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

I woke up dripping wet and breathing hard in an unfamiliar bed with a light sheen of sweat on my body. I sat up, shook my head, and tried to get that nasty dream out of my mind.

Only ghostly memories still remained. Roman pinning me down, his fingers pistoning inside my body, the sound of the ocean, his lips on my throat—

I couldn’t remember anything else.

But a sex dream. I didn’t have sex dreams.

Probably a product of that panic attack.

After the incident, I’d had crazy nightmares for weeks and weeks. Some were straight-up terrifying and some were confusing and strange and twisted, but they always left me dizzy and drenched in sweat the next morning.

Sort of like today, except I was buzzing with aroused excitement instead of paralyzed with horror.

I got up and padded across the room into the attached bathroom. I splashed water on my face and opened a fresh toothbrush. I hesitated at the door, not sure what to do. I could put on my clothes from the night before, or I could go downstairs in the robe.

I didn’t love either option. Those clothes were soiled for me, and the memory of all that blood, of Dia getting her skull shot open into little pieces, infected that outfit somehow. I’d rather burn those clothes than put them back on.

The robe then. I opened the door and paused.

On the floor was a small bundle in a laundry basket. I picked it up and carried it to the bed.

Fresh towels, fresh sheets, and clean clothes. A pair of jeans and a simple gray sweatshirt, plus clean underwear that looked like it might fit.

No bra, of course. I’d survive in the old one.

I pulled on the clothes. They were a little long, but they fit in the hips at least. I rolled the hems, put on my shoes, tied my hair back, and stepped out into the hallway, brushing the wisps behind my ears.

The house was quiet. Lots of light streamed in from multiple windows, all of them with ocean views. I walked along wondering who kept a place like this and didn’t live in it year-round.

Multi-billionaires, that was who.

I thought back to what Roman had told me about himself. He’d said he was nobody, but he was more dangerous than those gangsters.

I wasn’t sure what to think, but he had money—that much was obvious. Money and power. The way Manzi looked at him made me think he wasn’t lying about that part at least.

I still didn’t understand why he’d helped me. If he was involved with those gangsters, then he should’ve left me there to my fate. Instead, he’d whisked me away without telling anyone.

It was confusing and strange.

Then there was the car ride. My first in years. And that panic attack, and the way he’d talked me down—

And that voice, those lips, those eyes.

What had I gotten myself into?

I walked downstairs and back into the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the halls and drew me like a starving shark. I needed coffee like I needed blood in my veins and air in my lungs.

Coffee could solve all my problems.

I was so focused on getting down a mug that I didn’t notice the person sitting at the kitchen table until she cleared her throat and stood.

“Cassie. Good morning.”

I blinked a few times and looked over.

The girl was beautiful. Auburn hair with straight-cut bangs that would’ve looked dorky and lame on me, but somehow were chic and sophisticated on her. Slim nose, dark eyes, pale skin, full lips. She was tall, inches taller than me, and she wore smart black slacks and a tucked-in white blouse like she was about to go to some business casual lunch with very rich and very important people.

“Uh, hi, good morning, sorry, I didn’t know Roman had company, I guess I should—”

The girl held up a hand, grinning. Perfect white teeth. She tilted her head and brushed some stray hair back.

I stared at the missing stump of her right ear.

It was gone. The ear was totally missing—just a tangle of pink and red scar tissue over a small hole. It was ugly, so much in contrast to the rest of her, and if she noticed me staring she didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s okay. It’s not what you think. My name’s Roza.”

“Nice to meet you.” I hesitated, chewing my lip. “Uh, where are the mugs?”

“Cabinet to the right.”

I opened it, took one down, but hesitated. “Do you mind?”

“I made it for you.” She still grinned at me, and I decided to hold off on figuring out what the heck this model-gorgeous girl was doing in Roman’s kitchen at six in the morning. I poured the coffee and took a deep drink.

Black and rich. Heaven.

I took another sip, let the caffeine hit my bloodstream, then nodded to myself.

Fortified. Ready to handle anything.

“Sorry, so you’re not, uh, Roman’s girlfriend?”

She laughed lightly. “God, no, nothing like that. I’m his personal assistant.”

“Oh,” I said brightly and didn’t know why that seemed to unclench my guts. “I guess I should thank you for the clothes then. Are these yours?”

“Yep, but don’t worry, they’re clean and spares so feel free to keep them. You look good in that sweatshirt, even though it’s a little big. Personally, I’d like to see you in something a little tighter.”

I felt myself flush. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

“It’s a compliment. I can be a little forward sometimes. I apologize in advance for all the very awkward comments I make. For example, that little gap in your teeth is so fucking cute I could die.”

I closed my lips. “I’m self-conscious about it.”

“Don’t be. God, you’re pretty. I can see why he brought you back.”

I was definitely turning red. I hadn’t been complimented this much in forever. “Uh, you are too, thanks.”

“Naturally.” She tilted her head. “Come sit down. Want something to eat? I can get you a bagel or cook something if you want. I do really good eggs.”

“I’m okay with coffee.”

“Fruit? I got fruit cut up already.” She walked to the refrigerator. “Eat some fruit. Say yes or I’ll keep bugging you.”

“Yes, sure, okay.” I sat down and let her bring me a little plate of fruit with an English muffin on the side. When had she made that?

Roza sat down across from me. “Roman didn’t leave me any instructions on you, so I’m flying blind here. Did he say anything last night about today?”

“Just that I could go home.”

“Your bike’s outside, so I guess you’re free to head out whenever.”

I hesitated, not wanting to leave yet. Roza smiled at me, but it didn’t seem like she was kicking me out—only giving me an option.

I liked her. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the nice things she said about me, or how forward and friendly she was, or the scar tissue where her ear should be—that reminded me so much of myself.

“Can I ask you something? You know, before I head out.”

“Sure. And take your time. Roman won’t be up for a little while.”

I took a bite of melon. Fresh and delicious. I sipped more coffee. “I’m having a hard time understanding who exactly Roman is.”

Roza laughed. “That’s understandable. What did he tell you?”

“When I asked him, he said he’s nobody.”

“Of course he did. He loves that.” She scrunched up her nose like she smelled something off. “It’s his favorite line, you know.”

I looked down at my food, unable to meet her eye. “He also said he’s scarier than a bunch of mobsters.”

“Did he now?” She said that softer, a hint of surprise creeping into her tone. “He doesn’t normally brag. Maybe he really does like you.”

I chewed on my thumbnail, then shook my head. “No, I think he was trying to make me feel safe. He wasn’t bragging.”

“Maybe, maybe not. What do you want to know about him? I’m not sure how much I should tell you since it’s not my business, but I’ll do my best.”

“I guess I’m just wondering, what the hell does he do for a living?”

She laughed, grinning wide. “Good question. Definitely the wrong question, but a good one.”

“What do you mean?”

She waved that away. “Do you know what an oligarchy is?”

The word sounded familiar. Deep, dark, horror-movie-esque memories surfaced of middle school history class. “Some kind of government.”

“Exactly. It’s a government run by a small group of powerful families.” She leaned toward me, raising her eyebrows, and tapped one exquisitely manicured nail on the table. “Roman is an oligarch.”

“He runs… a government?” I made a face. That didn’t seem right at all. “I don’t understand.”

“His family used to, anyway. Back before they left the old country and came here, they were some of the most powerful people in the world.”

“So he’s like old money?”

“Exactly! You’re quick. So you asked me, what does he do for a living? Now you know. He does whatever he wants.”

I let that sink in. The man I’d seen the night before was a towering force, the sort of person that commanded a room simply by entering it. He sent a shiver down my spine just from thinking about him, and the memory of his hand on my thigh lingered like a hot brand seared into my flesh.

It was almost enough to wipe away the memory of Dia getting her head blown to pieces.

I ate more fruit in silence. Roza watched me carefully, like she was studying me for something. I drank down my coffee and took several deep breaths to try and keep myself under control.

“He said he’s not a gangster last night. Is that true?”

Roza nodded. “That’s true. Sort of.”

“Sort of isn’t very helpful.”

“I know. Sorry about that. He’s not a member of any organized groups, but he’s very much involved with all of them. You could say that Roman and men like him are the power behind the power.”

“Okay, right, so he’s not a gangster, but he sort of is a gangster.”

“Hey, now you get it!”

“Which means he’s protecting me from actual gangsters.”

“That’s about right, yes.”

I met her gaze and chewed on my lip, stomach churning in anxious circles. “Is he dangerous? Am I in a lot of trouble here?”

Roza leaned toward me, her smile becoming somehow conspiratorial. “He’s very dangerous, but you’d be surprised at how fair he can be.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Roza.”

I grimaced, startled, and leaned back in my chair. Roza looked pleased as she glanced at her watch. “You’re two minutes late. I wanted you to walk in right after I told her that you’re the power behind the power.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

I stared at Roman, my heart racing.

He wore a pair of light gray gym shorts that fell about mid-thigh.

And nothing else.

His chest was muscular and toned like he worked out for hours every day. His hair was still damp from a shower and pushed back lazily, like he hadn’t bothered styling it at all. He tilted his head and pursed his lips, looking back at me with that same intense expression from last night, and I felt the room shift sideways. His body took over my brain space, and I couldn’t stop eyeing his toned chest and stomach even though I knew I wasn’t being subtle.

There was something about him. Terrifying, but alluring. Roza had said he was dangerous, and I believed her.

I should walk out of this house, get on my bike, and never look back.

Except I couldn’t bring myself to stand up. My knees were weak. My hands were shaking. It wasn’t a panic attack—

It was something worse. Like the moment right after waking up from a wet dream.

Buzzing, tingling, excited.

A wild, broken, shattered feeling in my chest.

I wanted to run my fingers down his skin, along his cut abdomen, down toward the incredibly delicious V that disappeared beneath those light cotton shorts.

“Are you going for your run now?” Roza asked, breaking the very pregnant silence.

“In a few minutes. Would you mind if I spoke with my guest in private?”

“Of course not. She’s cute, by the way, a very nice girl. You’ve got good taste.”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “How many times do I need to tell you that my personal life is out of bounds?”

“Oh, I think a few more will do the trick, I’m sure.” She winked at me, waved, and walked off.

I felt numb, dizzy. I wanted more coffee, but all the caffeine in the world couldn’t prepare me for seeing Roman shirtless in only a pair of what were apparently running shorts.

He sat down and leaned on his elbows.

“Did you sleep okay? I hope the clothes are fine. Roza doesn’t have much lying around this house.”

“They’re perfect, thanks.”

“Good.” He let out a breath. “Last night didn’t go as I planned. I didn’t think… well, here you are.”

“Here I am. And where exactly is here, by the way?”

“Halfway down Avalon, right by the beach. You can ride your bike back without any issues. It’s a nice morning.”

“Right, of course.” I frowned toward where Roza had disappeared. “Your personal assistant is, uh, really nice.”

He followed my gaze and smiled, just the barest hint. “You mean she’s a little too forward? I keep meaning to fire her, but I can’t quite get around to it.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m joking. Roza and I go back a long way. She’s friendly, but don’t let it fool you. She’s a jaguar in a business suit.”

I laughed awkwardly. “Is there anyone in this house who isn’t some kind of super killer or whatever?”

“No,” he said, not smiling along.

My laughter died on my lips. “Right. Okay. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How much danger am I in right now? I mean, I think I understand that I witnessed a very important murder last night, so I’m guessing things aren’t great for me at the moment.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Should I be afraid? Maybe I can go into witness protection.”

“I don’t think that’s an option.”

“Are you sure? I’ll change my name. Heck, I’ll let you choose it. Anything you want.”

Another smile. I liked it when he smiled—he looked like he didn’t do it often, but it softened his severe features.

A little bit, anyway.

“You wouldn’t want me to name you. I’d choose something terrible.”

“I’m sure you have great taste.”

“Doris Periwinkle.”

“Oh, never mind.” I made a face. “You think I look like a Doris?”

“I think witness protection isn’t a real option.”

“So what do you recommend?”

He hesitated, then stood and grabbed my mug. I didn’t say anything as he poured me a refill and got himself his own. He added a little milk and returned to the table.

“I recommend you go home and forget all of this happened. I will make sure you’re protected from my end.”

“Why?” I tilted my head, trying to understand. I lifted the mug to my lips and felt the hot coffee against my tongue.

I didn’t understand why a man like him would care about me at all.

I was nobody. I was nothing.

I’d run away from any claim to being somebody a long time ago.

The only thing I wanted was to stay hidden.

Quiet and calm and cozy. That was all I asked out of life.

Until last night, I’d been doing great.

Now this man, unrepentant and powerful, waltzed into my existence and tore it all to confetti.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, Cassie. I’ve seen a lot of injustice and violence. I’ve committed acts of brutality that I don’t regret, but don’t particularly care to relive. But I still believe in justice and fairness, and I don’t think it’s either just or fair that you’d pay the price for what you saw last night. You weren’t the one that made the mistake.”

“So you’re just some kind of super-rich mobster guy—sorry, oligarch or whatever—and you believe in doing the right thing? Am I getting this?”

“Not the right thing. I believe in doing what I feel is just. That’s the difference.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

He ran his finger around the rim of his mug, and I pictured how that’d feel around my breast. My nipples were hard, and I was thankful for the thick sweatshirt. Otherwise, he’d definitely notice my arousal.

“Doing the right thing, in this case, would mean calling the police. It would mean justice for Dia. But I don’t want justice for Dia. I only want you to survive and Manzi to make the girl’s death right.”

“You really do whatever you want, don’t you?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Not always. Roza talks too much.”

“Maybe you should listen to her.” I felt a sudden pang of anger. I didn’t know why I let this man drag me around when I didn’t owe him anything and didn’t know him from anyone else in this world. He was just some rich criminal, and even if he did run a bunch of powerful families from the shadows, what the hell did I care about that?

Dia was dead and she didn’t deserve it.

“Maybe I want justice for her,” I said quickly, letting it spill out before I could stop myself. “Does that matter at all?”

“No,” he said, meeting my gaze. “No, what you want doesn’t matter.”

I pushed my chair back. “I think I’m ready to go.”

He watched me carefully. “Before you leave, listen to me. You can’t go to the police. You can’t talk about what you saw last night, ever, to anyone.”

“Why? Because you don’t want me to?” I stood and glared down at him. “I don’t know who you think you are—”

“Because Manzi’s father will find out, and he doesn’t share my feelings about hurting innocent people,” he said, interrupting me.

I felt my anger deflate somewhat.

I didn’t know why I was letting him rile me so much. Maybe it was that condescending attitude—like I couldn’t understand what was going on and all I needed to do was shut up and obey him.

Or maybe it was this confusing, roiling, intense desire I felt lingering in my extremities, lodging in my stomach, threatening to overwhelm every breath I took.

I didn’t like feeling out of control. I didn’t like feeling as though I were in someone else’s debt.

And I certainly didn’t want to stay here any longer.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said finally, after another agonizing silence.

“Good. If you want to return to your life, all you have to do is walk out that door. I’ll make sure our paths never cross again.”

“That’s it? I watch some girl die and go pretend like nothing happened?”

“That’s it.”

I tapped my finger against my hipbone. “Where’s my jacket?”

“Hanging by the front door.”

I walked past him and down the main hall. I spotted my jacket on a peg and grabbed it. I pulled it on and let the size swallow me down. I felt safe in that jacket, hidden in the deep layers, with the weight of a can of Mace in my pocket.

I’d almost forgotten all about it.

Roman came after me, lingered in the portal between the hall and the kitchen. He watched me with that disconcerting stare of his, and I wanted to scream at him to cut it out because he was driving me crazy. I didn’t know if it was lust boiling up inside or if it was anger or if it was fear.

Probably a little bit of all three.

“It was very nice meeting you, Cassie Ward.”

I stared at him. “I don’t know your last name.”

“Lenkov. Roman Lenkov.”

“I wish it was nice meeting you, but I’m not sure how I feel about all this.”

Another ghostly smile. “I think I can live with that.”

“What Roza said. Was all that true?”

“I only heard some of it, but yes, I suspect she didn’t lie.”

I sucked in a breath and slowly released it.

Just like he’d shown me.

“Goodbye, Roman Lenkov.” Without looking back, I pulled open the door and left.

I found my bike leaning against the front porch. Two men lounged against a black SUV nearby, smoking dark cigars. One of them was the handsome driver from the night before. He smiled at me and nodded as I wheeled my bike down the driveway.

“I’ll open the gate for you,” he called after. “I hope you enjoyed your stay at Chez Lenkov.”

I suppressed a smile and waved. The massive gate at the end of the sloped drive pulled back. I mounted my light pink, rusty cruiser and rode out into the street, the wheels creaking the whole way.

The gate ground shut behind me, and I was gone.

The longer I rode, the better I felt. All of that had been some kind of bad dream. Roman, Roza, that driver.

Dia’s blood and brains on the decking. Manzi staring at me with those wild eyes.

None of that was real.

My life was quiet. I kept to myself, stayed bundled up and hidden away.

I’d worked hard to rid myself of men like Roman and Manzi.

I didn’t want him. Didn’t want any of it.

So why did my chest still feel tight? And why did I keep feeling Roman’s hand on my leg, keep hearing his breath synchronized with my own?

And why did I want to turn back around and ride as hard as I could to his house and beg them to let me back inside?

I lowered my head against the bitter, cold wind and pedaled faster.