clean white. The decoration was minimal but obscenely expensive, and all the little details screamed wealth and power: real copper fixtures, brass railings, a chandelier that looked like it was straight out of Tiffany’s. Once we were inside, Roman tapped on a screen embedded in the wall near the front door and armed some kind of alarm.

“Do you live here?” I asked, staring around me like a little kid. I knew I should have other questions, like what the heck I was going to do, but I couldn’t help myself. I knew there were nice houses in Avalon—it was the rich beach, after all—but I hadn’t known they were this nice.

“Only on vacation. Come with me.” He strode down the hall, and I hurried to follow him.

“I’ve had panic attacks before, you know.” The words slipped out before I could think about it. I hugged my jacket tighter as he led me into a sleek, gorgeous kitchen. “But I’ve never been able to calm down like that before.”

“Breathing techniques work.” He took a bottle of red wine down from a rack, opened it with an easy, smooth motion, and poured two glasses. He pushed one over. “Drink.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I looked around at the white cabinets, at the custom furniture. “I don’t really know you.”

“I just saved your life. Drink the wine.”

“You drink the wine.”

He smirked and took a long sip. “It’s not poisoned.”

“I’m not worried about poison.” I picked up my glass and took a long drink. It was shockingly good. “I just feel like I should try and keep my head straight while you’re around.”

That seemed to amuse him. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night.”

A little spike of annoyance flared in my stomach. “Are you always like this?” I waved a hand at him. “So, I don’t know, intense?”

“Maybe. I don’t really know.”

“Liar. I bet you practice that brooding stare in the mirror.”

The barest hint of a smile played at his lips. “You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t think I would. So now what? I hide out here? What makes you think those guys won’t come for me?”

He nodded once, as if we were getting down to business. “I’m hoping they won’t know that you witnessed what happened. However, if they do realize you saw Manzi kill Dia, they won’t try to hurt you while you’re on my property.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. I’m much worse than a few mafia thugs.”

“I find that hard to believe, but okay, I guess I’ll play along.” I took another long sip of wine, head spinning, trying to work this out. “Does that mean I’m stuck here?”

“Would that be so bad? I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

The unspoken hung between us: however you want.

I imagined his lips against my neck, his hands pinning my wrists back against a wall. I could be swallowed by him, drowned and chewed and devoured.

“You’re a stranger. I’m not really in the habit of staying in houses with big, scary men, even if they are nice houses.”

“I’m big and scary? That’s good to know.”

I rolled my eyes. “Like you didn’t realize already.”

Another smile. I sort of liked the thrill it gave me, making him grin. “Maybe I’ll keep you around. You can be a little pet for me.”

“I’m not some dog, asshole.”

“You’d like it, I promise. I’d spoil you. Make you do tricks.”

“Don’t be a dick. If anyone’s going to wear a little collar and walk around on all fours, that’s going to be you.”

“Interesting. I didn’t know you were into that, but I could be amenable.”

I blushed slightly. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to force you to stay here. You can go back home in the morning, I promise.”

I glanced around the room again, half expecting someone to leap out from behind a curtain and scream my name like I was on some hidden camera show, but those weren’t a thing anymore, and this wasn’t fake.

Her blood. Little pieces of her skull embedded in the wood.

They weren’t fake.

I watched that girl die.

My hand trembled and I finished my wine.

Roman refiled it without a word.

“I can’t get back into a car. I can walk home, but it’ll take me a while.”

He sighed. “I’ll have Erick fetch your bike. Any other requests?”

I met his eyes and held that piercing, freezing stare. “Am I going to be in danger once I leave this place?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitating.

I felt a pit open up beneath my feet, and I began to tumble downward. I was spiraling again, that same feeling I’d had for weeks after the incident. It had taken me a long time to feel like myself again back then, and now I was terrified I’d drift back into that depression.

“I think I should get some sleep.” I drank down half the refilled glass. “Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’ll show you to a room.” He frowned slightly, like he was worried about me, but I refused to look him in the eyes.

I was afraid that if I did, I’d give him whatever he wanted.

He took me to the front staircase and up to the second floor. The guest room was large and airy with an attached balcony and an incredible view of the ocean. The rhythmic tides and the soft crash of waves were just barely audible.

“Normally, I’d recommend leaving the windows open, but it’s too cold for that.” He lingered in the center of the room and looked around with a practiced eye. “There are towels in the bathroom and a robe hanging in the closet. I can bring fresh clothes, though I’m not sure if they’ll fit.”

“That would be great.”

He nodded and looked at me again. I clutched the glass. I’d almost forgotten I had it.

Whenever he turned that gaze on me, it was like that dizzy floor-opening sensation again—but instead of falling, it was like I floated up out of myself.

He stepped closer. I backed away and ran up against the bed. He put one hand on my hip and leaned in—his fingers inches from my scar—and the smell of him, masculine and warm, spicy and musky and delicious, filled me with a strange, heady need.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Why? I’m a stranger.”

“It’s the sort of man that I am. Sometimes, it’s very inconvenient.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a burden.” My lips parted slightly. I wondered what he would taste like.

If he kissed me, I wondered if I’d ever come back up for air.

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything at all. Please don’t try and leave tonight. It isn’t safe.” He pulled his hand away from my hip, and I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as he walked to the door, then looked back. “Goodnight, Cassie.”

He left and shut the door behind him.

I collapsed back into a large easy chair beside a fireplace. I curled up and drank down the wine in several big gulps before leaning my head against the upholstered back. I stared at the ceiling—pure white, perfectly smooth—and tried to make sense of the night.

I’d watched a girl get murdered. She was apparently the daughter of an important man in something called the Ramos Cartel. And the guy who had killed her was the son of a mafia don.

And if they realized I’d witnessed it, they’d kill me.

Realization dawned on me as I finished my wine and set the glass on the floor.

Manzi had seen me.

We’d locked eyes. He’d even thought about turning that gun and finishing me off.

As soon as things calmed down, he’d tell his father that I’d seen what had happened—and then I’d be fair game.

I stood and rushed into the bathroom and puked into the toilet.

It was ugly and disgusting and tears ran down my cheeks. When I was done, I washed out my mouth, found the robe in the closet, got undressed, and pulled it over my body. I stood in front of a floor-length mirror with the robe slightly open and ran my fingers across the jagged scar that bisected my belly from hip to hip.

It was so ugly and still pink after all these years. I’d tried a bunch of different scar medicines to try and make it fade, but nothing ever worked.

It was as vivid and disgusting as the day I’d gotten it.

I pulled the robe closed tight, walked to the door, and locked it.

My mouth tasted like vomit and my head was heavy from the wine. I grabbed my phone, turned out the light, and crawled into the enormous bed.

I had three missed calls and five texts from Winter.

Winter: Where are you??? Was that a gunshot?

Winter: Cassie I’m freaking out that girl’s dead and you’re not responding.

Winter: Um HELLO?

Winter: Cass PLEASE text me back. The cops are here. They’re gonna start searching for you soon. PLEASE TEXT ME.

Winter: I’m flipping out. If that bastard hurt you I’m going to hunt him down and END HIM.

I smiled at the thought of Winter finding Manzi and kicking him in the crotch until he died. She’d probably do it, too.

I typed up a quick text.

Cassie: I’m fine, that Roman guy’s letting me stay at his place, really long story, I’ll tell you tomorrow. I’m totally fine, don’t worry.

She wrote back instantly.

Winter: You’re with who?? That intense hot guy from the party? What the hell is going on?????

Cassie: I’m fine, I swear. Going to sleep. Talk tomorrow.

I turned off my phone and curled up into a tight ball. I stared at the door, imagined it breaking open, imagined Roman walking into the room, pushing me down against the bed, peeling open the robe, looking at my body—and recoiling in disgust at the sight of the ugly scar.

A man like that wouldn’t be interested in damaged goods like me.

I rolled onto my other side and squeezed my eyes shut tight.