Page 4 of Malicious Marriage (Mafia Lords of Sin #9)

CLOVER

W ind whistles through the tiniest crack in the crumbling window frame next to me, sending shivers down my spine as the rush of cool air brushes over my bare arm.

I rub the goosebumps away and close my eyes, breathing deeply.

Something I immediately regret as the faint stink of mildew tickles my nose.

I’ve cleaned this shitty apartment from floor to ceiling countless times, but there’s no scrubbing out the age or the decades-old damp that clings to the floorboards under my thin carpet. But it’s all I can afford, and at this point in my life, I can’t be fussy.

Opening my eyes, a rush of tension squeezes through my chest like a pulse of heartburn as I stare at the several open letters all stamped with the same red OVERDUE warning.

Do these kinds of letters all come from the same place?

Or did all the companies get together and agree on one singular red warning stamp to use across the board when threatening people with overdue rent, overdrawn credit cards, and overdue car payments—on a car they already repossessed, so why do I even still have to pay?

Underneath the pile of off-white and red letters rests another envelope. This one is cornflower blue.

It has to be advertising or something. I’ll even take another one of those leaflets I got last week asking if I’d made early funeral preparations in case of disaster.

After carefully opening the envelope, I drag out a folded sheet of lined paper and open it.

The scrawled words across the page make my heart sink even lower and a flush of prickling heat rushes across my shoulders.

Shit .

If it’s not one thing it’s another…

“What’s that?” Bobby enters the room with two cups of coffee and, like clockwork, almost trips on the raised corner of the carpet. “Why do you look like someone’s just died?”

I grimace and set the letter down on the table, sliding it across to him as he hands me one of the coffees. “Guess who it’s from.”

He squints down and raises one brow. “A handwritten letter in this day and age? I’m almost impressed.” He leans closer and his brow lowers. “Oh.”

“The only reason that prick sent a written letter is because I’ve blocked his phone number. And his email. And I never answer the door when he comes knocking.”

“I like the uhm…” Bobby presses his lips together. “I like the attention to detail about how he’s going to carve out your kidney with a stencil. Creative.”

“You think?” Within just a few seconds, Bobby’s presence has lessened the crushing weight of debt even just for a moment. “Maybe he can turn to fiction writing if the loan sharking ever falls through.”

“At the rate you’re repaying him, he might have to.” Bobby flashes me a grin that wavers when I don’t return one. “Sorry. Too soon?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Wrapping my hands around the cup, I soak up the warmth radiating from it and sigh, strained. “Bobby… you’re fired.”

“What?” He drops into the rickety chair across from me and sips his coffee, then leans back and causes the chair to creak under his weight.

“You’re fired.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Bobby, come on. Yes you are.”

“You can’t fire me.”

“I’m your boss, I absolutely can. And I’m firing you!”

“Nah.”

“Bobby!” I slam my hand down on the table in frustration. “This is serious, you’re fired !”

He looks at me with an easy smile and shakes his head. “No.”

“Yes! Look at this shit!” One sweep of my hand and the letters shift toward him in a flurry. “My money is almost gone. I can’t take out any more credit cards or borrow any more money from that asshole. I’m done. Spent. Penniless.”

“I don’t care.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Bobby.”

“You can pay me next month, Clover. I know you’re good for it.”

“You’ve been saying that for three months, Bobby. And you can’t provide for your husband or your baby if I’m not paying you! So please, for me, go and find a different job. Take care of yourself because I can’t—” I stumble to a halt as Bobby takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently.

“Clover. I say this with all the love, but please shut the fuck up. I’m on your side, you understand? I’ve been by your side since your uncle fucked you over, and I will stay here until you’re rolling in your millions and you can pay me all the wages you owe, okay?”

“But your baby?—”

“Hey,” he interrupts. “Trust me, Frankie and I have had long talks about this and I’m not the only provider in the family.

We’re in a good place and you’re my friend, Clover.

Hell, I wouldn’t even be here— fuck, I wouldn’t even have found Frankie if it wasn’t for you.

So you listen to me and you listen good. I am not going any?—”

Frantic beeping rises from Bobby’s hip and we both glance down at his phone. Conversation forgotten, he pulls his phone out and flicks through a couple of apps. Then his eyes snap open wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What? What is it?”

“It’s the manor.”

“Oh, fuck, is Malcom home already?”

He flips his phone around to show me live footage from the CCTV camera outside the Byrne manor and my heart plummets.

“No, but you’ve got visitors.”

The race to Byrne Manor is anything but glamorous.

In the chaos of crushing bills, barely any sleep and the constant looming threat of what will happen when my Uncle Malcom returns at the end of the month, I hadn’t spared much thought to Dean.

With how badly I fucked up the plan to get his attention at the party, I really hadn’t expected to see him again.

A shame, really, because he’s pretty handsome for an older guy.

But he’s here. He’s really turned up at the Byrne manor which means he knows who I am, to an extent.

Bobby and I race across the city and make it to the manor within ten minutes, and it’s pure luck that Dean is still there by the time we pull into the driveway.

My heart is thundering a million miles a minute and sweat coats my palms. Dean steps away from the front door and turns to face the car as Bobby pulls in alongside the car already parked, and another man I don’t recognize pushes up from the hood of that car.

Is this a friend?

“What if that’s a cop?” I hiss at Bobby through the smile I plaster on my face while fiddling with my seatbelt. “What if he worked out the truth?”

“Don’t think like that,” Bobby whispers back. “Just act natural. I mean, he’s already seen your ugly crying face, right?”

The shock at Bobby’s comment does wonders for the panic in my chest and by the time Bobby opens my door and I climb out, my head is a little less flooded with frantic panic.

“Dean? What are you doing here?”

Dean slides one hand through his gorgeous hair and smiles at me with a dazzling row of white teeth. “Clover. It’s good to see you again.”

My knees knock together, but I cover for myself by acting like it’s the uneven gravel that’s responsible for my shaky steps. “It’s good to see you too. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Dean’s smile widens. “This is Jack, my bodyguard.”

The man next to the car loosely salutes in our direction. “Pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” I say, then I hurriedly turn to Bobby. “This is Bobby. He’s mine.”

Bobby greets everyone with his trademark lopsided grin. “Dean Savoy. You’re even more handsome in the flesh.”

Dean’s eyes widen slightly, then he laughs and holds out his hand for Bobby to shake. “So they tell me.”

Bobby shakes his hand and then steps back, urging me forward with a look and a wiggle of his brows.

“I’m sorry,” I say, moving past Dean and breathing in a delicious waft of his peppermint aftershave. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually. I’m sorry we came at a bad time.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” My heart races faster as I approach the door. “We were just out for a drive. The nice weather, you know?”

“Of course.”

“Come in, come in!” Standing about outside risks drawing attention from anyone passing by the main gate, and we can’t have an entire conversation in the driveway. I step up to the door and shove my key into the lock.

It doesn’t turn.

“I won’t stay long,” Dean says, much to my disappointment. “I’d hate to impose after turning up out of the blue like this.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” I say cheerily as I turn the key again. Still nothing happens. “You’re more than welcome to drop by.”

Another turn and the key still doesn’t budge. Panic rises.

Did Malcom change the locks? That fucker .

That’s exactly the shit he would pull. Now I’m going to have to stand here and tell the hottest and richest man in the city that I can’t get into the house because I don’t live here anymore, and my entire plan to earn help from him will crumble into nothing!

“Has the lock jammed again?” Bobby appears at my elbow with a cheerful comment. “Every time it gets warm, this door swells up like my great aunt!”

Polite laughter ripples through Dean and Jack. Bobby takes the key from me and crowds around the lock. Thirty seconds later, it slides into place and the door swings open.

“I really should get that replaced,” I say, laughing to hide the rush of nervousness so intense that I might throw up. “A new door for summer.”

“I could recommend someone,” Dean says as he follows me into the manor. “I know a few people in the business.”

“The door business?” Bobby snorts, amused. “Bet that opens so many opportunities.”

“Bobby! You’re terrible!” He earns an elbow for his terrible joke. In the foyer, I turn to Dean as Bobby closes the door. “So, what can I help you with?”

Dean’s amused smile is replaced by a warm look that makes me melt where I stand. With a racing heart and sweat trickling down my spine forcing me to shiver, I feel like every pore is radiating the truth and Dean will be able to tell I’m a liar in one breath.

If he can, he shows no signs. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out my compact mirror that I purposefully left in his study.

Oh, my God, it worked .

“You left this behind the other day,” Dean says, his voice as soft and as low as it was in the office. “I wanted to return it to you. A woman should never be without her compact.”

“Oh!” It takes every ounce of my strength to reach for that mirror without a trembling hand. “I wondered where I’d lost that. I’m so sorry. Thank you for bringing it back.”

“It’s no bother,” Dean assures me.

Behind him, Bobby is waggling his eyebrows and looking very pointedly at Dean. While nothing has gone to plan, this is exactly what we were hoping for. Now that he’s here, it would be foolish to let him leave without at least trying the second part of the plan.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” The question escapes me before I can fully process what that will involve, but to my surprise, Dean’s smile widens.

“You know, I’d love to. It’s been one of those hectic days and I haven’t had a chance to eat.”

“Perfect! How about…” I freeze. Shit. No one’s been in this house for months. There’s definitely not going to be any food.

Thankfully, Bobby’s to the rescue once again.

“How about you entertain Mr. Savoy on the patio while I sort out some ingredients?” Bobby says hurriedly, stepping up.

“The fridge broke a few days ago, and we had to throw out so much spoiled food, but I’m sure the fresh stuff should be here any minute now.

I was hoping it would arrive while we were out, but clearly not. ”

His earnest look would make me laugh in any other situation, but thankfully, Dean seems unbothered by Bobby’s hurried excuse.

“Patio it is!”