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

I grab a champagne flute off a passing tray and down it. When the waiter moves to walk away, I stop him. 

“Not so fast,” I say, grabbing a fresh glass. “I’m going to need this.”

He gives me a look that’s half-impressed, half-sympathetic and walks away.

“Everything alright, darling?” My mother asks, coming to stand beside me on the perimeter of the dance floor.

“Just peachy,” I answer, taking a sip and enjoying the way the crisp bubbles burn a delicious path down my throat.

I spent the afternoon getting my makeup done, getting my hair coiffed and teased in every direction, and contorting my body to fit in this tight dress so I didn’t have time to eat. A glass and a half in and I already feel a slight buzz coming on.

It’s exactly what I need to get through tonight. The charity gala being held at the Natural History Museum is for a good cause — providing continued housing and job assistance for the homeless — but that’s not what’s troubling me.

This event is attended by the who’s who of London society and beyond. Anyone with an ounce of power in England will be here tonight.

A.K.A. it’s the perfect place for my father to identify potential husbands for me.

Gag.

Anxiety swirls in my gut at the thought and leaves a sour feeling in my stomach. I take another large sip and hope that alcohol will give me the strength I need to just grin and bear it.

My father is here somewhere, no don’t doubt investigating eligible bachelors he can foist on me. And he’s doing so with his arm cushioned in a custom-made Christian Door sling.

When he stumbled home that night three weeks ago, he explained that he was hit by a bicycle as he was crossing the street and that the impact had thrown him. According to him, he’d rolled a few times which explained the injuries to his shoulder and elbow and he’d landed face down on the pavement which explained the stitched-up cuts on his face.

He lied, and he made others lie for him.

No one at the office mentioned a thing. When I’d asked Eileen if she’d seen my father after he was injured, she’d blanched and shaken her head, avoiding eye contact before skittering away.

The upside of him getting assaulted is it distracted him. He hasn’t brought up marriage since, although I’m not naive enough to think he’s forgotten about his decision. He’s probably just been too preoccupied trying to figure out how he’s going to repay his twenty million pound debt and the associated interest he owes.

My stomach flips thinking about crossing paths with that monster again.

The devil.

It’s a different sensation than the sour feeling from earlier. More…anticipatory.

I’ve been inflamed by what I witnessed and completely unable to move past it. The faceless man shows up in my dreams, dark and terrifying, his hands outstretched as if to grab me. I wake up breathless, heart thundering, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

I’ve even convinced myself that he’s coming for me.

I know I’m being irrational. I have nothing to do with any of this. My father dug his grave and if he doesn’t pay, the devil will bury him in it. That’s it.

I’m not overrun with pity for him. The logical side of me knows that actions have consequences and he should have been ready to deal with them. The emotional side doesn’t necessarily want him to die but draws the line at helping him regardless.

“You look beautiful tonight, darling,” My mother says. “That color really suits you.”

I look down at the dusty pink evening gown I chose to wear tonight. It has an impossibly tight corset that I had to be strapped into like that scene from Pirates of the Caribbean. It forces my breasts up so high on my chest that they’re nearly bursting out of the top of my square neckline. The corset flows down into rivers and layers of tulle in gradually darkening shades of pink. 

It really is an absolutely stunning piece, custom-made for me by my designer best friend, Dagny. She had me pair it with teardrop diamond earrings and an old Hollywood hairstyle, the left side slicked back and pinned behind my ear.

I lock my arm with my mother’s and nudge her with my hip. “Thanks, Mum. You look absolutely unreal yourself.”

She’s wearing a classic navy gown with long sleeves that she’s accessorized with gold bangles on each wrist and a red lip. I know those sleeves are more functional than a fashion choice – they hide bruises my father gave her.

A real smile graces my Mum’s lips. It pains me. I wonder when the last time was that someone told her she was beautiful. I should be more attentive.

I’m distracted from those thoughts when a peculiar awareness washes over me.

I feel like I’m being watched.

I scan the dancefloor, the bar, the attendees milling about the perimeter of the room, but there’s nothing.

And yet, there’s this inexplicable weight that settles on my nape and makes the hairs all over my body stand on end.

“Tess.” I look up to find Franklin standing in front of me. He does a mock bow and extends his hand towards me like we’re at a seventeenth century ball. “Can I have this dance?”

Oh, god.

Absolutely not, I want to scream. My palm itches to smack his hand away. 

“I’m actually enjoying my mother’s company–”

“She’d love to,” my father interrupts. He appears from out of nowhere like a bad dream.

“Wonderful,” Franklin answers, ignoring my own answer, grabbing my hand and tugging me onto the dance floor.

I stumble after him, throwing an alarmed look over my shoulder at my mother and wordlessly asking for help. Her eyes widen and I think she’s going to come after me, but my father’s hand closes menacingly around her arm and she freezes.

Franklin swings me around and I fall into his arms. His clammy right hand clasps mine and holds it up. His left finds my waist, inappropriately low and dangerously close to my ass.

Disgust roils in my stomach when he presses me against him close enough that I can feel his semi-hard penis against my stomach. There’s not much there to feel but I say a quick mental thanks to Dagny for the corset. It provides a much-needed layer of protection.

I shove delicately against his chest with my free hand, keeping up all appearances of civility.

“I think we should leave some room for Jesus,” I joke, hoping he’ll respond well to humor.

He presses me even tighter against him until his putrid breath hits my face. “You should know that I’ve been speaking to your father about a match between us. This union will be blessed by forces much more powerful than God.”

So my father hasn’t only been focusing on his debts as I thought.

I’m considering the pros and cons of stomping on Franklin’s foot when I sense that familiar weight on me once more. I feel the ownership of someone’s gaze caressing my skin, leaving a burning path in its wake.

Am I actually losing my mind?

Franklin has me pinned so tightly against him that I can’t even twist my head to look around me without fear of our lips touching. I’ll actually be sick all over myself if that happens.

Part of me wonders if it’s worth it if it means he’ll let me go.

Franklin has never been this offensive to my senses before. But then again, he’s never manhandled me like he is now.

He twirls me around, the crowd parts and my gaze slams into his. 

Golden eyes stare back at me, a dark, chaotic look shining in them. The surge of lust in my stomach is immediate.

No. It can’t be.

I twist my head to look back, to make sure it’s him, but Franklin continues twirling me until I’m facing him once more and my back is to the man.

The same man I’d spotted at Firenze. 

Dagny had insisted we go out clubbing that night. There was a guest DJ she wanted to see and she’d been ready to beg me to go.

She hadn’t needed to. I’d needed a night of fun, of letting loose. Finding out I was going to be married off, realizing I’d wasted my life working towards something that was going to be taken from me anyway, and witnessing my father’s attack on top of it all had been too much.

I’d needed a break.

This was the start of a new Tess, one who prioritized herself and not others or what they wanted.

I was dancing with abandon, enjoying the alcohol, the music, the loosening of my muscles, when I felt myself being watched. It was so similar to the feeling I had tonight that I’m ashamed I didn’t connect the two.

I opened my eyes to find a man perched on a balcony high above me, hands spread wide on a railing, staring.

Unabashedly.

At me.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

He was too far away and too doused in the darkness of the club for me to make out his features, but those golden eyes weren’t ones I could easily forget. They were penetrating in their unflinching study of me and I found myself looking right back at him. When a slow smile tugged at his lips, liquid heat pooled between my legs.

I tried to point him out to Dagny, but by the time I got her attention, he was gone.

There’s simply no way it’s him. I must be imagining things in my moment of need, conjuring a man I could actually want.

“Twirl me again,” I ask.

Franklin grins. “You like that?”

I suppress a gag. “Sure.”

He does as I ask and I find myself twirling once more, this time focusing my eyes on the place where I just saw the mystery man.

I’m prepared for his gaze, or so I think.

I quickly learn differently when our eyes clash once more and the breath disappears from my lungs.

It’s definitely him and he’s definitely looking at me.