Beautiful Monster : A Dark Stalker Mafia Romance (Dark Lies Duet Book 2) Page 2

  I don’t get very far when I hear my father say, “Mentre sta uccidendo Marco, ti assicuri che tutti gli altri siano morti... specialmente la ragazza.” While he’s killing Marco, you make sure everyone else is dead… especially the girl.

  I freeze in place, fighting the urge to run back in there. Instead, I gather my emotions and decide right here and now that I’ll have to find another way to keep her safe.

  1

  SIN

  What the hell happened to me?My head is so heavy and foggy. I don’t want to be awake right now. I must be sick, or else why would I feel this way? Maybe I’m still asleep enough that I can get back to it before I wake up too much.

  My stomach churns when I turn my head from one side to the other. God, I’m so nauseated. I think I'm going to throw up, and the sensation only gets worse when I move my head again. I should stay still. Ride it out. Whatever this is, I can sleep it off.

  But something is wrong. I can't shake the feeling of something being very wrong. It won't let me rest. What I need more than anything is to sink back into oblivion, but my brain won't let me. Like now that the lights are starting to turn on, the rest are flipping on, too. They flood my head with light forcing me to remember whatever it is I should’ve been thinking about. But what is that?

  My mouth is so dry, like cotton. I try to moisten it, but it's no use. My eyes are still closed, but I hear what sounds like the hum of an engine. I'm not bumping around, though, and I don't feel tires rolling along a road underneath me. I'm not in a car. But there's machinery around somewhere, something like that. The incessant whining is like an ice pick in my ear. No wonder I couldn't fall back to sleep with all this noise.

  What is it I need to remember? Maybe Christian would tell me if I could only wet my mouth enough to ask.

  It slams into me with all the force of a wrecking ball. All it took was remembering Christian. Pulling up his face in my mind's eye. It's been him all along. He's the stalker. He's the one who's tormented my life all this time.

  And he's somewhere near. I can feel him. I don't dare open my eyes to show I'm awake, but I know he's somewhere close. And knowing him, he'll notice the slightest flutter from my eyelids. He’s been watching me long enough. So even though my heart is racing and my body starts to tremble, I pull it together as best I can and stay very calm and very still.

  All this time. I trusted him. I believed him. I let him into my life. He's a twisted, sadistic monster. He's known what he was doing all along. All this time, he's been taking pictures of me like the ones I found in the apartment. Of Kyla, too. I bite my tongue to keep from making a sound at the thought of her. I was so stupid not to believe her!

  And now I don't know if she's alive or dead. I don't know if I'll ever see her again. Where is he taking me? Now that my thoughts are clearer, it's obvious I'm on my way somewhere. That's definitely an engine I'm hearing. Is it a plane? Dear Lord, I think it is. He's flying me somewhere. How will I ever get back?

  And the other things I found. I take the deepest breath I dare in hopes of fighting off the rising wave of nausea. Bile rises in my throat and threatens to give me away. I can't let that happen. I've made every wrong decision possible up until now. This time, I have to be smart. I have to control myself.

  So even though the image of Taj’s cuff link sits directly at the forefront of my mind's eye, along with the photos of my family and everything else Christian's been collecting over time, I force my breathing to stay slow and even.

  “Mr. Russo? I have this for you to sign.” The soft voice comes from my left. So he is nearby. Not reclined directly beside me, though—the voice wasn't directed toward me, and I was sitting with the window to my right. I can feel the inside wall of the jet against my hand. So he's on the other side of the aisle? I don't want to open my eyes and look. Everything is so much heavier now, so dangerous.

  “Thank you.” I hear paper shuffling and the sound of someone walking away before Christian speaks again, raising his voice slightly. “I know you’re awake. Don't play games, topolina.”

  Again, I have to fight off the impulse to throw up. His voice is still so gentle. Like he's admonishing a child, talking to me that way. There's still affection. Warmth. How is that possible?

  “Come now, Siân. I imagine there's plenty you would like to discuss. Why hold back? We’re alone. No one will hear us.”

  As much as it pains me to do it, I roll my head to the left and force my eyes open. It takes a second to adjust to the brightness in the cabin, especially since the window to Christian’s back is unshaded. It's so bright behind his head, like a halo. Ironic. He's the furthest thing from an angel I've ever known. He might be the devil himself.

  He's genuinely smiling, too. “There you are. You've been out for a few hours now. We'll be home soon.”

  My voice croaks when I speak. “Where is home?”

  “You'll see soon enough.” He frowns, though. “You sound hoarse. Here. Have some water.” There's a table set up nearby, with bottles of water and juice lined up. He grabs one, cracking it open. Only because I hear the plastic seal break do I accept it. Otherwise, I might worry he already drugged it. I can't believe I have to think these things about him.

  And he was always like this. I chose not to see it. I’m seeing it now, though.

  “There.” He sits down again, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Like he's ready to negotiate. “Now we can talk.”

  Damn right, we can, even if my voice trembles with fear. “It was you. You killed Cynthia, didn't you? All this time, you tried to comfort me and act like you were my rock. You were the one who made this happen. You set everything in motion.”

  The more I talk, the more real it becomes. More solid. And the dumber I feel. I ignored every sign. Every warning. I was so sure I knew him, even denied the things Kyla and Taj said about him—and look where it got us. I’m captured like prey, and they—oh, God, I don’t want to think of what he’s done to them.

  And I made it so easy. That's the worst part. Even now, I can feel him on me. I can smell him. I gave myself to him, body and soul. I even told him I loved him. I feel so filthy and used. I almost wish he had killed me to put me out of my misery.

  His mouth pulls downward at the corners. “Why do we have to start off talking about her? I want to talk about us.”

  “There is no us, not after what you've done. There never was an us because you've lied to me from the beginning. You were never who you said you were.”

  “But you were oh, so willing to believe what you wanted to believe, weren't you? You behaved exactly how I wanted you to, like the good girl I know you can be.”

  “You're disgusting. You have no right to talk to me that way.”

  He's so fast, almost supernatural in the way he lunges for me, like a snake striking its prey. One second, he’s seated across the aisle. The next, he's almost on top of me, one hand on either side of my head. I'm pinned to the seat with no hope of freeing myself.

  And he's right here, in my face, sharing the same air. I recoil in disgust, but he only chuckles. “Are you afraid of me? Don't lie. I see it all over you.”

  “Then why are you asking?” I whisper.

  “Because I want to hear you say it. I want you to admit how scared you are right now. There's nothing in the world that excites me as much as your fear. It brings out all my protective instincts. It makes you seem so much more precious.”

  His fingertips skim my jaw, and I bite back a whimper, but just barely. I'll be damned if I give him what he wants so easily.

  “Sweet, Siân,” he croons, his breath hot on my face. “I can't wait to make you mine forever.”

  “That will never happen.” I force myself to look him in the eye even though it chills my blood. This murderer, this monster. “I hate you. And you're fucking deluded if you think there's ever going to be a future for us.”

  “I think you're the deluded one.” He touches me again, this time letting his hand stray over my chest. I can't help but grim
ace in revulsion, which only makes him chuckle again. “Don't pretend. You can grimace all you want, but your body knows better.” He proves this by flicking my now hard nipple.

  “Don't you touch me.” I swat his hand away, but he only laughs. “I'm not going to be a toy for you to play with for the rest of my life. I'd rather be dead than let that happen.”

  “You only think that.”

  Jesus, he actually believes himself. He is earnest, maybe more so than I've ever seen him. Why not? He's finally being honest. Finally showing me who he truly is.

  I have to get away from him. Short of jumping off the plane, the only thing I can think of is the bathroom. “I have to pee.” He backs away, letting me get out of my seat. I'm surprised he let me do that much. My legs are a little wobbly, but I manage to make it to the middle of the jet, holding on to the seats as I pass them.

  The bathroom is tiny, as I expected, but it's private. I need my privacy. I have to think.

  I don't have my jeans pulled down yet when the door opens. “Get out of here!” I try to yank my pants back up, but he only laughs. The sound brings to mind a crazy kid torturing a small animal.

  “What, you think there's a single part of you that doesn't belong to me? If I want to watch you take a piss, I will.” He leans back a little, looking up and down the length of the jet in both directions. With a quick jerk of his arms, he closes a pair of curtains on either side of the bathroom, blocking us from the view of whoever else is flying with us. What would they do if I started screaming? If they work for him, probably nothing. I don't want to waste my energy.

  Nobody will stop him. My heart’s hammering hard enough to hurt, and I might faint if I can’t get my breathing under control. “Stop it, please,” I whisper, and now I don’t care if I sound weak. “This isn't a game. We can talk when I'm finished.”

  “No, we’ll talk when I feel like it.” He looks me up and down with a familiar hunger in his eyes, eyes I used to love gazing into. “Now piss if you have to go so badly. I'm not going anywhere, so you might as well do it unless you like wetting your pants. I don't care either way.”

  I've never hated anyone as much as I hate him right now. I move as little as possible, lowering my jeans just enough that I can sit on the metal toilet seat without getting them dirty. The sound of urine hitting the bowl threatens to bring tears of humiliation to my eyes, but I force them back.

  “See? That wasn't so bad.” Only he doesn't back away when I'm finished—instead, he pulls my hands away from the waistband so I can't button my jeans back up.

  “Stop it,” I whisper, trying to smack his hands away. He won't let me this time. Instead, he backs me up against the wall opposite the toilet and shoves a hand between my legs.

  “You really think you could live without me fucking you for the rest of your life?” He rubs me, chuckling softly against my throat. His hand is anything but soft. He’s so rough that it almost hurts.

  I close my eyes, willing this to all be over. I'm not here. I'm somewhere else, anywhere else. This isn't happening.

  “Stop pretending,” he growls before brushing his lips against my throat. I shiver, but is it revulsion or something else? “We both know nobody can touch you like I can. Nobody can make you feel like I do. I own this body. I own all of you.”

  “No, you don't.” But there's not as much fight in my voice now because, oh my God, it does feel good. My body betrays me, wetness seeping out of me as he works my clit. He's not even being gentle or skillful about it. He's rough, using me. And all it does is make me wetter.

  “See? I told you.” He laughs softly, lifting his head to look me in the eye. No. I can’t look at him this way when it reminds me of when I thought things were good. I have to turn my face away from him while at the same time fighting back a moan. Why is he doing this? What's happening to me? I'm going to kill him for this. I'm going to kill him for so many things.

  He presses his body against mine until my ribs ache, and all it does is make me gasp with pleasure. Damn him. Damn him more for laughing, taunting me. “Don't pretend I don't know you, Siân. I know everything there is to know. Your mind, your soul, your body. Especially your body. I’ve practically got you trained.” He touches his forehead to my temple.

  “I hate you. You don't know me.” Yet when he slides a finger inside me, I shudder again. I have to fight the urge to rock my hips and ride his hand as he massages me inside and out.

  “Yes, I do. And you're going to be mine forever.”

  “I'll get away from you.”

  “You don't stand a chance.”

  “You think so?” I pant as every part of me tightens in preparation for an orgasm. “No matter what you do, I’ll get away from you. Or I'll die trying.”

  “Now, now.” I don't know whether to be glad or regretful when he pulls his hand away before I have the chance to come. “It doesn't have to come to that, especially since you'll never be successful. Why would you try when we both know you belong to me?”

  I have to force myself to look at him and deal with the amusement in his eyes. That's what that performance was all about? His way of proving he owns me or something? I wish I hadn't proven him right. “Because the alternative is allowing you to control me, and that's not going to happen.” My fingers shake, but I manage to button my jeans.

  “So you're going to waste time and effort trying to run away? No matter where I take you, no matter where we go?”

  “That's right.”

  He leans in, and my head taps the wall when I try to back away. “You know what?” he growls close to my face. “I hope you do try. In fact, I can't wait.”

  He smiles, and somehow that's the scariest part of all this. How happy he looks. “I can't wait to drag you back kicking and screaming. The louder, the better.”

  2

  CHRISTIAN

  I stare at her for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest. Her breaths are hasty, her mouth ajar, and despite how badly she’s fighting to keep them open, her eyes flutter shut. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Siân can pretend all she wants. She can claim to hate me, to be disgusted by me, but her body tells the truth.

  Slipping my finger from her dripping cunt, I gaze down at her, enjoying the disappointment that washes over her. And when I lick her juices from my digit, she shudders. Realizing that I notice her disappointment, she stands upright, pulls her shoulders back, and pushes past me.

  She hates herself for enjoying my touch, just like the day in the alley when she swallowed my cock. I rather like this game, this feistier side of her. It’ll make taking what I want so much sweeter.

  Siân returns to her seat, flopping down in the cream-colored chair and crossing her arms over her chest. When I settle in next to her, she attempts to scoot away from me, lodging herself as close to the window as possible. With tension in her shoulders, Siân points her attention out to the clouds, and almost instantly, she starts to relax. It’s as if, just for a moment, everything in her world ceases to exist, and it’s just her and the large pillows in the sky.

  As I watch her, I admire her features. Even with her clothes and hair in disarray, she’s fucking gorgeous. And the worse part of all is she doesn’t even realize it. That’s okay, though. I have every intention of bringing out the best and worst in her. Now that we’re on our way to Italy, where we belong, she’ll soon take her rightful place next to me.

  Soon she’ll appreciate the things I’ve done for her, and in the end, she’ll see that we belong together. And no, I don’t expect her to bend easily, but I sure as shit am going to enjoy forcing it out of her. Whether that be with my dick or through her fear is entirely up to her.

  It isn’t long before Siân succumbs to sleep again, and I can’t stop myself from watching her. She is at peace in her dreams without a worry in the world. Too bad that isn’t the reality she’ll be waking to when we land. At the thought, my jaw ticks, and I adjust in my seat, my mind going back to the brief conversation with my father.

&nbs
p; Yet again, he’s ordered me home, interfering with my plans. It’s because of him I’ll need to reassess how to get Siân to trust me. We were close, everything I’d done had finally paid off, but then he had to ruin it all by forcing my hand and causing this new ripple in our relationship.

  And throughout it all, the bastard still hasn’t given me much detail as to what was so fucking urgent. Much like always, he’s remained cryptic, sparing all the important details. I have been able to gather that shit must not be good. It’s the only time he orders me to be anywhere. When shit hits the fan, and he needs me to handle it.

  It’s the only time we have any real discussions. If it doesn’t involve business, then we have nothing to say to one another. I try to think of a time when my father didn’t treat me as just a member of his army, and it’s pointless.

  I learned ages ago that the only thing my father cares about is his money, his power, and asserting the dominance he thinks he holds over everyone. We’ve never been close, not in the traditional sense. Where other boys grew up playing catch and being raised to be gentlemen, my upbringing wasn’t so touching. There were no bedtime stories, or positive affirmations, only wrath and ridicule. And the only praise I got was when I proved how valuable I was to his organization.

  Boys my age played sports and chased girls around the courtyard, while I learned how to disable and reassemble an H&K G11 in under a minute by the time I was eleven. And by my fourteenth birthday, I’d made my father proud when I murdered a man for the first time. Not that he used his words to bid me a job well done. No, he rewarded me with pussy and a handgun of my own.

  Shortly after that, the orders came. I took care of anyone my father wanted gone with no questions asked. He’s never been a man who explained himself, and I’m convinced that’s where I get it from. We do what we want, when we want it, and dare a soul to deny us that.