Perfect Monster: A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance (The Oligarchs)
Perfect Monster: Chapter 32

From the outside, the club was unassuming. Plain black door tucked away in a quiet Manhattan neighborhood. Enormous towers loomed on either side of the old Victorian-style building. All the windows were boarded and painted over, and most folks walked right past without giving it a second look. New York was full of strange, run-down oddities. Just another useless structure, slated for renovation.

I knocked on the front three times before it opened. The doorman was a heavyset man with a permanent scowl. “Are they all here?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes, Mr. Lenkov. You’re the last one.”

“Good.” I gestured for Roza and Cassie to follow.

They wouldn’t like that I brought the girls, but this wasn’t entirely for their benefit.

I needed Roza. She was my eyes and my ears, and an integral part of my business. I never went to a meeting without either her or Erick by my side.

Since we said no bodyguards and no guns, Erick was stuck watching the exterior with a sniper rifle. Not that it would do much good if things went wrong.

And Cassie?

Well, I wanted t show her off. And she needed to learn.

The entryway was pure luxury. Gorgeous hardwood floors polished to a gleam and more art than the damn Guggenheim. The doorman led us past several partially open doors, beyond which men were entertained by very expensive and very skilled women, and though I knew there were strange and depraved things going on, not a single sound escaped. Whoever built this place made sure it was perfectly insulated.

Otherwise, all that moaning, screaming, and begging for mercy would ruin the whole vibe.

The doormen took us to the last door on the left and pushed it open. Inside looked like a wealthy sitting room. Couches and chairs were arranged around a low, modest coffee table and set before a gently crackling fire. At the far end, a bartender in all black was ready to pour drinks.

Three men sat dripping with women. Attractive women, skilled woman, women wearing very little clothes. I felt Roza tense up as we entered.

“Roman, there you fucking are.” Torin O’Rourke stood, hands raised in a greeting. He grinned, flashing his perfect white teeth and his boyish smile. Torin was the heir to the massive O’Rourke family treasury. Rumor said they made their money selling weapons in the 16th century, but whether that was true or not didn’t matter anymore. They were richer than the Catholic Church and much, much more dangerous.

The other two men were Bernhard Orchard and Kaspar Baskin. Old Bern didn’t bother standing—he was pushing eighty and probably wouldn’t be able to get back down. Kaspar gave me a tight nod and raised his whisky in salute as a dark-skinned beauty ground her ass down against his crotch. He barely paid her any attention as she did things with her hips most humans could only dream about. His dirty-blond hair was slicked back and he looked like a Nordic prince—muscular chest and shoulders with striking, severe features.

“You made us wait, Lenkov,” Old Bern said, barking with that smoker’s growl.

“And you brought girls.” Kaspar scowled and slapped his lap dancer’s ass. “Get off me, will you? I appreciate the effort though.”

The girl smiled at him and slinked off. Several other women were draped around them like expensive scarves.

Cassie and Roza stayed behind me and I could feel their discomfort.

“Why don’t we dismiss the entertainment, gentlemen.”

“We said no bodyguards.” Torin came over, grinning at Roza. “We all know this one’s deadly.”

“Save it, Torin,” Roza said. “Last time you tried to flirt with me, you walked away with a black eye. Remember that?”

“God, do I ever. Best orgasm of my life. Please, darling, do it again, will you?”

Roza smiled despite herself. I waved Torin off. “Leave her alone.”

Old Bern clapped his hands. “Girls, get the fuck out. Except for Lenkov’s little stable of pussy, even though we agreed not to bring company. Apparently he gets to do whatever the fuck he wants.”

“Easy, Bern,” Kaspar said, sipping his drink. “The pretty one’s his new wife. What’s her name, Roman?”

She stepped forward and slipped her hand through my arm. “Cassie,” she said, nodding at him.

“I’m Kaspar Feargus Ulbrecht von Baskin the Fourteenth, but everyone calls me Kaspar.”

“Because your full name’s pretentious as hell,” Torin said. “I’m Torin, and the old guy over there is Bernhard Orchard. He’s cranky on account of the arthritis.”

“I swear, you little twerp, come over here and I’ll rip out your fucking eyes.” Old Bern glared death at Torin. Despite the casual way Torin treated the old man, they hated each other—their families had been feuding for generations, with no signs of slowing down. “And it’s nice to meet you Cassie, dear.”

“Let’s sit.” I led Cassie and Roza over to the couches. We took one side and Torin sat at the far end, leaving a bit of space between him and Cassie. Kaspar watched, already bored, and Old Bern glared, which was his default expression. “Thank you all for joining me. I only wish the others could’ve come.”

“Except for Darren I assume,” Kaspar said.

“What is it with you two?” Torin asked. “I knew you didn’t get along, but it’s been vicious lately.”

“Sick of all the damn infighting,” Old Bern said. “Years ago, before you all took over your families, we never bothered with all this childish bickering. We made money and ran policy and the world was better off for it.”

“Yes, thank you, Bern. I’ll make sure to get off your lawn.” Kaspar rolled his eyes.

I held up my hands. “I came here to ask for time. I know that things have been difficult—“

“Putting it mildly,” Old Bern interrupted.

I gave him a look. “Darren sent a man to my home. He tried to infiltrate my people. He threatened my staff and my wife with poison gas. How do you think I should react to that?”

Quiet all around. Torin looked stunned—he always was the kindest of the group—and Kaspar only ran a finger around his glass. Old Bern glared hot death at me.

“That’s one hell of an accusation,” Old Bern said.

“I can prove it. We have the interrogation records.” I gestured at Roza.

She handed out small USB sticks to each man. “You’ll replace it all there, raw and unedited. Have your labs analyze it.”

“Gladly,” Torin said and winked.

Roza rolled her eyes.

“Is that why you called us together? You want to tattle on Darren?” Kaspar eyed me above his drink. “Doesn’t seem like you, Roman.”

“I know you’re all going to come together and move on me soon enough. I’m not interested in getting Darren in trouble any more than I want to start any issues within our group, but I will defend myself where necessary. Yes, I started a war between the Italians and the Mexicans, but only because Darren forced my hand.”

Not strictly true. Not remotely true. But plausible enough. I hoped Cassie was paying attention.

She sat with her back straight, looking at each man like a queen staring down her help. They ignored her, not because she was a woman—Maeve was an Oligarch and a woman and well-respected, after all—but because she wasn’t one of us. Married to me or not, it didn’t matter.

Only the Oligarchs had a voice.

The rest of the world listened.

“You know our rule,” Old Bern said. “No direct fighting. Squabbling with intermediaries is fine, so long as it doesn’t cause too much chaos.” He leaned forward and jabbed his finger at me. “Starting a god damn mob war is a lot of fucking chaos.”

“Oh, lighten up, Bern,” Torin said. “You raised some hell in your heyday. If I recall, didn’t you kill an entire Latvian gang once for disrespecting your son?”

“They deserved it,” Old Bern grumbled.

“Sparked a lot of revenge killings and tossed south Texas into turmoil for a decade. Are you sure?”

Old Bern grunted and waved an annoyed hand. “What’s your point?”

“My point is, Roman hasn’t said we should shut the fuck up and accept what he’s doing. He only asked for time.”

“Thank you, Torin.” I nodded my head toward him. “I will fix the mess I’ve made, but first I want to get married and make things official with my bride.” I put my palm possessively on Cassie’s leg. She sat up straighter. “Then I want to settle things with Darren as peacefully as I can. After that, I’ll fix my mess and pay whatever penance the group decides I owe.”

“Generous,” Kaspar said, sounding droll. Of everyone in the Oligarchs, he was the most dangerous and erratic. Old Bern was a mad dog on a leash and Torin was a grinning fool with the heart of a killer, but Kaspar was unpredictable, like ocean waves—calm one moment and slamming the sand the next.

“We don’t like this mess with the Ramos and the Liberto, we can all agree on that,” Torin said. “Did you know that Chale Ramos is still alive? Barely clinging on, but directing the war from his hospital room.”

That pleased me for some reason. I liked Chale. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“You don’t know everything. That’s a first.” Kaspar grinned at me.

“Enough of this.” Old Bern grunted and put a hand against his back, rubbing sore muscle. “You want time, Lenkov? I’m fine with giving you time. Two months is plenty, yes?”

“Plenty,” I agreed.

“I’m okay with two months,” Torin said. “Then you clean up your toys.”

I looked at Kaspar. He gazed back and pursed his lips.

“You know, Roman, if it were me in your position, I’d be a little more contrite. I wouldn’t bring my secretary and my wife, though they seem like fine people.”

“Thank you,” Cassie said.

Kaspar nodded to her. “But why do you get a pass here? We all know Darren’s not doing any of this for no reason. You took control of the Drozdov Bratva, and that was fine, you were always their patron. But then you brokered the alliance between them and the Liberto, and that made things more complicated. Darren pushed back only to try to counter your growing, untenable strength. Why should we give you anything at all?”

I stared him down and struggled to stay calm. Fucking Kaspar, I hoped he’d be on my side. I thought Old Bern would be the difficult one, but I was wrong.

“I’m finished with the Liberto,” I said as calmly as I could. “Giatno and Manzi are both dead and their hierarchy is a mess right now dealing with the power vacuum and fighting the Ramos Cartel. If any of you want to sweep in and take them, by all means.”

“I just might do that.” Kaspar tilted his head. “But you haven’t answered my question. You’ve been too ambitious, Roman. What the hell do you want?”

I leaned toward him and took a deep breath. “I want revenge,” I said softly.

The men fell silent. Even Old Bern seemed taken aback.

I was tired of lying and games, tired of pretending, and I knew whatever was said in this room would never leave.

And it didn’t matter. The gears were turning, the plan on motion. They couldn’t stop it even if they wanted to.

“Revenge? Are you still after that Irishman?” Kaspar glanced over at Torin. “What’s his name?”

“Oisin,” Torin said. “And I have a hard time seeing how all of this is connected.”

“I don’t care if you see it or not. I want revenge and I plan on getting it. Once Oisin is dead, all of this will be over, and we can return to your precious status quo.”

Kaspar finished his drink. “Revenge I can understand. Go kill away, Roman. You have my blessing. Two months should be sufficient.”

“God, you young fucks.” Old Bern struggled to his feet. “When my son takes over, he’s going to chew you all to pieces.”

“I’m sure he will, Bern,” Torin said, grinning. “I don’t know what you’re so grumpy about. This was a great meeting. Nobody got killed.

“Define great.” Old Bern limped toward the door but paused to pat me gently on the shoulder. “I liked your old man, even if he was a real bastard.” Then he left the room.

Torin stood next. “This was fun and I hope we never do it again. Good luck, Roman. I’ll talk to Darren and see if he can cut you some slack, but don’t worry, I won’t mention Oisin.” He saluted, winked at Roza, and followed Old Bern.

Leaving Kaspar. He circled his glass and the ice clinked against the side. “I still think you’re leaving something out,” he said, speaking quietly, and looked at Cassie. “I think you’re dangling it right in front of us.”

Cassie stiffened by my side.

“Why would you think that?” I asked.

“You’ve never brought a woman to a meeting before.” He glanced at Roza and made a dismissive gesture. “You don’t count.”

“Thanks, I think,” Roza said.

“Cassie is my wife now. If she’s going to share in my life, she’ll share in my business.”

“You’re lying.” Kaspar leaned forward. The bastard was perceptive—too perceptive for his own good. “I did some digging. What’s your last name, Cassie?”

“Ward,” she blurted.

I grimaced and looked away.

“Thought so. Cassie Ward, daughter of Eamon Ward. Interesting little family connection you’ve got here, Roman.”

“Sometimes you should keep your mouth shut, Kaspar.”

He showed his teeth and stood. “Don’t fret. I won’t spill the beans, though your influence over multiple crime families is growing out of control. I have the feeling there are going to be more meetings in our future.” He tossed his glass over his shoulder. It landed in the fireplace and shattered. Cassie jumped in surprise. “I can’t wait.”

Kaspar finally left.

“Showy little fuck,” I said and squeezed Cassie’s leg. “Are you okay/”

“I’m fine. What the hell was that?”

“He’s trying to intimidate you,” Roza said, glaring at the door. “How’d he figure out who Cassie is, anyway? You haven’t exactly been dangling her out a window.”

“I don’t know, but it’s worrying. I’ll deal with Kaspar another time. For now, we got what we came for.” I stood up and put on a brave face.

But inside, I was spinning.

Kaspar knew too much. I wanted to keep Cassie’s connection to Oisin and the MacKenna family a secret, but he worked it out—maybe spoke with Darren, but I couldn’t be sure. Kaspar wasn’t close with anyone, and that made him even more deadly.

“We’ll deal with Kaspar. For now, let’s get back home and plan the wedding.” I squeezed Cassie’s hand. “We’re almost there.”

She leaned against my shoulder as Roza walked ahead.

“Are you sure about all this?” Cassie asked softly. “Those men, this place, I just… what you’re doing is so dangerous, isn’t it? Even if everything goes right, you still might end up fighting for your life.”

“There’s no turning back for me.” I bent down and kissed her cheek. “But if you’re having cold feet—“

“No,” she said, staring into my eyes. “We’re getting married and you’re not getting out of it.”

I chuckled and tugged her along.