Oran: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Syndicates Book 4) Read online

  Oran

  Raven Scott

  Contents

  1. Oran

  2. Oran

  3. Oran

  4. Oran

  5. May

  6. May

  7. Oran

  8. Oran

  9. May

  10. May

  11. Oran

  12. May

  13. Oran

  14. May

  15. Oran

  16. May

  17. May

  18. Oran

  19. May

  20. May

  21. Oran

  22. May

  23. Oran

  24. May

  25. Oran

  26. May

  27. May

  28. Oran

  29. May

  30. May

  31. Oran

  32. May

  33. May

  34. Oran

  35. May

  36. May

  37. Oran

  38. May

  39. May

  40. Oran

  41. May

  42. Oran

  43. Oran

  Free Gift For You

  1

  Oran

  Gazing out over the skyline of what I considered one of my favorite cities in America, I frowned as I lifted my glass to my lips. The high-rise made everything below seem so tiny and insignificant, and in many ways, things were. People were a commodity to be used and abused, traded and discarded, when they were no longer useful. Buildings were the Petri dishes of scum and breeders of idiotic schemes and power plays that were of absolutely no consequence beyond those involved.

  “At least, that’s how it used to be.” Far, far down below, those people were ants to be crushed if they happened to stray too far out of line. Each person, each ant, has its place in line . . . but ants also had six legs with which to step out of that line, even if accidentally. Some ants don’t even have to break ranks to find themselves in trouble, and, just like ants, the line continues. The gap slowly narrows until it’s as if that ant was never there.

  “Mr. Santino.” Turning as Malory slipped into my office, I wandered to my desk to set down my glass, and she didn’t look up from her tablet. “Your three o’clock is here. Also, Mason Stowel called again and threatened to sue if you refuse to contact him before eight a.m. on Monday. I need to know when you want to reschedule with the Hanford Construction Company concerning the budget-building, and Port Authority is . . . ”

  She finally glanced up, and I took off my glasses to wipe the lenses as Malory held her tablet to her chest. Now, her discomfort blurred out, and I inhaled deeply as my mind churned toward the business at hand. Leaning my palm on my desk, I crossed my ankles as I put my glasses back on and exhaled slowly before speaking up.

  “Get Landry in here tomorrow for a discussion on Stowel. Do you have a recording of all correspondence?” Nodding, Malory’s blonde curls bounced gently over her shoulders, and I tilted my head at her before she started tapping away on her tablet. “I don’t care about the budget-buildings. Get a senior analyst and someone from development. Reach a decision within two weeks or drop Hanford and find someone else. I don’t have the time or the inclination to deal with their attempt to inflate the project price or scope. We set our limitations, and they’re not negotiable.”

  “I will pass the sternness and slight glare down as best I can.” Malory turned on her high heel and walked out, head ducked and eyes on her screen, and I hummed softly to myself. She was a good secretary, very beautiful, and very . . . typical. There was nothing exceptional about her, but even that wasn’t important to me.

  Despite how stereotypically blonde, fair-skinned, and pencil-thin she was, Malory was smart enough to keep her skirt down around me. Whether it was a subconscious acknowledgment that I was dangerous, well, that was up for debate.

  “It’s a good thing I don’t like blondes anymore.” I grabbed my drink to drain the last of my scotch and shook my head with a slight hiss. The shaded glass door swung open, and my eyes narrowed on one Vanessa Camponello. She strutted in as if she owned the place, hips swaying her silky black dress, and I couldn’t help but frown when she pulled off her sunglasses with a flourish. “What can I do for you today, my darling?”

  “Are you aware that snake bitch is stealing my clients?”

  “Yes. I recently bought a dog off her brother. She’ll be arriving over the weekend.” Vanessa was pissed about that little tidbit of information, and I rounded the front of my desk to lean on the metal-framed glass. Her face tinged pink, which was a feat considering the amount of makeup she caked on, she crossed her arms over her chest tightly. “Is there something you want, specifically, or did you want to complain about your own incompetence disguised as professional slander?”

  “What are you going to do about this, Oran?” My eyelid twitched at the question, and Vanessa shuffled uneasily as I cocked my head quizzically. I owed that snake nothing, but I couldn’t help wondering why I was expected to either defend or offend her. Vanessa huffed as the silence stretched, growing more agitated, and I straightened to inhale a deep, calming breath. Honestly, this was pretty fun.

  “Now, let’s review. You waited a month for this appointment, correct? You not only waited that month, but I believe it’s safe to assume that at that time, you didn’t attempt to fix this issue yourself, correct? Not only did you not make an attempt, but you expected me to not only side with you but to clean up your mess as well, correct? Do I have that right?” I spoke slowly, letting each darkening lilt of my tone hit Vanessa in the face, and I picked up my glass to turn it between my fingers. She kept her mouth shut this time, and her nervousness was like a fresh of breath air as I examined the glass. “Do you know what all of that says to me, Vanessa? That you can’t do your job, and I very much believe I don’t appreciate people that can’t, or won’t, do their job.”

  “Oran, I—" Rearing my arm back, I threw the glass at Vanessa’s feet, and she jumped with a petrified squeak of shock and fear. Her gasp slithered into my ears like oil, and my lip curled as she tried to hold herself stiff. I barely heard the glass shattering, I was so focused on her, but still, she shivered in fear. Fixing my glasses up my nose, I clenched my jaw hard and took another calming breath.

  She wasn’t worth my anger.

  “Shut the fuck up, Vanessa. You know as well as I do you’ll only make an excuse, and I don’t care for excuses. You waited a month to tell me in a scheduled meeting something so important I knew about it before I even entered Seattle. And not only that, you attempted to place the blame on me for your failures. You’ve lost a total of seven clients over less than as many months. Here’s what you’re going to do.” Striding over to her, I enjoyed her whimper, the way she tried not to shy away, and the slight rustle of her mahogany waves. “You’re going to turn around. You’re going to walk out that door. Then, you’re going to turn back around and watch me shut that door.”

  Grabbing her long, sharp jaw, my nails dug into Vanessa’s cheeks as she cried out, her eyes widening in horror. The stench of her perfume was suffocating, and I held my breath as my sneer darkened.

  “Good luck getting to your car, Vanessa. You’re fired.” Jerking her away, I stepped over her as she stumbled over her heels and into the sofa against the wall. She hid behind her hair, taking a moment as my declaration sunk in, and I pulled open the door sharply. “Malory! Request a cleaner in my office and inform her or him that there’s glass!”

  “Yes, sir.” Rising off the floor like muck about to bubble from toxic gas, Vanessa wiped her nose and mouth delicately. She flipped her hair, taking a sharp, huffy breath. E
ven her fucking nose and chin seemed sharper. Like a cartoon villain. Tugging her dress down, Vanessa swept back her hair, and I gestured out into the lobby with a wave.

  “How can you look at yourself in the mirror?” Vanessa sounded so bitter, somehow, and I arched a brow quizzically. So, she resorted to personal attacks. A compliment for all intents and purposes.

  “You sound upset at me, as if it’s my fault you didn’t do your job and can’t accept the repercussions of your inability. You know, Vanessa, my brother may see the value in allowing people to learn from their mistakes, but you’ve made the same mistake . . . how many times now?” Amusement tickled my throat and infected my voice, and she glared at me hotly even as she idled by the sofa. “Even Mateo doesn’t get seven chances, my darling. There are six more months to this year, and I’m not spending a single one of those one hundred eighty-three days concerned with your . . . eighth mistake.”

  Vanessa started shuffling toward me, tiny and frail, and I frowned when she came close enough I could count her eyelashes.

  “By the way, I look at myself in the mirror with my glasses on. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to preen.” This time, she didn’t look at me, and I sighed in satisfaction when she slipped silently past. Like an ant, she scurried away, trying to run, trying to escape.

  I’m very good at aiming my heel.

  2

  Oran

  Leaning back in the chair, I tapped my temple absently as the room fell into silence, and Dr. Laura watched me through critical, narrowed eyes. My mind churned slowly, but the quiet became disconcerting before she spoke up.

  “Do you regret . . . disposing . . . of Vanessa?” Rolling my jaw, my brows furrowed slightly in thought and I shook my head as irritation twitched my cheek. “From what I understand, your relationship with her had deteriorated before you two had met? She was reported to you by the Snake when she was with you in New York, right?”

  “Esmarissa first told me of it then, yes. I had to verify her claims, and when I did, I did what anyone would do in my situation— I fired an unproductive employee.” I waved my hand dismissively, and Dr. Laura arched a brow in silent question as I licked my teeth. “Vanessa was not good at her job, but Carlyle kept her on because she got clients. But the Snake proved she couldn’t keep them. I gave her more than the month she gave herself. I had never heard of her until the Snake brought her up in New York, but what I learned about Vanessa through my own investigation was . . . troubling.”

  “You surely like using a lot of words and making yourself sound important, Oran. Now, the concise version, please?” Smirking softly, I rubbed my jaw with the back of my knuckles, and Dr. Laura tilted her head at me. “Please.”

  “I decided to fire Vanessa on the recommendation, despite having never met her, yes. I do not regret it. However, I did compensate Esmarissa for backing up her report. She was allowed to keep the clients she’d stolen, of course.” The good doctor shot me the most unamused look, and I pursed my lips thinly as I crossed my knees. “I despised Vanessa, so I got rid of her in a way I could back up.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere, Oran. Why did you feel the need to justify your decision to kill her? Was it because, maybe, you didn’t want Vanessa’s blood on your hands due to your own negligence?” Inhaling deeply at that, I clenched my jaw at the searching spark in her gaze, and her eyes narrowed. “Do you feel she doesn’t deserve your hands? Do you not want her blood on you?”

  “Kara . . . ” A dry laugh breached my throat as it tightened, and I ducked my head in a nod. “No, I have her blood. I wouldn’t want to do her a second disservice by dirtying it with that piglet.”

  “Most people want to absolve themselves of that guilt, but not you. You’ve said that several times, Oran, that you own the events that led you to strangle Kara, Erin, and Emily. Do you consider having irrefutable justification for your actions as your way of making it up to them? That you’re . . . more considerate of opinion because of them?” Did I consider it my way of making it up to them? Irrefutably. Nodding firmly, I rubbed my chin and jaw in agitation, and Laura smiled politely. “Have you spoken to Carlyle since the incident?”

  “No. I’m sure he’s heard about me, and I have heard about him, but we haven’t directly talked. I left because I spent my entire life thinking I was just as good, if not better, than Carlyle, and I was faced with the reality that I’m not. I spent my life sucking up to my father to get under Carlyle’s fingernails as deeply as I could, looking for some opening that wasn’t there. When I came to Seattle, it was to . . . to grieve, but also to find out if I’m not God’s gift, then what am I?”

  “What do you think you are, Oran?” That was a question I couldn’t quite find the answer to yet, and I tilted my head in denial. “Do you consider yourself nothing at all? Following Kara’s death, specifically, do you feel like when you lost her, you lost yourself?”

  “Not entirely. At least, I don’t believe so. Some restructuring was needed, and for that to happen, I needed space. Literally and figuratively.” Clicking my teeth behind my thinned lips, I frowned as I turned my gaze to the carpet under. I’d moved to Seattle for a million reasons, and then found many more to stay. “I think I’m not the man I was last year. I’m not a glorified secretary for my father. Carlyle was nice enough to appoint regional control to me, and I’m really starting to take pride in what I’m accomplishing. The thing about it is, admittedly, I don’t have much of a social life outside my office.”

  “You’ve never had much of a social life, Oran. Have you ever considered trying to make friends?” A guffaw escaped me at how juvenile that question sounded, but Dr. Laura had a point, as always. I’d spent a majority of my time at work, building, getting comfortable, and I rubbed my jaw absently. “Maybe spend some time outside the office. Other people are never going to fill the void Kara left in you, Oran, but it does help dull the pain.”

  Humming deep in my chest, I opened my mouth only to get cut off by a trill from the landline, and Dr. Laura held up a hand with an apologetic smile. Honestly, I was thankful for the break, and I checked my watch as she answered.

  “Natasha, hello. Can I call you back in about . . . what? Congratulations! I’m actually with a client right now, but if you wouldn’t mind getting back to me in . . . okay. Thank you, and congratulations again. Okay, bye.” My interest was thoroughly peaked at that small conversation, and Dr. Laura hung up to sit back in her office chair and sigh. “Now, where were we, Oran?”

  “We’re out of time, unfortunately. How’s Natasha?” Dr. Laura pulled a face, and I arched a brow curiously as she silently decided how much to tell me. “I know more than enough about her situation already, Laura.”

  “She’s making progress. Not great strides, but . . . she and Erik were married this morning in Vegas.” My brows shot up, a bark of disbelief escaping me, and Laura smiled as she sat up to smooth her pencil skirt. “I’m not one to gossip, but I truly don’t understand how a man can be so devoted and in love to a woman who will probably never be capable of physically culminating that love. Natasha is happy— doubtful, of course, but happy.”

  “You know, Doctor, I think it’s nice.” Standing up as Dr. Laura shot me a bewildered look, I rolled up my sleeves and pushed my glasses up my nose just for some time to organize my thoughts. “There’s no manufacturing that kind of trust and devotion. I should know— I tried.”

  “Before you leave, Oran, I have a question for you. Why, at the beginning of your relationships with Kara and the others, the many, many others, did you attempt to manufacture the relationship in the first place instead of letting things progress in whichever way they would?”

  “That’s easy.” Rounding the sofa, I gripped the doorknob before turning to catch Dr. Laura’s eye. “I was afraid things would progress in a way I didn’t like. I wanted to control it. Now, in hindsight, maybe because I felt so inadequate.”

  “You’ve been coming to see me twice a week for almost six months, Oran, and I don’t think I have
ever heard you say the word maybe.” Pursing my lips thinly, I didn’t have a reply to that, so I pulled open the door to step out of Dr. Laura’s office. Quietly closing the barrier behind me, I took a short, sharp breath and held it for a long moment.

  There really was no ‘maybe’ about it. I did feel inadequate, and I took that insecurity out on my girls. I tried to overcome it by being what essentially amounted to a controlling dick, and now . . . they’re dead.

  They’re dead, and it was totally preventable. And totally, my fault.

  Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I dialed Malory’s number as I headed out of the lobby, and she answered almost immediately. Her chipper tone grated my ears, and I stepped onto the sidewalk to glance wearily at the car waiting for me on the curb.

  “Did you receive a report concerning Hanford yet?” Gesturing the car away, I started walking out of the professional complex and tilted my head back to stare at the sky. The dry ocean so far above me was cloudless and soft, and a slight breeze cooled my face. Taking off my glasses to stick them in my shirt pocket, I ran my free hand through my hair, and the blur of the world around me was almost like a painting.

  “Yes, sir. The meeting did not go well. Apparently, Hanford kept circling back about construction materials and trying to exaggerate prices. The developer I assigned to the project made a note here that she’s not optimistic.” That wasn’t surprising in the least. I rubbed the back of my neck and rolled my shoulders as I closed my eyes and took a huge breath. Reaching the busy roadside, I ignored the cars that zoomed by as I debated how best to go about this.