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  Hyland’s Property

  (A Rage and Revenge Novel):

  A Dark Mafia Dark Necessities Romance.

  Book One

  By

  Felicity Brandon

  Copyright © 2021 by Felicity Brandon

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. The author does not condone, nor endorse any of the acts in this book.

  First edition September 2021

  (previously published in The Dark Vows anthology).

  Cover design by Raven Designs.

  Editing by Personal Touch Editing.

  Download your FREE Felicity book here.

  https://felicitybrandonauthor.com/

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Hyland's Property (The Rage and Revenge series., #1)

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  Find Your Darkness.

  Revel In It.

  Prologue

  Sean Hyland

  ZANDER HYLAND WAS DEAD. Not just dead but murdered—shot to pieces by the bastards that ran The Syndicate, or more specifically, one bastard, in particular, Saul Morrison. My hands balled into fists at the thought of the smug wanker strutting around London as if he owned the fucking city while my uncle was cold in the mortuary. I hated him. I loathed him for shooting Zander, for obliterating the only role model I’d truly had, but just as keenly, I despised him for bringing me back to the odious city.

  I’d left London years ago, heading for the Riviera and applying every trick my uncle had taught me. It hadn’t taken long before I’d had Nice at my feet, hordes of gorgeous, scantily-clad French women throwing themselves at me, men I trusted at my disposal, and enough money to afford those fast cars I’d always had my eye on. I took what Zander had started and developed the Continental division until everyone knew the fucking Hyland name.

  They knew it, and they trembled at hearing it.

  Nice had been my home, the only place I’d really loved, and now, thanks to Morrison, I was back in the gray shithole I’d fought so hard to leave behind. Staring out the window of my private jet, I watched the monotonous rain lashing at the glass. London. It was just as I recalled it—just as grim and tedious, just as hopeless. In Zander’s absence, the gang he’d kept so tightly leashed had unraveled, and they needed me. Many of them had been wiped out in the same attack that had taken out Zander. The details were sketchy, but I knew it was Morrison who’d pulled the trigger.

  I knew I was going to make that fucker pay.

  “Ready to disembark, Mr. Hyland?”

  I turned at the grating voice of the air stewardess. She was pretty enough—they always were—but beneath the thick layer of make-up, she looked just as worn and tired as the rest of this depressing city.

  “Sure.” I rose from my seat, grabbing my briefcase and ignoring the way she batted her eyelashes. I had no time for a woman right now. There were men to regroup, vengeance to enact, and an empire to rebuild. “Is my car waiting?”

  “It’s on the tarmac, Sir.” She flashed a smile. “I already had your luggage transferred.”

  “Thanks.” I flung the word at her, an afterthought as I stepped into the English rain. Grimacing, I made my way down the steps toward the waiting Mercedes. Fuck, I hated this country. I couldn’t wait to bring things to order and get back to the French sunshine, champagne, and sex. I’d always preferred things to be sophisticated and cultured, and that’s what the French coast offered me—the privileges my family name afforded in the most beautiful of backdrops.

  “Welcome home, Sir.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded to the driver as I slid into the back seat and slammed the door. “Take me straight to Zander’s place.”

  “Yes, Sir. May I be the first to offer my condolences? Your uncle was a great man.” His head lowered. “He’s greatly missed.”

  “What’s your name?” I stared at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. It definitely wasn’t a face I recognized.

  “It’s Cole, Sir,” he replied. “Maurice Cole. I worked with Mr. Hyland for years, right up until the last day.”

  “Thank you, Cole.” I smiled at the emotion in his tone. Loyalty like that was difficult to find and almost impossible to buy. “I’m looking for a good driver now I’m back in the country. Do you fancy the job?”

  Cole glanced over his shoulder. “I’d be honored, Sir, thank you.”

  “Good, that’s settled,” I decided. “Take me into the city, please. It’s time to get the wheels turning. Oh, and stop at one of those coffee shops, will you? I’m desperate for more caffeine.”

  The heavily made-up stewardess had already offered me more coffee than I should have indulged in for the day, but I never could get enough of anything I wanted.

  “Of course, Mr. Hyland.” He smiled, starting the engine. “It’s good to have you home.”

  I glanced out the darkened window as we pulled away, amused someone was glad I was here.

  Chapter One

  Hilary Mantle

  CHECKING MY HAIR ONE final time, my gaze shifted to the reflection of the huge king-sized bed in the mirror. My boss, Saul Morrison, was sitting in it, his brow rising as our gazes met.

  “Are you sure you have to go so soon?” He threw me one of those devastating smiles that made the muscles between my legs all clench at the same time.

  “Yeah, I’m late for work, and my boss will tan my hide if he finds out.”

  Saul laughed at my quip. “I reckon he might give you the day off if you come over here and ask him nicely.” One dark eyebrow rose at his assertion. “Especially if you ask on your hands and knees.”

  I ran my tongue over my teeth, imagining dropping to my knees and enjoying the things he had in mind. It was a tempting prospect. Saul and I had been dating for a few weeks, and even though bedding my boss was a dangerous game to play, the sex was fantastic. He was older than the men I usually went for, but that just made him better—more experienced, more considerate, and seemingly, it hadn’t affected his stamina one iota.

  “I’d love to, Sir...” I paused, remembering the huge pile of work waiting for me on my desk.

  “But?” Saul sighed, sensing where the conversation was going.

  “But I haven’t been in for three days, Saul, and the work isn’t going to do itself.” I rose from the stool of the vanity unit and wandered to where he was stretched out on the bed. My gaze raked over his firm body, stalling at the erection straining to be free of his shorts, and fleetingly, I wondered if I was making the right decision. “I can come back later and help you with that, though. If you’d like?”

  “Oh, I’d like.” Saul was on his feet in a heartbeat, towering over me. “But only if you’re sure. I know you have a life outside of me and The Syndicate, Hilary. I re
spect that.” He reached for the side of my face, caressing my cheek, and my eyes fluttered closed.

  How many days had it been since I’d gone back to my apartment? I could barely remember. Saul had everything I needed right here, and anything I requested was delivered in hours.

  “I’d like, too,” I whispered. “I’ll pop home and grab more clothes.”

  “You won’t need them,” he promised, his lips grazing mine. “I promise to keep you naked and satisfied.”

  “Saul,” I moaned as his lips shifted to my lobe. “You’re not making it easy to get to work. Someone has to manage your diary while you lounge around all day.”

  He chuckled into the side of my nape just as one large hand slapped my skirt-covered backside playfully. I’d never relished being spanked before I’d bedded Saul, but he had taken me over his lap numerous times in the last few weeks, and I’d bloody loved all of them. The flesh beneath my office skirt tingled with the swat, sending electricity to my throbbing clitoris.

  “Don’t push your luck,” he growled. “Or maybe I’ll have to lift that pretty skirt and spank you in my office.”

  My eyes flew open at the delicious thought, his face rising to meet my gaze.

  “That sounds like fun, Sir...”

  “You are fucking insatiable.” He sniggered. “But I have to admit, it sounds good. I never understood all the BDSM shit Connor and Dalton raved about, but you, Hilary, you make things so much clearer. With you, I want those things. You’re delicious.”

  “Same here.”

  It was early days to be proclaiming long-term intentions, particularly to the man who signed my paycheck, but I couldn’t believe how aligned we seemed to be. Saul was smart, respectful, attractive, and in control.

  How had I been so damn lucky?

  “Maybe I’ll come to the office with you.” He glanced around the room, his gaze landing on the large clock behind him. It was almost half-past nine already. “We can both catch up before we play.”

  “That sounds good,” I agreed. “But I should go first. I have a mountain of work to tackle.”

  “And we wouldn’t want anyone seeing us arrive together, would we?” His tone was sardonic.

  “It’s not that,” I insisted, but it was. Even though we’d been sleeping together for weeks, and it was likely half The Syndicate already knew, I couldn’t face the inquiring glances and the questions. Today, I just wanted to put my head down and catch up, so I could enjoy the weekend with Saul.

  “It’s okay,” he chuckled, running his fingers through my hair before he planted a chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go now, and I’ll follow. Want me to get you a car?”

  “No, Sir,” I sighed theatrically. “I’ll take the tube, like everyone else.

  “Are you sure? I’m happy to get a driver for you.”

  “I’m sure. I’ve been traveling by tube since I was sixteen, Saul.”

  “I know, but now that you’re linked to me, things are different.” His thumb stroked my skin tenderly. “A man like me has enemies. It might not be safe for you.”

  I rolled my eyes at his appraisal. “Didn’t you shoot your biggest enemy, Sir?”

  His eyes narrowed at my sarcastic tone. “Yes, but there are others, Hilary. Our organization has a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, and just keep up that attitude, and I’ll make sure I convene all my men to witness me spank your pretty arse later.”

  A shot of energy ran up my spine at his threat, pooling as arousal between my thighs.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, reaching for his forearm. “I’m just saying, I’ll be fine, and anyway, we’re not together, are we?”

  He drew away, and just for a second, there was a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

  “I mean, I love the time we spend together. You’re great, the sex is amazing, but I’m just saying, we’re not getting married or anything.”

  Saul’s expression relaxed. “No,” he agreed with a smile. “No marriage proposals on the horizon just yet, but I do enjoy spending time with you. I want more of it.” He edged closer, pressing his body against mine. “Much more.”

  “Me, too.”

  I rose to my tiptoes to capture his lips, and growling, he pulled me flush against him as our bodies fused.

  Chapter Two

  Sean

  GLANCING AT MY WATCH, my attention returned to the crowded London streets. It was even busier than I remembered when I was a teenager. Crawling through the near-stationary traffic was doing nothing to alleviate my caffeine-habit. Irritated, I searched the nearby shop fronts for any sign of a coffee vendor, and up ahead, I noticed an independent coffee house, Maisy’s.

  “Stop here for a moment,” I instructed. “There’s a place I can grab a drink.”

  “I’m sure I can find somewhere nicer, Mr. Hyland,” Cole started. “If you just give me five minutes, there’s a lovely little place that does the best cappuccino, and—”

  “Cole.” My tone was curt as I interrupted him, and instantly, his demeanor changed, reverting from the friendly staff member who wanted to help to the professional driver who’d served my uncle. “Just stop the car.”

  “Of course, Sir.” Signaling, he pulled off the main road and skillfully negotiated into a space between two parked cars. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  “Thank you.” I felt for my pocket, ensuring I had my wallet before I reached for the door handle. “If you need to move on to avoid a ticket, just call me. I assume they gave you my number by now?”

  “Yes, Sir, I have it.”

  I just caught his words as I stepped onto the wet street. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still gray, heavy with the ever-present threat of another torrent. Pushing through the throng, I made my way across the sidewalk to the shop that had caught my eye, its burgundy awning declaring it offered the best coffee in London. I smirked at the audacious assertion, hoping it lived up to such high expectations, as I dived under the cover, narrowly avoiding the stream of rainwater pouring from a nearby gutter.

  Fuck. Only a city this unappealing could have channels of water running from shop fronts, ready to drench unsuspecting customers. God, I hated this place, my every step evidence I was right—the grim reality was just as bad as I’d anticipated, maybe even worse. Anger simmered in my veins, and I shook my head at the ugly situation I found myself in. Striding toward the entrance, I hardly noticed the blonde darting in my direction. It wasn’t until her high-pitched voice caught my attention I truly looked. Coffee in one hand and cell phone balanced against her shoulder, she wasn’t looking my way as she skipped toward me. In fact, she scarcely seemed to register the presence of anyone else at all, but my gaze drank her in, crawling over the long legs accentuated by stiletto heels and the peachy little behind hidden beneath the tight skirt.

  “Exactly!” she shrilled excitedly, speaking into the phone as she teetered on the patent shoes toward me. “That’s what I told him, but he still wanted me to stay home, and, oh!”

  In the haze of her eager conversation, she hadn’t noticed me—the strapping, six and a half feet guy looming over her. The one who hadn’t taken his eyes from her since her timbre had broken his train of thought. As if to reinforce the point, she managed to crash straight into me, tipping her drink in the process.

  “Excuse me?” I folded my arms across my chest, watching as the coffee made a track down my expensive white shirt. The heat of the liquid burned my skin, tightening my jaw.

  “Shit, I’m sorry.” Wide blue eyes met mine. “I’ll call you back, Sindy. I have to go.” She ended the call, slipping her phone into the purse slung over her shoulder, almost hyperventilating as she took in the mess her morning brew had made of my attire. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Do you ever look where you’re going?” I arched an eyebrow, enjoying the bloom of heat that blossomed in her cheeks.

  “I said I was sorry.” Her free hand rose to her waist, her weight shifting from one hip to the other as she glared up at me. “What more can I do?”
r />   At that moment, a host of suggestions of what she could do ran through my mind.

  You can get rid of the attitude for a start. You can get down on your knees and show me some fucking respect. You can get out of that outfit and make my first day in London a whole lot brighter...

  “You can at least be remorseful,” I suggested. “And you can certainly pay to get this dry-cleaned.” I gestured toward my chest. “The shirt was not cheap.”

  “I’m sure,” she sneered, and as her brow rose, I saw a flicker of the woman she really was. Beyond the fine-looking exterior, the pretty face, the big blue eyes, and the cute little nose was a glimmer of the spoiled little girl who needed to be brought into line. My cock roused at that thought, an image of her chained by my desk flitting into my mind.

  “Okay, fine. Leave me your number, and I’ll arrange to get it dry-cleaned.”

  “No.” My tone was absolute.

  “No? But I thought that’s what you wanted?” Her voice was indignant. “Wasn’t that what you just said?”

  “What’s your name?” I glowered, daring the willful blonde to defy me.

  “Hilary,” she huffed. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Well, Hilary, it is now.” I smiled at her. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to give me your number, and I’m going to arrange the dry cleaning and bill you. Got it?”

  Her jaw dropped open, and fleetingly, I contemplated which of my vast selection of gags would look the prettiest shoved in the space.

  “I don’t know who you are, but you have no right to talk to me that way.”

  “Is that right?” I leaned closer, only an inch, but based on the way I towered over her diminutive form, it was enough to garner her attention. Around us, other customers came and went, but Hilary didn’t seem aware of their presence. Her focus was on me—just the way I wanted it.

  “Yes,” she snapped, although there was less conviction in her tone. “That’s right.”

  “Were you not the one who blindly ran into me, Hilary?”