Black Resorts

Maximo and I, we were definitely a fairy tale. Not the cleaned-up, sanitized ones where life’s problems are solved with a smile and a song. We were the old-school kind. A twisted tales packed with murder, violence, and tragic beginnings. Okay, so maybe we weren’t a traditional fairy tale. After all, Maximo was more villain than prince. He was scarily sexy. Devilishly charming. Controlling, possessive, and dangerous. Especially when it came to me. His little dove. And heaven help anyone who tried to free me from my gilded cage.

With a trust fund I'd never be able to blow through, I didn't need to work a day in my life. I sure as hell didn't need the kind of job I had. But I wasn't in it for the money. It was for personal satisfaction. A love of a job well done. What's that saying about never working a day in your life if you love breaking fingers and burying bodies where they'll never be found? I might be paraphrasing, but it was still the truth. My boss' wife called me a goon—and she wasn't wrong. As second-in-command, I did whatever was needed to keep Black Resorts running smoothly.