Playing with Fire: A Standalone Dark Romance

Chapter Two

Two hours earlier

“When will she arrive?” I twist the watch on my wrist, the Prada shoes on my feet clipping against the shined hardwood floors of Silver Lake Estate. My home.

“The moving vans have collected her belongings; they are making their way here now. Dennis is collecting Miss Lauder as we speak.”

I dip my chin with a nod, the drawing room which doubles as a second office for me, warmed by the fire burning in the hearth. “Have the guest room made up next to mine,” I advise Miranda, “Tell the staff to have all her items put away in my bedroom, any items that do not belong in the bedroom, leave in the boxes, and put them in the closet. When Miss Lauder arrives, please show her through. I’ll be here for the next few hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Miranda nods obediently, not another word spoken as she turns on her heel and exits, going to follow the orders I have given her.

After the sound of her footsteps disappear down the hall, silence settles around me, the only noise coming from the crackle of the logs as they burn in the pit. I press open my laptop, an image of my future wife staring back at me.

I had everything on her at my fingertips, there isn’t a secret she can keep or a skeleton she can hide. There is no denying that Olivia Lauder is a stunning creature. With her fathomless eyes, so dark they can pass as black and pair them with her raven black hair, she has the type of alluring beauty men would go to war for. Did I manipulate, scheme and plot to force her hand into agreeing to this marriage? Of course I did, and it was fucking easy too.

All I had to use was the family she cared so deeply for.

In her defense, I would have killed them all if she hadn’t agreed, and she knew it too.

And I’d do it again to make her mine.

I flick through the images of her, ranging from photos taken at galas where she’s dressed to the nines in designer dresses that appear to be made for her body, others when she’s been captured unaware, dressed in tight as fuck leggings and cropped tees, that mane of dark hair pulled into a dead straight ponytail that hangs at the back of her head.

My hand itches with the urge to wrap those thick strands around it, to tug her head back, stretch out her neck for my teeth to sink into while my hands and cock punish her.

With time, I tell myself. I may be a man with very little morals, but that I will not take from my future wife until she comes crawling to me herself.

And crawl she will.

I have her now, it’s only a matter of time.

Leaning back in my chair, I reach for the decanter of whiskey I keep at the edge of my desk, but the sound of heels on my floors reaches my ears and my eyes narrow at the door, waiting for them to show themselves.

There’s a tap but they don’t wait for my invitation to come in, instead they push it open and step inside.

I stifle the groan at the woman who now stands in my space, a scowl on her face and her painted red lips turned down in a frown.

“You’re joking, right?” She snaps, glaring at me.

Good fucking lord, I can’t be dealing with her shit today.

Ever since her uncle died and I got an out from the wedding with her, she’s been on my ass. Granted, it wasn’t easy to dismiss her, not when her father sits on the panel with me. I may sit on the throne, but my reign will only last as long as I have the loyalty of my men.

Regina Ware and I were supposed to wed, a deal I struck up with her uncle. I needed a wife, and she was available, she comes from a high family, understands the life, and would have been a good wife if she didn’t get on every last nerve I have. But now her uncle is dead, and I have no bargain to fulfil, so Regina was left high and dry when I decided to end the engagement and choose Olivia instead.

Her father understood and accepted my decision, but little Regina here can’t come to grasp the fact that all that power she would have had as my wife, has slipped through her fingers.

I would tell her it’s because she’s a money seeking bitch who is never happy with anything. Not the thousand-dollar dresses or the designer shoes and purses. Not with the estate or the horses or the cars. She wants more. Always more.

And quite frankly, she can go take a walk off a high cliff if she thinks she can control a man like me. I took the quickest route out of there. I mean I could have put her up, gave her everything she wanted, sent her away overseas and just had the marriage certificate to satisfy the centuries old rule that told us we must be married to secure our lead over the organization, but that would have meant I wouldn’t have pretty little Olivia moving into the manor this afternoon.

“I hadn’t realized I’d told a joke, Miss Ware.” I glance at my laptop, those stunning black eyes staring back at me.

I’d told her when we agreed to this marriage that I liked pretty broken things, but I have a feeling the woman coming into my home in just a few short hours is not going to be the demure little bride I am expecting.

I suppose it could backfire on me; I could have another Regina on my hands, but I guess we will find out. There are always other means to end a marriage.

“You know what I am talking about Malakai,” She huffs, annoyed.

“Have you come to try and renegotiate?” I ask, bored.

“You’re breaking contract!” She stomps her foot like a petulant child.

“No,” I pick up the decanter and a glass, watching as her eyes follow the movement. She frowns even more when I don’t offer her a glass too. “I made a deal with your uncle; your uncle is now dead. Your father has not renegotiated, leaving me free to do whatever the fuck I like.”

“You didn’t give him time.” She shoves her hands to her hips, “and now you’re marrying some uptight little whore. She doesn’t belong here like I do.”

I quirk a brow at her tone and whatever she sees in my expression has her shrinking away. Am I like the leaders that came before me? No. No I am not. A lot of people assume that’s a weakness but all it does is reel them in, let them feel like they’re safe before they’re in too deep with no way out.

I have just as much blood on my hands as all those that came before me, but where their kills came with screams, mine come with calculation. I never go into a situation without knowing the whole picture. How do they think I secured Olivia Lauder after all? Not only do I have a wife, I have her late father’s empire too.

“We would have been so good together,” She pouts, widening her eyes as she tries, and fails, to give me a puppy dog face that she should know would never work on me. I’m not easily manipulated, especially not by people like her.

I scoff at those words, sipping a little from my glass. The burn down my throat is almost as satisfying as sinking into a tight, hot body.

Placing the glass down, I check my watch, “You’ve taken enough of my time now, Miss Ware. I am expecting a guest so you should see yourself out.”

“Is it her?” She sneers.

My patience is sitting on a precipice, one wrong nudge and I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe bury her next to her uncle in that unmarked grave somewhere out in one of the meadows that surrounds the estate.

She must read my thoughts through my expression because she backs down, a placating smile stretching up her mouth. Her voice lowers and her body softens as she turns back into the lady the world knows her to be.

“Well,” Her hands run down her pink dress, “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding, save me a dance.”

And with that, she breezes out of my office, the sound of her heels grating on that last nerve.

I take the rest of my whiskey in one gulp, slamming my crystal glass down onto the desk hard enough it splinters, the crack running from base to rim. Impatience runs through me as I glance at my watch once more, seeing barely any time has passed so I choose to get up, exiting my office to wander the house. It’s brimming with staff, but no one is around, not in these parts at this time anyway. I can hear faint thuds upstairs as a bedroom is prepared for Olivia, can hear footsteps somewhere else but right here, I am alone.

This estate has been in the Farrow family for as long as our history has been written. The base where the organization first started.

Listed as Farrow Industries, we hide behind a guise of buying out businesses and flipping them to make a profit, we own several chains of hotels, and restaurants and bars but deeper than that is a river that fuels our lives. I couldn’t give two shits about the businesses tied to the Farrow name, as long as they’re making money, what I care about is the individuals that keep me powerful.

I own them all.

It’s dark and it’s dirty and it’s mine. It’s all I’ve known. I own the city and the people without them even knowing it’s me. I see it all.

Death is no rarity in my life, if I don’t see it at least once a day then it’s a quiet day but it’s always been this way. I know life no other way.

I let out a whistle as I bury my hands into my pockets, strolling casually through the house that sits atop the bodies of those who tried to stop us.

Death is lucrative. Death pays.

It’s why I have over five thousand hitmen under my employ, scattered across the globe. It’s why I own a database full of hits, targets and marks.

It isn’t just us Farrow’s that thrive off of death, there is a panel, a council if you will, that sit alongside me. It helps keep the organization off the radar, keeps us underground and all important decisions are made through votes. There are rules, laws that only we abide by, but it’s worked for hundreds of years and will continue to work for hundreds of more, with a few changes I plan to implement.

It’s one of those rules that has this wedding being prepared.

It’s obviously dated and not something that fits in today’s society, but nonetheless, we abide by it, meaning if I want to keep the throne I sit on, I will be marrying Olivia. It tells us we must marry within the first six years of leadership or lose the seat. Why? Fuck knows, but it didn’t matter much to me.

As I hit the foyer, I notice a number of my staff directing the moving people through the house, boxes and bags being ferried through the rooms and deposited upstairs.

It’s almost time.

My palms tingle with her almost in reach.

I knew the moment I saw Olivia that I wanted her. There wasn’t a question of if but when and the day is finally here. I gave her some time, it’s more than what I would give anyone else and now she belongs to me.

She signed that contract on the dotted line, placing herself right in my hands. The little broken doll will be fun to play with, if only to see how far I can push.

With a smirk playing on my mouth, I head back to the drawing room, lowering myself back to the chair. My broken glass has already been cleaned up, a new one placed on the tray along with the decanter.

And then I wait for the little kitten to come to me.