CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Alexa

Today is a special day. It’s Christmas. Although everyone around me isn’t celebrating the conventional way, I am not in control of tireless exhilaration. I am having fun, with or without those suited scrooges.

In actuality, Brad’s the only Suit looking forward to planned festivities. He mightn’t admit such excitement with Liam’s present, but the man has sought me out endlessly at work, adding many favoured items to our dinner menu.

Modelling a red satin dress, I collected the trash bag and ambled past the long line of security detail near the elevator. “I made a gateau,” I lied, and the Suit peered at me over his black aviators. “Well, I purchased it from the supermarket, but I still made an effort, right?” The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open. “I will save you some.”

Taking the lift downstairs, I stepped out, feeling rather ostentatious in my six-inch heels and glittered attire. Through the rotational doors, I exited the building doors and carefully trekked over thinly blanketed snow. Light flakes fell from the skies of London. It is beautiful.

Dumping the trash into the communal bin, I unrooted my phone and sent Josh a selfie in the snow.

Josh: Hot damn.

Me: I meant the snow background.

Josh: Fuck the snow. Are you wearing a bra?

Me: Does it matter?

Josh: Yes.

Me: Well, it’s none of your business.

Josh: LOL

Josh: I zoomed in.

Me: Of course, you did.

Josh: Nice nipples.

Alexa: Merry Christmas, Josh.

He sent me a picture of him and his grandmother.

I smiled.

Me: I am so jealous.

Josh: Why?

Me: Your gran looks awesome.

Josh: She is one of a kind.

Josh: I wore the elf hat to wake her up (inserts wink emoji).

Pinching the screen, I zoomed in on the photo. Yes, the green elf hat sat lopsidedly on his head. Noticing something else in the picture, I sent him another message.

Me: What is that?

Josh: What?

I took a screenshot of the photo, drew a circle around his nipple, and sent it.

Josh: You want to lick it, don’t you?

Me: ???

Josh: It’s a piercing!

Me: Oh-la-la.

He sent me the middle finger emoji.

Me: I will text you later.

Josh: Aren’t you at work tonight?

Me: No, Liam gave me the night off, so I’m staying home and getting fat this Christmas.

Josh: Special treatment.

Me: Don’t be jealous.

Josh: I hope you come to work tomorrow with the worst hangover.

Josh: Ever.

Me: Mature.

Before entering the apartment building, I noticed a Mercedes parked across the road. Its blackout windows made nosing a challenge, but its emergence had unsettled me. The window cracked open slightly on the passenger side, but again, I couldn’t see the driver—

“Ma’am.” One of Liam’s men grabbed my elbow. “You need to come back inside.”

I watched the Mercedes shriek on acceleration and swerved around the street corner. “Do you know them?”

Red-headed Suit glanced over my head. “Who?”

I brushed the chill from my arms. “It doesn’t matter.”

Back inside the warm penthouse, I turned the music up a notch, the speakers bellowing Christmas music while I managed the stove. My cooking skills are appalling. Kathy was no better, so we lived on takeout or convenient meals. When Chloe moved in, I thought she would put me to shame, but her culinary skills aren’t much better than mine.

Let’s pray that I do not give everyone food poisoning.

I arranged napkins and champagne glasses on the long-stretched dining table alongside extra placemats for Brad and Nate. It’s almost two in the afternoon and, although Liam has avoided me like the plague, he had confirmed over text message that he would attend.

“Oh, mother of God. It smells fantastic.” Chloe, barefoot yet dressed in a tight-fitted mini skirt and chiffon blouse, ran to the counters to steal a roast potato. “I. Am. Famished.”

“Hey!” I slapped her advancing hand from the goods. “No food, or you will fill up and not eat your dinner.”

“For crying out loud, Alexa. What am I twelve?” she mumbled over a mouthful of potato. “I’m a grown woman. I could pick this food and still eat whatever goes on my plate without so much as a fart.”

“Well,” I said with a frown, “I want to wait for Liam and the others to arrive.”

“You have it bad for that guy, don’t you?” Hand to her hip, she cocked her head to the side and pinched two Yorkshire puddings. “Not that I blame you. If you weren’t letting him fuck you at night,” she handed me a wine glass to fill, “I sure as hell would be.”

Popping open the champagne bottle, I poured fizz into our glasses. “Chloe,” I whispered, overlooking the stuffing ball she secretly stuffed in her mouth, “I let myself do something stupid.”

She sucked seasoning from her thumb. “What did you do?”

I huffed strands of hair out of my face. “I might have told Liam that I was in love with him.”

“He took it badly, didn’t he?”

I nodded.

“I don’t know, Hon. I see the way he looks at you.” She sipped champagne. “He is complicated, though. Even if he feels the same way, can you handle his lifestyle?”

I shrugged.

“Is this why he hasn’t been home lately? Are you two having a spat?”

“Something like that. I told him how I felt. He flaked out.” I blew out an exasperated sigh. “I wish I could read his mind.”

“Every woman wants that ability, Hon. I certainly do. If I could, I’d be reading Brad’s every time he entered the room.”

“Brad?” My nose wrinkled. “What am I missing here?”

“Oh, come on, Alexa. Have you seen that fine piece of arse?” Champagne bottle in hand, she strolled to the living quarters. “I would be his whore any day of the week.”

I sat on the leather sofa opposite her. “You haven’t mentioned him before.”

“It started as a little crush. Now, I please myself daily with his face and mouth in mind.” Fanning herself, she shot me a teasing wink. “He’s so chivalrous. And quirky. And fun. And he has this aura about him. You know? And he is fun—”

With light-hearted raillery, I pointed out, “You said fun already.”

“He is insanely good looking. That hair? That fucking smirk and knicker-dropping flirting.” Falling against the sofa rear, she feigned a pleasurable moan. “Yeah, I need him to fuck me, like, yesterday.”

My smile slowly turned into a frown. “Is this lust or…?”

“It’s lust and fawning, I think.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “Oh, shit. We’re foolish together, right?”

I lift a shoulder.

“We shared moments,” she continued, and my interest piqued. “Sometimes Brad hovers by my bedroom door. It’s like he wants to come in, but he is unsure. What do you think his indecisiveness means?”

I daren’t tell Chloe that Brad is just being Brad. The number of times I have found him either getting his dick sucked by one of the dancers or caught sight of some club chick riding him in the staffroom is no one’s business. However, my friend seems quite taken by him, so I don’t want to burst her bubble.

“Maybe you should see what happens?”

Chloe scoffed. “That has got to be the shittiest advice you have ever given me.”

I burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry.” I refilled the champagne glasses. “So, what other moments have you shared?”

“I don’t know.” She seemed doubtful now. “The night we partied at Club 11; Brad complimented me.”

“Really? What did he say?”

“He called me gorgeous and said he liked what I was wearing.”

“What else did he say?”

“Not much.” She grimaced. “Since living here, he has gone out of his way to hold a conversation, though. I think he knows that I like him.”

“Please be careful, Chloe. Brad is…” He is a notorious womaniser. “Just don’t invest any emotions with that man.” My innocuous speech was contradicting. “I will kill him if he hurts you.”

“Anyway, it’s almost three.” Glimpsing at her wristwatch, she asked, “When will they be here?”

I unlocked my phone.

Me: Are you still attending dinner?

The phone jerked in my hand.

Liam: Something came up. I won’t be there until late.

Chloe studied the phone. “So, what did he say?”

I was deflated. “So, they will eat later.”

“What? But it’s Christmas,” she gestured to the kitchen counters, “and you worked so hard cooking for everyone!”

“Honestly, Chloe, it’s no bother. Besides, we got three more bottles of wine to get through and more girl-talk.” I deflected, so she didn’t see the disappointment plastered over my face. “Let’s drink.”

Snubbing the uneasiness in my stomach, I grabbed extra bottles.

I need to get drunk

***

Checking my reflection in the compact mirror, I applied red lipstick to my lips. “I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Hon, it will be totally fucking worth it. More to the point? I am drunk. My pussy needs dick. I drank enough wine to demand some dick.” Grasping the driver’s headrest, she shouted over the music… “Well, not some dick. One I cannot stop fantasising about. What do you say? Do I look good enough for some dick tonight?”

Our poor taxi driver is horrified.

“Ignore her,” I said airily. “She doesn’t get out much.”

“What? Speak for yourself, Hon,” she slurred. “I get out plenty.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled in my chest. I love this girl so much. She never failed to cheer me up.

We paid for the taxi and headed straight to the club’s main doors. I went all out for tonight. I’m wearing heels that I can hardly walk in, but they finished the outfit flawlessly, and I ran straightening irons over the curls for a sleek finish.

Descending the glass stairs into the nightclub, Chloe tugged my hand. “Shall we pay for drinks first?”

“Yes, but none of that green shit.” I can’t stomach those shots ever again. “Hey, Josh.” Jumping onto the barstool, I placed the purse on my lap. “Are you okay?”

“Alexa.” His folded arms leaned onto the bar top. “What happened to, ‘I’m staying home and getting fat’ this Christmas?” His tone is gratuitously high pitched and condescending. “I swear,” he looked at Chloe, “Alexa is secretly in love with me.”

“I changed my mind.” I waved off his ridiculous statement. “Can we get some of those festive cocktails, please?”

Josh prepared our drinks.

It is unusually quiet here tonight, with barely any customers, the music tranquilising and soft, which is both concerning and refreshing. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s dead.” Josh arranged cocktails on the bar top. “This one has gin,” he pointed to the green, then motioned to the red, “vodka.” I was about to hand him a payment when he gripped my wrist. “The Boss would kill me if I charged you.”

In mute acquiescence, I accepted generosity with a fond smile. Since moving into Liam’s penthouse, he hasn’t taken a penny off me.

Setting the green cocktail, Chloe muttered, “This is gross.”

Taking a sip of mine, I nodded in agreement. “Yes. It’s safe to say that I’m not a lover of gin…”

Nate forced himself into our huddled conversation. “Alexa?”

“Hey, Nate,” I said, noting his worried expression. “What’s up?”

He visibly swallowed. “Does the boss know you’re here?”

His panicked voice indicated something was wrong, but I stayed calm and collected. “Not yet. I will give him a text in five,” I lied with a bogus grin. “Can I get back to my drink?”

“Yeah.” He peered over one shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

Chloe hiked a brow. “What—”

I don’t wait for her to finish the sentence. I followed Nate to find out why I should not be here.

Chloe chased me through the small crowds. “What is going on?”

Giving the bouncer a half-hearted wave, I dragged my friend into the corridor and beelined Liam’s office.

I heard male laughter and female moans behind his door.

Chloe’s hand tightened on mine. “I don’t think we should go in there anymore, Hon.”

Nate’s troubled countenance gave it away. He might like me as a friend, but his loyalties lie with Liam. He wanted to prepare the asshole.

Adopting bravery, I released Chloe’s hand and shoved open the door. Naked women in high heels roamed the room. Inebriated Suits smoked cigars and snorted lines of coke on the table. Drowning out the music, I stared at Nate, who stood in front of the desk, murmuring to his boss. He sensed I was there and turned his neck to look at me.

My eyes landed on Liam, who relaxed behind mounds of cocaine. Cherry, with a self-satisfied smirk, loomed by his side. While holding my eyes, she lowered her head to whisper something in his ear.

Liam reached for the Macallan and, swigging straight from the bottle, stared right through me. “Alexa,” he said throatily. “Feel free to come and join us.”

My blood heated.

Ripping the soundbar from the shelving compartment, I lunged it at the wall, killing the infuriating music—and the pornographic moans.

Brad rose from the sofa to intervene. I hold up my hand, stopping his advances. I felt a familiar tightening around my chest, strangling my windpipe. “Stop.” Begging my subconscious mind to relent and not to drag me back to those memories, I closed my eyes. “I said, stop!”

“Out,” Liam ordered, and initially, I thought he meant me. “Now.” Everyone groaned in protest, but they vacated the office as their boss rose from the chair. “Alexa, you need to breathe.”

Turning away from him, I inhaled deep breaths to calm down. Palms pressing against the wall, I lowered my head and respired in intervals. “I hate you.” His hand touched the small of my back, and I whacked it away. “Do not touch me.”

“Why are you mad?” He sounded drunk, which was abnormal. “I should be mad. You just came into my office and threw a five-hundred-pound soundbar at the wall.”

“You cancelled plans to stay inside your office all day.” Wiping my cheeks, I faced him. “Why?”

“We are not in a relationship, Alexa,” he reminded me. “I don’t answer to you.”

My gaze cast to the floor.

“Alexa…” His forearm braced to the wall above my head. Inching in, he tried to kiss me, and I turned, giving him my cheek. “Don’t look at me like that. You,” he pointed in my face, “You are fucking with my head.”

“Really?” I argued. “I am not playing games, Liam. That is your job.”

His red-rimmed eyes toured my face. “I am trying to stay away from you.”

“I never asked for you to stay away.”

“Baby…” His thumb brushed my cheek. “I want something uncomplicated.”

“I cannot help the way I feel. Am I supposed to lie?”

“Yes.” His finger curled a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes, I want you to lie. I am not asking for more. I want you and nobody else. But I made it clear, baby. I am not the future for you.”

I shook my head. “No, I cannot pretend to be emotionally detached. I am sorry, but I refuse.”

His head fell to my shoulder. “Kiss me.”

“No.” I shoved his chest. “You don’t cancel on me and then demand attention.”

“Then,” he stepped away from me, “why did you come here?”

“To surprise you,” I half-lied, wishing I hadn’t listened to Chloe. “I didn’t expect to see you drugged up, Liam. I am hardly going to want your disgusting mouth on me after it’s been God knows where. You and the guys promised to be at dinner. You lied to me.”

“I did not lie.” He snagged the Jameson bottle from the minibar. “One thing you should know about me, Alexa, is that I never lie. I don’t need to. I am a man of my word. I say how it is.” His coldness rendered me thunderstruck. “I warned you.” He pointed at me with the bottleneck clenched in his fist. “I told you I would be a disappointment. I told you not to bank on me, yet you did it anyway. That’s on you. Own your mistakes and quit blaming other people for your despondent bullshit.”

“Did you touch her?” I asked, and he chose not to answer. “Did you touch Cherry, Liam? Did you let her touch you?”

“No.” He pulled a face in disgust. “I never cancelled dinner to fuck other women. I stayed in the office to avoid you.” He chugged alcohol. “Yet here she is, telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. Even though I have stressed time and time again that it’s not about other fucking women.”

I flinched. “Why are you behaving this way?”

He backed into the desk. “I asked you not to complicate us.”

“I tried.” A single tear rolled down my cheek. “But you made it too easy for me to fall in love.”

“Then,” he sighed, “I guess we should renegotiate.”

I thought as much. “Okay.”

“We enjoyed our time together.”

I swallowed hard. “Now, we must part ways amicably.”

He gave me a curt nod.

“I will leave the penthouse,” I said, and his gaze narrowed. “Liam, I can’t live with you and turn it all off.”

Making a frustrated noise, he broke eye contact. “It is no rush,” he said tightly. “You will still see me at work, so what does it matter?”

My heartbeat took flight. “No, I would like to hand in my notice.”

“What?” His jaw tightened. “You don’t have to leave the club.”

“It’s for the best,” I said, and, deep down, I know he agreed. “May I leave without adequate notice, or will you claim for loss of damages?”

“Obviously not,” he clipped, scratching the scruff of his jaw. “You are free to leave without obligation.”

I went to the door.

“Alexa,” he called, and I stopped. “Someday, you will thank me for this.”

The way I am feeling, I highly fucking doubt it.

“I am not worth it.”

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

“My heart disagrees.”

With one final smile, I left the office and walked into new beginnings.

Every step broke my heart.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Liam

Brad appeared in the doorway. “Bossman.” His tongue swept a toothpick to the corner of his mouth. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Raising the whiskey bottle to my lips, I watched Alexa and Chloe exit the club via security monitors. Alexa’s shoulders heaved while she sobbed. Whipping tears from her eyes, she listened to whatever impassioned speech Chloe provided.

“Fuck.” Killing the surveillance, I twisted in the seat, facing the window, to oversee the club’s dispersal. The DJ powered the aloft lights, letting everyone know that the night had come to an end, and customers, knocking back alcohol, made their way to the exit. “Alexa was falling for me, Brad,” I admitted as he perched onto the desk. “It cannot happen.”

Alexa will get over it.

I will get over it.

Peeling the bottle’s label, I scrunched into a ball and hurled it over my shoulder. “We had to break it off eventually.”

“They just flagged a taxi to the penthouse.” Brad’s thumbs tapped the phone, replying to security detail. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news and all, but Alexa is kinda living with you.”

My jaw muscles ticked. “Alexa will not hang around. She will be gone before sunrise.”

Brad went to the window. “What about work?” He gestured to the night staff cleaning the bar. “It’s awkward now, right?”

She is not coming back. “What would you do?”

He snorted. “I’d get the hell out of dodge.”

“Bajramovic has yet to rear his ugly fucking head. I want eyes on Alexa at all times,” I gave orders, absently rotating my thumb ring. “Ensure safety measures: twenty-four-hour security and background checks on impending employers and employees. She might not have a job or a place to call her own, at least not yet, but both will occur shortly.”

Nate joined the office and passed me a brown envelope.

“Obtain her bank details,” I continued, tearing through the seal, “and wire funds across. Be generous. I am not okay with her struggling to make ends meet. Knowing Alexa, she will dispute the balance. I want it done either way.”

“Boss,” they said in unison.

Skimming the document, I asked, “What is this?”

Nate turned the page. “Flamur was using this joint to meet with his mistress.” He pointed at highlighted payment transactions. “I didn’t get much from the hotel manager, so I had to hack their servers to do some investigating. Kathy Pearl used her mother’s maiden name to make a reservation.

Adaline Rutherford.

“Kathy always had company–Mr Rutherford. Now, I had no luck with surveillance. You cannot see her lover entering or exiting the hotel. I decided to go further.” He handed me another printout. “Bajramovic was incognito. If it weren’t for the Albanian number plate, I would have overlooked him. Is it a coincidence that Kathy and Flamur stayed at this very hotel every Friday? Personally, I smell a fucking rat.”

Swivelling in the chair, I laid evidence across the desk. “Come again.”

Nate scratched his jaw. “I think it is safe to assume Kathy and Bajramovic were sexually involved.” His tattooed finger tapped an image of Pearl by the hotel’s entrance. “To be honest, their arrangement it’s too unfathomable to decipher. Surely, she did not climb into this man’s bed willingly?”

“Alright, tossers. Hear me out.” Brad snatched the image and tore it down the middle. “Pearl came here for him. It makes sense. She came from nowhere, robbed you blind. Bajramovic came from nowhere, robbed you blind,” he rearticulated. “It is clear as fucking day how this story ends.”

“So, Kathy formed a bond with her childhood captor,” I pondered, lighting a cigarette. “He convinced her to come here, pull the wool over my goddamn eyes and swipe shit right from under my nose. And she succeeded. She took money from the safe alongside confidential clientele records and handed him the goods. Meanwhile, Bajramovic brushed palms with Darren, offered him a sweet deal and persuaded him to deliver Gateway. Again, it was a victorious operation, but this does not explain why Kathy tried to kill her sister. Moreover, why did Alexa hide this information from me?”

“How do you know Alexa kept anything from you?” Brad mused, sharing a questioning glance with Nate. “Perhaps she doesn’t know about her sister’s love affair. I think we can all agree that Kathy’s violent act traumatised Alexa.”

Kathy’s alliance with Bajramovic sickened me. “Stockholm syndrome,” I said, and they both nodded. “It is the only reasonable explanation.” Leaning back in my chair, I tossed the evidence aside. “I shouldn’t have killed Kathy. That bitch should be downstairs, hanging from my fucking ceiling, brooking cycled torture.” Anger resurfaced. “Reach out to Reginald and demand more intel. I need to find this son of a bitch and put an end to this nonsense.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Alexa

Christmas was a celebrated tradition I missed in childhood. Back when confined to the squalid basement, I laid on the concrete most nights and envisioned which colourful trinkets I’d use to decorate the tree and, if given the opportunity, how many presents I’d buy for friends and loved ones. For the first time in a long time, I had the chance to make dreams come true with people who, unfortunately, I allowed to imprint on my heart.

Now, I cannot think of anything worse than festive jollification. Hell, I never liked eggnog, anyway.

“It was recently refurbished.” The estate agent’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor. “As you can see, it is decorated to an impeccable standard with a bright, spacious lounge and sumptuous furniture.” She opened the balcony doors. “You have stunning views of the garden from here.”

Chloe glanced into the kitchen. “Where does that door lead?”

The estate agent smiled. “The utility room.”

My friend’s eyebrows lifted. “Impressive.”

“Parquet flooring.” Her heeled foot tapped the floor. “Both bedrooms have spacious wardrobes.”

“It’s lovely.”

“And expensive,” Chloe said quietly. “Don’t you think it’s above our budget?”

Overhearing the one-way conversation, the woman stepped in. “It’s the heart of Notting Hill.”

After leaving the penthouse, I checked into a bed-and-breakfast with Chloe, and we have stayed there ever since. I am over laundrette service and meals-on-wheels. It’s time for a fresh start. “Can you give us a moment, please?” I waited for the estate agent to give us some privacy and then turned to Chloe. “I think we should take it.”

“Hon, I don’t earn enough,” she whispered behind her hand. “You are unemployed.”

“I will pay twelve months in advance,” I offered, and she sighed. “I have to use the compensation money, eventually. What better way to spend funds? It’s a beautiful apartment. Plus, it’s in a nice, safe area. In the meantime, I will find another job.”

Chloe’s fingers traced the floral-patterned wallpaper. “It’s a little ostentatious.”

I laughed airily. “I am sure the landlord won’t mind if we redecorate.”

“Well, it’s only the bedrooms and the living room.” Her eyes roamed the room. “Everything else is stunning.”

I concur. “So, shall we go for it?”

After a long pause, she squealed. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

“What’s the verdict?”

“We’ll take it,” we said in unison.

I signed a twelve-month contract and received a set of keys six days later. Moving into our new home was hardly cumbersome. We had little possessions but an abundance of optimism.

You’d never believe that we had lived together before. Everything felt new and exciting. While I peeled the bedroom wallpaper, Chloe visited the DIY store to buy decorating supplies.

“Pink for me.” Holding up the Middleton pink paint pot, she tossed the colour chart over. “What’s your poison? Red? Blue? I like purple.”

I rolled pink onto the wall. “White.”

“White?” She scoffed. “Well, that’s boring.”

“I want something bright.”

“What about white and green?”

I pondered. “What, like, bottle green?”

Her nose crinkled. “Lime.”

I gawked at her. “No, thanks.”

“Come on,” she probed. “Live a little.”

My shoulders sagged. “Fine. Go wild.”

Two days later, I had a newly decorated white and sage green bedroom with gilded ornaments. I mean, the decor was better than lime, and I liked the white, fluffy rug, but I also felt out of place.

Chloe’s eyes were ablaze with pride. “What do you think?”

Why did I agree to decorate each other’s bedrooms again?

“I love it,” I lied, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “And those cushions? Wow.”

“Right?” She rearranged the jungle leaf velvet scatter cushions on the double bed. “I bought them in the charity shop. The guy charged ten quid for the lot.”

Pink paint freckled my face. I was in dire need of a shower. “Let’s make a toast.” Uncorking the champagne bottle, I poured effervesce into two mugs. “To new beginnings.”

Clanking our mugs, she said, “To new beginnings.”

Job hunting commenced. Freshly showered, I sat out on the balcony, searching for job opportunities on my phone. I must have sent over thirty emails to different employers with attachments of previous employment history. By the morning, almost everyone replied with the same generic email.

Miss Haines,

We appreciate that you made an effort to apply for a position with our company. We received applications from many people. After reviewing your submitted application materials and qualifications, we have decided not to offer you an interview.

Please do apply again in the future should you see a job posting for which you qualify.

Again, thank you for applying.

We wish you the best.

I was dumbfounded.

Dialling the company number, I placed the phone to my ear and went through options until the receptionist answered. I asked to speak to the manager.

“One moment.”

I blew my cheeks out.

“This is Ian speaking,” the manager introduced himself. “How can I help?”

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me with something. I applied for a job on your website last night, and I received an email this morning saying I was unsuccessful. Is it possible for some feedback on where I went wrong? Only so I know what to look for when applying elsewhere.”

“Yes,” he said, and I heard a door close behind him. “What’s the name?”

“Alexa Haines.”

He went quiet, and then he replied, “Yes, I remember. I am the person that declined the application. Miss Haines, you have more than enough experience to work from the hotel’s bar. Needless to say, I had reservations.”

I sat on the sofa. “About what?”

“Your previous employer.”

“Mr Warren?” I mused, and he sighed into the receiver. “What about him?”

“I will offer you some free advice, Miss Haines. Avoid putting his name on job applications. You will do better without it.”

He ended the call.

What a quandary?

***

Rather than apply for jobs online, I ventured into central London to knock on doors. People can take me at face value. I had to avoid unfair hiring practices. Hell, as far as I am concerned, I have never worked a day in my life. By all accounts, companies avoided any connection to Liam Warren, which included his former employees.

I walked from shop to store to restaurant to bar, handing in application forms. Writing no previous employment went against me. It screamed idleness.

“Do you have any experience at bar work?”

Maybe Ian advised incorrectly.

“Yes,” I admitted, and the manager, an old, stone-faced gent, waited for further details. “I worked behind the bar at Club 11 full-time. It’s a nightclub—”

“I know what it is,” he said sharply, returning the application form. “Listen, you seem like a nice girl, so I’ll be straight with you. No one in their right mind would hire someone that previously worked for Warren. Do yourself a favour. Keep that unsettling information to yourself.”

“This is unfair.” I was getting desperate. “I am being punished for someone else’s reputation.”

Pity softened his gaze. “It is what it is, lady.”

“Fine.” Stuffing the application form in my bag, I elevated my chin. “Fuck everyone.”

“Very mature,” he grumbled.

I threw him the bird and left.

Coffee happened. I ordered a latte, fell into the booth and lowered my head to the table. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. I had a good mind to call Liam and unleash frustration.

Liam Warren.

The bane of my life.

Is it possible to love and hate someone at the same time?

Unlocking my phone, I clicked on photos and swiped through shots of us together. I had many favourites, but the night on his sofa triumphed. He came home early-ish and joined me in on the makeshift bed.

Liam looked so happy that night and, dare I say, enamoured. He kissed my cheek while I snapped selfies and even gave the camera a rare smile.

I should delete the photos, but I wasn’t ready to erase him from my life.

“You are late.” Someone sat on the bench opposite me. “Fifteen minutes late, to be exact.” He had short, peroxide hair, a sharp, angular jaw, chiselled cheekbones and evident lip fillers. “Grayson Turner.” He shook my hand. “You must be Cheryl.”

“I—what?” Locking the phone, I shoved it in my bag. “Alexa Haines. A customer.”

“Oh.” His lips rounded. “Well, excuse bad manners. Long day.” He laughed once. “What do you think of the coffee? You won’t find better beans anywhere else.”

I had to agree.

“I guess that tardy trollop is a no-show.” He stared through the window. “What’s a guy gotta do to hire some decent staff?”

“I’m looking for work,” I blurted out, and his defined eyebrow bent. “No, really. I am. I just moved into a new apartment and, well, it’s pricey. If you are hiring, I would love to apply for a position.”

“Do you have any experience?”

“Pouring coffee?”

“With customers.”

“No,” I lied, and he grimaced. “Look, I might be inexperienced, but, as you can see,” I gestured to myself, “I have great verbal communication skills and a positive attitude. I am punctual, adaptable and flexible. You won’t hear any complaints from me. If cleaning tables all day is what it takes to prove myself, I will do it.”

He was nonplussed. “Did you memorise that speech?”

“No,” I fibbed again, and his eyes grew wide. “Alright. I googled pointers online.”

“When can you start?”

I fling him a double-take. “I got the job?”

“Yes.” He looked as desperate as I felt. “You got the job.”

My jaw hit the floor. “Well, I can start right away.”

“Good.” A black polo shirt with the company’s logo printed on the breast landed on the table. “We close at eight.”

My smile turned into a frown. “What’s the name of this place?”

“Really?” He deadpanned. “It’s the Coffee House.”

***

“Woah, Alexa.” Grayson snagged the overflowing mug from my hand. “Didn’t that hurt?”

I examined my raw skin. “Oh, God,” I squirmed, flapping like a bird. “Shit, Grayson! It stings!”

He apologised to the impatient customer on my behalf, instructed another team member to step in and hauled me to his office. “Alexa, calm down.” He sat me on the wooden desk and opened the first aid kit. “You were miles away.”

My eyes watered involuntarily. “I’m sorry.”

“Enough of that.” He shot me an innocuous wink. “I am more concerned about your skin. Here.” Applying a cold compress to my swollen hand, he examined each of my fingers. “We need to make sure there’s not too much damage.”

“It’s fine.” It’s nothing a little cream and pain relief can’t fix. “It already feels better.”

It’s been three weeks since I secured a job at the Coffee House. In all fairness to my eccentric manager, his patience level is commendable. I mean, I never claimed to be an outstanding barista but had promised my coffee skills were praiseworthy—lies. I am no better with those damn machines than I was pouring spirits and cocktails at Club 11. Today is the third time I have scolded myself while preoccupied with depressing thoughts. I also mix the wrong beans, burn paninis and give customers improper orders.

I am an atrocious shambles impending the sack.

“You’re getting there,” he lied, and I groaned. “Honestly, Alexa. You worry that pretty head of yours too much. It’s coffee and toast. In a few more weeks, you’ll be whizzing around.”

Do I love working at the Coffee House? Not overly. Aside from Gray, I don’t seem to gel with co-workers. It’s possibly my fault. My incessant moodiness is unbecoming and unintentionally hostile but assisting customers and cracking jokes is not the same without Josh present. I genuinely missed him. I’d give anything for him to whip me around the backside with a tea towel or call me fugly right now.

“Let’s get a look.” If he weren’t into blokes, I’d think those unnecessary finger strokes were a coquettish advance. “Done.” Returning the first aid kit to the cupboard, he plucked out change from his wallet. “Why don’t you grab an early lunch break? Get us some coffee and toasted sandwiches.”

“There are coffees and sandwiches out front,” I pointed out. “You are trying to get rid of me!”

Gray pushed me through the door. “No, I am giving you an early break to collect yourself.”

“Fine.” Slipping out of the black apron, I tossed it on his desk and snagged my purse from the lockers. “I am not accepting your money, though. Lunch is on me.”

Before Grayson had the chance to protest, I bolted out the door and welcomed the afternoon sun on my face.

Strolling down the street, I stopped at the cashpoint and punched the pin code. My finger hovered above withdrawal amounts. No, I had too much money in the bank. “What?”

“Hurry up, “someone complained behind me. “I don’t have all day.”

“Just a second.” Giving the rude bystander a flippant wave, I returned the card and stumbled into the branch. Flinging wayward hair from my face, I approached the glass partitioned counter. “Excuse me. I have a problem with funds.”

The female bank teller peered over gold-framed glasses. “How can I help?”

“I just checked my balance, and it’s too high. I am worried someone accidentally wired money.” I chuckled nervously. “If I spend it, I will be left with a hefty debt to repay.”

“Insert your card into the reader.”

I listened.

“Type your pin.”

I coded the four digits.

“Okay, Miss Haines.” Her fingers tapped the keyboard. “You received one hundred thousand last Wednesday that you wish to dispute?”

Those zeros flummoxed me. “It’s not my money,” I whispered, needing to sit down. “There has been a mistake.”

“It was from Warren Enterprise.” Turning the screen, she showed me the transaction. “Are you familiar with the company?”

The son of a bitch. “No, I have never heard of it.”

Her eyes sliced. “You received payments from this company at the end of every calendar month.”

“Well, yeah,” I backtracked, drumming my fingernails on the counter. “I mean, I used to work there—but I didn’t earn one hundred grand.” Composing myself, I blew out a long breath. “Okay, listen. I do not want the money. I need you to send it back.”

She gave me an annoyed look. “You don’t wish to keep the funds?”

“No.” I will not be indebted to the man. “Please return the balance immediately. Thank you.”

The customer representative’s head shook. “Will you be taking out any money this afternoon, Miss Haines?”

“Just a tenner.” I held the purse tight to my chest. “Make it fifteen.”

Nodding, she finalised the transaction by asking me to sign a receipt and slipped two notes across the counter. “You can remove the card now.” She slapped on a fake smile. “Have a lovely day.”

“Thank you.” Leaving the building, I stuffed everything into my purse and proceeded to the heady smelling burger van on the street corner. Ordering two hot dogs and chilled colas, I paid for the goods and went back to the Coffee House.

Grayson followed me to the office. “Lunch smells incredible.”

“I hope you like mustard.” Biting into the bap, I licked tomato sauce from my lips. “This is amazing.”

Nodding, Gray chewed his food.

We finished lunch and stood at designated stations: Americano, caramel macchiato, tall latte, Croque monsieur panini and mango salad. I swear to God I will be singing these orders in my sleep. It has been non-stop from the moment I put my apron back on. “Thank you for choosing Coffee House,” I recited with a chipper chime. My forced enthusiasm pleased Gray. “Good, right?”

“Your vocals need some work.” He refilled the chiller with cartons of juice and sparkling water. “It’s getting late. I will finish cleaning the machines while you tidy the shop floor. Before you go, take this order to the table by the window. You cannot miss him. Extremely Hot,” he emphasised with a dramatic eye-roll. “Make a note.”

I carried the tray, wading through occupied tables. I spot a guy with his back to me, his leather jacket stretching to accommodate his muscular frame. “Hey,” I said, and he looked up, stealing the air from my lungs. “Uh, you ordered…” I sucked in a measured breath. “Food.” Hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, whipped cream and shortcake. “Your order.”

Although mostly covered with leather and denim, intricate designs wrapped his sculpted physique, from photorealistic representations of art icons to swirling geometric patterns and religious idols. He has a hard-edged image: styled brown hair, sculptured jaw and cheekbones, mesmerising forest green eyes, facial piercings, nose ring and eyebrow barbell.

He offered me a friendly smile, which displayed his perfectly straight white teeth. His tongue peeked out to smooth along his bottom lip, giving me a glimpse of his titanium barbell and, when he set the newspaper aside, I marvelled at his inked hands and fingers. “Cheers,” he said, his voice smooth yet rough.

“No problem,” I squeaked, arranging his order onto the table.

“I got to have my sugar fixed.” He lifted the mug to his mouth, licking cream from his full lips.

I found myself oddly fascinated by his innocent tongue sweep. “Oh, you have diabetes?”

His puzzlement added a hint of red to my cheeks. “No.” He chuckled, folding his arms and leaning back in the chair. “I just like my sugar.”

“Well, who doesn’t love sugar, right?” Hand to my hip, I continued to prattle, “I swear, I practically live on ice cream. I buy at least six litres per week. And I am not kidding. I pack that sugary goodness away and search for leftovers in the freezer.”

Alexa, shut up.

“Vanilla is my favourite,” I told him as if he cared. “I am partial to chocolate. Although mint has become a requirement over recent years…”

“No, shit.” He is modest enough to play along. “Ice-cream is a must. Where do you put all those calories, though?” His eyes toured me from head to toe. “You’re a dot.”

“Oh, I got some thunder thighs.”

Alexa, stop talking.

“I chafe all the time.”

“Chafing up, huh?” He busted out laughing. “Sounds painful.”

I actually have no idea; I don’t even know why I said that. “Anyway,” I inched back, feeling Gray’s nosiness drilling into the side of my head. “Enjoy your sugar.”

“Jace,” he said, and I halted. “My name is Jace.”

I smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, Jace.”

“And you are…?” His head tilted slightly. “I assume you have a name, too.”

“Alexa,” I later found my voice. “My name is Alexa.”

“Alexa.” His green eyes seared into mine. “Thanks for the beverage, Alexa.”

A nervous chill raced across my flushed skin. I spun on my heel, rushed behind the counter and busied myself with cleaning. I sensed Jace’s eyes on me the entire time and didn’t quite know how I felt about it.

While spraying the countertops with disinfectant, I peered over to Jace’s window table, watching him type a message on his phone. As if detecting my curiosity, he lifted his gaze, and a slight smirk teased his lips.

I waved like an idiot.

Jace is no Liam, but he is handsome in his own right. He doesn’t wear tailored suits, twenty-four karat gold or ice diamonds. He’s not modelling Ferragamo shoes or armed for mass destruction. He settled for a simple pair of heavy-duty boots and faded denim jeans.

Growling under my breath, I put my head on the counter—

“Alexa,” Jace called, and I whipped around to face him. “You didn’t ask for payment.” He held up a bank card. “Can I settle it now so that I can leave?”

It is pitiful that I assumed he called me for another reason. “Of course,” I whispered, wiping the cleaning residue from my hands. Holding the PDQ, I coded in his order and passed it over the counter.

Jace inserted the card and thumbed the transaction. “I don’t think I have seen you here before.” He made small-talk. “Are you new?”

“Relatively.” The black T-shirt stretched across his broad chest, leaving little to the imagination. “Why do you ask?”

“Curious.” He lingered for a few strained seconds, almost as if he wanted to continue our conversation, then decided against it. “It was nice meeting you.”

Jace walked away, and I didn’t breathe until the Coffee House door closed behind him.

“What did I tell you?” Gray miraculously appears at my side. “Hot, right?”

“He is definitely,” I pursed my lips, “different.”

“Different?” His beautiful face bunched up in horror. “Girl, that guy is a wet dream. He is definitely my wet dream.”

“Oh, God.” Giggling, I begin to clear the spillage trays. “And I thought I was smitten.”

He deliberately licked his lips. “Spank bank material.”

“Grayson, will you shut up? You’re giving me unwanted front row seats to late-night jerking sessions.”

“Come on. Admit it. You will use the sex god to get yourself off later.”

“Absolutely not. I am seeing someone…” My error was a harsh, stupid reminder that Liam and I were no more. “Never mind.”

“I am seeing someone,” he imitated. “What type of answer is that?”

“Well, no.” My throat tightened. “I was seeing someone. It’s over now.”

“There you go.” His hands clapped. “It’s time for fresh meat.”

Our conversation brought down my jubilance. “It’s complicated.” I am not ready for fresh…anything. “Coffee?”

“I am good.” His arms folded. “So, do you?”

I blinked twice. “Do I what?”

His eyebrows waggled impishly. “Get yourself off.”

He literally could not have said that any louder.

“Fucking hell, Gray. Why not shout louder, so the entire Coffee House can hear you?” He had no filter. “Anyway, why do you care? You’re gay. My masturbation sessions do nothing for you.”

“I’m nosey, woman!”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Alexa

I stood by the window and peered at the black Mercedes nestled between incurvated trees across the street. I noticed it before entering the apartment building last night. It was parked in the same spot. I am almost ninety-nine percent sure it’s the exact vehicle I saw outside Liam’s penthouse Christmas morning.

When the driver’s side door opened, I held my breath, hoping to get a glimpse of the motorist. His tanned boot graced the concrete as he soared from tinted windows. He is Amazonian tall, lean and muscular. He wore washed-out denim jeans and an unbuttoned paisley shirt over his white vest. His casual attire contrasted his evident taste for top-of-the-range vehicles for someone who owned such an expensive car. His blond, half-messy ponytail hung tight at the back, and his ungroomed beard covered his jaw.

Tapering down anxiety, I unlocked the phone, zoomed the camera on his license plate and took a screenshot. I uploaded the image online.

Find the car owner by vehicle registration number plate.

I clicked on the link, typing details into the search engine.

Arben Biberi.

A wave of dizziness washed over me.

Albanian.

My gaze returned to the window.

Arben walked across the street. He did it so leisurely as if taking a morning stroll. You’d never suspect him or his motives. Pausing by the apartment’s entrance, he looked from left to right, cracked open the multi-mailbox and hunted through residents’ letters.

I stopped breathing.

Tossing the phone on the bed, I rushed out of the apartment and descended the stairway two steps at a time. I pushed open the building’s front door, expecting to catch him in the act. When I got to the entrance, he had vanished. Even the Mercedes disappeared. I saw no sight of him. Yet, when I assessed the tampered post, I smelt pungent cologne in his wake.

My bare feet touched the cold floor. “What do you want?”

And then, parked on the other side of the street, I saw the black vehicle. He relocated and is watching me now. I can feel it in my gut.

Locking the mailbox, I stumbled indoors.

Double-locking the front door to the apartment, I wiped the mugginess from my palms and stared into the peephole.

“Happy birthday!” Chloe boomed, and I jumped like a teenager caught red-handed in a mischievous act. “I was ready to jump on you…” Her liveliness plummeted. “Hey, is everything okay? You’re looking a little pale.” Putting a hand to my forehead, she murmured something about temperature. “Alexa?”

“I’m fine.” Tucking damp hair behind my ears, I stared at the locked door in trepidation. “I am hungry, that’s all.”

“Well, I plan to feed you.” She slapped an envelope on my palm. “Happy birthday, Hon.”

“Aw, Chloe. You didn’t have to get me anything,” I lied. I’d have killed her. “What is it?”

Her smile reached her eyes. “Open it and find out.”

I tore through the envelope, unable to contain excitement: private box tickets to The Phantom of the Opera in Her Majesty’s Theatre. “Oh, God, Chloe. These tickets must have cost you a fortune.” I had never visited the theatre before. It is something Kathy always promised we’d do together. “Thank you.” Pulling her in for a hug, I held on tight. “I’d be lost with you. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Her inoffensive smugness brought a smile to my lips. “I am the best.”

Yes, I am blessed.

“I have an entire day planned.”

I followed her into the living room. “I am scared to ask.”

She pointed to the pink gift bag on the coffee table. “Tonight, we are going out in style. Who knows? We might even get laid.”

I am not ready to fall into bed with another man just yet. “Who said I wanted to get laid?”

“It is non-negotiable. You need to move on, and I think tonight is the perfect opportunity. And don’t worry,” she added, discerning the panic in my eyes. “We will not step foot inside Club 11. I heard there are some decent competitors nearby so that we can check them out.”

“Chloe, it’s easier said than done.”

“Oh, no.” Her finger aimed in my direction. “I do not want to hear his name.”

“It’s not about Liam,” I said, and her eyes visited the ceiling. “I am serious, Chloe. Yes, I care about him.”

Hell, I am foolishly in love with him.

“Remember how I used to freak out if a guy even looked at me the wrong way? I cringed if they spoke to me. Shit, I fainted on the spot if I felt their hands on me.”

Her shoulders drooped. “You let Warren.”

“Ironically, he made me feel safe,” I explained, and she listened intently. “What are the chances of someone else making me feel that way?”

She expelled a small sigh. “You will never know if you don’t find out.”

I suppose.

“It’s beautiful.” She bought me a burgundy long-sleeve dip-hem dress, designed in luxurious satin feel fabric. “Thank you.”

She strode to the kitchen. “Let’s get the prosecco open.”

I frowned. “Isn’t it a bit early?”

“It’s never too early for faux champers.” A bottle of prosecco, two glass flutes and a punnet of raspberries joined our morning celebrations. “To birthdays and sex.”

I gave her an eye roll. “You are incorrigible.”

Popping the cork, she splashed bubbles into the glasses. “So, are you ready for today’s antics?”

Plonking two raspberries in the glass, I sipped champagne. “Yes.”

“Firstly, I suggest casual clothes,” she began. “We can come home later on this evening to get ready for the opera.”

“Casual clothes. Got it.”

Her eyes glittered. “Let’s hit the spa.”

It started with more champagne, a short-lived trip to the sauna and downtime in the jacuzzi. A de-stress back massage ensued. Pan-flute music segued in the background. I fell asleep three times while the expert masseuse worked to unknot coiled-up muscles in my body. The package included facial treatments: steaming and exfoliation. I left the building rejuvenated.

Quintessential afternoon tea experience at Grosvenor House: a selection of freshly prepared crustless sandwiches, warm scones with clotted cream and preserves, homemade cakes and pastries.

“Earl Grey is overrated.” Chloe set the china cup aside. “I prefer coffee.”

“And hot dogs,” I joked, leaving the smoked salmon finger sandwich on the plate. “I like their shortbread, though.”

She had a brainwave. “Let’s scrap cake decorating.”

What, we were cake decorating?

“Pub crawl.”

I ran to the nearest bar.

***

The Phantom of the Opera is heart-rending. I was a blubbering mess upon exiting the theatre. Amid the dazzling winds of London, I shivered, wiping tears from my cheeks. “It’s the champagne.”

Chloe laughed. “You are an emotional mess.”

I made a strange noise. “Poor Phantom. Why did we get drunk before eating?”

“I have no idea, but that show was epic. And the complimentary champagne tasted amazeballs.”

“Yeah,” I sighed in devastation. “Everything was wonderful.”

“Just wonderful?”

“Okay, the show was phenomenal,” I stroked her ego, and she smiled pompously. “A dream—or a nightmare, depending on how you want to look at it. I’ll be reciting that glorious orchestra in my sleep.”

With no sense of direction, Chloe dragged us down the street, turning and taking many corners. “It wasn’t romantic, though.” Pinching a defiant strand of hair, she slipped it behind her ear. “More akin to that of an abusive relationship.”

“I need to eat before hitting any more bars.” My stomach heard and grumbled for dramatic effect. “See? Starving.”

“You are always hungry. What about that place?” Gesturing to the expensive-looking restaurant, she peered through the windows. “Oh, it looks heavenly.”

“And extortionate.” I read the high-priced menu. “Twenty-three quid for ravioli. I don’t even know if I like ravioli.”

“Ladies.” A tall male in a black tuxedo gathered two leather-bound menus from the stand. “Reservation?”

“Carpenter,” Chloe blurted, and I threw her a quizzical glare. “For two.”

“Okay.” Checking the booking number, he opened the door and offered us inside. “Your table awaits.”

“What are you doing?” Gripping the back of her dress, I strode to our stolen reservation. “Who are the Carpenters?”

“It is the first name I saw on his computer system,” she mumbled so he didn’t overhear. “Just roll with it.”

“My name is Will. I am your waiter this evening.” He pulled our chairs out a touch, and we became seated with fake elegance and grace. “May I offer suggestions?” Handing over the leather-bound menus, he adjusted his black-framed glasses. “Pinot Noir from Le Musigny vineyard. It is a favourite with our chateaubriand steak. The Veramonte Reserva Chardonnay complements the grilled butter lobster.”

“Can you give us a moment, please?” I asked, and he dipped his head. Once he left us unattended, I kicked Chloe’s shin beneath the table. “Are you insane? Chateaubriand steak,” I mocked. “We cannot afford this bill. Have you seen their starter prices? Fourteen pounds for six scallops.”

Chloe emptied her purse on the white silk tablecloth. “We’ll be fine.” Counting pound coins, she added them to the compartment where she stashed notes. “We only live once, right? And it’s your birthday, Alexa.”

She will regret this moment when the bills jam our letterbox.

“Are you ready to order, ladies?” Impatient, Will tapped the parker pen against the notepad. “Did you select a wine preference?”

I fixed the upside-down price list. “You know what? I am not overly thirsty. Tap water will suffice.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Snatching the leather-bound wine menu from my hand, she studied the soaring price list with twitching eyes. “Yeah, I think I will order water, too.”

“San Pellegrino is on offer.” He gave us a friendly smile. “We never offer tap water.”

I sucked in a breath. “Isn’t that illegal?”

He shrugged.

“Fine,” I relinquished, dabbing sweat from my brow. “I will have the salt and pepper calamari.”

“Roasted fennel.” Chloe is on board with my frugal spending. “Thank you, Will.”

“Appetisers?” he wondered, and I declined. “Okay. I’ll return with beverages.”

Chloe watched the waiter slip behind the bar. “Do you even like calamari?”

“I don’t know, but it was the cheapest dish. What sane person spends sixty-three pounds on garlic chicken? It’s fucking stupid.” At my terse statement, the guy dining with his wife to my right paused with seasoned chicken dangling on his fork. “I mean, what insane person doesn’t like…”

My friend’s eyes squeezed shut. “Alexa, please be quiet.”

“Yeah.” Twisting in my seat, I put my back to their emitting disapproval and haughty judgements. “I am going to shut up now.”

I sat back and admired the room. Floor-length embroidered curtains adorned the mullioned windows. Fine silk sheathed dark walnut tables and polished silverware corticated beneath the crystal chandeliers. Melodious jazz music sounded from the impressive bar and glass balconies, where seated guests dined and overlooked the dinner setting, stole the restaurant’s limelight.

Will reappeared with bottled water. He eliminated our wine glasses to pour non-alcoholic liquid into tall tumblers. “Enjoy.”

I sipped in quiet imperturbability.

Chloe guzzled water. “I had to sober up, anyway.”

I thanked the chef when he arranged our dishes on the table. Forking colourful garnish across the plate, I chewed moreish calamari.

“Hon, I know it’s your birthday, but I had the best birthday ever.”

“Well, I’m glad you had the best birthday.” Dabbing my lips with the napkin, I washed the final bite down with water. “It’s been my favourite, too.”

“Hell, yeah,” she chimed, leaning over the table to clink our glasses. “To birthdays and dick.”

I blushed. “Where is your filter? And what is your obsession with dick?”

“Fuck them, Hon.” She scarfed down asparagus sticks. I don’t care what these people think of me. And how could you not fixate on a dick?”

An odd question came to mind. “Chloe?” I set the knife and fork onto the plate’s edge. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Nodding, she picked up the water glass.

“Who have you slept with?”

My friend always talked about sex with hot men, but she has never given any juicy gossip regarding said men.

“I don’t mean to pry. It’s just odd because you have never mentioned names and stuff.”

“What?” Her cheeks speckled pink. “What type of question is that?”

Is it wrong to ask for details?

Chloe wanted to know everything about sex with Liam. Hid did he kiss? Was he passionate? Was he rough in bed? Was he attentive? How many orgasms did he give me? Did it hurt the first time? Does it hurt every time?

“A serious question,” I said warily. “We both know my history, yet you never share your sex life with me.”

“Hon, I am a private whore,” she fired back, irritated by my meddlesomeness. “Trust me. Dick. Is. Life.”

The restaurant is too extravagant to be dealing with her gob.

“Are you still seeing that Harold Stone?”

“No,” she huffed, folding her arms. “Nothing’s happened since the night I met him at my father’s place.”

The unfortunate news knotted my stomach. I am so wrapped up in my quandaries that I hadn’t considered her dilemmas recently.

“I’m sorry, Chloe.” I am the world’s worst best friend. “I should have known that.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Who cares if Harold isn’t interested in more? I am moving on to the next dick.” She leaned close to whisper, “Hey, don’t look now. But there are two guys by the bar who have been checking us out since we arrived.”

I straightened in the seat. “Really?”

Her stare pooled with excitement. “We should go over there.”

“No,” I said, but she took it as a challenge. “Chloe, I am serious.”

She slumped in the chair. “Well, they just got seated.”

“Maybe they are on a date.”

“Oh, shit.” Her head ducked. “Their table seats four.”

“How drunk are you?”

“Hon.” She peered through her fingers. “The blond dude is inviting us over.”

“You are lying,” I whispered.

“Nope.” Clicking down the passing waiter, she requested the bill. “Alexa, they want us to join them.”

“I am not joining them.”

“Yes,” she insisted, leaving the payment and a generous tip on the table. “Come on, Hon. It’ll be fun.”

Chloe strutted into sin without a backward glance.

Inhaling a lungful of confidence, I grabbed the clutch purse.

“Ladies.” The raven-haired male stood to greet us. “So, who is who?”

“Chloe.” My friend introduced herself, then threw a thumb to me. “That’s Alexa.”

“Hey.” I gave him a firm handshake, sliding onto the chair next to the fair-haired gentleman.

“Jack.” His silvery eyes glittered. “That’s my brother-in-law, Ryan.”

Ryan had a wedding band on his finger.

Honestly, I am relieved. His marital status meant I was freed from sexual obligations. I am not ready to jump into bed with the first man I clapped eyes on.

Jack and Chloe delved straight into conversation.

Ryan ordered a bottle of wine from the waitress. “So, what do you do?”

“I serve coffee.” It was nothing to brag about. “It pays the bills.”

“Nice.” He turned in the seat to face me. “I’m a branch manager.”

“Impressive.”

“It’s tedious.”

“I can only imagine.”

Thanking the waitress for the delivered wine, he poured everyone a round of drinks. “For you.”

Red wine rolled down my throat.

Masking distaste, I placed the glass on the table.

His arm slid across the back of my chair, and when his thumb grazed the top of my spine, I stiffened. “So, how long have you been married?”

Ryan glimpsed at his brother-in-law before saying, “Five years.” His jaw tightened. “It’s been fun,” he said sarcastically. “If you know what I mean.”

No, I don’t know, actually. Not that I cared to understand his relationship problems.

Two hours into the night, I was sober as a judge and bored out of my mind. Chloe and Jack have yet to return from the bar, and Ryan is really laying the cringeworthy compliments on thick. He is inebriated and desperate for attention. I am not a homewrecker. He is married with children, yet he unsubtly hints at an overnight stay in a nearby hotel. “We don’t have to do anything,” he purred in my ear while I chomped on salted peanuts. “I mean unless you want to do something. I am not opposed to getting dirty with you.”

Inwardly, I cringed. “Sounds wonderful.”

“You are very, very attractive. I think I like you a lot.”

“You barely even know me.”

“I know enough.” His thumb needed the nape of my neck. “What do you say, Alex?”

My name is Alexa.

What an asshole?

“I would love to spend the night with you,” I flirted, and his lopsided grin spread across his face. “I have an idea. There is a hotel across the street. Go and book a room for us. Tell the receptionist I am due to arrive.”

“Really?” He was so excited. I almost felt sorry for him. “Okay, then what?”

“I will be over in fifteen minutes.”

“Got it.” Pressing a chaste kiss on my cheek, he stuffed the wallet in his trouser pocket and stood. “You are in for a wild night, Alex.”

I gave him a half-smile. “I can’t wait.”

Ryan left the building.

Hearing Chloe’s laughter from across the room, I typed her a text message.

Me: I am headed home. Do you want me to wait for you?

Chloe: What happened to Ryan?

Me: I sent him packing.

Chloe: Alexa!

Me: He is married. Even If I weren’t in love with someone else, I would never tear someone else’s family apart.

Chloe: I suppose.

Chloe: I like Jack.

Me: You want to stay, right?

Chloe: Would you mind?

Me: Not at all. It’s nice to see you smile.

With that, Chloe peered up from her phone and smiled.

Chloe: Are you sure?”

Me: I am positive.

Chloe: Okay, I am headed to the casino for a few hours, so don’t wait up.

Me: Enjoy your night. I will see you in the morning.

Chloe: I love you, Hon.

Me: I love you, too.

I went to the restroom to relieve the bladder.

Washing my hands in the basin, I fixed my appearance, exited the bathroom and crashed straight into someone’s chest. “I am so sorry…” Liam held my elbows. “Mr Warren,” I whispered as he slowly withdrew his arms. “I apologise. I didn’t see you.”

“Alexa.” His brows furrowed above intense blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He looked incredible in his slate-grey two-piece. Not seeing him eased the blow of rejection until now. Everything came flooding back—all the emotions, both good and bad. I hated how much I cared. It hurt to look at him.

“What do people normally do at a restaurant?” Remembering a conversation with Josh, I pressed my back to the wall. “It’s yours, isn’t it?”

Liam never answered.

“I am not stalking you,” I defended myself, and the corner of his mouth cinched. “I swear. It’s my birthday. Chloe booked reservations here.”

“Birthday celebrations, huh?” His stare toured the expanse of my body. “I like the dress.”

It was too difficult to be in his proximity. I had to leave. “Goodbye, Mr Warren.” His hand flattened against my middle section. With bated breath, I gave him my eyes, and all-consuming butterflies fluttered in my chest. “Liam.”

“You look beautiful.” His throat was thick. “Happy birthday, Alexa.”

I had the sudden urge to cry. “Thank you.”

Liam walked away first, taking my heart with him.

Refusing to shed another tear for the man, I ambled through the restaurant.

Okay, tonight took a strange turn. I was unprepared to see Liam. Josh had mentioned that our boss owned a restaurant, yet I never thought to ask more questions. Hell, I didn’t even know the name of said restaurant. Now, I looked like a psychotic ex-girlfriend incapable of handling dismissal. Liam probably thinks I am stalking his arse, and I could hardly blame him.

I stilled by the main doors. Arben Biberi’s Mercedes is parked across the street. He rose from the vehicle, kept an eye on approaching vehicles. Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, he jogged toward the building.

I have had enough.

Jerking the door open, I stepped into the cold night. “Hey, asshole,” I shouted, and he slowed his determined pace. “Why are you following me?”

Amused, he sparked a cigarette. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said in a strong Albanian accent. “I have never seen you before in my life.”

“No, it’s not in my head. You are always there. Everywhere I go, I see your car.”

“And you call me the stalker,” he said patronisingly. “I am a delivery driver. You will see me a lot in London.”

I did not believe him.

Arben blew smoke in my face. “Alexa Haines, right?”

His knowingness derailed me.

I swallowed exasperation. “What do you want?”

“Not much.” His tongue clicked. “You ain’t seen your sister, have you?”

I masked discomfort. “I didn’t know my sister ran around with rats.”

“Kathy,” he clipped. “Where is she?”

My arrogance radiated. “What’s it to you?”

“She never came home.” He is close now, too close. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Home, I thought. “Even if I did, you’d be the last person I’d inform.”

“Not Bajramovic?” He mused, and I bristled. “Ah, I caught a glimmer of fear, then. He’d be offended by your scorn, especially because he was so good to you.”

“So good to me,” I regurgitated in utter stupefaction. “I will not venerate such a vile man.”

“You should be grateful.” Heightened enrage honed his accent. “It could have ended badly for you like the others.”

At the mention of other children, I simmered down. It’s true, I guess. Had I been more unfortunate, I could have ended up in a ditch somewhere—with them.

“Tell me where she is.” His intimidating presence towered above me. “He will come looking for her if you don’t.”

I am not enslaved to these monsters anymore. “Fuck you.”

Arben’s wild, delirious eyes drilled into me. His hand shot out, ready to seize my throat when someone snatched his wrist. “Jones.”

“Getting a bit touchy-feely there.” Brad fisted the man’s shirt collar. “Is he bothering you, Alexa?”

Nate’s back became a shield. “That’s how I see it.”

“I did nothing,” Arben spat. “I ordered food from the restaurant. Am I allowed to get the order any time soon?”

Brad shoved Arben’s shoulders.

Relief crossing the Albanian’s features, he endeavoured to escape public humiliation when Liam blocked the restaurant’s entryway. “Arben.” He snaked a protective arm around my waist. “I wondered when you’d pay a visit.”

Smoke rushed through the man’s nostrils. “I meant no harm.” He glared right through me, and there was a deathly promise in his piercing eyes. “Ain’t that right?”

Turning my neck, I whispered in Liam’s ear, “I don’t trust him.” His lips were close to mine. “I see him everywhere. I caught him going through the apartment’s mailbox this morning.”

Liam’s fingers dug into my side. “I request a meeting.”

Arben knew better. “I will decline.”

“I thought you’d say that.” Liam stood with an air of nonchalance. “Bring him in.”

Nate’s fist slammed into Arben’s face. He expected confrontation, but nothing prepared him for Nate’s iron fist. His backside cracked against the floor, and I twisted in Liam’s arms, unable to watch as the Suits’ dragged him to his unpreventable death.

Arben hounded for one reason and one reason only: Flamur Bajramovic.

Still, I felt guilty for the man’s inescapable despair.

I disconnected from the carnage, traipsing unsteadily down the street. Knowing the pain that he may suffer is bad enough. I will not stick around to watch it unfold.

“Alexa, wait.” Liam’s footfalls echoed behind me, yet I proceeded toward the nearest taxi rank. “Alexa!” Breathing heavily, he grasped my elbow. “I said, wait.”

“What if I am wrong?” My eyes welled up. “What if he had no ill intentions, and I just certified his death? He was just looking for my sister.”

He wore an unsympathetic expression. “You owe him nothing.”

“Right,” I said, short and tight. “Will you torture him?”

“Does it matter?”

I ignored the question.

“You hate me,” he said through gritted teeth. “I can see it.”

I sucked in a breath. “Why would I hate you?”

He shrugged one shoulder.

“My love was unrequited,” I said bravely, and his eyes snapped to me. “That’s no one’s fault. Yes, leaving hurt, and I would be lying If I said I never thought about you.” My throat was too tight to swallow. “But blaming you would be morally indefensible. You were honest from the very beginning.”

Dark strands swept over his handsome face.

“Hey, at least, I haven’t behaved like a psycho ex-girlfriend,” I half-teased, and he flashed a rare smile. “Are you still hunting Flamur?”

His bottom lip rolled between his teeth. “Of course.”

Grateful for his protection, I raised a hand, flagging down a passing taxi. “I should go.”

The driver decelerated by the curb.

“Get her home safe.” Liam chucked cash into the driver’s hand and opened the door to the backseat for me. “You good?”

“Let’s not be strangers.” Lingering by the open door, I held the purse to my chest. “Hey, we can even be friends?” It’s a joke, not that he found it funny. “Or not.”

He held my waist. “I could never be friends with you.”

“Why not?” I breathed.

“You know why.” He lowered his forehand to mine. “Safety before endearment, Alexa.”

I was beginning to understand.

Liam’s lips feathered a kiss along my knuckles. “Goodnight, baby.”

My heart slammed into my chest.

I cared not for his permission. I palmed his stubbled cheek, kissed his lips softly and, with great reluctance, ducked into the backseat.

“Where to, love?” the driver asked.

Telling him the directions, I clicked the seat belt in place and peered through the back window.

Liam watched the car drive me away.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Alexa

I quite literally had the worst hangover, having prolonged birthday shenanigans with Chloe last night. Instead of downing water when I arrived home, I imbibed cheap alcohol until the early hours. Apparently, I thought I was insusceptible to the after-effects of excessive drinking.

“Next,” I grumbled, empty coffee cup and pen in hand. “Welcome to the Coffee House. What can I get you this morning?”

“Alexa.” Gray tugged my apron. “It is two in the afternoon.”

Through bloodshot eyes, I stared at the female customer. “Welcome to the Coffee House. What can I get you this evening?”

“Espresso.” Her eyes darted between Gray and me. “Maybe you need one, too.”

I gave her a toothy smile. “I think I’m still drunk.”

“Alexa.” Snatching the cardboard cup from my hand, he pointed to the staff only door. “Go to my office and swallow some paracetamol. You’re making me feel tired.”

I complied.

I rested on the tattered leather chair inside Grayson’s office, drawing the apron skirt over my face.

Why did I do this to myself?

Well, in my defence, senseless intoxication made sense after the serendipitous encounter with Liam Warren. I am not over him, not by a long shot. However, months apart eased the pain in my heart until last night happened.

Now, I had to miss him all over again.

The heart wants what the heart wants. Him.

“Alexa.” Gray unveiled my face. “Are you crying?”

“No,” I lied, wiping the single tear away. “I just have a sore head.”

His backside perched on the desk. “They won’t tell you fairy tales of how girls can be dangerous and still win. They will only tell you stories where girls are sweet and kind and reject all sin. I guess, to them, it’s a terrifying thought, a red riding hood who knew exactly what she was doing when she invited the wild in.”

I blinked at him. “That’s quite philosophical.”

“Nikita Gill,” he confirmed. “I’m a self-proclaimed logophile.” His worried eyes lingered on my face. “Who was he?”

“Aren’t you astute?” It’s a statement, not a question.

He beamed. “Ever so.”

Ruffling the messy knot on my head, I lowered my feet to the ground. “Are you familiar with the name Liam Warren?”

His face turned three shades of pallid grey. “Why?”

The panic-stricken undercurrent in his voice was alarming. “Never mind.”

“Alexa.” Gripping my wrist, he leaned in closer. “Are you in trouble? You need to stay far away from that man, doll. He’s not somebody you should align yourself with.”

I was overwhelmed with possessiveness. “Do you know him personally, Gray?”

“I don’t need to know Warren personally.” His forehead furrowed. “Everybody knows what that savage is all about.”

“Defaming someone based on rumours is wrong.” His judgments peeved me. “Liam might have a reputation, but you don’t know him the same way I do. He’s more than nonsensical hearsay.”

“Why are you defending him?” he asked, looking at me in a darker light. “Oh, I get it. He’s the guy who broke your heart, huh?”

I pulled an ugly face. “Nobody broke my heart.”

“You are worth so much more than some depraved criminal.”

“Grayson”, I know he’s only trying to defend me—be a friend and offer unwanted yet friendly advice. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

His curious gaze withstood for a minute. “Fine.” Opening the desk drawer, he pulled out bottled water and passed it to me. “Get some H2o down you and help the new guy out front. I never thought I’d say this, but he is possibly the clumsiest employee to date.”

“Which man?” I asked as we exited the office. “And who else are you referring to? Me?”

“You were the gawkiest before he came along.” His hand dishevelled my hair. “Jace stayed on until three o’clock this morning to learn the fundamentals. He drops more than he pours.”

I came to an abrupt stop, the blood draining from my body. “Did you say his name was Jace?”

“Yeah.” Gray motioned to the cash register. “He came back last night and asked if I was hiring new staff. I’m not stumped for employees, but I couldn’t say no. It’s his eyes.” His lips puckered. “They kill me.”

Jace, tightening the apron knot behind his back, playfully bartered with a bodacious female customer, winning her over with his flirtatious smile and effortless magnetism.

“Help him finish up.” Gray chucked the rag cloth and cleaning spray at me. “Then show him how to arrange the floor, ready for the morning.”

I needed to die.

“Mmhmm,” I mumbled, unable to blink, breathe, think. “Yeah, I am not the best candidate for this.”

“Why not?” He unlocked the till to add pound coins. “Alexa?”

Sneakily, I eyed the glorious man over Gray’s shoulder. “Jace is intimidating.”

“You boned Warren,” he rudely chirped, and my jaw slackened. “Don’t be telling me anything scares you after that monstrosity.”

I wanted to kick him. “Fine,” I spewed through clenched teeth. “I will help the dude.”

Jace sensed my advance before I stumbled at his side. “Alexa,” he said, smiling fondly. “I assumed it was your day off.”

“I took a little break.” My palms rubbed together. “So, you needed a job, huh?” I don’t know where the inquisition came from, but I was curious. “You didn’t mention anything yesterday.”

“Why would I?” He scowled. “You’re not the manager—and we’re not friends.”

He had a valid point. “Gray said for us to clear the floor.” Rounding the countertop, I passed him the spray. “It’s pretty simple. I prefer busing tables than making coffee.”

Over the next three hours, we organised the floor, arranging and clearing tables, spraying laminate menus with disinfectant and bickering over music preference.

Jace is an incredibly nice guy. His playfulness and cheeky banter helped me to forget recent predicaments. He’s easy on the eye, too, which is a bonus.

The Coffee House closed at eight p.m.

I walked home alongside Gray and Jace. When Gray reached his apartment building, Jace offered to get me home. As much as I liked my new co-worker, I wasn’t sure I trusted him enough to know my address. “I’m good,” I said, lingering outside the London Underground.

Jace put his back to the wall, propping one foot behind him. “I don’t bite, Alexa.”

Heat soared to my cheeks. “Your suggestiveness says otherwise.”

He dragged the titanium barbell between his teeth. “Fine.” Ebbing away from me, he jerked his chin toward the tube station. “Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I thought about him the entire journey.

***

Loud clattering urged my tired eyes to creep open. Shrouded by all-encompassing darkness, I laid face down on the bed, listening to distant conversations and heavy footsteps.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I rolled onto my back. “Chloe?” Throwing my legs over the mattress, feet sinking into the carpet, I trudged down the hall. “Are you awake?” I knocked on her bedroom door before peering into the room. Her bed was immaculate, not a crease on the coverlet.

I walked into the living room, expecting to see her drinking alcohol with a guy she might’ve picked up at a bar, but again, nothing but eerie darkness—the front door thumped, and I flinched. “Chloe? Is that you?”

Nothing.

My heart wedged in my throat.

Blowing out a calming breath, I pattered across to the front door and stared through the peephole.

Will I be stupid like the girls in the movies that decide it’s a good idea to unlock the front door and find Sweeney Todd on the other side?

Hands shaking, I turned the key, removed the safety chain and glimpsed into the all-concrete foyer.

Nothing.

I shut the front door and relocked it but only achieved three steps to the bedroom when it happened again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

My body froze on the spot.

I am definitely going to be one of those girls in the movies because there is one hundred percent a psychotic killer knocking on the front door.

Rushing to the kitchen, I rummaged through the cutlery drawer and selected a steak knife. Fingers twitching on the wooden handle, I hold it tightly and, with bated breath, stare into the unlit hallway. I’d like to believe I am capable of using a weapon.

“Hello?” Once more, I creaked the door open and peered into the empty foyer.

Nothing.

What the hell?

Maybe those teens decided to play rat-a-tat-ginger on my door.

I almost retreated, then I noticed the small parcel on the welcome mat.

Tucking the parcel under my arm, I locked up, went to the bedroom and turned on the lamp. I tear through the tape, turn the box upside down and fetch the white envelope inside. Tapping the seal with my fingernails, I checked to see if there was an addressee first, and then polaroid prints fell onto my palm. It’s a little girl. She cowered in the corner of the basement, knees hiked to her chest, hair curtaining her face while she cried.

A gut-wrenching combination of nausea, devastation and anger replaced initial reservations. “Why?” I whispered into nothingness, examining image after image, pornographic keepsakes that belonged to a monster.

The final shot brought tears to my eyes. It’s an eight-year-old little girl pleasuring a man.

My sweet Lexi.

I know my name is Alexa.

Chucking everything aside, I stumbled off the bed, hand clasped to my mouth as I dashed to the bathroom. My knees hit the tiled floor in time to empty my stomach. Sobbing through violent intervals of vomiting, I held onto the flush and tried to erase the images from my mind.

Wiping my lips, I turned on the cold tap, cupped water in my hands and doused my neck and face. I studied my reflection in the wall-mounted mirror, the sadness in my eyes evoking unpleasant memories.

I don’t cry anymore.

He doesn’t care, nobody cares.

Why did mummy forget about me?

Did my father love me?

No, daddy was never around.

Mummy was bleeding.

Why did Monster lie?

Mummy didn’t wake up.

She wasn’t dreaming.

Red. Everything was red.

I am alone.

Always alone.

Nobody wants me.

Nobody loves me.

Everybody forgot about me.

No, my mother loved me.

I know she loved me.

Why hasn’t she saved me?

Mummy wanted to save me.

Mummy died.

Red. She was red.

I remember when I found her.

I thought she was asleep.

I believed she was going to wake up.

I didn’t get to say goodbye.

If I could have that moment again, I’d say goodbye.

I’d tell her I loved her and that I’m sorry she had to leave us.

I’d whisper a million promises in her ear.

I’d hold her hand and beg her to stay.

A woodlouse crawled past my bare feet, and I wondered where he planned to venture. I imagine he’ll find a way outside of these four walls to locate summer. That’s what I often envision. If I were able to leave this place, I’d run my hands through grass spears, feel the sun’s warmth on my face, pick flowers and inhale their sweet fragrance.

I had hope when I had Kathy. Sure, we didn’t sleep in the same room, and our visits were far and few, but those minutes together were treasured.

But I don’t see Kathy anymore.

Kathy doesn’t visit.

Kathy doesn’t whisper in my ear.

Kathy stopped singing.

Kathy didn’t care.

It’s unbearable now.

“Are we friends, Kathy?” I used to ask, following her into the woodland, twigs snapping under our weight.

“We’re sisters, silly.” She dodged nestled boulders. “We’re more than friends.”

“Does that mean you love me?”

Kathy found my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Yes.”

“Forever and ever?”

She kissed my cheek. “Forever and ever.”

A tear fell down my cheek.

My sister forgot about me.

My sister broke her promise.

“Unë të dua,” Monster hums, stroking my hair. “Lexi?”

I buried my face on the cold floor, pretending he couldn’t see me.

He brushed my hair. “A me do ti, Lexi?”

“I don’t understand you,” I whined. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

He inhaled my hair.

I hate his touch.

I hate his scent.

I hate him.

“It means I love you.” His hands smoothed down my arms. “Do you love me?”

“I know my name is Alexa,” I whispered, smiling at the woodlouse burrowing beneath the skirting board. “My mummy named me Alexa.”

“No.” His fingers dug into my hip. “Your name is Lexi. And we don’t talk about that woman.”

“My mummy loves me.”

“Your mother fucking hated you. It’s me who loves you.”

“She loves me,” I screamed, bolting upright, hands to my ears. “You don’t love me! You hurt me! You always hurt me!”

“I’m sorry, Lexi.” His dark, evil eyes bore into mine. “It’s unfair that I keep you here, but I can’t lose you. When you’re older, we can do this properly, okay? I’ll let you out, and we’ll be happy together.”

My eyes shut.

His hand grazed my cheek.

“Please,” I screamed. “I want to go home to see mummy. Please let me be free.”

“You will not scream at me. You know I don’t like it.” He backhanded me in the cheek, and dark spots danced behind my eyes. “You never learn, Lexi. How many times must I punish you? Why can’t you behave?”

“It hurts,” I sobbed, holding my jaw. “Somewhere over the rainbow—”

“I try hard with you, little one, but you make it difficult for me.” Wrapping my hair around his fist, he dragged me toward the basement steps. “How many times have I asked you not to sing that fucking song? You do it anyway. Don’t raise your voice, Lexi. Yet you still yell at me.”

Another sharp pain belted across my face. “Please.” My legs thrashed against the steps. “I want to die.” Death would be my only solace—my freedom. “I just want to die.”

“Now, I am going to take you to my bedroom. I want to capture some pictures today. Can you do that for me? Be a good girl and listen.”

“No. I don’t want to go. I’ll be good.” My fingernails clawed his forearm. “I promise. I won’t sing anymore. I promise—I never break my promise.”

He dragged me down the hallway and unlocked his bedroom door. Tearing through my clothes, he flung me onto the bed, and I curled up into a ball.

I laid bare for him.

I felt sick—constantly sick.

I cried. I wish I didn’t cry.

“Good girl.”

He removed his clothes.

His belt buckle hit the floor.

His boots followed.

“Please don’t hurt me.” Tears burn my eyes. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

“You’re older now, Lexi.” He touched my arm with so much love and affection. It’s like he wanted everything to be okay for me. “I think you are ready.”

I know it’s wrong.

Touching me is wrong.

Forcing me to touch him is wrong.

“Are you ready?”

I swallowed scorching bile down my throat. I can’t believe this day has come. He’s talked me through it on many occasions—that it’ll be him claiming my virtue.

I didn’t know what that meant until he sat me down and explained what would happen between us.

I’m terrified.

He has tried in the past but was unsuccessful. I don’t know why. I passed out on both attempts.

It’s my fault, he’d said.

You’re undeveloped, he’d told me.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

I blinked rapidly from sporadic lights as he captured photos.

Leaning over the bed, dry heaved until vomit splattered on the floor.

He slapped my backside. “Well, that’s disappointing, Lexi. I wanted to watch your face, but I can’t be inhaling all that vomit on your breath, now, can I?”

My shoulders sagged in relief.

And then, it happened.

He pinned my face to the mattress.

His body rested atop mine.

He doesn’t hold back.

The pain.

The burning.

The force.

The roughness.

I feel dirty.

I feel disgusted.

I want to be free.

I want to die.

And then I see the painting on the wall.

He kept my painting.

My eyes closed.

“Alexa.” Mother added clothes to the washing line. “I hope you’re not down that hill.”

How does she know?

“I never did it, mummy,” I lied, separating two flowing sheets to look at her.

My mother smiled at me, her lustrous dark hair blowing in the wind. “You didn’t visit the forest.”

There was an accusation in her calm tone. “I don’t know.”

Kneeling in front of me, she slipped hair behind my ears. “Are you sad?”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I didn’t listen to you.”

“Baby.” She pushed the sunglasses to the top of her head. “Do you know why mummy tells you to stay where she can see you?”

My head shook.

“So that I can protect you.” She kissed my forehead. “How can I look after my little girl if she insists on hiding from me?”

I hugged her. I wanted the hug to last forever.

Holding my head to her chest, she watched the birds fly above. “I love you, baby.”

My mother found me.

I can forget about him for a moment.

I can run in the garden.

I can sing with her.

I lost myself in my memory.

I lost myself in my happiness.

He didn’t wait around.

He slowly climbed off me.

The pain between my legs remained.

I heard the camera flash.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t look away.

Every time he brought me back, I went home to my mother.

No matter how hard I try to move on, he will forever haunt me.

You cannot forget someone stealing your innocence. It’s ingrained, tarnishing your body, mind and soul. It is a gruesome reminder that, even though you survived, you will never outlive what happened to you.

You can take a shower and wash it away.

You can swallow medication and fall asleep.

You can smile before others and pretend.

But you can’t erase or evade the demons inside your head.

Removing the bobble from my hair, I eliminated clothes and filled the bath with warm water. I climbed into the tub, laid back and watched the tap flow to the brim.

My eyes closed and sank beneath the surface.

The Monster can’t have me anymore.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Liam

“You see, Arben, I can do this all night.” Dragging on the cigarette, I respired smoke in his battered, bruised face. “I am not going anywhere.”

I tilt my hat to the Albanian. No matter what methodical torture methods he suffered, he will not rat on his boss.

The hunt for Flamur Bajramovic is becoming taxing.

His thirst for Alexa Haines is infuriating.

I wanted him dead and buried. Only then can she be truly safe.

“You are running out of lifelines.” Removing my suit jacket, I rolled up my shirt sleeves to the elbows. “And for what? You think that boss of yours gives a flying fuck about you?”

Nate placed an axe in my hand.

“You think Bajramovic is losing sleep?” Before he responded, I banged the honed blade across his foot, tearing an agonising scream from him. Urine trickled between his hairy thighs. I kicked away his hacked flesh. “I am impressed,” I said, and the men chuckled. “It only took him fifteen minutes to piss his pants.”

Brad adjusted Arben’s shackles and, stretching his arms above, fixed him to the low ceiling until his upright position dangled from chains. “It bastard stinks.” Brad nudged Arben’s naked backside with his shoe. “What the fuck have you been drinking?”

Balanced on one foot, Arben swayed lethargically. His sweat-slicked body was torn to shreds. Raw, serrated lacerations inflamed oozed crimson rivulets. “Pack them,” I commanded, and Nate, snapping on a pair of latex gloves, arranged essentials. “I don’t want him to bleed out just yet.”

Unscrewing a blue bottle, Nate doused Arben’s head and body. Energised by the unexpected pain, he thrashed as burning acid melted his flesh in blistered chunks.

“Please.” Scraggly hair framing his unrecognisable face, Arben whimpered for mercy. “I beg you.”

I stretched leather gloves over my hands. “Begging is for cowards.”

“You looked a little fucked-up, Arben.” Brad booted him in the stomach, the unmerciful blow knowing the wind out of his lungs. “You might want to start talking.”

“Fuck you!” Adrenaline overriding excruciating discomfort, he shook the chains. “Suck on a fucking dick.”

“Arben,” I interjected, flipping open a switchblade. “I don’t appreciate your disrespect toward my men.”

Defeat consumed his pained features. “As I said,” he choked, his chest heaving as he battled for breath. “Suck my fucking dick.”

“You know, when I bring traitors down here, I don’t torture them to get answers because like you,” I pointed the blade at him, “they procrastinate, evade questioning and waste my time. All this live torture?” I gestured around the room, indicating to the men. “It’s for our benefit and entertainment. It’s fun, pleasurable, quite sadistic yet thrilling.” I nicked his thigh with the blade’s sharpest point, and his muscles bunched together. “I don’t hurt, Arben,” I whispered in his ear. “I make people hurt.”

I seized his puny cock in a tight fist, and he squealed. “Please wait! I can help you; I know where he is or where he might be. I can even work for you,” he suggested. “Yes. That’s it. I can get you information—anything you want.”

My hand softened slightly. “Go on.”

“Flamur, he is out of the country. He won’t be back yet.” He licked his cracked, swollen lips. “But he will be back. Yeah, from Tirana, Albania? Umm, two weeks. He will be collecting girls. Do you know? For auction.”

“That is not what I want to hear, Arben. I want you to tell me about his hideouts. I want you to point me in the right direction. It is not demanding.” I regarded the men. “Is it too much to ask?”

Foot soldiers murmured agreements.

“He stores them down in Brixton. So, he will—yes. He will be collecting them from Cainsbury high. Do you know the place? It’s the caretaker’s house. He put them in the basement.”

“You see,” I released his pecker, and he swallowed a lungful of oxygen, “all I am getting from this illogical conversation is that Bajramovic is a twisted motherfucker who has a predilection for underage girls.”

Red-stained spittle dribbled from his lips. “You can free those teenagers. I can help you.”

“We’re a brotherhood,” I explained, and his tired eyes rolled back. “What does The Brotherhood entail, Brad?”

“Loyalty.” He grasped my shoulder. “You swear fealty to Warren and the syndicate.”

“You are disloyal,” I add, carefully dragging the blade along his enticing jawline. “You lack acquiescence and reliability. Why the fuck would I invited Judas into my lair?”

Arben hacked phlegm in my face.

I closed my eyes and counted to three.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Fisting his member, I rammed the blade through his flaccid muscle.

His screams reverberated throughout the chambers as his blood spilt onto my hand. Seizing his jaw, I squeezed his mouth open and, with force, lodged the amputated cock down his throat.

Eyes watering by invasion, Arben choked, trying his utmost to reject the foreign object from his windpipe.

I held my leather-clad hand over his lips to prevent dislodgement. Vomit intermixed with blood splurged through my fingers. His body writhed in restraints. And then I waited, whistling along to the tune echoing from the club’s main dance room. “He is a fighter.”

“I guess he got to suck his own dick in the end.” Brad used a damp cloth to wipe the spit from my face. “I think he’s dead.”

Nate lowered the man’s lifeless body to the ground.

I stepped over the bloodshed. “Get rid of him.”

The man was a waste of my time.

***

Inside the en-suite, I washed my gloves in the sink and set them aside to dry.

While preparing whiskey at the minibar, the door knocked, and I spied Natalie on surveillance. “Come in.”

Natalie entered the office. “I finished for the night, Mr Warren.” Placing tonight’s takings on the desk, she adjusted her bra. “I wanted to ask if you needed anything, before I went home.”

Taking in her minimal attire and sleek blonde hair, I sank onto the sofa. “Lock the door.”

A delighted grin danced on her lips. Deliberately swaying her hips, she locked the office door and stood between my slackened legs. “Where do you want me?”

I craned my neck to look into those blue eyes. “On your knees.”

Falling to her knees before me, she splayed her fingers over my thighs. “I knew you’d come back to me.”

My senses are benumbed. I had to get back to normal. Yet, when I considered other women, I thought about Alexa.

I missed her.

“Mr Warren?” Natalie purred, and I blinked. “I can help.” She climbed onto my lap, her arms enveloping my neck. “Let me help.”

I smelt vanilla.

I touched curves.

No, it felt wrong.

“I can ride,” she moaned in my ear. “I am so horny.”

Downing a shot of whiskey, I clenched the glass. “I’m not feeling it.”

Natalie’s lips parted in shock. “If you let me try—”

“No.” Casting her aside, I moved behind my desk. “Leave.”

“Right.” Storming across the room, she swung the door open. “I am done being your plaything.”

“Likewise.” Refilling the glass, I slumped into the leather chair. “Get back to work.”

Hesitating by the doorway, she asked, “What does she have that I don’t?”

I swirled amber liquid at the bottom of the glass. “Everything.”

Her lips pulled tautly. “I hate you, Warren.” Bitterness iced her tone. “You really are a nasty piece of work.”

“Yeah?” I jerked an insouciant shoulder. “It’s a good job that I don’t care for the opinions of others, huh?”

Her heeled feet echoed down the hall.

“Fuck.” Enraged, I lunged the glass at the wall. It shattered into shards. Lashing out eased the pain in my chest ineffectively. Ripping open the desk drawer, I pulled out the file spilling with updates on Alexa and flicked through pages until I read the details of her new address. Notting Hill. My woman went and got herself a decent apartment.

Stay away, Warren.

Alexa moved on.

Yet, I never left. I am emotionally invested.

She kissed me, though. It was short-lived, but it was still there, that insatiableness between us.

I tossed the file on the desk.

Palming the phone, I typed a message.

Me: I am wrong for doing this, but I can’t stop thinking about you.

What the fuck, Warren?

I deleted the message and typed another.

Me: Are you okay?

Delete.

Me: Can we talk?

I sent the message. It failed.

Dialling her number, I set the phone to my ear. It went straight to her voicemail box. Thumbing through contacts, I clicked on Chloe’s number. Three rings later, the woman spat, “What the hell do you want?”

“Watch it.” Music pounded in the background. “Is Alexa with you?”

“Why would I tell you anything?”

“Goddamnit, Chloe,” I barked, and she piped down. “I want to talk to Alexa. Put her on the phone.”

“I am out with work friends,” she said, then she scolded someone about alcohol spillage. “Alexa is home. No, I will not tell you, our address.”

I hung up on her.

As I already had the address, I tapped directions into the phone and headed outside through the fire door. Ambling down the alleyway, I fished out the car keys, unlocked the Bentley door and dropped behind the steering wheel. Firing the engine, revving on the accelerator, I reversed onto the main road, spun the wheel and, cranking up the music volume, drove to Alexa’s apartment building.

I had no reasonable reason to visit.

Honesty is the best policy, though.

Tonight, I will wear my heart on my sleeve.

Shortly, I pulled up outside the modern building. Killing the engine, I soared from the vehicle and took the concrete steps two at a time.

Cracking open the communal door, I re-checked the address on my phone. I went to the third floor.

Stalling outside of her door, I clicked my knuckles and pounded the brass knocker. “Alexa,” I called, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. “Listen, I know you are in there. I am not here to cause any trouble. I want to talk to you.”

When she ignored me, I dropped back, ready to leave, and knocked over the plant pot, which scattered compost all over the floor. “For fuck’s sake.”

Haphazardly fixing the overturned plant, I re-positioned the pot by the matt and, noticing a slight glimmer on the floor, picked up the spare front door key.

Will she ever learn?

I wiped soil from the key and inserted it into the lock. Welcoming myself into her home, I locked the door behind me and, eyes roaming over the spacious hallway, walked into the living room. “Alexa?” A gleam of light shone from beneath the bathroom door. “I get it. You hate me, and I can hardly blame you. It’s just…” Lost for words, I rubbed my chest. “Hear me out.”

Nothing.

“Alexa?” Silence. “Don’t make me boot the fucking door down.”

I felt a twinge in my chest.

Something was wrong.

Knocking on the door more urgently, I listened to the running water. Whipping out the Eagle, I aimed it at the handle and pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times to disengage the lock. Tucking the gun into the waistband of my trouser, I entered the bathroom. Seeing Alexa’s lifeless body in the bath, I staggered momentarily before flight or fight kicked in. Plunging my arms into ice-cold water, I lifted her body in my arms and laid her across the floor.

“Alexa,” I groaned, her skin cold to touch. “No.” Shaking her shoulders, I put my ear to her mouth, pinched her nose and slanted my mouth over hers, blowing oxygen into her lungs. “Come on.” I repeated the process, compressing her chest with two hands, giving her mouth-t-mouth. “Open your fucking eyes.”

My mouth pressed against her lips, and I heard a gargled sound in the back of her throat. “Fuck.”

I ripped away, and she heaved, splurging water onto her chest. “Good girl.” Turning her body to the side, I rubbed her back while water projected onto the floor. “Get it out.”

Her fingers grappled discarded clothes on the ground. Her round, terrified eyes found mine. “Liam?” she sobbed, her lips chattering. “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“Come here.” Pulling her into my arms, I urged her to face me head-on. “Baby—”

“You don’t get to call me that” Her body trembled from the aftershock. “I don’t want you here,” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You can’t see me like this.”

“I am not leaving.” My hold on her strengthened. “Alexa,” I warned as she wriggled against me, her wet body soaking my clothes. “Stop fighting me!”

Her head jerked back in fear. “Why do you enjoy hurting me so much?”

The pain in her voice felt like a knife to the throat. “No.” My forehead touched hers. “You could have died.”

“I’m weak,” she cried against my lips. “I’m so broken, Liam.”

I held the nape of her neck. “You are not that little girl anymore.”

Alexa’s heartbreak exuded between us. “I can still feel her pain.”

“You are not broken. You are not weak.” Disbelieving my words, she tried to turn from me. You. Do. Not. Hide. You are an empowered woman. You do not need fixing. You are a ruthless survivor who will take on anyone that stands in your way.” My fingers tangled in her hair. “Baby, I need you to say it.”

She avoided my eyes. “I am not weak or broken.”

“Good girl,” I coaxed, carefully wrapping a towel around her body.

“I do not hide. I am an empowered woman.” Her hands hugged my shoulders. “I am a ruthless survivor who will take on anyone that stands in my way.”

“It’s okay to hurt sometimes,” I said, and she blinked back tears. “It’s okay not to be okay, Alexa, but you don’t look for a way out. You fight back every fucking time.” I let those words sink in for a second and then helped her stand. “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Alexa looked at me, long and hard. “You wish to stay here.”

I wanted to be nowhere else. “Do you want me to stay?”

“I am weak for you, Liam.” Her blue-tinted lips meshed together. “You know where I stand. I was honest with you. If how I feel is too much, then walk away because I cannot do it twice.”

“I came back regardless.”

Alexa gripped the towel. “Give me a second,” she said in a panic-stricken voice, fumbling with her room door. “I just need to fix the sheets.”

“I am not bothered by the sheets—” She slammed the door in my face. “Alexa?”

Moments later, the door flew open. Dressed in an oversized T-shirt, she stepped aside and offered me inside. “Get in before Chloe comes home. She will freak out.”

I walked into the bedroom.

Alexa lingered by the bed.

“It is bigger.” Removing my suit jacket, I draped it over the velvet tub chair. “Your bed, I mean.”

“Well, I got used to the king-size bed at your place…” Drawing the curtains, she sat on the upholstered ottoman to pull socks to the knees. “It was a bargain.”

Giving her a meaningful look, I began to undress. “What happened?”

Her head shook. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

I paused for a moment. “You tried to kill yourself. It’s not something to disregard.”

“I can’t do this tonight.” Her sad eyes found mine across the bedroom. “Please, Liam—” Her front door opened. “Shit.”

“Alexa?” Chloe slurred in the hallway. “Are you awake? I bought noodles.”

She tugged to the window. “Hide.”

“What?” I scowled. “I am not hiding.”

“Liam,” she whisper-shouts. “Please, for me. I am not in the mood to deal with Chloe’s lecture tonight.”

“Fine.” I yanked the curtain in front of me. “Happy?”

“Alexa?” The bedroom door crashed into the wall. “Good. You are awake. You will never guess who called me.”

Fucking snitch.

“Warren,” she said theatrically. “He was looking for you.”

“Really?” Alexa sounded nervous. “Well, that’s mad.”

A long pause. “Aren’t you going to ask more questions?”

“Why would I?”

“Seriously? You cried, like, every night over that prick. I figured you’d want updates.”

Regret tugged on my heartstrings.

“No, I am tired. Can we talk in the morning?”

“You don’t want noodles?”

“No. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Okay.” Chloe retreated. “I have work in the morning. I will give you a text around lunchtime.”

“Goodnight, Chloe.”

“Night, Hon.”

Even when the door locked, I stayed behind the curtain.

Alexa parted the material to look at me. “Please expunge the entire conversation.”

My hands slipped around Alexa’s neck. I kissed her, flicking my tongue into her mouth. Her palms slid up my chest and rested on my bare shoulders. Snaking an arm around her waist, I tugged her in and deepened the kiss, having missed the taste of her. “For what it’s worth,” I whispered into her mouth. “I thought about you, too.”

Her eyelashes fluttered open. “I cannot handle another heartbreak.”

Nodding, I brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Do you want to know a secret?”

Against tonight’s traumatic events, her lips stretched into a pleased smile. “Yes.”

I stared deep into her eyes. “Nothing scares me more than you.”

She touched my chest, and my heart palpitated. “You fear nothing.”

Licking my suddenly dry lips, I rasped, “I fear losing you.”

Her breath stuttered. “We should sleep.”

Interlacing our fingers, I emerged from behind the curtain, turned off the light and, flipping the duvet back, dragged Alexa into bed. In my arms, she fell, her head nestled on my chest. Inhaling her wet hair, I kept her close, protected.

I had to make some hard decisions. If I stayed with her, I risked losing her to adversaries. But If I let her go, I will wonder about us for the rest of my life.

Am I selfish enough to gamble?

CHAPTER THIRTy-SEVEN

Alexa

The early morning sunlight filtered through the window voiles. I squinted an eye open, and the second one followed, last night’s hellacious behaviour suffocating my chest. Imbued with dreaded regret and embarrassment, I exhaled a shuddered breath, turned my head to the side and, with a delayed reaction, noticed a large figure sprawled on the bed beside me.

Liam Warren is in my bed.

His arm draped around my midsection protectively, his muscular back misted in clammy perspiration.

The double bed looked extremely small and uncomfortably unaccommodating for this man. He is far too big, too tall. His feet hung off the end. Tousled hair irritated his soft, lidded eyes. His full lips separated on almost imperceptible breaths.

I am in love with him.

Raking a hand through my unruly hair, I gingerly lifted his lifeless arm off my stomach and slipped out of bed, trying not to disturb him. I checked the time on my phone: ten a.m. It’s late. In Liam’s universe, he is expected at Club 11. He should be with the men. But he is not at work. He is here with me. He spent the entire night with me.

Last night’s meltdown crashed around me. “Shit.”

To the bathroom, I went to relieve the bladder. I washed my hands in the basin, squirted toothpaste on the toothbrush and scrutinised my reflection in the mirror. Mortified by my bedraggled appearance, I fussed with my hair. I don’t want him to see me like this—

“Hey.” Liam’s throaty morning voice husked from the doorway, and I bristled. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

I captured his eyes in the mirror. He put a shoulder to the doorframe, his hands moving south absentmindedly, relaxing over the bulge beneath the waistband of his black boxer briefs. His chiselled abdomen and glorious V-line tempted my eyes to wander in forbidden areas. Vigilantly brushing my teeth to avoid paste dribbling down my chin, I tell him, “I only just got up.”

Liam moved to the toilet and, unabashed, urinated. Scratching his bare chest, he looked at the ceiling, and, oddly, I was transfixed by his vulnerability. He looked carefree and relaxed in my home. Plus, it’s not often I see him untailored, unarmed and unguarded. Him, kicking back, not caring about his appearance, was not normal.

Pulling the flush, he washed his hands in the sink. “Do you have a spare?” Opening the wall-mounted cabinet, helping himself to a packaged toothbrush, he broke the seal, added paste to his brush and brushed his teeth. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” I mumbled over bristles, waiting for him to retreat before spitting the minty ambush out of my mouth.

Someone replaced the front door—and the bathroom one. “Did you do that?” I asked, returning to the bedroom. “The doors, I mean.”

Liam checked the time on my phone. “I had the men over earlier.” Fisting the front of my T-shirt, he forced me to straddle his thighs. His fingers crept under the oversized material to get a handful of my arse. “Are you okay?”

His casualness confounded me. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the club?”

“Later.” He fell onto his back, bringing me with him. “I wanted to spend the day with you.”

“You want to spend the day—with me,” I repeated, eyeing him sceptically. “Why?” Demeaning understanding dawned on me. “No, don’t pretend you care or feel sorry for me, Liam. I am not a liability; I am not suicidal.” I tried to climb off him, but his hold on me tightened. “I don’t need twenty-four-hour surveillance because you think I might try and top myself again. It was a moment of weakness.”

“Shut up.” His hand curled around my throat, drawing me close. “You like putting words in my goddamn mouth. I am here for you,” he emphasised, his rough, resolute voice scattering horripilation across my warm skin. “Yes, I am concerned. I want to know why you lashed out last night.” He abruptly rolled me beneath him, his hips nudging my thighs apart so that he could settle between them. “I know you,” he whispered against my lips. “Something happened. You only lose yourself when triggered.”

Again, he rendered me speechless.

“Your friend left early for work.” His hand applied pressure to my throat. “Do not panic. Chloe did not see me.” Our lips brushed. “I have you all to myself.”

I outlined his features with curious eyes. “What’s happening? Why are you here, Liam? In fact, why did you come over yesterday?” I prattled question after question. “How did you know…?”

“I knew nothing,” he said angrily. “I swung by to see you. What does it matter? Do you wish I hadn’t? Do you wish I had walked away and let you achieve?”

My blood boiled. “I told you, I am not suicidal—”

“No, you simply tried to drown yourself for sport,” he spat, collapsing onto the mattress beside me. “Fucking hell.”

My heart wedged in my chest. “I am embarrassed,” I admitted, chewing my thumbnail. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

Liam propped onto one elbow and splayed a hand across my stomach. His eyes avoided mine. “I am an envied and despised man by many,” he said, his fingertips tracing my navel. “Whoever amalgamates with me immediately has a target on their back. Since establishing the syndicate, I have lost many men over the years.”

He was opening up. “Liam…”

“I swore to myself a long time ago that women were nothing but a means to an end.” His eyes sought mine. “I don’t need a weakness, Alexa.” My breath held. “It’s life-threatening. We discussed this already, haven’t we?”

I was unable to control full-blown hypertension. I didn’t need vocalised confirmation. He bore his adoration in those deep-set eyes, no matter how much he tried to deny it. “Do you admit that you might care about me?”

He gave me a pointed look. “You know, I do.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Well, you have a funny way of showing it, Liam. Do you expect me to believe I’m special? You ditched Christmas arrangements to be with Cherry.”

“I never touched her.” He seemed repulsed by the accusation. “I do, however, want to touch you.”

“Liam,” I warned, shoving his chest as he climbed over me. “I am not sleeping with you.”

His confident smirk irked me. “Are you sure?” He cupped me between the thighs, pressing the heel of his hand against my sex. “I can make it good for you.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” I breathed through my nose. “You skirt around it to avoid giving me straight answers.”

His lips taunted the shell of my ear. “What was the question?”

I tilted my head, looking deep into his eyes. “Why are you here?”

He pondered briefly. “I missed you.”

My lungs inflated. I wanted to believe him.

Liam removed my T-shirt, his lust-filled gaze settling on my breasts. “Keeping you is wrong,” he said, taking one small mound in his callous hand, his thumb stimulating my nipple. “Keeping you is dangerous.” He dipped his head, twirling his tongue around my pebbled peak, and sucked me into his mouth. “But I didn’t get through life being a moral citizen.” Pushing down on my inner thighs, he opened me up to him and dropped his scrutiny to my exposed pussy. “I am selfish, demanding, unquenchably avaricious.” His head disappeared between my thighs, and when his tongue flattened against my clit, I buckled for him. “And I always get what I want.”

A strained moan fell from my lips. “Liam.” Reaching for his head, I tangled my fingers through his hair. “Shit.”

His wicked tongue strokes coaxed erotic moans from me. Devouring me with thorough determination, he suckled hard, easing two fingers inside to locate my G-spot. He found it, knuckled-deep, and pumped in and out. His tongue licked and caressed, and his mouth suctioned the nub, building me up to orgasm. It slammed into me like a freight train. My walls milked his fingers as I combusted against his mouth. “Liam.” His unrelenting mouth prolonged the climactic torture. “Oh, God.”

“No.” He withdrew his hand, sucked my arousal from his fingers and hummed in approval. “Liam Warren.”

“Alright, lothario.” Admiring his bulge, I bit down on my bottom lip. “I might need you after all.”

He gave me a short, caustic laugh. “I thought you didn’t want sex.” His hands braced on either side of my head, and his gaze toured my features. “You are fucking beautiful.”

My heart palpitated.

I longed to tell Liam how much I loved him.

Call me insane, foolish, unreasonable and delusional, but I missed him so much. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr Warren.”

My intended lasciviousness earned me an amused smirk. “Come back to the club,” he mused, and my affectionate smile disappeared. “You don’t need to labour at the Coffee House, pouring coffees for a pittance.”

Of course, he knows where I work. “I am happy there, Liam.” I love Grayson, Jace is a potential friend, but I would much rather operate alongside Josh. In saying that, I no longer have faith in Liam, not enough to go back, anyway.

What happened tomorrow or the next day?

His indecisiveness did a number on my heart.

No, I hold the power cards.

I am self-sufficient and independent.

I did not need Club 11.

He palmed my cheek. “What is that look?”

I frowned. “What look?”

“I can see those wheels turning inside your head.” His fingers combed through my hair. “Get it out.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “What are we doing?”

“We’re testing the waters,” he said, and my eyes rolled. “Don’t overcomplicate us, Alexa. I want to see how things go.”

I decided to play him at his own game. “No.”

“No?” he prompted, and I held my tongue. “You would deny me.”

I did not blink. “Yes, actually.”

“Is there someone else?” he asked genuinely, and I had to suck my upper lip to prevent laughter. “Well?”

“I mean, there have been so many—” His teeth sank into my shoulder. “Liam!” I smacked his arse. “That hurt.”

“What man?” he asked, his seriousness replacing fake humour.

Intentionally goading the overbearing caveman, I pretended to jog my memory. “Oh, well, there was the guy I met at the…” His piercing blue eyes smouldered with intense enrage and nonsensical jealousy. “I am kidding,” I whispered. “Nobody sees me but you, Liam.”

“Bullshit,” he rasped. “You turn heads when entering a room.”

My head lifted to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Baby, don’t tease me with other men unless you are prepared to sign their death certificate.” The muscles in his shoulder were rigid. “Got it?”

I caught my breath as he rolled off me.

Liam stood by the bed, adjusting his boxer briefs. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.” He picked up his discarded suit. “And then I want you to get ready for tonight.”

“Where are we going?” Yawning, I climbed off the bed and stretched. “Can we leave serious conversations at the door for one day? I like this dream. I don’t want to wake up.”

Liam glanced out the window while tugging on his trousers. “It’s about your sister.”

I became guarded. “What about her?”

Opening the window entirely, he popped a cigarette between his lips and fired the end. “Tell me how you escaped that night.”

“I told you. Kathy found me.” My brows incurved. “I couldn’t tell you what day or time it was. I knew it was late because it was dark outside. Our only way to flee the compound was to swim.” Recalling the ice-cold water, I rubbed my arms. “Our sodden clothes had dried by the time we reached the motorway. It was like breathing for the first time.”

Liam flicked the cigarette out of the window. “Police records suggested that Kathy remembered nothing,” he said, and I stepped back. “But you did.”

“You don’t know who took us or who held us captive.”

“Why?” I asked, not wanting to lie. “They will help us.”

Kathy sniffled in my ear. “I don’t want him to get mad.”

“I don’t know what she told them.” I built an impenetrable wall between us. “It was a long time ago.”

He analysed me closely. “Why did Kathy try and kill you that night?”

“I think she was under the influence.” Opening the bedside drawer, I selected a folded T-shirt. “You probably know more about her condition than I do, so you tell me.”

“Heroin and crack,” he divulged, and I felt sick to my stomach. “Cocaine, Molly. Take your pick. She was into some pretty heavy shit.”

My heart thudded. “I underestimated how much our past traumatised and affected her.”

“Do not simplify or downplay Kathy’s egregious intentions.” He grasped my chin. “It will not protect your perspective, Alexa.”

I yanked the cotton T-shirt over my head. “Part of me believes if I don’t admit what she did aloud, then it’s not true.”

Liam sighed.

“Flamur authorised our escape,” I admitted, and he shot me a double-take. “Kathy didn’t save me. She wanted to get me away from him.”

He was speechless.

“I will never truly understand her reasoning or motive—only she had the power to explain and fill in the blanks—but it’s evident she fell in love with our captor and convinced herself I was a threat.

“I guess, in some way, she was right. He was fond of me. I was his favourite.

“What I cannot fathom, though, is how I didn’t see it. Not once, over the years, did I feel threatened by Kathy. In my eyes, she was harmless.”

“Until the night she reappeared?”

Or when she chased me down in the street. “Yes.” His unmoved demeanour stunned me. “You are not surprised.”

“No, I am privy to Kathy’s affair with Bajramovic. In fact, that’s why I wanted to address it with you.” His knuckles grazed my cheek. “I felt you had the right to know, but it seems you’re more switched on than I realised. I do, however, have another question. Why did you keep Kathy’s malevolence from me?”

“As I said, I didn’t want to believe her cruelty festered from jealousy. My big sister chose a monster over me.” Lowering to one knee, I retrieved the diary from under the bed. “After speaking to…” Josh, I thought, flickering through pages. “I found Kathy’s journal.”

Liam took the leather-worn diary. “Have you read all this?” His eyes roved the untidy passages. “Baby?”

“Almost.” My arms folded. “It’s hard to read.”

“It’s not true.” He pointed to the paragraph. “I never spent the night with her.” Turning the page, he skimmed the next entry. “She wanted you to read this.”

My frown held. “How can you be so sure?”

“Why else did she fabricate our relationship?” His ringed fingers paused on the page. “All this,” he gesticulated angrily, “is to upset you.”

I disagreed. “Kathy was incapable of foreseeing our encounter, Liam.”

“Really?” He pushed. “Why did you come to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You deliberately sought my attention,” he reminded me. “Formulate assumptions by yourself, did you? Or were you led to believe I was the answer to all your prayers?”

I was tongue-tied.

“Your bitch of a sister knew you’d come after me to find her,” he said the unthinkable. “Kathy hoped I’d kill you.”

A sudden chill trickled down my spine. It was on the tip of my tongue to argue, but deep down, I knew he was right. “Liam—hey,” I called as he stormed out of the bedroom. “Where are you going?” I followed him down the hallway. “Liam?”

Liam unlocked the front door and ascended the stairwell.

I chased him into the communal garden. “What are you doing?” He matched a flame and dumped it in the steel bin. “Liam?” When he tore pages from the diary and chucked them into the licking flames, I saw red. “Liam! You cannot do that. It belongs to my sister—”

“Belonged,” he corrected, watching the crackling pages burn in the makeshift incinerator. “Kathy is dead and never coming back. You don’t need insight on her fucked-up outlook.”

I staggered beside him, the time-worn pages melting before my eyes. “You had no right—” He snagged my elbow, dragging me back toward the building. “Liam, let go of me!” I wriggled against him, but he overpowered me, elevating my feet off the ground and hauling me into the flat. “I didn’t want you to do that! I never finished reading—” His mouth claimed mine, something he does to shut me up. “Liam,” I whimpered, hearing the front door slam behind us. “Erasing memories is impossible. I love her regardless.”

Inside my bedroom, he backed me up against the wall. “Let it go.” His lips caressed mine as he blindly rummaged through the wardrobe. “I like this one.” Ripping the price tag off with his teeth, he handed over the red satin mini dress. “Grab a shower and get ready so that I can take you out.”

There is no reasoning with this man. “Where are you taking me?”

“I’m going to feed you,” he said, and I swear there was a hint of suggestiveness in his smooth voice.

“Isn’t this dress a little short for a restaurant? I bought that to go clubbing.”

Giving me a wolfish smirk, he pulled on the white shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. “You’re wearing it for me.”

I fumbled with the red dress. “About last night,” I said warily. “You were right. I was triggered.”

Liam looked pleased that I confided in him. “Go on.”

“I found a box on the mat.” Opening the drawer to my bedside table, I held the envelope to my chest somewhat guardedly. “Liam, I am humiliated by these photos. I want to show you because I think they might help you locate Flamur. But please, if you can help it, overlook the sickening content.”

He took the polaroid photos out of the envelope. If they repulsed him, he didn’t show it. “Do you trust me with these?” he asked, and I belatedly noticed the whiteness of his knuckles. “The background is useful. However, I will need the men on board.”

I nodded.

“You were a child.” Putting the photos away, he placed a hand over his mouth. “When I kill him—because I will kill him—know that I do it for you.” His eyes briefly closed. “You are an incredible woman, Miss Haines.” He kissed the crease between my brows. “If only you could see what I see.”

I held his hand and swept my thumb over his knuckles. “Shall I meet you at the club?”

“No, I will pick you up in three hours.” He finished getting dressed, tucking the envelope in his pocket. “Wear the dress.”

Liam left the building.

I was still smiling hours later.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Liam

I showered, changed into a tailored three-piece bespoke suit ready for my date with Alexa this evening and joined the men around the polished mahogany conference table alongside our two guests, Chief Superintendent Reginald Burton and Gregory Millan. Greg specialised in exquisite jewellery. He is a qualified gemologist, goldsmith, watchmaker, engraver, diamond settler and the syndicate’s most trusted service provider. He is almost eighty years old and relied on a wooden cane for mobility, yet the geezer, who tiresomely straggled, perambulated everywhere.

“Warren.” Greg unravelled black velvet from the invariable chain batch. “A hundred as ordered.” His finger lifted the white gold diamond-cut rope chain, the scintillating military tag exhibiting its engraved cut. “I assume you hired new men.”

“The boss is always on the prowl,” Nate drawled, relaxing in the leather chair. “It’s part and parcel of the job—recruit, replace.”

“You-win-some-you-lose-some.” Brad conveyed the agglomeration of chains, customised rings and diamond Cuban link bracelets to me. He presented them on the table. “It’s as simple as that.”

“Lately, you have requested my services a lot lately, Warren.” Reginald puffed a fat cigar, clouding himself in thick smog. “What can I do for you?”

“Flamur Bajramovic. What’s taking so long?”

“I chased up leads.” Reginald glanced at Nate. “Your email claimed Mr Bajramovic returned to Albania, but there is no evidence to prove he boarded a flight. I have every reason to suspect he is still in London.”

I removed the polaroid images from my inner suit jacket and alternately slid them down the table. “What can you see?”

Alexa panicked last night. I almost entered her bedroom, but she slammed the door in my face. Hurried movements ensued. She faced me moments later, her frame buried in an oversized T-shirt, and stepped aside for me to spend the night. I sensed something was wrong. At the time, I assumed clothes were on the floor, or the bed was unmade, and then, while doffing the suit, I noted the bedside table’s agape drawer. I knew she hid something in that drawer. If she didn’t open up, I planned to check for myself. But she surprised me. Rather than prying, she willingly spoke about the images and gave me permission to use them.

“Fuck no.” Nate tossed the photo aside. “It makes your skin crawl.” He glowered at the men. “I’m a lot of things, but you don’t fuck with no kids, man.”

The unspeakable, stomach-churning images from Alexa’s childhood evoked unpleasant memories for Nate. After all, his sister was the product of child molestation.

Reginald fixed his gold-framed bifocals. “How did you get these?”

“I believe Bajramovic sent them to Alexa,” I mumbled, lighting the end of a cigarette.

“I was one of the detectives leading the Haines case,” Reginald informed me, and my interest piqued. “I had a feeling they weren’t quite honest with us back then. The older sister, in particular, was unforthcoming.” He overturned the images. “To this day, I will never understand their reasoning.”

“Kathy grew fond of their childhood captor. She told Alexa to keep her mouth shut prior to investigative interviewing. Alexa’s disclination to talk is understandable. She was still a child. She didn’t know any better.”

“I believe Alexa wanted justice,” Reginald said, taking a generous sip of bourbon. “She failed to remember major incidents. Psychiatrists determined psychological trauma or some element of dissociative amnesia.”

Nate’s eyebrows met in a puzzled frown. “Alexa recalled nothing?”

“Aspects,” he retorted, the cigar pinched between two ring-lined fingers. “Alexa told us where she slept, what she ate and what insects crawled the walls. She could not, however, give me names, descriptions or timeframes. Even identifying characteristics was practically impossible for her.”

Gregory’s nose turned up at the polaroid’s. “I am just a goldsmith,” he croaked, wrinkle lines cinching his eyes. “This is not my forte.”

I hand gestured toward the door. “You are free to leave.”

He rose from his seat, his delicate hand clinging to the wooden cane handle as he wobbled into stance. “Your final purchase.” He placed a small black leather box beside the military chains and grasped my shoulder, his translucent skin freckled in solar lentigines. “Is she special?” His voice was thick and hoarse as he spoke. “Will I design more for this woman in the future?”

Brad eyed the box with intense suspicion. “Who?”

“None of your fucking business.” I snatched the box before he got any ideas, tucking it in my trouser pocket. “Why are you sitting there looking at me? Pick up the pictures and do your job.”

His jaw muscles ticked. “I am not interested in staring at a kid pleasuring a fucking paedophile.”

Greg squeezed my shoulder. “Until the next time, Warren.” He tipped his chequered cap to the others and exited the room with two security members assisting his departure.

“On the evidence,” I exhibited an image, “forgo the captured intention and examine the background. In this one, you can see a backdrop through the window: greenery, woodlands, an archaic-looking Anderson shelter.” I selected another. “In the kitchen, on the table: foreign alcohol, card decks, takeaway containers.”

Brad snatched the image. “Personalised emblems.” He pointed to the playing cards. “These belong to a club.”

Nate came to Brad’s side. He slipped on black-framed glasses. “I recognise that logo. There is a small pub down in Brixton with an organised hate club. Racist assholes.”

“Yes.” Reginald snubbed the cigar in the ashtray. “Speculative white supremacist hate group, advocating extremist reactionary positions, Nordicism and anti-immigration.”

I shot him a deathly glare. “Why hasn’t Crown Prosecution punished them for Hate Crime?”

“An alleged secret,” he used air quotes, “society, Warren. You cannot take them to trial with lack of evidence.”

I exhaled smoke and outed the cigarette. “Are you familiar with the residential caretakers within the vicinity of Brixton, predominantly Cainsbury Highschool? And has there been a high level of missing persons recently?”

Reginald thought for a moment. “Yes, to both.”

“The caretaker patrolling Cainsbury is an accessory narcissist. Allegedly, he is Bajramovic’s partner in crime. I offer unfounded hearsay, but if you submit an affidavit to the high courts and convince the judge to serve a warrant, you will likely uncover victims of human trafficking.” I stood, adjusting my cufflinks. “The odds are stacked against you, though. I hear the Albanians plan to smuggle those young girls to Tirana for auction.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken it upon yourself to act, Warren.”

“I am a busy man.” My brow curved. “Thank me for the advanced warning and be on your way.”

“Thank you, Warren.” Reginald headed for the door. “A pleasure as always.”

I waited until Reginald was out of sight. “I have a date this evening,” I informed the men, and both pinned me with questioning glints in their contrasting eyes. “I want you to find the white supremacist group and ask questions. Find out what the connection is between them and Bajramovic. Who knows? The Albanian might be squatting in the cellar, so turn the place upside down.”

Nate stared at me. “Have you forgotten that I’m mixed-race?”

“Since when did you care for welcoming privileges?” I goaded his inner demons. “You make sure those racist motherfuckers bend down and kiss your goddamn boot before you burn that hellhole to the fucking ground.”

***

I parked the Bentley opposite Alexa’s tenant building. In true date fashion, I went to her front door, knocked, and waited for her to grace me with her appearance. Of course, the unpunctual woman took her time. I glimpsed the Patek Philippe wristwatch, blew out an aggravated sigh and leaned onto the bannister.

“Just a second.” Banging echoed inside the flat before she appeared in the doorway. “Hey,” she said in unrestrained excitement. “You are here.” Her face scrunched up. “I mean, you look good.”

Alexa took my breath away. Red satin hugged her figure. Six-inch heels braced her elegance. Her long, dark hair, straightened rather than natural curls, slicked down her back. I openly marvelled at her legs, the thin straps and the plunging neckline and captured her eyes for a long, heated exchange.

My Adam’s apple shifted.

I twirled the red rose’s thornless stem between pinched fingers. “Miss Haines,” I rasped, and, in three strides, I towered above her. “You look ravishing.”

Unable to wait until later, I leaned in and kissed the corner of her red-painted lips. Her eyelashes closed in rapture. Yet, I never veered my gaze from her beautiful face.

Alexa’s countenance was puce from bashfulness. “Where are we going?” she asked while accepting the rose. “Maybe I should grab a jacket.”

“No need.” Our fingers weaved together. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I haven’t eaten all day,” she lied, and I bellied amusement. “Okay, maybe I ate a little.”

Alexa was nervous, so her garrulousness prolonged as I escorted her to the parked Bentley. Taking someone on a date is unprecedented. I had to deliver. I had to get it right. In a gentleman manner, I unlocked the passenger side door and, brushing my thumb across her knuckles, helped her become seated. “Thank you,” she said, tugging the seatbelt in place.

I shut the door and hesitated.

You got this, Warren.

I collapsed behind the steering wheel, fired the engine and pulled away from the curbside. Silence suffocated the air between us. I relaxed against the leather seat to get comfortable. The rose laid across the thighs. Idly switching gears as I drove down the main road, I lowered my left hand to her leg and felt goosebumps beneath my palm.

Alexa side-eyed me, and then, meekly, her hand covered mine.

Fifteen minutes later, I veered the Bentley toward the skyscraper and parked underground. I had enough money to accompany Alexa to five-star restaurants for fine dining, yet I selected the penthouse for romantic exclusivity.

Her eyes toured the concrete vastness. “Did you forget something?”

“No,” I said, and we soared from the car in unison. “This is where I’m taking you.” If she was dissatisfied with dinner plans, she did not show it. “Are you disappointed?”

Alexa inhaled the rosebud. “No, I’m fine.”

We went to the majestic foyer and waited for the elevator. When the steel doors separated, Alexa entered first. I swiped the key card, pressed the penthouse button and stared at her reflection in the all-encompassing mirror as we ascended.

Pete, the hired French chef, awaited our arrival. Alexa left the clutch purse and rose on the marble kitchen counter, an unasked question in her eyes. “Pete, I would like to introduce my date for this evening,” I said, and the man, labouring away at the stove, kissed his fingertips. “Alexa.”

“Hello, Pete,” she said politely, and I stifled merriment. “Your cooking smells wonderful.”

“Mademoiselle.” Pete hurried toward her with a wooden spoon. “You must taste the soup.”

Alexa is ready to decline. “I can wait—” He lodged the broth into her mouth, and she gave him a thumbs up. “Wonderful. Thank you.”

Pete had a white and gold embroidered apron tied around his waist. His scraggly grey hair stuck out from beneath the cloth-knot wrapped around his head. “Do you have any allergies?”

Alexa shook her head. “No—”

“Good.” He returned to his station. “I do not cater to fuss pots.” The man’s eccentricities dumbfounded the woman. “I will prepare shortly, Mr Warren.”

“Take your time.” I placed a hand on Alexa’s lower back and coaxed her to the balcony. “We will dine outside.”

A bistro table sheathed in white silk, silverware and rose petals sat against London’s picturesqueness at night. Pre-lit candles flickered from the antique candelabra and champagne-on-ice finalised the romantic ambience.

“Liam, it is perfect.” Alexa sat down. “I love it. Thank you.”

I popped the champagne cork and poured effervescence into tall glass flutes. “For you.” I proffered the glass. Her fingers curled around the delicate stem. “Brad might have helped.”

Alexa smiled. “I suspected as much.”

I feigned offence. “Do you think I am incapable?”

“Well, I cannot imagine you running errands.”

Touché. I found her leg under the table, lifted her heeled foot to my thigh and thumbed her ankle. I am inexperienced in the dating department. “It’s taking a lot of restraint for me not to fuck you on this table.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “And ruin the dinner setting.”

“Fuck the china plates.” There was a touch of playfulness in my rough voice. “I want you bent over so that I can brand that arse of yours.”

“I am not ready to sleep with you again.”

“You keep saying that.” I unclasped the strap of her heel. “But I can sense your desire from here.”

Alexa downed champagne in one gulp to quench thirst. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You deliberately excluded underwear,” I pointed out, having caught a glimpse in the materials side-slit earlier. “Why?”

“A woman forgoing lace is not a sexual indication, Liam.”

I unclasped her other shoe beneath the table. “Tell me, if I put my fingers between your thighs, will I find a soaked cunt?”

“Liam.” Alexa turned beet-red. “Why are you so crass? No,” she lied, yet I wanted those lascivious innuendos to become a reality. “I am dryer than a nun.”

I smirked wolfishly. “You can’t lie to me, Alexa.”

She busted out laughing.

My smirk fell. “Why are you laughing?”

Alexa down on my lower lip. “I just am, Liam.”

Pete presented our first course. “French-onion-soup.” He set portioned bowls onto the table. “Enjoy.”

I watched Alexa spoon the garnish aside to taste the rich, tenderised caramelised onions. “This is delicious,” she said with a soft moan.

“Wait until you taste the dessert,” I said in a calm but suggestive voice. My flirtatiousness had the opposite effect. Her grey countenance reflected uneasiness. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her shoulders raised on an inhalation. “So,” she changed the subject, “you know everything about me, Liam. Isn’t it high time you opened up about yourself?”

“What do you want to know?” My shoulders squared as an automatic defence mechanism. “I am a businessman.”

“A career criminal,” she added, and I shrugged smugly. “Liam, I am familiar with your lifestyle and business ventures.”

I refilled our glasses.

“What of personal stuff, though?” she asked somewhat timidly. “What’s your history? Where did you grow up? Are your parents around? Are there any siblings?”

I gave her a scathing glare. “No.”

Alexa blinked owlishly. “Oh, okay. Did you—”

“No.” I set the unfinished soup aside.

“Okay.” Her nose wrinkled. “Well, what about when you were—”

My blood boiled. “No.”

“Jesus Christ, Liam,” she groused. “If you don’t want to tell me anything? That’s fine. Why must you be so rude?”

“I’m not rude, Alexa, but I don’t care to talk about my past.”

Pete exchanged the soup bowls for our second course. “Coq Au Vin.”

Alexa chewed her inner cheek. “It’s a little unfair, don’t you think? You know everything about me.”

“I’m not a fucking Martyr,” I said in frustration. “Drop it, Alexa.”

“What are you saying, Liam?” Her nostrils flared. “That I’m a Martyr.”

“What?” I cursed under my breath. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Really?” Her leg withdrew from my thigh. “You insinuated as much.”

Pete poked his head outside. “Would you like your desserts, Mr Warren?”

“You’re dismissed,” I responded, and then, after a slight pause, I glanced at the infuriated woman. “I grew up in the system. I don’t know my father.” I avoided her curious stare. “I do not remember my mother. By all accounts, she was a heroin junkie—a prostitute. I recall someone mentioning that she died before social services intervened and took me into care.” Bleakness greyed memories. “I bounced from pillar-to-post for a while, or until I knew better.”

Alexa struggled to read between the lines. “Where are your adoptive parents?”

“Which ones?” I asked as innumerable faces flashed behind my eyelids. “I learnt to fend for myself at a young age.”

“How many foster parents were there?” she probed, and I glared at her over the rim of the champagne glass. “You speak as though there were many.”

I remained passive while we spoke. “I lost count.”

Alexa looked emotionally shattered. Devastated by what I had shared, she finished the splash of champagne in her flute and battled the urge to comfort me.

I slumped in the chair. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” She paled at the harshness in my tone. “I am not doing anything.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I tossed the fork onto the table. “I don’t need or want your pity, Alexa.”

“You know what?” Flinging the napkin onto the plate, she stood abruptly and stormed indoors. “I am calling it a night.”

For fuck’s sake. “Wait,” I called, the legs of the chair grating across the floor as I stood. “Alexa.”

I stormed into the penthouse. Alexa’s almost at the front door. Her bare feet slapped on the marble floor, having left her shoes on the balcony.

“Wait,” I said, desperate for her to hear me out, to give me a fighting chance. “I am trying.” She paused by the door, her back to me. “I will fuck up more often than not. I will infuriate you. I will frustrate you. I will break your heart.” Her eyes met mine from across the room. “But I want to be a better man for you.”

Alexa’s back leaned on the closed door. “I am worth more than a man who terrifies me.”

I am falling for this woman.

When I look at her, it feels like my heart is under attack. “I am not a threat to you.”

My eyes invited her nearness.

Alexa pushed away from the door. Both stood on either side of the granite island, her fingers splayed on the stonework counter. “Shall we start again?”

I gave her a curt nod.

Mischievousness layered her smile. “Ask me.”

“Alexa, I would appreciate it if you stayed.” My hands thrust into my trouser pockets. “Will you? Stay here with me, I mean.”

“Yes.” Her breath rushed out. “Only because you asked nicely.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Liam

I blew out the candles on the balcony, scraped leftovers in the bin, filled the dishwasher with dirty plates and opened a bottle of white wine.

Alexa occupied the living quarters. She admired the glass unit showcasing vinyl covers and stored memorabilia from my youthful years. “You have a big collection,” she said, reading thin spines. “Madness?”

“Brad’s favourite.” I handed her the wine glass. “Alongside Dexys Midnight Runners and The Proclaimers. He tends to invade my life.”

She smiled fondly. “Does Brad live with you? He spent a lot of time…” When she lived here, I mentally finished. “In the guestroom.”

“No, Brad has a place to call his own. Although, he might as well live here because he never bastard sleeps there.”

Alexa selected a case and ran her finger over the small print. “I never pegged you as an Il Divo fan.”

“What gave you that impression?” Removing the disc from the sleeve, I set it onto the old-fashioned turntable. “At what point is a man allowed to appreciate classical music without judgment? Or any music, for that matter.”

She sipped wine. “I suppose.”

“Isabel is my favourite.” I watched her watching the disc rotate, and when Carlos Marin’s baritone voice hit its pinnacle, goosebumps bespattered her arms.

Alexa’s surprised by the instrumentals and powerful vocals. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes.” I meant her. I lifted the needle, returned the vinyl to its case. “Come.” Draping my suit jacket on the back of the stool, I went to the kitchen. “Sit so that I can feed you.”

“I think I have eaten enough for one night.” Climbing onto the high stool, she placed her glass on the slate coaster. “I love this feature.” Her investigatory fingers touched the marble counter. “You can’t swing a cat in my kitchen.”

I unbuttoned my shirt sleeves, rolled them up to sit casually at the elbows and extracted the dessert from the American style fridge. “I have quite possibly sampled every dessert under the sun.” I unwrapped the plastic packaging. “But nothing beats Tesco profiteroles.” Putting the chocolate pot in the microwave, I set the minutes. “What is your favourite?”

Alexa chewed the corner of her lip. “Lemon sorbet.”

My eyes rolled. “So basically, anything that resembles ice cream.”

She flashed me a knowing grin. “Basically.”

“Easily pleased.” Taking the container from the microwave, I drizzled melted chocolate sauce over our dish. “For you.”

Her eyes widened with dramatic glee. Rubbing her hands together, she inspected each cream-filled ball. “I hope we’re sharing.”

“They are one of the same,” I joshed, yet she selected the smallest. “I should imagine they equally taste satisfying.”

“Aren’t you eating some?” she asked, sucking cream from her thumb.

I poured Jameson into a crystal glass. “Maybe later.”

“You wish to fatten me up,” she joked, biting into another choux pastry shell. “I know there is a hidden agenda, Mr Warren. You want some meat on my bony arse, right?”

Fuck, I don’t even know why I said those derogatory words. Alexa is thin compared to the women I usually pursue, but she has a sinful arse, one I’d like to sink my teeth into. “I don’t want you to change.” My thumb wiped chocolate from her lips with my thumb. “I like you just the way you are.”

“Thank you.” she slipped off the stool. “Okay, so I have naughty intentions.”

“Really?” I tried not to laugh but failed miserably. “Go on.”

Her eyes bounced around the room in search of something. “Oh, God. Why am I so nervous?”

My smile vanished. “What’s wrong?”

“No, Liam.” Her cheeks were bright red. “Okay, I’m just going to—” She grabbed my hand and led me to the U-shaped sofa. “Can you sit for me?”

I eyed the leather suite. “What’s going on?”

“Remember when I said that I am inexperienced and…” She nervously wrung her fingers together. “Shit. I’m embarrassing myself, right?”

Before she walked away, I captured her wrist, hauled her close and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Are you waiting for my permission?” I asked, discerning her predicament. “I am a willing participant, baby. Take whatever you want from me.”

Her distressed expression tugged on my heartstrings. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me. I am not judging you, Alexa. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She heaved a sigh. “I feel stupid.”

“Close your eyes,” I ordered, and she obliged, slowly shutting her eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I want to recreate the interview,” she said quietly, and my heart palpitated. “To rewrite what happened.”

“Tell me, Alexa.” I unknotted the satin bow behind her back and, with slow movements, lowered the straps from her shoulders until her perfect breasts revealed. “What really occurred at the interview?”

With trembling fingers, she began to unbutton my shirt. “I pleased you.”

“You did please me. I thought about you all night.”

“Likewise.” That gained me a smile. “At the interview, I wasn’t a lousy dancer. In fact, in my mind, I was your favourite.”

The corner of my lip twitched. “Are we discussing dancing here or…?” I had no idea where she was going with this random roleplay. “I hope you’re not referring to the club women.”

Alexa unbuckled my belt and pulled it through the loops. “In general.” She prevaricated when asked direct questions. “I want to be your favourite person.”

I palmed her cheek. “Stop doubting yourself and finish this sensuous interview.”

Alexa opened her eyes, and, painfully slow, the dress fell to her feet. Magnificent, I thought as I catalogued every inch of her flawless body. I sat down, and when she descended to her knees between my thighs, I stopped breathing. “You don’t have to do this,” I said, those tainted images highlighting why she’d avoided oral sex. “You satisfied me in more ways than I admitted.”

Under the aloft light fixtures, those hazel hues looked greener, glassier. Alexa splayed her hands across my thighs.

Eliminating my shirt, I tossed it on the armrest, and every item of clothing followed until I laid bare for her. “What happens next?”

Alexa has yet to look at my hard cock, but I am too aware of the ache resting on my lower stomach. Hands positioned on my thighs, she inched closer, looked up at me, and ran her tongue along the underside of my shaft, sending a shiver through my body.

It’s been too long since a woman wrapped her mouth around me. Having her pretty lips down there excited me further. I have envisioned this moment all too often, craved it.

Alexa grabbed the base of my cock, squeezed and pulled an upstroke, her thumb smearing pre-cum over the swollen crown. And then, tongue fluttering on the engorged head, she sucked, tasted, and moaned in approval.

The muscles in my thighs bunched together.

I was at her complete mercy.

A satisfied groan fell from my lips. I gathered Alexa’s lustrous hair in one hand, keeping it off her face, and watched her lips separate to take me to the back of her throat. “It’s a common misconception,” I said hoarsely. “Women think men need to fuck their mouths to cum, but that’s not the case. Your appreciation does more for me than your gag reflex.” My hand latched onto her jaw. “Forget what you think might please me. Be yourself.”

Alexa stroked me from base to tip. Her mouth closed around me, tasting, sucking, tongue flattening. Pure ecstasy wired through my scorching veins. Her beautiful face magnetised the burning desire I felt. My cock twitched in her stroking hand, and a bead of cum leaked onto her skilful tongue, which she lapped up with earnestness.

“Fuck,” I spat through gritted teeth, the cords of muscles tightening in my arms and abdomen. “You’re fucking killing me.” Her eyes greeted mine once more, and my heart collapsed. “Killing me,” I whispered, succumbing to this gravitational passion between us. “Come here, Alexa.”

Evident puzzlement twisted her features. My cock fell from her mouth with a wet pop. “Did I do something wrong?”

I tugged her onto my lap. “You’re perfect,” I rasped, helping her astride my thighs. “I was close.”

“Isn’t that the point?” she teased, her arms enveloping my shoulders. “I was looking forward to tasting you.”

“I don’t want to wear a condom or pull out.” I want nothing between us, I thought. “I am clean. Are you taking any form of contraceptive?”

“Did I say sex was on the agenda?” Her lips peppered my jawline. “You haven’t earned my pussy—Liam!” I pulled her beneath me on the sofa and crawled over her flushed body. “Why must you manhandle me?”

“You love it.” My hand covered her breast. “And that’s the first time you have vocalised explicitness in my presence.”

She scoffed. “It’s hardly explicit.”

“It is for you,” I retorted, cheeks aching from smiling so hard.

Her fingers found the arousal between her thighs, and she teased her clit. “Would you rather I said, lady garden?”

“Do not ruin this moment for me.” Kissing the line between her breasts, I sucked the tight skin around her navel and, pushing her thighs apart, opening her fully, I whispered a kiss to her trimmed landing strip. “Bare yourself to me.”

Alexa breathed out a quivered breath. Her fingers parted her plump lips for me to flick my tongue over her sensitive spot. Her spine bowed, and I gripped her hips, pinning her in place as she shamelessly rocked against my mouth. Juices glazed my lips. I devoured her, suckled her throbbing ache, and tasted the arousal on her fingers. My tongue lashed once more. “You’re close.”

Her fingernails raked through my tousled hair. “I am on the pill.”

I gathered Alexa in my arms and, hands grasping her arse, carried her to the master bedroom. I kicked the door behind us, cloaking us in dimmed solitude, and collapsed on the bed.

Alexa straddled my waist.

My hands smoothed her thighs. “I got you a late birthday present. It’s in the drawer.”

“You bought me a gift,” she squeaked, leaning over me to yank open the bedside drawer. “You didn’t have to.” Holding the velvet box between us, she popped the lid open, and her eyes widened a fraction. “What’s this?”

My back rested on the headboard. “I purchase similar diamonds for the men.” extracted the necklace from the velvet padding. “Each has a permanent number. When selecting yours, I didn’t quite know how to position you in the ranks, so I decided to engrave the label instead.” I draped the Cuban micro chain around her neck. It settled beneath her breasts, above her navel, the white gold tags encrusted with authentic ice diamonds and a ruby halo.

Smiling at the engraving, Alexa weighed the tags in her palm. “The property of Liam Warren.” Her arms crossed. “Do you admit that I belong with your beloved men? Who is marked one?”

“Brad.” My heart thumped erratically. “You don’t need a number, Alexa.”

“You can’t take this back,” she warned, tucking hair behind her ears. “It’s all mine.”

“I don’t want it back,” I whispered. “This is an extended interview.”

“Oh, yes.” Her hands hugged my shoulders. “Where were we?”

“You were getting ready to ride me—” Her teeth sank into my bottom lip. “Fucking hell.”

“This is an intense interview.” Her cunt stretched to accommodate my length. “Shit.” Aquiver with desire, she intentionally squeezed around me, which had pre-ejaculate leaking in throbs. “I missed you, Liam.”

“You have no idea.” Fingers buried in her hair, I groaned into her mouth. “No fucking idea.”

Alexa rolled her hips forward, lifting up and down my shaft. I hiked my knees, allowing her to sink lower, and kept her arse in my hands. Her hand slapped on the wall above the headboard, her hips moving into a steady rhythm to seek gratifying momentum.

Her small breasts jerked in front of my face. Holding her by the waistline, I sucked her taut nipple, flicked it with my tongue.

Alexa delivered, fucking me into submission. Precipitation trickled down her chest and, although she tried to avoid combustion, she orgasmed. I captured her body, rolled her beneath me and buried myself to the hilt. “You’re beautiful,” I said as she gasped into my mouth. “It fucks with my head.”

Her hair fanned across the sheet. Synchronising her tight thrusts, rocking hard, deep, I sucked the hollow spot beneath her ear, leaving a territorial blemish on her skin. Her fingernails raked down my back, and I stiffened all over.

My brain scrambled with incoherent thoughts. I slid one of her silken legs around my waist, repositioned my hips and slammed into her wetness.

“Liam,” she cried, clinging to me.

With her caged in the thrall of my arms, I fused out lips, coaxing another moan from her mouth. I am impossibly hard for this woman. “I am terrified of keeping you,” I confessed as our movements slowed to a passionately sensual pace. “And losing you.”

Alexa looked deep into my eyes. “Was there a woman before me?” she asked. “Did you lose her?”

“No, I never let anyone get this close.” Alexa’s the first woman to come along and change everything. “It’s different. You are different.” Her mouth opened to respond, and I shook my head. “No.” Dropping my head to her shoulder, I fisted the sheet beneath the pillows, listening to her heavy breathing. “Don’t say anything.”

Her fingernails dug into the nape of my neck. “You can’t stop me from loving you, Liam.”

I put our foreheads together and kissed the tip of her nose. “I am overrated,” I half-joked, slowly moving in and out, resolute but restrained. “You’ll tire of me, eventually.”

“Please don’t undermine what I feel for you with facetiousness. Before I met you, I couldn’t even stomach a man admiring me from afar, never mind touching me.” Her whisper vibrated against my lips. “You helped me overcome the darkness, Liam.”

I grappled the sheet and shoved deeper, harder. All-consuming sensations spread through me. Holding her hips, I picked up the pace and fucked her with determined precision until I was there, right on the edge. “Alexa,” I groaned into her neck. Her legs tightened around me, keeping me close, and I came undone. “Fuck,” I breathed in her ear. “Fuck if you don’t make me weak.”

“I think we should go again.”

“I might need a few minutes, baby.” I positioned myself onto my forearms and stared down at her. “You are testing the functionality of my cock…” Her forced smile threw me off. “What?”

Her fingertip traced my eyebrow. “So, here we are.” I pulled out, and she winced, pressing her thighs together. “Yeah, I need a few minutes, too.”

I stretched out beside her, resting a hand on her lower stomach. “I want you.”

Her eyebrow arched. “Five more minutes?”

“You misinterpreted what I meant.”

Alexa belonged here, in my bed, in my arms.

Is it so bad? Her. Me. Us. I wanted no other.

“Fucking hell.” I rubbed the scruff of my jaw. “Shall we try it? You and me.”

Her body turned until she faced me. “What’s the proposition?”

“You want me to work for it, huh?” I said throatily, and puzzlement glimmered in her eyes. “Help me out here, baby.”

Alexa’s lips widened. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

I grimaced. “Exclusive companionship…” Her smile stretched. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”

“Okay, I will pretend this conversation does not enthral me,” she half-joked. “So, no other women.”

Alexa mightn’t believe me, but there has been no one else since I hired her. “That rule works both ways.”

“Oh, please.” She snorted. “I see no men throwing themselves at my feet.”

That’s because they know better than to step on my toes. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” I spoke conversationally. “Heads turn when you walk into a room.”

“Careful, Liam.” Her expression became serious. “You don’t want me to fall any harder.”

I was all smiles as I inched in to kiss her. “You will agree to twenty-four-hour security,” I said, omitting the cameras and rotational drivers already guarding her apartment building. “This means a syndicate member will park outside the Coffee House and your home. You will agree to multiple tracking devices: phone, house keys, handbags and shoes. That way, in the event that something bad happens to you, I can reach you within fifteen minutes. All of the above is non-negotiable. Dating a criminal cannot be treated with careless flippancy. I have enemies. You understand.”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “And I am wholeheartedly invested.” Her leg cocked around me. “Now, let’s proceed with the interview.”

I crawled above her and steadied both hands to the pillow on either side of her head. Breathing harshly against her lips, I filled her with one thrust and segued from slow to fast. Her lips parted on a sibilant hitch, which urged me to slow down, take my time. I was too transfixed to look anywhere else. Her moans were all it took to exhort me. I slid my arms behind her head and, feeling her everywhere, kissed her with raw passion, the type of kiss that leaves bruises on your lips and reminders in your chest.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned between fervent kisses. “Please, don’t stop.”

My mouth never lifted. I savoured every second, kissing her hungrily. Hot, quick and deep, her tongue took over, caressing mine. Her fingernails stabbed me in the back, and I hissed, biting into her shoulder. My hand smoothed up her chest and tightened around her throat as I overpowered her with dominating thrusts.

Our bodies slid together seamlessly. With her hair wrapped around my fist, I pinned her to the root of my shaft and groaned, “I am close.”

“Then, let’s slow down,” she breathed in my ear. “I don’t want tonight to end.”

I licked the shell of her ear. “It sounds perfect.”

“Actually, keep going.” Her hands grasped my arse. “There are plenty of hours left on the clock.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Liam

“Victims of modern slavery in Britain are five times greater than they were just six years ago. Law enforcement held out a colossal investigation after dawn, where they arrested nine men on suspicion of enslavement and human trafficking, including sexually exploited children.”

Reginald appears on the BIG screen, the earpiece skewed on his ear. “This was a fantastic synergism,” he said, too hyperexcitable to look at the cameraman. “The metropolitan police department takes all reports of modern slavery and sexual offences with extreme seriousness and is committed to prosecuting those who participate in this pernicious crime.”

“Turn it off,” I ordered, and Brad aimed the remote at the wall-mounted television. “Updates.”

“It was a dive bar.” Nate dropped an envelope onto my desk. “As speculated, they are an all-white supremacist hate group with Nazi symbolism tattoos on their fists. We are dealing with brothers in arms if wars arise.”

“Nate stayed in the car for me to scope the place first.” Brad’s backside perched onto the desk edge. “I ordered a drink, sat on a stool and acted like I was incognizant to surroundings, but I think those dickheads recognised me.” He sucked his upper teeth, which caused a suction sound. “Before I left, I asked two guys if they knew the Albanian. Both men looked me in the eye and lied. Apparently, they never heard of him. I know you demanded hostilities, vituperation, and, I don’t know, a human bonfire,” he jerked a shoulder, “but I made a call. I walked out with my limbs intact and deliberated possibilities with Nate instead. After all, if their loyalty is with Bajramovic, it will take more than arm bending for them to capitulate.”

“Sir, you are too impulsively incautious,” Nate said, and my eyebrows jumped. “That is not to say that we don’t trust your judgment. You’re right. Inarguably, there is a connection between the Nazi party and the Albanian mafia.” His arms folded. “However, I think it is within our best interest to hang fire and wait for an opportunity to snatch Bajramovic.”

Having already conjured up a game plan, Brad nodded in agreement. “I suggest we hire an intelligencer to win over the Nazi brown-nosers and station agents within their vicinage to keep an eye on the beady little fuckers.”

“In case Bajramovic decides to rear his head.” Nate tore into a protein bar. “It will give us an advantageous position to attack and bring him in without any fuss from our racist hooligans.”

“Well, that’s if the intelligencer earns their favourable vote.”

“Even that’s improbable.” Nate scratched his jaw. “It’s worth a shot, though.”

“Reginald’s operation saved thirty-eight young women.” My eyes revisited the turned-off television. “Some were younger than ten years old. It is an emotional day for London. Partners welcome back their loved ones. Parents bring their children home to safety. Conversely, this sense of bereavement and overwhelming public display is incompatible with Flamur’s dissatisfaction because he believes he is indomitable. He’d have ordered his henchman to prowl for prospects the second he lost the others. Who is next?” I mused, and both men stared blankly. “The teenage girl walking home from school. Perhaps the mischievous boy in the park who doesn’t listen to his mother. He runs off and falls into the hands of a monster.”

Nate’s gaze briefly dropped to the floor.

I exhaled cigarette smoke. “It’s a mixed blessing, the return of those young girls. Although life will never be the same for them, I am pleased for their safety. What of impending abductions, though? Bajramovic must replace the ones he has lost. He has to die,” I added angrily. “If not for the innumerable victims he enslaved, then for Alexa’s revenge.”

Brad moved into stance, his hands clasping just below his belt. “Orders.”

“I pay attention.” I blew smoke halos upward. “Send someone to the white supremacist group to befriend and investigate. First, though, I need you,” I pointed to Nate, “to collect the shipment from Gateway. Drop smuggled goods to our gunrunners for street distribution. Once you have finalised the payment, I want you to visit this guy,” I tossed him an envelope, “and lay into him a bit. He is profiteering or mathematically wired wrong. Either way, he owes me money.”

Nate tucked the envelope into his suit pocket. “Sir.”

I waited for him to vacate the office before addressing Brad. “Do you have a moment?”

“For you?” He winked, slipping a toothpick between his lips. “Always.”

“As you are aware, I have rekindled with Alexa recently,” I said, and the perspicacious man hadn’t flinched. “It’s serious.”

He sensed my conflicted state of mind. “What’s going on, Bossman?”

“She loves me,” I confided in him, but again, he looked unsurprised. “You know how much I tried to stay away. It’s impossible. I am a twenty-nine-year-old man who is fucking obsessed. I have fallen, Brad. I have fallen hard. Those,” I gestured to the dancers through the window, “women do nothing for me. I don’t want to touch anyone but her. If it were up to me, she’d be in the penthouse and behind the bar where I could keep an eye on her. I want it all with her.”

His stare followed me to the minibar.

Snatching the Jameson bottle, I poured neat whiskey into the crystal glass. “My selfishness will kill her. You know it.” I knocked back the shot. “I know it.”

“Anyone connected to Liam Warren is at the mercy of sacrificial death. However, I believe she is safer with you.” His stare sharpened. “Is it reciprocated?”

I frowned. “What?”

“Her love.”

Brad’s question echoed in my mind. Breaking away from his intrusive glare, I sipped another shot of whiskey, watching the dancers parade in the elevated cages and glass podiums through the window.

“Boss,” he probed quietly, putting us shoulder-to-shoulder. “Do you love Alexa Haines?”

I shake my head.

“Then let her go,” he advised. “Let her be happy. She will move on and find someone else. That’s cool, right?” He squeezed my shoulder. “You can live with another man wanting her, craving her, touching her in forbidden places…” My hand crushed the whiskey glass. “It doesn’t bother you, right?”

I exhaled through my nose. “Get out of my head, Brad.”

“What?” He feigned cluelessness. “I am only giving you a vivid insight into her future. You have jealousy issues. That’s not my fault.”

He is the master of mind games.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Losing her,” I said throatily, and he stepped back. “I am scared of losing her, Brad. Happy?” Slamming the glass onto the desk, I snatched my suit jacket from the back of the chair and slipped it on. “Alexa is no different to any other woman I have bedded. It has to be this way.”

“Does it?” He dared to challenge. “Are you not entitled to some semblance of happiness?”

I considered his words. “You swore to never commit to a significant other, not after Tiffany.”

His forehead creased at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. “You know why I chose the road to uncommitted relationships. It had nothing to do with syndicate business or adversaries. If—and this is a huge, whopper of an if—I was capable of falling in love, I’d embrace it. I’d fight for it. I’d kill a motherfucker for standing in my way.”

I gave him my undivided attention. “And what of the target on her back?”

“Downside to the underworld.” He smiled grimly. “Achievement comes at a high price.” He set an unsealed box on the desk. “Ubiquitous surveillance ready for Nate’s satellite operation centre as requested. Now, I have a decent bird waiting for me downstairs….”

“Go ahead,” I authorised his leave.

He beelined the door. “Bossman?”

I plucked the Bentley keys from off the desk. “What?”

“If it’s any consolation, I think Alexa is worth the risk.”

Brad exited the office.

I poured another stiff drink.

***

I knocked on the front door to Alexa’s apartment. The last time I visited, I did not progress beyond her bedroom and the bathroom. I disregarded her new home because, in that distressing instance, when I found her in the bath, I cared not for her chosen paint palette and newly purchased furniture. Tonight, however, I have a keen interest in her living situation. I wanted to see where she relaxed at night, or rather if she required any financial help toward upkeep and maintenance.

“Just a second!” Alexa called before the front door flew open. “Thank God. I am starving.” Her eyes were buried inside a black purse where she jangled loose change. “How much is the order?” When she looked up, I witnessed the horror flash in her eyes. “Liam? What are you doing here?”

My woman came to the front door in a black satin cami set fringed in white lace and odd knee-high socks. If it weren’t for the thick green face mask and half-eaten cucumbers on her eyes, I’d have her pinned against the door by now. “What the fuck did you do to your face?”

She removed the hacked cucumbers. “Hydration.”

I simply stared.

“Chloe made me do it.”

“Liar!” her roommate yelled from somewhere.

Alexa grimaced. “What’s in the boxes?”

Without invitation, I entered her flat and shut the door behind me. “I caught the delivery guy before he knocked.” Handing over the takeaway, I placed the boxed tracking devices onto the wooden sideboard in the hallway. I eyed the green sludge on her face once more. “Is it edible?”

“Not unless you like smashed avocado mixed with dried oats.” When Alexa carried the takeaway to the living room down the hall, I lingered until she returned. “Chloe will dish up while I scrub this off.” Jerking open the bathroom door, she plugged the basin and turned on the taps. “Must you watch? I am already mortified.”

I espied Chloe in a bright pink dressing gown from the living room doorway. “Do you want some?” she asked, brandishing bottled beer. “Beef noodles?”

I unpacked the tracking devices. “No.”

Rolling her eyes, she mumbled, “Suit yourself.”

Arranging micro-GPS chips on the dresser, I grabbed Alexa’s handbag on the coat rack. I pressed a coin-sized tracker on her phone, hiding it beneath the bejewelled cover, and then placed another on the C-Link keyring.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?” Alexa re-appeared, fresh-faced yet slightly frowning. “What are you doing?”

“Sticking to our agreement.” Gently touching the chain around her neck, I held her eyes while attaching the chip to the back of the white gold military tag. Ever so gently, I let the chain fall between the valley of her breasts, and then, whispering my fingertips along the side of her neck, I tightened a hand around her throat and drew her in. It was close enough to detect the hint of vodka on her luscious lips. Her eyelashes fluttered shut in delectation. She craved me just as much as I craved her. I teased her appetite, dipping my head as if to kiss her. When her lips parted on a breathless inhale, my thumb effaced the imaginary splodge of avocado on her chin. “You missed a spot,” I said huskily, pulling back to put space between us. “Eat. You must be hungry.”

Alexa’s eyelids slowly peeled open. “Yes,” she said whispery. “I, um, did you eat? Would you like a drink?”

“I am good.” Previously, I stashed bottled Macallan in the box. “May I have access to your bedroom?”

The question earned me a smile. “You may.”

Alexa consumed late-night fodder with Chloe in the living quarters while I barricaded in the bedroom. Much like her previous property, the double bed dominated the confined area, and mismatched furniture made of solid wood lined the stark white walls.

I started inside the wardrobe. I implanted GPS chips in her shoes, handbags, purses and a few belt buckles, which I doubt she wears, but it is better to be safe than sorry.

Yes, tracking devices were extreme to ordinary citizens. I am far from normal, though. Racking up enemies is a constituent in my line of work. I was not born into wealth or eminence. I earned success alongside defamation and grudge-bearing haters, and vengeful yet unequalled rivals. I walk the line of life-threatening danger daily, hence the multitude of omnipresent security. Having a weakness strengthened the opposing army’s encampment. What better way to crush a man’s heart than destroy the very people he cares about?

Uncapping the Macallan bottle, I pulled a swig.

I will never forgive myself if someone targeted Alexa just to hurt me.

Taking a seat at the foot of the bed, I sipped in reflective musing. I finished installing the localisation equipment, yet I was in no hurry to leave. I enjoyed Alexa’s company and often missed her when we were miles apart. Perhaps I could spend the night.

I heard the bedroom door open and shut.

“Sorry.” Alexa drew the curtains before pulling herself onto the vanity table. “I refused to overindulge because…” Her eyes lit up in mischievousness. “Well, in case you planned to have your wicked way with me.”

I harrumphed. “I could never deny you.”

Alexa nibbled her bottom lip shyly.

Unable to comprehend the raggedness of my heartbeat, I watched her watching me, and something unexplainable passed between us.

Against my better judgment, I made a conscious decision to depend on another. I have many vices but never an addiction.

Until her.

I should be at the office or the penthouse.

Yet, I am here.

And here is exactly where I want to be.

My eyes beckoned her attention.

Alexa slipped down the dresser. Her feet sank into the shaggy white rug, which accentuated her red-polished toenails. In front of me, she stood. Her long, slender legs, inviting the coarse palms of my hands. I touched the back of her thighs until her soft arse fell into my possession. Kissing the slight reveal of her toned stomach, I felt her dutiful fingers comb through my hair. It was affectionate and appreciated. My eyes closed as my forehead rested on her navel. I whispered, “Ask me.”

“What am I asking?”

“Whatever is on your mind.”

Her fingernails massaged the nape of my neck. “I was wondering if you were leaving soon.”

I kissed her hip bone. “Is that what you want?”

A small pause. “No.”

My hands journeyed to her waistline. I tugged her onto my lap, and she straddled me, her arms enveloped around my neck. Now, eye-level, I could see her beautiful face. Her transfixing eyes had me by the tongue. I had no words, just thoughts—many unspeakable thoughts. My fingers played the piano along her spine, and her back bowed. I paused. “Alexa?”

“Slightly,” she twitched when I proceeded, “ticklish.”

“Really?” My hum vibrated on her throat. “Well, you know what they say. You must learn techniques to suppress having an emotional response.”

Her eyes rounded. “Don’t you dare—” My fingers lightly prodded her waist. “Liam!” Her contagious laughter had me smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, God. Please stop—I said, stop!”

Rasped chuckles increased my heart rate. I rolled her beneath me until our bodies sprawled across the bed. Her chest rose and fell on stuttered inhalations as she chased regular breathing. My fingers raked through her unruly hair that fanned the coverlet in its lustrous masses. I loved her hair. I loved her eyes, too, and the full pout of her lips and how right it felt to have her caged within the thrall of my arms.

I smiled down at her. “I should undress.”

“Yes.” Her fingers popped open the top button of my shirt. “I quite like having a naked man in my bed.”

Nibbling her earlobe, I growled, “Not any man.”

“No.” One button at a time, she separated the shirt to expose my chest. “Just you.”

“Just me,” I whispered, kicking off my leather shoes. “You need a bigger bed.”

She unclasped my belt buckle. “Is the double too small for his lordship?” I made a noncommittal noise, and she smacked my arse. “You entitled caveman. Not everyone can afford baroque furniture, Liam.”

I threw the shirt and suit jacket on the floor, and the trousers followed. “Do you like it here?”

She nodded. “Why?”

“It’s cosy,” I said cautiously. “I hate that you live in a tenant-building, though. It’s not safe.”

“No, I am not moving.”

“Did I suggest as much?”

“I can read between the lines, Liam.”

Touché. “Well, if it’s ever an option, I can help you find somewhere more suitable.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I like it here. It’s only fifteen minutes away from work, and it’s central to amenities. I don’t want to pack up and start again.” When perceiving the concern in my eyes, she sighed, wrapping her legs around my waist. “I am safe here.”

Although unappeased, I gave her a curt nod.

Alexa went to the bathroom to brush her teeth, ready for bed. Of course, I imbibed two shots of whiskey before I accepted the spare toothbrush she purchased for when I turned up unpremeditatedly. When I returned to her room, it was dark, calm and somniferous. Locking the door, I placed my phone onto the bedside table and, crawling onto the bed, settled beside her. She laid motionless on her side. Tucking an arm under the pillow, I flattened a hand on her stomach and pulled her back to my chest. I wanted her nearness. “Come here,” I breathed in her ear, and she repositioned to face me. “I set the alarm. I have to be in the office for five.”

Her fingers traced my lips. “You are sleep deprived.”

“You should come back.”

“And deal with Natalie’s bitterness? No thanks.”

“Fuck Natalie,” I said hoarsely. “Come back for me.”

She pretended to consider the idea. “I like the Coffee House.”

“Okay,” I acquiesced without much of a fight.

My eyes closed.

Alexa shifted in my arms. “Liam?”

I grunted.

“Can I ask you something?”

My eyes reopened. “Depends.”

“Do you treasure any memories from your past? You don’t have to answer. It’s just our conversation at the penthouse. Well, it’s played on my mind.”

I blew a kiss across her shoulder. “Yes.”

“Really?” she sounded surprised. “Will you share one with me?”

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone. Only darkness every day. Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone. And this house just ain’t no home. Anytime she goes away.

His smooth, baritone vocals echoed in the darkest segments of my mind. “Perhaps another time.”

Alexa never pried. Instead, she kissed me goodnight.