A Dangerous and Possessive Love (Dark Mafia Romance Duet, #1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  A Dangerous and Possessive Love (Dark Mafia Romance Duet, #1)

  About the Book

  A Dangerous and Possessive Love:

  Part One

  The Past

  Present Time

  The End of Part I | Reid and Fawn's story continues with A Dangerous and Cruel Love, the second half of the Dark Mafia Romance duet.

  Note: This was previously published as Prince of Darkness (Part One).

  He's powerful, merciless, and so, so dangerous that people call him the Prince of Darkness. And right now, the prince wants...me.

  I really should've known better.

  His place looks more like a fortress than a home, and everyone living with him is armed to the teeth.

  That should've been enough to send me running.

  But because I was foolish, I ended up working for him.

  A foolish lamb serving the terrifying wolf in a suit.

  I thought having a boyfriend would make me immune to the Prince of Darkness.

  I thought I could keep myself safe.

  But I was wrong.

  This is Part I of the Dark Mafia Romance duet.

  About the Book

  When Igor came back after escorting the girl out, the prince said idly, “She’s different, isn’t she?”

  “In a good way, I believe.” Igor took his usual place, standing at the side of the prince.

  Leaning back against his seat, the prince remarked, “She calls me ‘prince.’” While he was known as the Prince of Darkness, no one had really called him that to his face.

  “Which you are one,” Igor pointed out.

  He rolled his eyes. “Not by blood or appointment, and you know that.”

  “The people on the island think differently.” When the prince had turned eighteen, he had received a posthumous bequest from Rodrigo amounting to millions of dollars, all of which he had used to build new infrastructure on the island he had grown up in as well as set up livelihood programs for victims of gang-related crime.

  The prince shook his head. “I’m just giving back what was theirs from the start.”

  “Not many others would.” Igor’s tone was unusually cynical, but both of them knew he spoke the truth. Seeing the prince’s expression turn grim, he changed the subject, saying, “I believe you’ve made the right decision with the girl.”

  “Do you?” The prince’s tone was unreadable.

  Igor nodded firmly. “I am certain it has not escaped your notice that the last five women we dismissed had all made the mistake of thinking you were in love with them.”

  The prince let out an inelegant snort.

  “Exactly, sir. Ms. Cornwall, however, is unlikely to do the same. After all, she is engaged to Mr. Grant Bennett—-”

  “Who, according to you,” the prince interrupted in a lazy drawl, “is my opposite.”

  “Your exact opposite, sir.”

  The prince raised a brow. “Did you really need to emphasize that?”

  The older man’s expression remained bland. “Ms. Cornwall has been fortunate enough to find herself a good man to love, and I believe that Mr. Bennett is equally fortunate to have someone like Ms. Cornwall as his fiancée. It would be a pity if her employment with us would cause problems in the relationship.”

  “Is that your roundabout way of telling me,” the prince drawled, “I should keep my hands off her?”

  “Your words, not mine, sir.”

  The prince rolled his eyes. “She’s not my type, Igor.”

  “I am overjoyed to hear that, sir.” But privately, Igor wasn’t so certain. After all, when the girl had answered back, the prince had neither reprimanded nor fired her, which he normally would have done. Instead, the younger man had almost...smiled.

  A genuine smile, which Igor had only seen the prince doing in the company of his small circle of friends.

  But with the women he took to bed?

  Never.

  A Dangerous and Possessive Love:

  Dark Mafia Romance Duet

  Part I

  by Marian Tee

  This duet was previously published as Prince of Darkness Part I.

  Copyright 2020 by Streak Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Part One

  The Past

  The heckling started as soon as the thirteen-year-old boy stepped out of the limousine. Black-haired, green-eyed, and bronze skinned, he was a complete contrast to the dignified-looking British couple accompanying him.

  “Send him back to hell,” someone in the crowd shouted.

  “Demon spawn,” another yelled.

  Bloodthirsty reporters snapped as many photos as they can, with the less ethical of them even feeding the crowd’s aggression as they began loudly throwing questions at the newcomers.

  The sound of angrily spewed curses and insults hurled at the boy faded as he and his foster parents crossed the threshold of The Old Bailey. Uniformed guards immediately barred spectators from entering, but the rest of the media only had to present their badges to gain admittance.

  They stalked the trio, their endless stream of questions only meant to provoke any of their targets into answering. Their objective was simple, and it wasn’t the truth they wanted. Instead, they craved anything sensational, and they were willing to cross all lines of decency to make it happen.

  “Do you think it’s morally right to harbor a criminal’s offspring when thousands other innocent children die every minute?”

  “Is this how you want the world to be, Lord Malcolm? Red carpet treatment for rich folks, and children with questionable lineage and connections are able to acquire British citizenship just because their parents took the right people as hostages?”

  “Won’t this send the wrong message to criminals? Evil acts are rewarded, and children who may have already been permanently brainwashed are taken in without question?”

  More questions followed, but they were silenced the moment the doors of the courtroom closed behind Lord and Lady Malcolm and the boy.

  Lady Malcolm bent down, anxiously checking her son’s face. “Are you alright?”

  He nodded.

  Lord Malcolm ruffled his son’s head, saying gruffly, “Remember, we’re behind you all the way.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The formal tone made the normally mild-mannered Payton want to punch someone’s face. Reid had been living with them for over five years, but even now the guarded look in his green eyes remained, and he knew that it was the boy’s way of protecting himself. Life had taught Reid that at any moment, his life could change, and whatever happiness he enjoyed could be taken away by those with greater strength – or evil.

  Lord and Lady Malcolm took their place in the front row while making sure to keep their son between them.

  Adoption should have been a simple process, Enid Malcolm thought painfully, and yet because there were too many unhappy people in the world, their child had to be subjected to a trial by publicity.

  Enid kissed her son’s head. “Remember what I told you.”

  A rare smile touched his too-serious face. “Never mention that you’re gaining weight?”

  Her heart squeezed. “You made a joke.” She wanted to cry. He had never made a joke in the past. Never.
<
br />   He whispered under his breath, “I wouldn’t have if I had known it would make you cry.”

  “Oh God, now you’re going to make me ruin my makeup.”

  As she sniffed her tears back, her son said quietly, “No matter what, Mother, thank you.”

  She pinched his cheeks, the first time she had ever done so, and Reid’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “That will teach you, trying to act more mature than your mother. How terribly impolite, and to think I thought I taught you better.”

  Releasing his cheeks, she gave her son a watery smile. “I love you, son. No matter what, your father and I will never let go of you. Never.”

  She wanted to say so much more, but the judge had arrived, and there was no more time.

  Sooner than later, what she dreaded came to be, and Reid’s request to make his own appeal in front of the court was heard. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her boy, but she also knew that he could look so cold and hard sometimes, it was unlikely he would win anyone’s hearts. There was also the fact that he was his late father’s spitting image, and for those who had died under Rodrigo Chalkias’ hands, that was never a good thing.

  Heart in her throat, she watched Reid enter the box and take the witness stand. Afterwards, he glanced at the judge, surprising both Enid and Payton when he asked the judge, “Your Honor, may I remain on my feet while I speak?”

  As the judge considered the request, Enid glanced at her husband. “What do you think he’s planning? D-do you know about this?”

  He slowly shook his head, both of them thinking the same thing. If this was something that Reid had prepared on his own, then it could make or break his case. And if their boy ended up saying the wrong thing—-

  He was just thirteen years old, damn them. Enid’s strength left her at the thought of what could happen, and she leaned against Payton for support. “I’m so scared,” she admitted shakily.

  “I am, too.” Payton’s voice was tight. Kissing his wife’s hair, he whispered, “But we need to believe in him. And in us. I don’t think we’re the type to raise idiots, do you?”

  She choked back a teary laugh. “N-no. I d-don’t.”

  The judge finally gave his assent to Reid, and Enid swallowed as Reid pulled out a badly crumpled set of papers from the pocket of his formal jacket.

  Reid began to read.

  My name is Reid Chalkias. My biological parents were Andrea Gomez, born in Sicily, and Rodrigo Chalkias, born in Sparta, Greece. My mother, Andrea, was born to a family whose business was rooted in organized crime. According to my father, it was only when he was about my age now that he found out what his grandfather and father had chosen to involve themselves in.

  When my mother discovered she was pregnant, she and my father began making plans to cut their ties to their families. They wanted a different future for me.

  But they also knew it was not going to be easy, and so in the years that passed, my parents continued to be involved in their family’s crimes.

  I neither condone nor condemn my parents for their participation. I don’t know what I would do in their position, and my father’s sacrifice has spared me from having to make such a decision.

  When I was seven, the island we lived in was placed under attack. It was a war between two gangs, and my mother was one of the victims. Her death hit us hard, my father more so and now, in hindsight, it’s become clear to me that this was about the time that my father decided to alter his plans.

  Originally, it was supposed to be my father and me escaping the family’s connections.

  When one of my uncles kidnapped Lord and Lady Malcolm from their yacht a year later, my father saw it as an opportunity to make his move. He freed them in exchange of securing their promise that they would take me under their wing as well as keep Igor as my unofficial guardian.

  When the family learned of my father’s actions, war broke out. What transpired afterwards is common knowledge, and I, too, have read the same incident reports and insider accounts. They say my father was ruthlessly methodical as he destroyed the family from within and after that, he went after the other gangs that could have even the smallest reason to come after him – or me.

  In the final encounter, the remaining gangs had agreed to a temporary alliance to take my father down. My father was prepared for this. When they came for him, he was not alone. He had the police with him.

  People died.

  A lot.

  My father included.

  When news of my father’s death reached me, it came with a letter that the authorities had found in his pocket. He had not been able to finish it, but what he was able to write would remain forever with me.

  Enid watched her son pause to swallow convulsively, and she swallowed her own sobs back, wanting to be strong for him just as he was doing his best to be strong.

  His gaze still on the paper he was reading, her son said hoarsely, “I welcome death with a smile, knowing that you can lead a life that your mother and I have always dreamed for you.”

  Slowly, Reid looked up, his fierce green gaze meeting everyone else in the courtroom. “I know that people will think I’m too young to make any promises, but I’ll still swear it anyway. In honor of my parents’ sacrifices and the love that Lord and Lady Malcolm have given me, I will do everything I can so that none of it will be in vain. I will lead a life that they can be proud of. But if this court asks me to denounce my biological parents in favor of a piece of paper that has nothing to do with my character, I will never do that. Rodrigo Chalkias was not the best of men, but he had been a good father to me, and I cannot and will not lie about—-”

  His voice suddenly cracked, and when Enid saw her son’s shoulders start to shake, she didn’t even pause to think.

  She rushed to him, protocol be damned. Her son needed her, and when she reached him, he looked at her and said brokenly, “I don’t want you to think I’m betraying you or Father. I love you, but—-”

  Enid shook her head. “Hush.”

  People began to shout behind them. The judge began pounding his gavel, demanding for order in the court. But she heard none of it. She saw none of it. The mother only saw her son, and Enid drew her little boy close.

  “I’d never think that, baby.” And as he cried on her shoulder, she whispered, “I’m so, so proud of you. Everything you said was perfect. You’re the son we want, and we wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  Present Time

  “Are you sure about her, Igor?” The words, spoken in Greek, were underlined with skepticism.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fingers tapped on the desk and the silence inside the study continued. It was furnished in somber tones of dark wood and black, as expected of someone the media liked to refer to as The Prince of Darkness. Superficially, it was a nod to Reid Chalkias’ love for throwing the wildest parties. However, there were also others who believed that it was equally apt, when one considered the long-standing rumors about Reid’s biological parents. Although both had been declared officially dead, many insisted that it was just a cover-up, that they still reigned in the criminal underworld and their only son was their heir apparent.

  Either way, it made someone like this girl quite unsuitable for someone like him.

  His gaze returned to her once more, and his emerald-green gaze took dispassionate note of her physical features. Wavy blonde hair, light brown eyes, and summer-kissed skin; a body that was neither slender nor curvy, and made only more remarkable by the hint of generous breasts hidden under her shapeless blouse – none of it made her either spectacularly pretty or ugly, and normally only the most attractive looking and outgoing women made it into his employ. Pretty girls made things easier with the kind of lifestyle he led as well as the kind of company he kept.

  On the other hand—-

  The prince’s gaze focused on the impressive diamond winking on the girl’s finger.

  Pretty girls who applied for a job in his home were usually after him, and not all of them were willing
to accept his rules about never dating staff. Of course, some of them persisted in being blind, thinking they could be the one to change him. They went to odd lengths simply to get his attention, and remembering the sheer absurdity of such thoughts made the prince’s lips curl – but the memories were also enough for him to come to a decision.

  He glanced at Igor, and the older man, who had been with him since birth, nodded in understanding.

  “Please tell us a bit about yourself, Ms. Cornwall.”

  “I’m, umm, Fawn Cornwall, I’m 21 years old, and I grew up in small-town Massachusetts. I’m an only child, my dad died when I was young while my mom’s been head housekeeper for the mayor’s family since she was twenty-four. I also started working as a cleaner and babysitter for them when I was sixteen. I know everything when it comes to housekeeping, and I’ve also helped the mayor’s housewife when it comes to organizing parties.”

  “Go on.”

  “M-my resume—-”

  “If I had wanted to just read your resume,” the prince said coolly, “I would have.” He waited for her to cry or snap at him, and if she had done either, he would have had her tossed out of the room on the spot.

  But she did neither.

  Instead, she only blinked at him. “I’m on my last year in university. I’m majoring in Accounting. I have no time for extracurricular activities because I need to pay for my own schooling.” There was no change in the inflection of her voice. It was as if she had only mentally shrugged off his furious tone, and then it was business as usual.

  The prince was grudgingly impressed.

  “Proceed.”

  “I’m, umm, engaged.”

  “How long?”

  “Since my first year in college.”

  The prince didn’t bother hiding his surprise. “That early?”

  She said simply, “We know we’re meant to be together.”

  “How touching.”

  “Tell me about your fiancé. It’s Grant Bennett, isn’t it?”