Monstrous Urges: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

“This is fucking insane!” Fumi spits viciously, shaking her head and taking a hefty gulp of her cocktail.

Eloise nods. “How in the hell did Drazen Krylov know before you or Alistair and Gabriel?” she mutters in her musical, French-accented voice.

I shake my head. “He just mentioned ‘connections’. I don’t think we need to pry too hard into that. Anyway, he’s not wrong.”

I take a big swig of wine and then chew on my lip.

The details are still coming in. But the quick version is that Fairchild, Bristol, and Lowe, a huge firm based out of Chicago with branches in London and San Francisco, is making a play for a takeover of Crown and Black.

An exceptionally hostile one, at that.

It’s not the first time Roger Fairchild has tried to sweep our firm under his umbrella. Part of his animosity stems from how fast Crown and Black took over New York. It could also be that the three of us are young. But a huge part of his beef with us is that Crown and Black’s rise in the New York scene effectively blocked his attempt to open a branch here.

The clients we took with us from our respective firms when we set up shop were all clients he was actively hunting. The office space we bought was the same spot he was eyeing. None of this was deliberate, of course. It’s just the way it happened. But Roger is a petty little shit, and when his board vetoed branching into New York because of the business Crown and Black was doing, it sat badly with him.

Since then, he’s made a half dozen attempts to try and bully us into selling to him or working under him as a subsidiary firm.

Both are a hard no.

The brothers and I have worked way too hard to give that asshole a chunk. Besides, we don’t need him. We thought he’d backed off in the last year. But it turns out, he just decided instead to play dirty.

A few months ago, the three of us decided we wanted a branch in Chicago. The market was right; we have New York clients that have a presence there; it just made sense. But instead of opening a whole new office, we went shopping for firms who were looking to sell.

That’s how we found Poulter and Lenz: a once great firm that was on the decline. Their founding partner had recently passed, and a lot of their core clients were jumping ship. They needed cash; we needed a foothold in Chicago. So three months ago, we bought them out, with the stipulation that their employees would all keep their jobs, and we’d get their clients. Win-win, right?

Or so we thought until Drazen’s bombshell earlier tonight. Because now it would appear we’ve walked into a trap. And Roger Fairchild is the prick who set it up.

“How the fuck did they hide that kind of debt?!” Fumi mutters.

“C’mon,” I hiss quietly, bringing a finger to my lips and glancing around. “Not here.”

I mean, it’s a busy bar, and it’s loud. But who knows who’s listening. The only reason I’m even talking about it to either of them despite them not being managing partners is that they happen to be married to the other two managing partners.

“Sorry,” Fumi huffs.

I shake my head and take another big gulp of Cabernet.

It was a two-step trap. Step one was to lure us into buying Poulter and Lenz. On the books, they looked good: decent client base, just falling revenue. And their asking price, given that we’d keep all their employees, was extremely reasonable.

What we just found out is that they were secretly had a lot of debt on the books. Think four hundred million dollars’ worth.

It’s bad enough that the firm we bought is basically a cement ball on a chain bound to our ankles, and the tide is rising. But to make it even worse, step two of the trap just kicked in:

The debt Poulter and Lenz owes is owed—in its entirety—to Roger Fairchild.

Which means we now owe that fuck four hundred million dollars, and he’s just called to collect. Effective immediately. But—shocker of all shockers—he’s willing to drop the debt, so long as we sell him Crown and Black at market rate.

“Alistair and Gabriel and I are going to have a meeting with the board tomorrow,” I mutter quietly. “But until then⁠—”

Eloise clears her throat, smiling past me. “They’re here,” she murmurs under her breath.

“Okay. No more shop talk, especially about this.” I glance at her and Fumi. They both nod before I turn to smile as our friend Tempest makes her way through the crowd toward us with Bianca in tow, along with two of her ballet friends, Milena and Naomi.

It’s funny. I’ve never been a “girl’s girl”. At least, not that I remember. In undergrad I was pretty much a loner, mostly because I had no family, no memories, and barely any money. When I got to law school, I immediately made friends with Gabriel and Alistair, and when did I have time to make female friends anyway?

So, it’s strange but not a bad thing that I’ve suddenly found myself with this whole squad of ladies. Fumi and Eloise, of course. But also Gabriel and Alistair’s little sister Tempest, who’s married to Dante Sartorre, head of Club Venom. Bianca, who recently married into the Drakos Greek Mafia family, who are also Crown and Black clients, is Dante’s little sister. She’s also an exceptional dancer in the Zakharova ballet company, which is how Milena and Naomi joined the squad.

The fire alarm about what’s happening with work is still there. But I allow myself to exhale and at least pretend to smile at the ladies around me as we order another round of drinks and lapse into normal conversation.

“What about you, Taylor?”

I blink, realizing I’ve been conjuring up ways to murder Roger Fairchild with my bare hands while staring at the bar. I yank my attention back to find the rest of them grinning at me.

“Sorry, what?”

Bianca laughs. “These two”—she jerks a thumb at Milena and Naomi—“were just complaining about being chronically single. I said single doesn’t sound that bad. I mean, you’re on your own and you’re fucking killing it.”

I roll my eyes. “Ah, yes,” I say, turning to nod sagely at the two much-younger-than-me girls. “Model your life choices on the thirty-three-year-old future cat lady who’s married to her career. Definite goals.”

Milena snorts, pushing a strand of blonde behind her ear. “Yeah, but, I mean, you’re a fucking boss. Corner office? Your name on the building? That sexy ass car?”

I smirk. “Cars don’t give you orgasms.”

The rest of them crack up.

“I don’t know,” Tempest sing-songs. “I’ve seen your car, and I’m not convinced it doesn’t.”

“And hey, you’re not necessarily single,” Fumi adds with a grin.

I shoot her a look.

“Oh?” Tempest perks up. “Do tell!”

“Nothing,” I mutter, glaring at Fumi with a “shut it” expression that she either misses or more likely ignores.

“Taylor was going to go on a date last night, but she bailed.”

“I didn’t—” I purse my lips. “I didn’t bail. I had to reschedule.”

“Oh yeah?” Fumi grins at me. “When did you reschedule for?”

“Hi, yeah, still your boss, in case you forgot.”

She and the rest of them laugh as Tempest gives me a hug. “Hey, you’re all of thirty-three. We’re not putting you out to pasture yet, you know.”

“Thanks. I feel so much better now.”

I roll my eyes, grinning. The rest of them lapse into a conversation involving some dating drama with another dancer at the ballet. I pull out my phone and flip to my group chat with Alistair and Gabriel:

ME

I have a solution

GABRIEL

?!?!

ALISTAIR

I’m all fucking ears

ME

Roger’s in love with that vintage Jaguar convertible he’s always fawning over, right? We find out his usual weekend drive route and string high tension wire across the road at neck height. Boom. Instant decapitation.

ALISTAIR

Savage. I love it.

GABRIEL

You two do understand the concept of premeditated murder and admissible digital evidence, right?

ALISTAIR

Reach behind yourself, Gabriel. That long pointy stick you feel? Grab it and give it a good tug, see if it’ll come out of your ass.

ME

lol

GABRIEL

Yeah, you’re totally right. I see no reason I should be concerned at all about being Governor and on a thread discussing decapitating a business rival. You should absolutely consider politics, Alistair

ALISTAIR

I’d fucking kill it and we both know it

ME

Dictatorships are slightly out of vogue, Alistair

ALISTAIR

What about absolute monarchies?

GABRIEL

I touched base with Hartman, Li, Pritchard, and Fanelli from the board. Pretty sure we can count on all of them not to cave to that fucker’s demands. But we need to start talking to the other members as fast as possible. Higher numbers of voting shares, incentive packages. Whatever. Literally anything to make sure no one starts siding with Roger to push for this.

ME

Agreed. I’ll reach out to Elaine Iverson and Carl Bouchard first thing tomorrow.

The three of us chat a little longer about nailing down the loyalties of the Crown and Black board of directors while I feign conversation with the squad.

I ignore the little icon for the Venom app. At least, I try to. But after another glass of wine, I set my jaw and tap on it.

I hate how disappointed I am still to have no reply from him to my last messages.

I slug back another mouthful of wine, pretending to rejoin the conversation around me. Inside, I’m still fixating on the man in the mask from the woods.

The one who chased me and pinned me to the dirty ground. Who made me wet with a knife against my pussy. The man I freaked out on and blurted a safe word to, who then faded away, leaving me alone in the dark.

In the moment, yes, it was too much. Too insane, too dark, too dangerous.

Too everything.

But now, I’m sitting here supremely pissed at myself for having chickened out and ending it before I could find out how deep I was willing to go.

How far I was prepared to peer into that darkness inside myself.

By now, he’s obviously lost interest. Which means the more times I flip back to my message exchange with him, the more pathetic I look, or at least the more pathetic I feel.

Yeah, it’s time to move on. And the next time, I swear I won’t be blurting out any safe words too soon.

The next time, I’ll have the courage to explore the inky darkness hiding inside me.

Switching back to NapoleonInExile’s profile, I scowl as I tap the three dots at the top of his profile and click “block”.

Instantly, our chat vanishes.

Then, I switch to my own profile and click the little toggle back to “actively seeking partner”. I’d turned it off before, after connecting with my stranger from the woods. But with it back on, other prospective partners from the app will be able find my profile and maybe connect.

Screw the psycho in the woods. Like, maybe give someone a heads up when you’re directing them an hour from home into the fucking forest? Maybe mention your knife play kink?

Yeah, because you really minded both of those…

Oh, shut up, self.

I mean, dipping a toe into my slightly south of vanilla fetishes is one thing. What happened last night was diving head-first into the deep end and only then discovering I only half-knew how to swim. The next time, when I connect with someone, I’m going to dial it back a little so I can explore⁠—

My phone buzzes in my hand. I blink, shaking away my thoughts and pretending to laugh at something Tempest’s just said, even though I wasn’t really listening. I eagerly glance at my phone, thumbing back to the Venom app.

Dear SecretSlut,

A match has been made for you with another member. You have both been notified. Please use this link to open a private chat with your potential partner. Like at the Club itself, we encourage the use of anonymity, as well as open and honest communication. Both parties should discuss hard limits and safe words before meeting. Please be safe and enjoy your experience.

My pulse thuds. The same sort of nervous, giddy, slightly scared and very excited spike of adrenaline I got the last time teases through my veins. I click the link, feeling a ball of something clench in my core.

It’s not until I read his message that the meaning of his username stabs into me, making me freeze as my mouth falls open.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

I was very clear. The safe word “vault” ends it.

A little siren in the back of my head begins to whine in my ears. Goosebumps break out over my skin as a cold shiver snaps my spine upright.

Holy shit.

It’s him.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

You chose to walk away. You don’t get to come back.

I stare at the screen, my hands shaking.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Cat got your tongue, my little fuck toy?

Heat explodes across my cheeks.

SECRETSLUT

You’re cheating. You can’t create a new user profile.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Says the one who ended our game and is now back looking for another round.

SECRETSLUT

Or maybe just another playmate. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I just wasn’t interested?

The spike of adrenaline that stabs through me is as vicious as it is exciting. It’s like taunting a wild animal through the bars of its cage at the zoo.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Not once

SECRETSLUT

That’s one hell of an ego

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

My thought process has more to do with how fucking messy your greedy little cunt was for me

My jaw drops, my face throbbing with heat.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Tell me…exactly how many times did you rub that soaking pussy last night after you went home, imagining all the things I could have done to you

Holy shit. Holy shit.

I feign another smile at my friends before glancing back at my phone, my pulse racing.

SECRETSLUT

Sorry to burst your bubble. I went straight to bed.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Do you know what happens to lying little sluts?

Jesus fucking Christ.

I take a deep breath and swallow.

SECRETSLUT

No, what?

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

They get their faces and their asses fucked. If they do a very good job, they get Daddy’s cum down their throats as a reward

Holy. Fucking. FUCK.

It’s like dirty talk on fucking steroids. A thermonuclear level Dom. It would almost be comically over-the-top, if it weren’t for the fact that I’m soaked. My pulse is hammering in my ears, making my skin tingle. My nipples have tightened, and a needy ache throbs in my core.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

If making a new username after you blocked my other one is cheating, I don’t give a fuck. I play to win, baby girl. And winning justifies any means.

SECRETSLUT

And if I’m not into that?

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Nice try. I might even believe you, except what you crave is blatantly obvious.

I tremble, my thighs clenching together on my bar stool as I stare wide-eyed at my screen.

SECRETSLUT

What it is you think I crave?

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

To be completely dominated. The fancy car, the business clothes, the heels. You’re someone who prides herself on always being in control. You want me to rip that away from you. That’s why you met a stranger in the fucking woods. Because you wanted me to be in control of you.

I don’t realize I’m breathing heavily or that my face is frozen as I stare at the phone until Fumi asks me if everything’s okay. Startled, I pull my eyes away from the screen, mumbling out some lame excuse about texting business stuff with Gabriel and Alistair.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

You get one more chance, baby girl. And this time if we’re going to play, we’re going to play for real.

A low siren begins to whine in my ears as my blood turns to molten lead and my core clenches over and over, with an embarrassing slickness coating my thighs.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

This app has a “find me” function. Top right-hand corner. Turn on Location Mode.

My eyes bulge.

Holy shit.

I tap on the settings wheel, and then stare at the toggle for “location mode”, my skin tingling.

This is insane. Signing up at all was crazy. Driving out to the woods last night was dangerous and reckless.

But this? Sharing my fucking location with this psychopath twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?

Lunacy.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

You like primal play? You want to prove you’re not just some cute little tourist? Be a good girl and turn it on. Turn it on and LEAVE IT on.

My breath comes in panted, staccato gasps. My skin feels like it’s being electrified, and the friction of my panties against my slick core as I shift in my seat is agonizing.

SECRETSLUT

And then what?

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Then you wait

SECRETSLUT

For?

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

For me to find you, baby girl

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

And trap you

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

And fuck you

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Even after you tell me to stop

Holy fucking shit.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

If we play again, there IS no backing out. There’s no stopping it, or me. Now, turn that fucking account back to not looking. Because you’re not.

I just stare at the screen, my tongue darting out to wet my lips as my pulse roars.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Tick tock, little slut. Are we going to play or not?

Before I can overthink it, I let my finger toggle on the location setting.

SECRETSLUT

Yes.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

Good girl.

YOUCANRUNBUTYOUCANTHIDE

See you when you least expect it.

His online status goes dark, and the black, vicious thoughts in my head swallow me whole.