Beautiful Trouble by B. B. Hamel
Winter
Someone banged on my door the second I stepped out of the shower the next morning.
My lip still ached and the ghost of his touch lingered on my skin.
“Just a minute,” I called out, scrambling to grab some clothes.
I didn’t expect them to wait.
The bedroom door opened as I wrapped the towel around myself and stood silhouetted in the bathroom.
Darren strode in and stopped. He tilted his head to the side and stared at me for several long, silent seconds like he was inspecting a painting.
My pulse hammered. Neither of us moved.
I was caught in front of a lion with my body covered in raw meat.
His eyes darted along my skin. I was still blotchy and flushed from the hot water. I was so afraid to move, and danger hung heavy in the air. One misstep and he’d pounce.
I didn’t know what he’d take. More than I wanted him to, that was for sure. But how far, I didn’t know.
My body, my dignity. All of me.
My heart raced in looping rhythms and I felt like I might tip over and pass out at any second. My vision was blurry, my mouth dry.
And some quiet part of me, some distant and terrible voice in the back of my head told me to step forward and let the towel fall to the ground.
I could think of a hundred reasons why I’d want to do that: to continue my game of flirty distractions; to see how he’d react; to confuse him long enough to grab something sharp to plunge into his throat; to finally feel his lips and teeth and fingers along my naked flesh.
Any of those, all of those. Hate and desire. Fuck, he looked like he might explode, all of him tense and nearly shaking.
“You should get dressed. We have a long day.” He locked eyes with me.
“What are we doing?”
“You’re going to meet some people. Important people.” He stepped forward.
I stepped backward. I was trapped.
“Who?”
“People like me.”
“Cassie tried to explain it, but I’m not sure I totally understand.”
He stopped his advance and wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure she only gave you a partial picture at best.”
“She said you’re rich and powerful and you run the mafia families from the shadows.”
“Partial at best.” He turned and walked away. I felt bold enough to close the door, though left it open a crack. His voice drifted through as I pulled on my clothes as fast as I could.
I wasn’t out of danger, but the worst had passed.
“We call ourselves the Oligarchs,” he said, his voice modulating slightly as he paced. “It’s not a name I would’ve chosen, but it’s what we have. The group has been around for longer than America has been a country, dating back to the Old World. Membership changes from time to time, but the methods never do.”
I stepped back out, covered now, and toweled my hair. “Which are?”
“Money, violence, and coercion.” He looked disappointed as his eyes drifted along my body. I felt a strange resentment at that. “We are a group of pragmatic families dedicated to leashing the worst impulses of humanity. We run the crime organizations so that they don’t go wild.”
“You make it sound so noble.”
He grimaced. “It’s not. Perhaps I’m biased. That’s how I want to see what we are, but the truth is, we’re a bunch of rich people that use others as pawns in decades-old games.”
“Like this struggle between you and Roman?”
His eyes snapped up again. A smile tugged at his lips. “That’s perceptive.”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
“He’s too strong. No single Oligarch can rule the rest.”
“That’s not it. Not totally anyway.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because it involves me now.”
He stopped pacing and crossed his arms. He tilted his head thoughtfully and studied me. “You’re right that my feud with Roman goes back a long time and it’s very personal. But that’s all you need to know.”
“Your sisters are involved, aren’t they?”
“Not the way you think.”
I shook my head, frustrated. I hated that he kept so many secrets—but he had no reason to tell me anything.
I was the captive. I was at his mercy. Any crumb of information he fed me was more than he owed.
And yet I craved everything. Demanded more than I should’ve.
That was just my stupid mouth.
Couldn’t help myself.
I hung the towel up on the back of the door and leaned against the frame.
“All right then, big Oligarch. Where are you taking me?”
A smile. I liked his smile while simultaneously hating it.
Our relationship was like that. Push and pull. Attraction and disgust.
He ran a hand through his hair. “Chicago. One of the other Oligarchs lives there and another’s visiting. I want to introduce you.”
“Bringing me deeper into the game?”
“More like offering you as a bargaining chip.”
“I’m not sure I like that.”
He walked over with that leg-shaking stare. His eyes were the color of fresh grass and nearly glowed with the inner light of his desire. I didn’t know when I’d finally break and throw myself at him—
But I knew it’d happen.
And when it did, I wasn’t sure if I’d walk away hating myself, or walk away at all.
He stopped and leaned against the jamb with his arms, his face inches from mine.
“I’m not sure I give a shit what you like.”
I tried not to let him know that his proximity bothered me. “Why would the other Oligarchs need to know about me?”
“Because of Roman. He’s going to start getting aggressive and I want them to understand the situation as fully as they can before they start picking sides.”
“So you’re using me in your little war.”
He reached up and touched my cheek softly with the back of his thumb. “You knew that already.”
“But not just against Roman.”
“No, there’s always another level.”
“Should I be afraid of this meeting?”
He smiled. “Of course.”
My heart paused then raced to catch up with itself. My hands were shaking and sweat pooled beneath my arms. “I’m no good to you dead.”
“I told you before, I don’t plan on letting you die. But I can’t promise you won’t get hurt.”
I touched my lip. “I think I’ve already been hurt.”
“Sorry love, but we’re only just getting started.” He lingered with his hand against my face and I didn’t pull away—I didn’t know why.
Afraid he’d do something drastic. Afraid I’d provoke him.
Or just enjoying his presence.
He turned away and strode to the nightstand.
“Chika will fetch you soon. Pack whatever clothes you can.”
“I don’t have a bag.”
He gestured toward the closet. “There’s an overnight in the back. Bring only what you’ll need for an evening.”
“Where are we staying?”
“I have an apartment there.” He picked up the tracking bracelet and brought it back.
I held out my wrist. No use fighting him, and the rules were clear: if we left the house, I had to wear it.
But he knelt down in front of me instead of locking it around my wrist.
I sucked in a surprise breath. He tugged up the leg of my jeans and wrapped the bracelet around my ankle. It was tight, but it stretched to fit.
“There.” His fingers traced a line down my calf. “Now you won’t be so tempted to take it off.”
“Feels al to more like house arrest.”
“That’s okay. You’ll forget it’s there.” He lingered like he wanted to kiss my neck then stood. “The people we’re about to meet are dangerous. They’re not like me.”
“You’re safe?”
“Safer than them. You’d be surprised.”
“No, I don’t think I would,” I whispered, lips hanging open.
The ghost of pain still on my tongue.
“Sometimes I forget that you grew up in our world, or something like it.” He touched my arm then squeezed it tight, pulling me close. “Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t speak out of turn, don’t try and run away. You’ll only embarrass yourself.”
“Let go of me.”
And he did.
I stepped back, rubbing where he’d gripped.
He walked to the door and left.
I let out a breath, half strangled moan and half gasp for air.
He was leading me around like a pet on a leash and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep up before he dragged me along.
