Monster: Made & Broken (A Mafia Bad Boy Romance) (5 page)

“
Sorry. Go back to sleep.”

It was easy to see through his gruff tone—he had not meant for me to see him like this.

But I had. And even though I’d known Marcus for less than twelve hours, I couldn’t bear the thought of him hurting.

“
Do you want to talk about it?”

“
No.”

I rolled up over on one elbow and let my other hand rest against his chest. His heart was still beating much faster than it should. “Okay. It sounded like it was a really awful dream, though.”

No answer.

I bit the inside of my cheek. It was no surprise that Marcus Steel had issues expressing his emotions. A man didn’t develop the kind of terrifying presence he possessed by being all warm and open about what haunted him at night.

“
Come here,” I said, and when he lowered his hands to look at me, I lay back down and opened my arms.

To my surprise, he moved without objection, slipping into my embrace. The soft exhale of his breath as he rested his face on my shoulder blew across my right breast, raising the nipple.

His response was to stroke the underside of that breast and let a thumb graze the erect nipple up top. I shuddered in response, well-used muscles clenching weakly. I suppressed a wince. Yeah, I wasn’t ready for
that
kind of comfort just yet.

Instead, I remembered how my mother used to comfort me when I’d had a bad dream, and stroking his naked back, I began humming. It was an old nursery rhyme, and for a moment I felt a bit silly soothing a grown man like this—but Marcus simply sighed, muscles relaxing and his hand on my breast stilling. So when the first melody was done, I started a new one, this time singing along.

I sang for what felt like the better part of half an hour until Marcus’ breathing turned deep and steady, his body going limp against mine.

I looked down at the sleeping man in my arms as my voice died down. It wasn’t until then that I realized I’d lost my fear for him somewhere between orgasms last night. Instead of someone inherently dangerous, I saw a man who’d locked away all his emotions until they exploded like they had when I’d accidentally hurt him. The darkness in him wasn’t his—it was whatever he had locked up inside, whatever had made him withdraw into himself to the point he’d become completely unapproachable. Frightening in his solitude.

But beneath the surface, beneath the iron locks, I could sense the real Marcus Steel. And what lay underneath was a man I could see myself falling for all too easily. There had only been glimmers, but right from the start my body had recognized what my mind was finally coming to accept.

I wanted more of him than just one night. A lot more.

I stroked my fingers through his black strands, relishing the pressure of his body against mine as I breathed in the scent of Marcus and our sex.

Too bad I was here on a job, and that if and when he found out, I better hope he never saw me again.

I had no idea what Marcus did for a living, but based on his luxurious flat and that he was in any way mixed up with Gerald Brigs, he was obviously very capable of inflicting pain if he needed to.

And the thief who seduced him to steal from him…? I had a distinct sense I’d fall into the category of
“
needed to.”

Suppressing the ache in my heart, I eased out from underneath Marcus’ heavy body, doing my best not to wake him.

He groaned in protest when I slipped free, and I gave his face a quick glance to ensure he wasn’t waking before I rolled all the way out of bed and let myself out of the bedroom.

I walked naked through the apartment to fetch my purse from the kitchen counter and then went hunting for wherever he kept his safe.

It didn’t take me long. The first door I opened turned out to be his office, and on the wall nearest his desk a safe was built into the concrete. It wasn’t even hidden behind a painting, as I’d somewhat expected it to be. Perhaps I watched too many detective shows.

I walked to the safe and tapped my nails against the black surface. It was a dial combination lock, and I had no idea what the hell the code could be. It wasn’t like Marcus had mentioned any lucky numbers while we’d fucked.

Lost, I pulled the folded-up piece of paper Brigs had given me from my purse and sat on Marcus’ leather office chair to study it.

It was mainly names, of family members I presumed, and only two numbers right next to each other. Dates, I realized, thirty-four years apart. I tried those first, with no luck.

Come one, Evelyn. You can do this. What kind of numbers would a man like Marcus use to secure his belongings?
I chewed on a fingernail as I stared at the safe for a few minutes. There were no clues in the office—it was as devoid of personality and decorations as the rest of his flat...
Hang on.

I let my gaze sweep over the list again, finding a familiar name again. Aidan. His nephew—and the only family member who had made it into a picture frame in Marcus’ home. What was that date at the bottom of that frame?

I swiveled the chair back into position and half-jogged back to the living room, doing my best not to wince for each step. The reminder of what I’d spent the night doing was impossible to ignore. Guess that’s what I got for breaking almost a year’s worth of a dry spell with a stallion-sized ride rather than something a little more beginner-friendly.

The light from the city offered enough of a glow for the quiet living room that I could easily navigate my way to the picture frame without turning on the lights. I picked it up, glancing at the cute baby before zeroing in on the date below the picture. The first of August 2015.

I hurried back to Marcus’ office, doing my best to ignore the sense I was betraying someone much too good for me, and hunched over in front of the safe. Backing out now was going to do nothing but get me into some serious trouble with Brigs.

01-08-2015.

The clink of metal pins sliding into place from the safe’s locking mechanism sent a little jolt through me and I bit the inside of my cheek as I pulled the heavy door open and looked inside.

There was a small pile of papers in the safe, a passport, and a couple of piles of fifty pound notes, along with a pen drive. I reached for the pen drive and quickly closed my hand around it, relieved that I’d managed the task I’d been set.

But just as I was about to close the safe, my eyes caught the piles of money again. There had to be nearly fifty thousand pounds in that safe.

Apart from tonight, I had never stolen in my life. Not even a pack of gum. My mother had raised me right. But of course, my mother couldn’t have predicted I’d one day be under them thumb of mafia scum, paying back a loan I should never had accepted.

If I paid Brigs back in cash, I’d never have to work for him again.

The problem was, with my waitressing job, I would be in his debt for years to come. Maybe even a decade, the way he calculated interests. And here were stacks of money, right in front of me. If I took just £10,000 I could walk away from this job and never look back.

I bit my lip as my gut clenched. But I’d be stealing them. From Marcus. And not because I’d been forced to, but for my own personal gain. There was a difference of morality, even if it probably wouldn’t technically be much worse than what I was already taking from him.

My hand hovered over one of the stacks of bills as I gnawed on the inside of my cheek with indecision—until a chilling thought struck me. If I completed this job successfully, there was nothing to stop Brigs from making me do it again to some other guy.

And I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t be as happy about climbing into bed with whoever else he pointed at.

I grabbed a stack of bills and quickly stuffed it into my purse next to the pen drive, zipped it close, and slammed the safe shut. Better a thief once than forced to steal and whore out my body indefinitely.

After making sure the office looked exactly like I’d found it, I snuck back to the living room where my clothes still lay in a pile on the floor, but as I bent for my underwear, I paused. If I left in the middle of the night, it would seem awfully suspicious. Much better if I stayed the night and left in the morning—it wasn’t like he would think to check the safe while I was there, anyway.

I put my purse back on the counter where I’d left it the night before and tip-toed back to the bedroom, telling myself that my decision had nothing to do with wanting just a couple more hours of pretending like what I’d experienced in the arms of Marcus Steel had been real.

* * * *

Chapter 6

Marcus

How could a human being be so completely and unabashedly perfect?

And so fucking beautiful? From the light sprinkle of freckles across her nose to her flaming hair and pink lips, Evelyn’s face looked like it belonged to an angel. My own, personal angel whose voice alone made my nightmares melt away.

She sighed when I touched her cheek as gently as she touched mine last night in her attempt at comforting me.

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone saw me in the aftermath of losing control like I did last night—I didn’t know if anyone ever had, and the echo of her concern still rang inside of me, like a warm trickle from behind my ribs.

Was this what my brother felt for his wife? Was this the woman who would have been mine, had things been different?

I pressed a hand to my chest when the pleasant sensation behind my ribs turned to a sharp ache and clenched my teeth against the rush of regret.

I lost control with her. I could have
hurt
her.

Though, when my conscience snapped into blackness from the sting of her nails, it didn’t feel like it did all the other times. The split second I had to recognize what was happening, it wasn’t a murderous rage that encapsulated my brain. It was… euphoric.

I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing with everything I was that there was a way this wouldn’t be the last time I got to wake up with her in my arms.

I knew there was no point wishing for it, but I did it anyway. She was too pure, too innocent. Much as I wanted to give in to every roaring instinct in my body to claim her like some primitive beast, I couldn’t. Someone so genuinely good shouldn’t be tied to my darkness. But it felt good to pretend, even if only for a few seconds.

“
Evelyn.” Even the taste of her name on my tongue made me crave more of her.

“
Mm?”

I opened my eyes at the sleepy grumble below me. Her eyes were open too now, if somewhat unfocused.

“
Did you say something?”

Her sleep-roughened voice made me smile. She was so fucking cute. “Morning.”

“
Mmhm,” she purred, and my body recognized the sultry undertone, immediately rendering me rock-hard.
God, how does she do that?

I shifted, sliding the sheets down her naked body to move in between her legs, ready to fulfill the need I heard in her voice, but the sight of several finger-shaped bruises on her biceps and hips made me freeze, my heart dropping.

“
I did hurt you.”

“
Hmm?” She followed my stare and shrugged when she spotted the marks on one hip. “Oh. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine. It wasn’t fine at all.

Disgusted with myself, I pulled back and got out of the bed before I got too lost in the need for another release between her thighs.

“
No morning sex?” Evelyn said, and when I dared a glance at the bed, I caught her disappointed pout.

“
No.” Why was she so dead set on getting lost in my darkness? She knew what I was—I knew she saw what everyone sees when they meet me. Someone dangerous. Even the women who’d previously made it to my bed recognized it, but I knew they disregarded it for the draw of my body or power. I didn’t understand why it wasn’t like that with Evelyn, but I knew that wasn’t why she told me to take her home with me. Almost like she felt the draw between us as keenly as I did, like she knew it was a bad idea but couldn’t stop herself any more than I could.

“
Breakfast?” I asked, because I needed to take my mind off her dusky pink nipple peeking up above the sheets. I wanted to close my lips around it so bad.

“
Nah, I need to leave soon anyway,” she said with a sigh. “Thanks, though.”

Hot, dark anger ripped at my insides, so unexpectedly I had to bite down on a pained grunt.
Leave?
She wanted to
leave
me?

It took me a couple of seconds to fight back the monster enough that I could muster a short nod. She was always going to leave, and it was for the best anyway. I had nothing to offer her—nothing but darkness.

Yes, she could have been my wife—in another life. But not this one.

“
I’ll take you home.”

“
Oh.” Her voice betrayed her surprise. “No, that’s not necessary.”

I frowned at the dismissal. “Evelyn. I’m taking you home.”

“
No, you’re not.” Her tone changed abruptly, sharpness making its way into it for the first time since I met her. I could hear her get out of bed but resisted the urge to turn around and look at her. There was not enough willpower in the whole world to make me keep my hands off her if I saw her standing naked in front of me like she had last night.