Devil Mine: A Dark Cartel Romance (London Underworld Book 1)

“It’s great to have you back in the office, Tess,” a colleague of mine named Chelsea says when we cross paths in the break room. “We missed you around here.”

“It’s so good to be back!” I exclaim truthfully. “I missed you guys like crazy.”

She walks off with her coffee in one hand, waving with the other, leaving me to wait for my still brewing coffee. I’m buzzing with excitement and hardly able to stand still.

My return to the office has gone even better than I could have imagined. I’d ended up delaying it by another week, convinced by a very persuasive Thiago to extend our so-called honeymoon a few more days.

Although, the last week has felt much more like an actual honeymoon than the first two.

Ever since that night at the Telliers’, we’ve spent almost every moment together. He similarly didn’t leave the house for work, taking the rare urgent meeting in his study and then coming to find me immediately after.

True to his word, he’s been absolutely insatiable. Every time I came out of the shower, he would inevitably rip the towel off me and fuck me on the bed. We also kept up our midnight ice cream ritual and he got his revenge for all my previous teasing by bending me over the kitchen island and sliding into my pussy while he fed me some rocky road. There was even one time where I was bent over helping Diana empty the dishwasher when he came up behind me and grabbed my hips. Poor Diana had less than five seconds to run out of there before my pants were off and he was burying himself inside me to the hilt.

I apologized to her the following day, taking the opportunity to also say sorry for previous bad behavior.

“And I’m sorry for how I reacted when you mentioned Adriana a few weeks ago,” I’d said.

“That’s alright, señora.”

“No, you see, I thought… Well, I didn’t know. I thought she was…”

I hadn’t been able to find the words to explain the story I’d invented in my head, but Diana had understood. Her eyes widened comically.

“You thought she was his lover?”

“Yes.”

Her face had fallen into a kind smile. “Ah, querida, then you reacted appropriately. Maybe you even underreacted. If I thought you’d brought up my husband’s ex-lover to me, I would have scratched your eyes out.”

I’d laughed and we’d hugged. Then I’d had her tell me all about Adriana. The more I learned about her, the sadder I became that I’d never gotten to meet my sister-in-law. She sounded fun and vibrant, the kind of person Dagny and I would have been instant friends with.

It only further strengthened my resolve to help Thiago find her killer. He told me he didn’t have any other leads yet, and I believed him. But when he’d come out of his study after those urgent meetings over the past week, he’d looked stressed. Well, as stressed as he could look. His shoulders were tense, his face tight, his mind faraway.

When questioned, he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. My fainting at the bomb shelter had hardened him against involving me in his affairs. I couldn’t fault him for that decision, but I was determined to get him to confide in me what problems he was facing.

Even now, my skin still gets cold thinking about what Augusto Leone threatened me with. His face had been obscured by Thiago’s body so his words alone had been spine-chilling enough to scare me to my bones. Over the past week, I’d woken up on more than one occasion in the middle of the night, my heart racing in fear that someone was coming to take me. Each time, I’d awoken held tightly in Thiago’s arms, his bare chest enveloping me like a cocoon and immediately calming my anxiety.

They’re nightmares and not reality, and I know I’ll get over them soon. Still, being able to go back to work this morning has been a blessing. Now I’ve got something else to occupy my racing thoughts so I’m not continually spiraling in a swell of anxiety.

“So the rumors are true. You are back.”

A smile breaks out across my face before I’ve even turned around. I fling myself into the speaker’s arms, hugging him tightly even though I know he’ll hate it.

“Wiz,” I whisper affectionately. Pushing him away but holding onto his shoulders, I look up into his face. He’s unchanged and familiar and I’m so happy to see him. “What the hell are you doing up here?”NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“I had to see for myself if the gossip was true.”

“I didn’t know the gossip traveled all the way down to the second floor.”

“You’d be surprised,” he replies in his usual even tone.

Grinning, I turn away and grab my coffee mug. He walks alongside me as we head towards my office.

“You didn’t have to come up yourself, I know you don’t like to. I was going to come to see you later, it’s just been a crazy first day back as you can imagine.”

“I hacked your calendar and emails to make sure you were free before I came up, so I have no need for imagination.”

With a snort, I head into my office and settle behind my desk. He follows, dropping easily into the chair opposite me.

“Why did you come back?” he asks.

“It wasn’t exactly of my own free will,” I explain.

“Your father forced you back?”

My father is apparently away on business, so I haven’t had to see him.  It’s made the return to the office that much smoother.

“No, I… I was never running from him, Wiz. I was running from someone else. He found me and brought me back. But I’m not… I don’t mind. I think I’m making it work. I’m happy to be back.”

I stumble on the words, lacking the appropriate self-awareness to correctly diagnose what I’m feeling and how to communicate it back to my friend. It has been nice being back, something I never thought I’d be caught dead saying a month ago. And the way the last week has gone has me feeling embers of the most dangerous emotion of all. Hope. Hope that maybe this could be a life I could make something of. Hope that one day my marriage with Thiago might even turn into something more than just a physical relationship. 

“Can I assume that whoever ‘he’ is, he’s responsible for that massive ring on your finger?”

“Yes.” I look down at the diamond, playing with it absentmindedly before flicking my gaze back up to Wiz’s. “I’m married now.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t escape the arranged marriage?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t like to hear that. Happily married at least?”

I blow out a breath, going for the easiest answer.

“Sort of?”

He laughs, the first time I’ve ever heard him do so. “You’re one of a kind, Tess. Whoever he is, I hope he knows that.” He stands, heading for the door. “Let me know if you ever need to run away again. I’ll do better next time.”

“Wiz.” He pauses, turning back towards me. “You gave me a taste of freedom when you helped me disappear, and I know you risked a lot to do it. I can’t ever thank you enough for what you did for me, but I hope to try one day.”

He looks at me impassively, not doing well with processing the note of emotion in my tone. “You were kind to me. You decided to be my friend.” He scratches his nose uncomfortably. “I don’t have many of those but I think this is what you’re supposed to do for your friends, isn’t it?”

He leaves without waiting for a reply and I know that he’s not likely to come back upstairs anytime soon. The next time I want to see him, I’ll go down to two and sit on my pink couch, talking his ear off while he types away studiously.

Exactly the way it’s always been.

✽✽✽

After finishing my last meeting of the day, I head back from the conference room to my office. I set my computer and files on my desk and take a moment to stretch my arms behind my back.

It’s been a long day. Productive but also overwhelming, with every second I wasn’t working spent reuniting with people I haven’t seen in months.

Looking down at my watch, I see it’s three thirty. Maybe I’ll sneak out a little early and help the chef cook dinner. And by help I mean watch Mariela do all the work while I sit on the other side of the island and talk to her because I’m hopeless at anything related to kitchen work. The feedback I’ve received when I’ve attempted to cook in the past has been far from complimentary, and I’m woman enough to admit when I know I’ve been bested in an area. So I usually sit down with her instead, staying out of her way and chatting with her as she cooks.

I’m surprised to find I’m this excited by the prospect of an evening at the house. It’s not home yet, but it’s somewhere I’m feeling increasingly more comfortable with each passing day. I didn’t think I’d be attached to it this quickly, especially not enough to consider leaving work early when for years I’ve considered this office to be my surrogate home. But I find that I really like having something to look forward to that isn’t work. 

I’m putting my computer away when my office door opens. I look up to find Franklin hovering by the entryway. My mood turns instantly sour. I haven’t seen him all day and was hoping to leave without a run-in with him, putting off the inevitable awkward encounter until at least tomorrow. He’s the one part of work I absolutely have not missed and being confronted with him as I’m walking out is not how I planned on ending my first day back.

“It’s professional courtesy to knock before entering someone’s office, Franklin.”

I don’t spare him a glance and continue putting things away in my bag.

The click of the door closing resonates as ominously loud as a gunshot in my office. I’m instantly tense, the hairs on the back of my neck raising. I straighten, abandoning the task at hand and staring at Franklin.

“You run away for months and think you can just come waltzing back in like nothing’s changed?” he demands, voice cold and devoid of all emotion.

“Open the door,” I ask calmly.

“But things have changed.”

There’s a chill in the air, a sinister warning that tells me I’m in trouble. Working to mask the tremble in my voice, I repeat. “Open the door, Franklin.”

Ignoring my demand, he moves towards where I’m standing. He puts himself between me and the door, cornering me. I try to hold my ground as long as I can, my hand clutching the back of my chair desperately, but there’s a terrifying air of violence wafting off him that scares me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, hoping to keep this civil. When he rounds the desk towards me, I put my hand out. “Stay over there. Franklin,” I warn. He keeps advancing. “If you come any closer, I’ll scream.”

I’m hoping this is all a misunderstanding. That he’s trying to intimidate me for whatever sick reason, but that this will be quickly over. That my words will make him back off. But when a cruel smile twists his lips, I realize I’m very wrong.

“Go ahead and scream. I sent Crystal on an errand, there’s nobody at her desk. Nobody to hear your screams except me. But believe me, I’ll enjoy them enough for the whole company.”

“What do you want, Franklin?” I ask, backing away with small, barely noticeable steps. “What are you after?”

My stomach falls when my back hits the farthest corner of my office, one shoulder coming against the wall of windows and the other against the bookshelf behind me.

There’s nowhere left to go.

“I want what was promised to me, what was supposed to be mine before you got yourself sold off to someone else and ran away,” he snaps, before correcting himself. “I’m taking it actually.”

He mentioned marriage during our dance at the gala but I didn’t realize he said it because there was an actual deal being put in place between my father and him like he seems to be suggesting now. It doesn’t matter. I would never have married him. Unlike Thiago, if he’d caught me I would have given my life trying to escape him again.

My hands go discreetly behind my back and start feeling along the bookshelf for anything I could use as a weapon.

“You’re not taking anything from me,” I hiss.

Franklin stands less than ten feet from me with an awful rictus on his face, a sadistic predator taking pleasure in having trapped his vulnerable prey. It puts every encounter I’ve had with Thiago into perspective. While he’s more dangerous and definitely more violent, he’s never made me feel unsafe like this and he’s never threatened me with his size or physicality like Franklin is now.

“Watch me,” he sneers. “I think it’s about time your pussy got a good fucking from a real cock.”

My stomach twists in revolt at the thought and bile rises into my throat. I can’t let this happen, I won’t survive that kind of victimization. I’d rather he kill me.

My searching hands turn desperate, blindly scanning every inch of the shelf until my fingers brush against something made of glass. When they close around it, I realize it’s my Women in Business award I received last year. I won it based on the vote of hundreds of my peers for my contributions to the media profession and the broader industry at large. It was the proudest day of my life, my crowning achievement to date, one I’d worked myself to the bone to get.

The irony in this award becoming my weapon of choice is not lost on me — no matter where we are, no matter how safe a woman feels, it only takes one man to rip that illusion away. This is a reminder of that. But today my tenacity and my obstinate refusal to bend the knee to my father might just save me.

“You disgust me,” I declare. “And you’ll never touch me.” 

Then I hurl the award at him as hard as I can.

My aim is true and the triangular trophy hits him in the head as I’d planned. Instead of knocking him out it only momentarily stuns him. I run past him but he recovers quickly. His arm stretches out and easily catches me around the waist, yanking me back against his torso. Dread leadens my stomach at my failed escape, at the prospect of what he’s going to do to me in retaliation.

“Bitch.”

He slams me violently back against the windows. Stars explode behind my eyes at the force with which my head bounces off the glass.

I’m dazed and more pliant because of it. He pins me by my wrists, his mouth opening to reveal sharp looking teeth and a monstrous smile. I turn my face to the side and whimper. His clammy, fetid breath hits my cheek and it’s all I can do not to pass out, but I won’t have a repeat of last week.

My thoughts fly to Thiago, wishing with all my heart that he could be here to protect me like he did with Leone. I don’t question why he’s the one I think of, I just know it’s him I need. 

“You want to piss me off, little girl?” Franklin taunts disdainfully. “I’ll rip through your pussy and make you bleed for that little stunt. Maybe that’ll teach you some obedience.”

“Get off me,” I cry, thrashing violently. “I’m married!”

Before this moment, I would have said I was strong. I go to the gym multiple times a week. I lift weights. My body is toned and in shape. So when I fight against Franklin’s hold, I expect to do some damage. To at least free one of my hands. But in a millisecond and with barely any effort whatsoever, he easily uses his own strength to overpower me and keep me prisoner. My wrists remain trapped above my head, my body prone and exposed to whatever horrors he wants to do to me. The stark realization of how much physically weaker I am than a man as out of shape as he is stops the blood cold in my veins. The abject terror I feel makes me want to freeze in place. I have to fight against my base instincts to try and survive.

“Don’t remind me,” he snarls, slapping a hand over my mouth. “That’s enough out of you.”

I scream and scream but his hand muffles every sound that rips from my throat. My thoughts go once again to Thiago and my heart splits in two. What will he say when he finds out what happened to me? Will he ever be able to touch me again or will he throw me out and divorce me for being damaged goods? The thought alone is painful enough to bring tears to my eyes.

When I feel Franklin’s fingers brush against my thigh beneath my skirt, my eyes bulge. I kick at him, thrashing furiously, but it’s in vain. His hand inches higher. His hard length presses into my stomach. I close my eyes even as I continue to try and scream, hoping that I can disassociate from my body and go to another reality.

Franklin’s face comes to within inches of mine. His putrid breath falls against my face. I press my cheek into the window to avoid it.

“From what I’ve heard of him, I don’t think your husband will mind if I have a taste,” he croons.

“Wrong. Her husband is going to fucking kill you for trying,” a terrifying voice announces, slicing through my nightmare with an arrow of hope. I turn my head to find Thiago standing in my doorway, the blackest look of fury I’ve ever seen blanketing his face. “Take your fucking hands off my wife,” he booms. “Now.”