CHAPTER ELEVEN

Liam

I parked the Bentley down a quiet side street across from Alexa’s apartment building. She is working at the club for another hour, so now is the perfect opportunity for me to break in and explore. I am not sure what I expect to find or uncover, but to dispel doubt, I had to listen to this nagging, festering feeling in my gut.

As I walked toward the ramshackle concrete building, I spotted a cluster of problematic youths in snapback caps, nylon tracksuits and high-top trainers, scattered among strewn push bikes and discarded beer bottles. Marijuana fumes fogged their gathering. Loud guffaws and offensive language resounded.

Alexa lived on the wrong side of town, and loitering upheaval is likely customary, but when she came home from work, tired and ready for bed, she shouldn’t have to bypass these indolent, troublesome hoodlums.

I was deceptively sangfroid upon emergence. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

My arrogance affronted the leader of the pack. He is an arrogant toerag with little-man syndrome, drinking a cheap energy drink. His fingers dented the crushable can. “What’s it to you?” He scoffed. “Take a hike.”

“Take a hike,” I said whispery, entertaining his overt disrespect. “Impressive.” Derision thickened my tone. “I have never met wannabe gangsters before.”

“Yo, ain’t that Liam Warren?” another muttered behind his hand.

“Indeed.” My eyes never left the chopsy fucker. “Go and find a different spot. You are not welcome here.”

Tawdry spat gum on the floor right by the Italian leather on my feet. “I don’t need to listen to you—”

My hand locked around his throat before he finished his sentence. His only option was to wither under my rutilant glare. “You need to pick a new spot,” I snarled, my fingers digging into the soft hollowness of his neck. “If I catch any of you motherfuckers chilling outside of this building again, I will hack off those puny peckers you dare to call cocks with a blunt butcher’s knife and make you choke on them.” He whimpered, his friends already dispersing into the shadows with their push bikes. “Have I made myself abundantly fucking clear?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Good.” I tossed him aside like worthless discards. “Get out of here.”

He toppled over the bike’s rustic frame to dash away from me. I never watched him leave. I opened the waist-high metal gate precariously hanging onto the perimeter fence and moved through the communal garden. It’s a diabolical mess. It very much resembled a landfill site: rubbish and wet clothing littered the overgrown grass, which swallowed threadbare furniture, overfilled recycling bags and empty alcohol bottles. There is a used syringe on the concrete pathway. I kicked it to the side, the blood in my veins burning hot. Brightly coloured slang and vulgar graffitied the grey brick wall by the main entrance. While I dodged unkempt thistles and thorn bushes spattering onto the path, something squished under the sole of my shoe.

My face burnt in disgust.

A filled condom clung to my black Ferragamo shoe.

Unclenching my jaw, I dragged my foot across the grass to remove it and proceeded ahead.

Rechecking Alexa’s address on my phone, I entered the dank, musty smelling foyer and ascended the stairs to the top floor, pleased to see some distance between her home and the streets. Her front door came into sight. My fingers wiggled into old leather gloves. Removing the bobby pin from my coat pocket, I picked the lock,

I cannot see anything in the dark hallway, but it smelt pleasant. Lemon air freshener and dried laundry spread throughout. I used the phone’s torch function and glanced into the bathroom: horrendous polychromatic green wall tiles and uneven floorboards. Opening the wall-mounted cabinet above the chipped sink, I flicked through bottled cosmetics, mouthwash, toothpaste. Mirtazapine medication. I cast light on the expired, unsealed package. Due to the faded label, I could not read the patient information.

I stuffed the packet in my pocket. I’m en-route to find the kitchen when Alexa’s roommate saunters into the living room in heart-patterned pyjamas, a bowl of dry cereal in one hand, a tall glass of milk in the other.

I darted into the first room to my left, closing the door behind me, and wielded the phone to shine the light. Red satin and colourful scatter cushions bedecked the double bed. Dark mahogany furniture lined the paperless walls.

I took one step, and the floorboard groaned. I paused, inhaled, exhaled. I had to avoid her roommate.

Cracking open the wardrobe doors, I searched through metal hangers, frayed jumpers and hideous hoodies and lifted the black dress she once wore at the club. Not much else occupied the poky room: minimal clothing and reduced-priced makeup, perfume on the wooden dresser and two drawers filled with more junk and miscellaneous items rather than underwear.

What am I missing?

Why is a nineteen-year-old girl deprived and penniless?

Her parents died, but why is she living with a friend and not family? An aunt or uncle, perhaps.

I don’t attend college. I share a flat with my best friend. And my parents are dead. I might be young, but I live in the real world. Bills need paying. Life goes the fuck on. Flipping burgers for minimum wage will not keep a roof over my head.

I have an unspeakable past.

I’d rather people take me at face value.

Her words reiterate inside my head.

Burning apprehension amplified. I’m not an imbecile. I am a perspicacious man whose gut has never failed him, and the predicament regarding Alexa Haines’ peculiarities is starting to consume me.

I am reaching into the bedside table’s drawer when the bedroom door flung open. I was behind the curtain before the light turned on, but while I stood there, breath trapped in the back of my throat, the room remained dark. Dropping the phone into my trouser pocket to kill the torch, I peered through the divided pleat material and the room’s humidity condensed.

Not the roommate.

What the fuck is Alexa doing at home?

She is supposed to be at work—for another hour, to be exact.

I had no qualms about explaining the reasoning for being here. However, I’d rather avoid that conversation if I can help it.

What would I say?

I invaded your privacy because I think you are hiding something from me.

Alexa’s fingers clung to the fluffy white towel around her body while looking for something to wear. She found what she was looking for on the random cuddle chair, and the towel fell to her feet.

Unease took a back seat. I was suddenly too aware of those dark, dewed locks cascading down her spine and the slenderness of her waist. Her body, bare to me, was too much to endure, and as much as my cock appreciated the view of her arse, I was in uncharted territory. Yes, I am a warm-blooded male, but lecherousness is beneath me when the woman’s unmindful.

Black lace adorned her perfect arse. I looked away when she turned, not wanting a permanent image of her breasts in mind. The temptation to look was there, though. An immense need to marvel at her could easily overpower restraint. I won’t steal her beauty, though. It’s immoral—being here is immoral, but pervertedness is something else entirely.

“Alexa, have you eaten?” her friend yelled from across the hall. “There are leftovers in the fridge.”

“I already ate.” Alexa tugged an oversized T-shirt over her head. “Thank you, Chloe.”

A quiet pause. “Why are you home early?”

“Brad.” Alexa moved to the door, her shoulder to the wall. “He said I could leave earlier because it was quiet.”

The bastard is catching a slap.

“Any updates?” Chloe asked, and my ears perked up.

“Nothing,” Alexa picked her fingernails. “I am struggling, Chloe.”

“What happened?” Concern laced her friend’s voice. “Is that bitch giving you a hard time again?”

Eyebrows curving into a frown, I listened intently.

“I can handle Natalie,” Alexa responded, and I noted keeping an eye on this situation.

“What about Warren?”

Chloe’s question gained my full attention.

“Liam left early,” Alexa said with a breathless sigh, and a small smile teased my lips. “Honestly, I’m glad. That asshole gives me a severe case of whiplash.”

My smile turned into a frown.

“He’s hot, though, right?”

Alexa growled a curse. “He might be hot, Chloe. But that man is a notorious womaniser. Quite frankly, his philandering behaviour disgusts me.”

I fought against her deserving admonishment. Yes, I like women. I’m not a womaniser, though. And she finds me disgusting? Not what I expected. Duly fucking noted.

“Anyway, I will see you in the morning,” Alexa yawned, her arms stretching above her head. “I’m knackered.”

The bedroom door shut.

Alexa crawled onto the bed, snuggling into the pillow.

I waited for her breathing to even out.

After five minutes, I’m ready to sneak out and flee when, with an apparent burst of energy, she rolled onto her back and studied the ceiling.

For fuck’s sake.

Why did I think coming here was a good idea?

Alexa propped on her elbows and glanced toward the curtain.

I glued my back to the window, thinking she sensed an unwanted presence.

Parting her thighs, she lifted the T-shirt, setting the fine material on her waist, exposing her slender stomach, and then, almost teasingly slow, she shimmied out of her underwear and flung them aside. Dropped onto her back, she smoothed a hand over her chest and toured to the apex of her thigh—I closed my eyes and inwardly berated myself, my heart rate becoming painfully erratic. Never have I wanted a woman to stop her sexual advances. I can’t witness her desire to engage in masturbation. Her pleasure will mess with my head. I won’t be able to look at her again without remembering the sound of her erotic moans.

A quiet whimper escaped her lips.

Tapering down the growl determined to rupture my tight throat, I bit down on my knuckles and forced the mind to focus elsewhere.

Another breathless moan fell from those beautiful lips.

My cock hardened, pushed against my trousers, ached to come out for a release. I can hear her wetness as her fingers stimulated that tender spot while she pleasured herself. Her heavy breathing indicated she was close—Her phone chimed, and I thanked my lucky stars.

Alexa caught her breath. “Hello,” she answered the caller. “No.”

My eyes crept open.

“I do not.” Her defensiveness morphed into embarrassment. “Josh, I was asleep. Quit being an asshole.”

Joshua Fitzpatrick.

Club 11’s head barman.

I warned Alexa not to go there with him.

“You called me.”

My cock softened.

“Hey,” she chastised half-heartedly. “I left muffins in your locker. No, I did not bake them myself. I bought them for you earlier. Why? Because you told me blueberry muffins were your favourite.” She scoffed at whatever he said. “I ate one. You still have three left.”

My fingers twitched against the leather gloves.

“Sure,” she said with a tired yawn. “No, let’s go somewhere different to eat next time. I think Perri might attack me from behind if I go there again.” Josh’s mumbles prolonged. “Okay. Goodnight.”

Alexa ended the call and tossed the phone someplace on the floor. Having lost her arousal, she fixed the raised T-shirt, curled up onto her side and snuggled into the pillow.

Silent darkness transpired. It felt like hours before it was safe for me to emerge from behind the curtain. I paused by the door. Alexa laid on her side atop the comforter. I should leave, but I found myself crouching to get a closer look. She is beautiful—too young for me, but beautiful. Her cheek beckoned to be touched. My knuckles stroked her jawline. “What is it about you?” I whispered, studying her parted lips as she breathed noiselessly. Trying to understand this unfathomable gravitation between us, I reached for the dressing gown at the foot of the bed and draped the thick, fleecy fabric over her body. “Beautiful.”

Alexa’s delicate features twitched, and her lips pouted. Dreaming, I thought, curling a dark strand of hair behind her ear.

Before doing something stupid, I slipped out of her bedroom, locked the front door behind me and posted the keys through the letterbox.

***

The car journey to the club ended too soon. I am still mentally disordered when back inside the office. I placed the Mirtazapine medication on the desk, poured a neat Jameson and, shoulder resting to the one-way glass window, surveyed tonight’s antics below.

Brad joined me seconds later. My right-hand man doesn’t knock on arrival. He pretty much invented his own rules. I pretend his assurance peeved me when, in reality, I’m quite fond of his rebelliousness. If nothing else, he keeps me on my toes.

I faced him. “Where is Nate?”

“He’s doing clean-up with the men.” He helped himself to Jameson at the minibar. “Where did you go tonight?”

I ignored his question. “You sent Alexa home early.”

His features sharpened. “We were quiet.”

The pad of my finger smoothed around the circumference of the whiskey glass. “We are never quiet.”

“Alexa is exhausted.” He gave an insouciant shrug. “Have you noticed she barely has any time off?”

I had noticed, but I have yet to ask questions. I’m at the club seven days a week, and when Alexa is here, it gives me something decent to look at. “She’s a big girl.” I eyed him subtly. “No need to fight her corner.”

“Fair enough.” He handed over a folder. “We have a shipment coming in tomorrow. I need to run the delivery by you before the men to collect.”

“It looks good.” With enthusiastic interest, I scanned the details and tossed the notes onto my desk. “Give the men the go-ahead.”

“Am I missing something?” He slipped a toothpick between his lips. “Where is your head at lately? Are you ill or something?”

Avoiding his probing eyes, I retorted, “I’m never unwell.”

“So, why are you so stressed?” His mouth kicked into a wolfish grin. “Is our lady friend giving you a hard time?”

Brad is observant. His vigilance is a requirement for our dangerous line of work. Sometimes, though, it’s an annoying trait, especially when he aimed scrutiny at me. “Go back to work, Brad.”

He blinked once, twice, and then his eyebrows crept to his hairline. “Christ. You like the new girl.”

“Shut up, Brad.” Yes, I am attracted to Alexa. I am not invested, though. “What is that look on your face?”

“Hey, you said she was off-limits already.” He revelled in my discomfort. “Do you want to talk it over?”

His mind gets ahead of itself. “There is nothing to discuss.”

“If it’s nothing, why the prohibition? See, I thought that perhaps you wanted to get in there first…” His eyes squinted. “You need to fuck her out of your system.”

“I don’t need to do anything. I am quite capable of rejecting women, especially young, unconfidently demure women that cannot differentiate between fondness and affection.”

Brad sat on the desk to roll a blunt. “But you have thought about it.”

“Obviously, I have thought about it.” I cloaked frustration. “Alexa is a temptation. If she were older, I might have pursued her already. I am not going there, though.”

“Don’t take the moral high ground with me,” he spoke conversationally. “It’s not as though we haven’t fucked younger birds before. How is Alexa any different?”

I pondered the question. “Alexa is fragile.”

“Fragile?” he deadpanned. “Seriously, Bossman.”

“You asked, and I answered.” My annoyance flared. “I shouldn’t have hired Alexa Haines. She does not belong here. You know it. I know it.”

His outstretched legs crossed at the ankles. “Yet, she is here.”

Again, I ignored his inquisitiveness. “Let’s say Alexa is older, confident and emotionally detached. It would not change the way I feel.” I proffered the prescription drugs, and, smouldering blunt parked to the corner of his mouth, he tried to read the faded label. “There may be some sexual attraction between us, but I do not trust Alexa. Her inadequate background check intensified scepticism. It was a clean file—too clean, which means someone destroyed her details from the National Records database.”

Brad tapped the packet on his palm. “Let me type her name online.”

“I did that,” I said, accepting the lit blunt from him. “I found zilch.”

He was nonplussed. “Social media?”

I shook my head.

Smoke rolled under his tongue. “Have you asked her?”

“Yes. Alexa is either genuine or an excellent liar.”

“Haines.” His thumbnail scraped the label. “The first name is unreadable, though. What is a nineteen-year-old doing with Mirtazapine?”

Alexa suffered a panic attack the first time we met. “I think she has some form of anxiety disorder.”

“Pointless. Those expired two years ago.” He tossed the package on the desk. “I think Cherry is downstairs. I might see if she needs sorting out.”

When Brad says, “sorting out”, he’s referring to his sexual needs only. The ladies here love his good looks and arrogance. He’s never struggled for sex and, more often than not, the man’s juggling multiple women. Cherry, however, is one of his favourites. I’m sure her tongue piercing sealed the deal. The woman gave a decent blow job.

“Do you want me to send someone up?” he mused. “Natalie’s shift ends in ten minutes.”

No, I am in no mood to deal with the blonde tonight. “Another time.”

In quiet solitude, I lingered by the minibar and refilled the whiskey glass. Heat rolled down my throat. I licked malt from my lips, set the empty glass down and headed for the staff room down the end of the hall.

Hoping to find food in the fridge, I strode into the room and clapped my eyes on Josh. He’s on the U-shaped leather sofa Reheated microwave fodder plated on the coffee table. His eyes jerked up. “What’s happening, Boss?” He forked rice into his mouth. “I got plenty here if you want to share.”

I opted for bottled water instead. “You are not permitted to date co-workers.”

“What?” His spine straightened. “I am not dating anyone.”

Do not show weakness, Warren.

“No?” Ice cold water quenched sudden thirst. “Who are you texting?”

Josh stared at me in bewilderment. “My grandmother.”

I masqueraded as an unperturbed man. “Are you and Alexa Haines embroiled in sexual affairs at the workplace?”

“Alexa’s a good friend.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, I think she’s hot, but I kinda like having an undemanding bird on my arm. Fucking co-workers makes for an uncomfortable working environment.” His judgmental stare pinned me in place. “Right?”

I laughed mirthlessly. “Was that an accusation?”

“No, Boss.” He set the plate to the side, no longer having an appetite. “I wasn’t aware of any fraternisation policies, that’s all.”

“You are not permitted to date Alexa Haines.” I went for the jugular. “Do not make an enemy out of me, Josh.”

His complexion paled. “Of course, Boss.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Alexa

Inhaling the smell of freshly cut grass, I closed my eyes and dropped my head back as the warm breeze flowed through my hair.

I push my feet forward.

I push my feet backwards.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Holding onto the frayed ropes, I extended my legs, oscillating beneath the sun’s hot rays, and wondered what would happen if I let go mid-swing.

If I point my toes, will that make me go higher?

If I stretched my legs far enough, would I land on my feet or tumble across the grass?

I suppose there is only one way to find out.

Releasing the tight hold to the ropes, I lunged ahead, feet almost giving out under the sudden crash to the ground, and then, spinning to see how far I made it, I looked back at the swing as it swayed. I assessed the distance.

My shoulders slumped.

I made it not much further than last time.

Never mind.

Grappling the material of my white summer dress, I twirled and danced, admiring the floral patterns on my frilly socks. Mummy always put me in a dress, especially when the sun glowed. It’s pretty, she told me.

I hated the pigtails, though.

I remember when Mummy matched our outfits, Kathy’s and mine. If I wore pink, she had to wear pink. And If I wore lemon shorts and a white lace trim blouse, she had to wear lemon shorts and a white lace trim blouse.

Oh, how Kathy hated anything remotely girly. She’d protest every single time. Not the pastels, Mamma, she often groused. We are not twins. Alexa is younger than me. I want to wear jeans. And I like leather jackets and ankle boots.

Mummy fought Kathy often on her wardrobe, but in the end, she gave up and concentrated on me instead, even though she mumbled how unladylike Kathy dressed.

I like what Kathy wears. Her friends seem to like black, too, so I don’t blame her for wanting to fit in.

When I grow up, I’m going to be like my sister.

My fingertips brushed over the tall gladiolus that sprinkled our garden, the pretty colours, yellow, red and orange, reminding me of a rainbow. Running through waist-length flowers, watching petals fall as I whacked tall stems aside, I got to the top of the hill, the one Mummy made me promise not to climb, and oversee the enchanted forest ahead. It’s our favourite place, Kathy’s and mine. We like to hide behind the mysterious trees and endless undergrowth when, being home, listening to Mummy crying, becomes too much to handle.

Onto my backside, I slumped, the extra-bright sun burning above in the cloudless sky. I uprooted a white gladiolus from the ground, snuffed the delicate petals, and then, falling back with a pout, I flung the flower aside, wondering what to do with myself. I am bored. Very bored.

Kathy left at the crack of dawn to visit the beach with friends. When you are older, I promise to take you with us, she’d told me. Hey, we can even make sandcastles, she continued, just behave for Mamma while I am gone, Alexa. She is under the weather.

Yes, Mummy was sad this morning. I made her a peanut butter sandwich, and she never even thanked me. It’s unlike Mummy to not eat a peanut butter sandwich, so she’s definitely unwell.

I wish I were older like Kathy. I wanted to go to the beach, drive around in her friend’s rusty truck, and eat ice cream until I threw up. Well, she always throws up when she comes home from joy riding with friends. Too much candy floss, Kathy would slur into the toilet. Too much ice cream. Ignore me, Alexa. Go back to bed.

I missed out on all the fun.

Daddy’s never home.

Kathy’s never home.

Mummy’s always in the kitchen.

I love spending time with Mummy, but she’s busy cleaning or baking or resting, and I get so lonely. There are no kids around here for me to play with. Our neighbours are old and grouchy and barely hear a word I say.

Propped onto my side, I glanced down the hill and wondered what would happen if I rolled. I may fall into the rose bush. I may enter the forest. Alone. That’s not fun. It might be enchanted, but without Kathy here to hold my hand, I don’t trust the shadows.

It’s not that steep.

I don’t think about it.

I do it.

Pushing off my side, I rolled down the steep slope, the long grass tickling my face and nose, and, giggling like a crazy person, I toppled across fallen leaves mere inches away from the forbidden woodland area.

Okay, that was too much fun. I have to do it again.

“Alexa,” Mummy called, and I slapped two hands over my face. “Where have you disappeared to? I hope you’re not down that hill!”

“No,” I yelled, pushing to my feet and dusting grass from my knees. “Hang on, Mummy.”

How will I get up the hill without her seeing me?

Great. I am in so much trouble.

Mummy stood by the backdoor, her expression all-knowing, all-seeing and judgmental. “Sweetie,” she said in a calm voice that I knew not to believe. “Where did you go?”

“I’m sorry, Mummy.” My eyelashes fluttered. “I fell asleep.” I pointed to the towering tree beside our house, the one with scary leafless branches that knocked against my bedroom window at night. “Over there!”

“Really?” Surprise painted her face. “I checked the tree first, sweetie.” Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “I didn’t see you.”

“That’s because I am magic, Mummy.” My hands went to my hips in protest. “You will only see me if I want you to see me.”

“Well, alright. I will take your word for it this time. Now come inside.” Mummy re-entered the house through the rickety door. “I made you lunch.”

Inside the wood-panelled porch, I stepped out of the sandals and arranged them on the shoe rack beside Daddy’s humongous boots, and then, stomping down the long-stretched hallway, I went to the pleasant-smelling kitchen to see freshly baked goods on the counter. Mummy sits on the chair. “Here you go, sweetie.” Waiting for me to sit down, she slid a plated sandwich across the round table. “Enjoy.”

Jumping on the seat opposite her, I picked up the sandwich, took a large bite and licked jam from my lips.

“Do you like the feather’s, sweetie?”

Mummy makes lots of dream catchers and hangs them all around the house. She said they would protect me from bad dreams. “I like everything you make, Mummy.” When she didn’t respond, I peered up to find her watching me. Her eyes were frightfully wide. Her red-painted lips, tight and still. “Are you okay, Mummy?”

Mummy said nothing. But her unblinking eyes, growing wider, darker, like pools of tar, bore into me until shivers plucked goosebumps on my arms.

I lowered the half-eaten sandwich to the plate, ignoring the sticky jam on my fingers. “Mummy, why are you scaring me?”

“It’s okay.” Her body rocked in the chair. “I won’t let him hurt you. He will never hurt you. I promise, sweetie. Mummy never breaks her promise.”

Back and forth.

Over and over.

Back and forth.

Over and over.

Her rocking intensified, and the chair beneath her weight, creaking, groaning, creaking groaning. “I won’t let him hurt my babies. I won’t let him hurt my babies.” Her robotic tone prattled. “My babies. My babies.”

I felt sick. “Mummy, what’s wrong?”

Mummy stopped rocking.

Her eyes find mine again.

The room is too silent.

I hated silence.

Her voice roared. “Please don’t hurt my babies!”

My eyes snapped open.

Lunging forward in bed, I choked with a deep inhalation and slapped a hand on my chest to soothe erratic heartbeats. Hair adhered to my neck and sweat coated my skin. I blow out an unsteady breath in an attempt to contain panic. “Alexa, calm down. It’s only a dream,” I said whispery. “It’s only a dream.”

Shutting my eyelids, I fall onto the pillow in exhaustion. It’s been a while since I had a nightmare, but they typically involve my mother when I do.

Dreams always start nice.

Memories I cherish.

Reminiscences soon turn sour, though.

Perhaps it’s my subconscious mind highlighting buried questions. It’s something I often consider as I don’t know the truth behind my mother’s murder.

Was she aware it was going to happen?

Was she scared?

Did it hurt?

Did she know him?

Was it painless or painful?

The thought crushed me. I want to forget the darkness that’s inside my head and not relive it every time I shut my eyes.

Will it ever end?

My bedroom door flung open. Chloe entered. One towel wrapped around her body. Another towel swaddled atop her head. “Isn’t it time you got up? It’s almost six.”

Six in the evening. Jesus, I slept the entire day away.

“Well, I am exhausted from working late all the time. Besides, it’s my day off. I have earned it.”

I belatedly discerned the dressing gown draped over my legs and frowned.

When did I cover myself?

Maybe I was cold last night.

Shaking away mental cobwebs, I pulled the dressing gown over my face to hide. “Let me sleep, Chloe. I am tired.”

Attempting to hide was pointless. Chloe stole the dressing gown and hurled it across the bedroom. “Get up.” A clean towel landed on my face. “We’re going out, Alexa. I am so bored.”

“I seriously do not want to leave.” My hands fisted the mattress. “Let me rest!”

“Please,” she begged with puckered lips. “I want to dance, Hon. You girl needs to put on a dress and have fun. I will do anything. Anything if you agreed to come out tonight.”

I was starting to crack. “Anything?”

“Well, not anything.”

My smile widened.

“You know what? I am not begging. You are coming out. I insist.” Her arms folded. “I am not opposed to torture, Hon. Don’t make me pour a bucket of cold water over your head.”

“Fine,” I surrendered. “You owe me.”

“Really? You agreed. I mean, yes. I owe you.” Masking her surprise, she used her hip to re-open the door, leaving footprint suds on the floor. “On a serious note. Thank you. I had a crappy day at work. Do you want me to do your makeup?”

Yawning, I stretched. “No, I got it.”

“Okay,” she chimed. “Taxi is due in an hour.”

“An hour?” I repeated incredulously. “Chloe, I need more than an hour to get ready.”

“One hour.” Her voice echoed from the next bedroom. “Move your arse, Alexa.”

Yes, mum.

I jumped out of bed and headed straight for the shower.

Sleep is overrated anyway.

***

I am standing at the glass bar in Club 11. Drunk people to my left. Drunk people to my right. Erotic dancers work the cages above. Music reverberating throughout. I love my job, but I practically live here. I would rather be somewhere different for our girl’s night out. Away from the bitchiness. Away from the male testosterone.

“Of all the clubs to choose,” I muttered under my breath, downing the shot Chloe forced into my hand. It was green. It was disgusting. I will remain shot-free for the remainder of the night. “I am sick of this place.”

“Hon, the last time we came here, there were hotties everywhere. I want to enjoy them.” Chloe knocked back a blue shot, and her face scrunched up. “Plus, employee benefits. You can get us discounted alcohol.”

I put my back to the bar, absently swaying to the blaring trance music when Brad appeared through the energetic crowd. He almost walked on by, and then, with faltering footsteps, his gaze swung in my direction. “Alexa, what are you doing here?” He modelled a messy top knot and a three-piece designer suit. “I thought it was your night off.”

“Chloe,” I gestured to my best friend, “wanted to come here and enjoy all the hotties.”

She sputtered and choked mid-drink.

I couldn’t help myself.

Brad raised a curious brow. He gave her a blatant once-over. “Well, there’s a hottie standing right in front of you.” He indicated to himself—cocky much. “Enjoy.” His focus returned to me when he said, “Have a drink with me.”

Yeah, I would rather not. “Actually, we were just about to find a table.” I grabbed Chloe’s hand. “Maybe later?”

“Don’t sit down here with all the bellends.” His fingers curled around my elbow. “Come.” He dragged me through throngs of people. “You can have one of the VIP suites.”

Protesting is futile. Firstly, fighting Brad is not an option. He will win. Secondly, I have never seen the VIP suites before, so I am curious what all the hype is about.

We traipsed in Brad’s footsteps. With confident, powerful strides, he sauntered past security detail into the hall, not a kink in his self-assured image. Upstairs to the private floor, he took us. He unlocked the black and chrome door, and, stepping aside for us to enter first, he dimmed the bright light. My heels alternately clicked against the glittering black tiles as I ambled to the red leather seating accommodation. While Brad’s distracted at the corner bar, calling somebody to restock and deliver alcohol, I used the opportunity to look around. I mean, the room offers privacy, music choice and front row seats to the strippers from the glass balcony. I prefer the liveliness downstairs. The wall-mounted television screens piqued interest, though.

“You can see the bar,” Chloe pointed to the screen, and I smiled, watching Josh mix cocktails for customers with vainglorious finesse. “Oh, he’s gorgeous.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

On the other screen, women queue downstairs to use the restrooms. The dance floor, heaving with intoxicated customers, under intermittent strobe lights.

Next screen, I see Natalie exit Liam’s office, tidying up her sleek straight hair and dishevelled shorts. A pang of jealousy squeezed my heart. Stop torturing yourself, Alexa. You’re not with the man. He owes you absolutely nothing. You have no right to get jealous.

I am not in control of my emotions, though. Natalie’s relationship with our boss is more than sex. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see she’s pining over him. Perhaps that’s where the animosity festered. I rarely see or speak to Liam. However, when I am requested to his office, Natalie makes a note. On multiple occasions, she warned me to stay away from him. Her groundless threats are comical.

Candidly, I don’t understand what excellent qualities Liam sees in Natalie. The woman is a bitch. That’s harsh. She is gorgeous. Flawless physique. Killer breasts.

She lacks in the personality department.

I rolled my eyes.

Her personality is irrelevant, Alexa.

Natalia has a vagina.

Why wouldn’t Liam find her attractive?

And now I must stop referring to myself in the third person.

I fixated on another screen. My eyes bugged out of my head. In the middle of a quiet booth sits a man, his arms draped on the seat’s rear, a woman’s head bobbing up and down between his thighs.

“Shut your mouth.” Brad flicked my chin as he collapsed onto the sofa beside me. “Unless you hope to catch something. In that case, slacken the jaw more.”

“Uh, Brad…” I ignored his sexual innuendo. “Did you know there was live pornography in here?”

He eyed the screen. “It happens all the time.”

My mouth stayed agape for a moment. “Fair enough.”

Wearing nothing but lace thongs and six-inch heels, two dancers arranged ice buckets on the table with expensive champagne bottles inside, followed by whisky, vodka, gin and more of the disgusting green stuff.

“I don’t think there are enough of us to get through all that.”

Pouring everyone drinks, Chloe admired the female breast exhibition. “Hon, I accept the challenge.”

Brad shot me a cheeky wink. “Are you ready to get wasted?”

***

Five hours later, precisely like Brad predicted. “Wasted!”

I am so glad Chloe talked me into coming out tonight. I haven’t laughed like this in a long time. Brad, I think I love him. He’s not just the flirtatious manwhore I once claimed. He is charming. Hilarious.

My jaw ached from ever-present smiling. My stomach hurt from straining through bouts of giggles. If I weren’t so smitten with Liam Warren, I might want Brad. Well, inebriated Alexa definitely liked Brad.

Dancers joined our little get together throughout the night. I enjoyed getting to know them. Usually, they are preoccupied with punters, so it’s been entertaining, and I doubt I will ever appreciate a night out without this lot again.

Around two hours into the evening, the Suits entered, Nate being one of them. The man is huge—an impenetrable wall of solid muscle. I am fascinated by his forest-green eyes and muscular arms. He’s a handsome man, but he’s terrifyingly intimidating. And unsociable. It’s his demeanour, the way he holds himself. He’s got that look in his eyes, which has my back straightening and core clenching.

Nate’s not loud or obnoxious like the other Suits, namely Brad. He’s more reserved, standoffish and observant, and he must sense me watching him because his eyes find me across the room. We hold each other’s stare for a moment. I snapped away from his heated glare and focused on the dancer twerking on the glass podium instead.

I do not want to fuck with Nate.

Handle him with caution.

You have been warned.

“Come on, Alexa.” Brad poured me another drink. “One more shot. I can’t believe you lost again.”

I cannot play this game. My drunkenness confirms as much.

S and P. It sounds so easy, right? In circular order, everyone participates with a response that’s unassociated with the above-mentioned letters.

Very immature, I know. But it did the trick. We’re all too drunk for our own good.

As I stated, they make it sound easy—lies!

“Wood,” someone said.

“Pine!” I yelled.

Another shot.

“Toilet,” someone said.

“Shit!” I muttered.

More shots.

“Dick,” someone said.

“Sex!” I sing.

Shot!

It’s the worst game invented for humankind.

My bloodshot eyes and drunken stupor agreed.

Having lost again, I downed another shot, and then, the back of my hand pressed to my mouth to prevent vomiting, I swallowed harsh liquor and squirmed in my seat.

I have imbibed far too many shots for my stomach to endure.

“Oh, God. Brad anymore of that, and I’m going to spew.” I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. “But I can’t say no to you,” I slurred, pointing the finger at him. “You have a cute face and a sweet mouth. Is this what you do to get the ladies into bed?”

Brad leaned in, his warm breath tickling my ear. “You are so adorable when you’re drunk, Alexa. I don’t need to get a woman drunk to take her to bed. They come to me willingly when they see the size of my cock.”

My spine straightened. Don’t do it, Alexa. You are not allowed to look. I do it. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the glorious bulge in his trousers.

“No need to perv.” Brad busted out laughing. “If you want to see my cock, just ask. I’ll happily fucking show you.”

Kill me, please.

I laughed. I can only laugh to hide mortification. “I need a bathroom break.”

On wobbly feet, I stood and excused myself from the lively room. Spearing a hand through my hair, I exited into the hall and, unprepared for oncoming traffic, crashed straight into someone. “I’m so sorry…” Liam captured me by the elbows. “Mr Warren. Hey.”

“Miss Haines.” His hands went into his trouser pockets. “What are you doing here?”

Liam looked incredibly sexy in his sartorially tailored steel grey suit. Really, Alexa? Sexy. How drunk are you? The man is handsome—very handsome. My gaze settled on his unbuttoned shirt, the material stretching to accommodate his muscular chest. “I…” My hand slapped the wall for balance. “I am out with friends. Friend. One friend. Plural…Not plural?”

His mouth twitched. “You are drunk.”

“Am I? I feel sober.” I pulled a face. “Okay. Maybe I am a little drunk.”

Liam’s stare lazily swept down my legs. He stepped closer, and I sucked in a breath. “This is nice,” he whispered as his fingers pinched the hem of my dress. “It looks good on you.”

Do not embarrass yourself, Alexa.

“Thank you,” I said, and his admiration lingered on my non-existent chest. “Now, if you will excuse me. There is a toilet somewhere with my name on it.”

“Wait,” he called, and I stopped walking. “Don’t use the restroom downstairs. There is a private suite on this floor.”

“Oh.” I ebbed away from the staircase. “Well, I wish I knew that earlier. I have been running up and down those stairs like a headless chicken.”

I followed him to the end of the hall, the light reducing with each step. He paused by the door and swiped the lock with a key card. “Go ahead.”

I cannot urinate while he stands in the hall. “Actually, I don’t think I need to go anymore.”

“Really?” His hoarse voice did something to me. “Just like that.”

“Just like that,” I croaked.

Liam was in no hurry to leave. His shoulder rested on the closed door, and then, grazing the underside of my arm with his fingertips, he tugged me closer, leaving minimal space between us. “I really like the dress.”

It belonged to Kathy. “Thank you.”

“Hazel.” He respired a long, wearisome breath. “Your eyes. I found the colour most indistinguishable. But now,” he rasped, “I can see clearly.”

Why had Liam wondered about my eyes?

“Yes,” I said, and his stare fixated on my mouth. “Should I go back to the suite?”

His jaw sharpened. “Do you want to return to the suite?”

No, I wanted to stay. “I don’t know.”

“Indecisiveness is unattractive,” he said, and I felt insulted. “Decisiveness is desirable. I happen to admire a woman who knows what she wants.”

I struggled to breathe within his proximity. “You are so cryptic. I hate it.”

His brows jumped a fraction. “Feel free to elucidate.”

“Well, if I assumed, you’d consider me presumptuous. How am I supposed to know whether you wish to converse or not?”

“I am testing the waters,” he said, his flirtatious undertone sending my brain into a riot. “Sue me.”

I laughed a nervous laugh.

He stared stoically. “Well?”

What is he asking?

“Come here.” Liam’s arm slid around my lower body. I stopped breathing. “Breathe.” His whispered tone warmed my cheek. “I might kiss you.”

My breath caught. “Why?”

“Why?” He suppressed amusement. “What, you require a scientific explanation as to why kissing is instinctual?”

I have never willingly kissed a guy before. I am inexperienced. “I am sure there are much better females down the hall.”

“Yet,” he whispered against my lips, “I am here with you. And you, Miss Haines, look far too tempting to overlook.”

I could almost taste the whiskey on his tongue.

“You decide,” he rasped, and butterflies uncaged in my chest.

I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, a soft brush, one that weakened me to the knees. “I…” My heart threatened to detonate. “I don’t…” I don’t know what to do, I thought.

Liam’s eyebrows incurved into a harsh frown. He grasped my jaw and read the panic in my eyes. “You told me you weren’t a virgin.”

“I am not,” I reaffirmed, which heightened his puzzlement. “I…”

“Yet, you have never been kissed,” he said assuredly, and embarrassment sent a hot flush to my cheeks. “How is that possible?”

I mustered a bogus response on the spot. “Not all men care to be romantic, Mr Warren. I guess, the first time I had sex, I drew the short straw.”

“One boy is hardly a comparison.”

I gave him a flat smile. “I suppose.”

“Alexa?” Chloe yelled from the suite, and I jumped out of my skin. “If she leaves without me, I will beat her with a stick.”

Liam’s thumb pressed to my throat. “If romanticism is what you seek, I am not the best candidate. I will, however, tell you, I want to taste these lips.” His thumb brushed across my mouth. “If you are inclined to allow it.” When I hesitated, his hand lowered, and he stepped back. “Go to your friend, Miss Haines.”

I watched Liam walk away and regretted not kissing him for the entire taxi journey home.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alexa

I was on stag duty tonight. Handsome middle-aged men occupied the reserved booth on one of Club 11’s many designated platforms. The wild bachelors celebrated the groom’s last night of freedom, and the demand for high-priced alcohol was a helluva lot higher than usual. Female employees complained about the lad’s uproarious behaviour and lewdness, whereas I found them quite entertaining. Yes, occasionally, they throw around inappropriate comments, but their inebriated raucousness is harmless.

“Come on, lass.” One guy tapped his thigh. “One naughty dance.”

“Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid.” I smiled, organising their shot glasses on the round table. “I can send someone else over if you wish?”

The best man grinned. “Aye, I’m only pulling your leg, lass.” Extracting a fifty-pound note from his leather wallet, he forced it into my hand. “For being such a fun waitress.”

I thanked him, tucked the note into my bra and headed back to the bar. I slid up to the sour-faced head barman. “Josh?”

He peered up from the phone. “Yeah?”

“Any luck on your lady friend?” I hoped the little stunt I pulled at the café helped him to achieve commitment. Jealousy is a massive factor in forcing someone’s hand. I appreciate she’s in a relationship, but stringing Josh along is unfair, so I regret nothing. “Well?”

He winced, slipping the phone into his trouser pocket. “We’re not speaking.”

I wilted on the spot. “Wasn’t she jealous?”

“Oh, Perri was jealous, all right.” His lips pursed. “She finished with me. As she cannot commit to anything other than sex, she said goodbye and wished me well in my new relationship.”

I was tongue-tied. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He faked a smile. “It had to end, eventually. You just sped up the process.”

I feel like crud. I didn’t want him to lose the girl.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.” His voice lowered to a mere whisper. “Boss interrogated me about you.”

“Me?” My stomach did that little tightening thing again. “Why?”

“Told me I was to stay away from you.” He waited for Nate to walk past the bar before he added, “In all the years I have worked for Warren, he’s never given me a set-two. I was fucking bricking it.” Nervous laughter vibrated his chest. “I told him nothing was going on between us. I think he believed me, but I was kinda shocked.”

“Why were you shocked? Liam doesn’t like his employees dating each other.” I rolled my eyes. “Except when it’s him, of course.”

He glared sharply. “That’s fucking bullshit. I have been banging the backside of Natalie for years. Warren doesn’t care.”

“You’re sleeping with Natalie?” My head fell on his chest. “You can do so much better, Josh.”

“It’s only sex, Alexa, so I don’t care. Anyway, I found it mad that he didn’t want me near you.” His lips turn into a thin line. “I think the Boss has a little thing for you.”

Oh, don’t get my hopes up. “No, he doesn’t.”

Josh jerked a shoulder. “Deny it all you want, but I feel sorry for you.”

Hope obliterated. “Why?”

“This is Liam Warren we’re talking about.” Again, he waited for Nate to pass the bar. “Just be careful around him, Alexa.”

I nod, not particularly enjoying where the conversation is heading.

Josh’s hip nudged mine. “Do you want to play a game?”

After what happened last night, I am pretty gamed out. “A game?” I asked cautiously. “What type of game?”

“It’s called: would you fuck me? Yes. No.”

Is this Josh’s way of asking if I want to have sex with him?

I scratched the nape of my neck. “What exactly are you asking me, Josh?”

“I select a suitable suitor.” He indicated to the random people around the club. “You either answer with a yes-fuck or no-fuck.” He grinned deviously. “Pretty straightforward.”

I stared at him wide-eyed. “Josh, you do realise this is the type of game you’d play with your male friends, right?”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry.” He pointed to a bald guy who looked around fifty. “Him?”

Okay, we’re youths again. “No, fuck.” I scanned the room and chose the cute blonde wearing a tight black number. “Her?”

He approved. “Yes, fuck.”

I ignored his lust-filled gaze and waited for him to point out my next challenge.

Josh signalled to the guy wearing a snapback, swinging a whistle around his finger. “Him?”

“Seriously, Josh!” I chuckled, slapping a hand to my forehead. “No, fuck.” I motioned to the brunette, popping a cherry in her mouth. “Her?”

He groaned like he was in pain. “Fuckkk.”

My brows bend. “What?”

Josh nods approvingly, and there’s no denying that he’s turned on by merely looking at her. That’s If his wanton face is anything to go by. “Definitely fuck. And some dick sucking. And some pussy—”

“Okay!” My hand shot up, stopping his absurdity from escalating. “I get the picture.”

His elbow rested on my shoulder as he hunted prospects. “Him?”

“Josh.” The guy must be in his late forties. He’s bald yet modelled the bushiest beard known to man. “Are you choosing mingers deliberately?” My brow arched in accusation. “No, fuck.” A pink-haired woman paid for a drink at the bar. “That one?”

He physically shuddered. “Fuck. No.”

I laughed hysterically.

This game is seriously ridiculous.

“What about me?” The question was from a customer. He wore a black three-piece suit, and gold-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. I’d guess a lawyer. He’s cute. Still, I wouldn’t look sideways at him. Not because he isn’t handsome, but for the simple fact that he isn’t my type.

When I didn’t answer instantly, he sneered. “Surely, I’m not that bad.” The crease between his eyebrows deepened. “Am I?”

“Yes, fuck,” I lied.

Josh snorted beside me.

He is so dead.

“See. It doesn’t hurt to be nice, does it?” the customer barked a bit too harshly for my liking and stormed off sans drink.

What the hell just happened?

Josh dropped his head to the counter, unsuccessfully limiting uncontrollable laughter.

I jabbed him in the ribs. “I blame you for that!”

“Ugh! Keep your scrawny little finger to yourself!” His laughter crescendoed. “That guy was fucking creepy, right?”

“Just a bit. Did you see how revolted he was when I didn’t answer straight away? He was full of himself.”

My frown turned into a big cheesy smile when I noticed the pink-haired woman re-approaching the bar.

Payback is a bitch.

“Hey, you!” I called out, and she immediately glanced in our direction.

Josh stood taller. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“My friend here has been watching you all night. He’s too shy to ask you out.” I squeezed his red cheek. “What do you say?”

Her eyes snapped to Josh, and she approved, deliberately licking her lips like she wanted to devour him. “I’ll take a ride with you any time of day, pretty boy.” Her hip jutted to the side. “How’s tomorrow for you?”

“He’s free midday,” I responded before he declined her offer. “Out front—at the entrance.” I reeled off a meeting point. “He will be impatiently waiting.”

“It’s a date.” Paying Natalie for the drink, she blew an air kiss over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, sunshine!”

“What the actual fuck, Alexa?! I am not taking her out!” His eyes practically fall out of their sockets. “Are you insane? No!” He pointed to the floor. “I’m putting my foot down.”

“Oh no, mister. You’re not getting out of this one. That’s karma for encouraging that dickhead to take a pop at me.” My cheeks ached from never-ending laughter. “I need to pee. I will be right back.”

I hurry away from the bar to escape the wrath of Josh. Pushing through the door to the restroom facilities, I slapped two palms on the entrance to the ladies room when someone grabbed my arm, preventing me from going any further. “Where are you going, cutie?” His hot breath, stale beer and cigarettes, wafted on my nose. “I want to apologise.”

Great, It’s the creep from the bar. “It’s fine.”

“You hesitated,” he said, his hands moving dangerously close to my rear end. “I was offended.”

“Okay, well, I apologise for upsetting you.” I pried his fingers away from my behind, but he was relentless. “Release me, please.” His lips slanted across my mouth, and I blinked in shock. “Excuse me. I said—”

“Come on,” he moaned, his disgusting hands painfully groping my breasts. “I know you want it. Look at you, waltzing around in those tight shorts. You begged for attention.”

Breathe, Alexa. Don’t go into a panic. Breathe. “Get your sloppy hands off me, Asshole!”

His wet mouth suckled my cheek. “What’s the matter? You were only saying five minutes ago that you’d fuck me.” His finger. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Brad!” My back crashed into the wall tiles, and when I shrieked, he pressed a hand over my mouth to muffle cries. “Brad!”

Surely, life cannot be this cruel. I have already suffered at the hands of a monster. I could never survive this again.

He fumbled with his belt and zipper. “Scream, and I’ll hurt you.”

I was oxygen-deprived. I looked for something, anything to use as a weapon— “Get off me.”

With excruciating force, the man pinned me to the sinks, yanked my legs apart and shoved his hips between them. I gripped the back of his head and sank my teeth into his cheek, piercing his flesh.

“Ah!” He jerked back in shock. “You bitch.” He slapped me so hard across the face—I went out like a light bulb.

“Wear this one today, sweet little Lexi,” he said, holding up a long white dress. “It is pretty.”

“I like the one I’m wearing.” I kept my arms locked around my knees. It’s a lie. I hate my nightgown. It’s torn, soiled and covered in vomit. It’s two sizes too small, but I don’t want to accept his gifts.

His eyes twitched. “Stand.”

I obeyed.

His finger grazed my lips. “I want you to change for me now.”

My hands trembled as I raised the gown over my head. Ashamed, I veered my gaze. I stand here, wearing nothing.

“Such beauty.” He kissed my cheek. “I like you in white. It’s pure. Angelic.”

The new gown buried my slender frame.

“I want to kiss you now.”

“I don’t want to—”

His dirty fingers fisted my hair. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” I whimpered. “I am sorry. I feel sick today.”

“Lexi,” he whispered, his mouth too close to mine. “So sweet.”

I know my name is Alexa.

Tears pricked the back of my eyes.

“There’s a good girl.” His hands smoothed my hair. “What shall we play today?”

“I am sick,” I croaked, but he’s too selfish to listen. “Please.”

His hand cupped the swell of my arse. “You’re starting to develop.”

I swallowed vomit down my throat. “Please,” I whisper, a stray tear rolling down my cheek. “Please let me go home. I won’t tell them about you. But I miss my mum.” Tears leaked from my eyes. “I miss her so much.”

“But she’s dead,” he said, but I refused to believe it. “You have no home to go back to, Lexi. Your home is with me now.”

My mouth twisted in disgust. “I do not belong to you.”

He backhanded me, brutal, sharp, the blow whipping my head to the side. “What have I told you about that shit? You little cunt.”

My jaw vibrated. Blood pooled under my tongue. I touched my sore jaw with investigatory fingertips. “I’m sorry.” His hand raised to punish me again— “Please don’t hit me,” I begged, gripping his unbuttoned shirt. “I will do anything you say. I swear to be good.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He worked his belt and zipper, the clanking buckle, stomach-turning. Taking himself into a tight fist, he rushed to arouse. I looked away, sickened. “Now be good, Lexi. You know how to make me happy.”

Choking on a strangled breath, I returned to the present. Pain throbbed along my jaw. Fearing whether the man had violated me or not, I rolled onto my back, examined my revealed stomach and loosened shorts when muffled groans turned my quaking body into ice. Harsh blows, agonising screams and furious rants ensued. And like three dark angels, Liam, Brad and Nate, looming above a blood-beaten body, alternated between unmerciful blows to the man cowering on the floor.

Brad booted the guy in the face. Blood bespattered wall tiles.

I must have made a noise because Nate’s green eyes darted to me. He wiped his cracked knuckles with a rag cloth and squatted to redo the buttons of my shorts. Not a word of utterance passed his lips when he helped me stand. His back became a shield, blocking the commotion.

Fisting the back of his black shirt, I glimpsed over his shoulder to see Liam deliver blow after blow, kick after kick. “Mr Warren, please. I didn’t know—”

“Didn’t know what, cunt?” Enraged by the man’s disrespect, Liam adjusted the sharpened dusters on his knuckles and delivered another painful-looking blow, the viciousness lacerating the man’s unrecognisable face. “You don’t put your hands on one of my fucking women.” The final punch knocked the guy unconscious. “Get him,” he panted, wiping blood from his face, “the fuck out of my club.”

Nate rushed into action, and I lost my footing, hands latching onto the sink. I closed my eyes, inwardly chastising myself. Suck it up, Alexa. You have suffered far worse and survived.

I heard the Suits convey the man’s lifeless body out of the bathroom and sensed Liam’s nearness before opening my eyes. I caught his bloodied reflection in the mirror. His hand gingerly touched my lower back. “Alexa?”

I shook my head. I am unflappable, but if he comforts me, I will break.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, he wrapped me in his arms and lifted me bridal style. I didn’t care to process his thoughtful gesture. I clung to him, unperturbed by the blood on his shirt. His familiar cologne soothed the pain in my chest.

Moments later, Liam stepped into the dark alleyway, and I welcomed those cold winds on my face. He unlocked the parked Bentley, lowered me onto the passenger seat and then collapsed behind the steering wheel soon after.

Usually, panic attacks, anxieties and nightmares set me back into the dark hole I laboriously clawed from, but I am not prepared to go there. Tonight, I had a lucky escape, but I need to be more vigilant in the future.

Liam fired the engine, tires shrieking as his foot slammed down on the accelerator.

My hands slapped against the dashboard, reminding me to buckle up. He drives like a madman, taking sharp turns, breaching the speed limit. I studied his split knuckles as the steering wheel threaded between his hands. His gaze was steadfast, unwavering from the road, the muscles in his jaw ticking with each passing second.

I’d give anything to curl up onto his lap with his arms protectively wrapped around me. As crazy as it sounds, developing feelings for my boss is a step in the right direction.

It’s not an ideal situation. He’s a notorious crime lord and a drug baron and his act of kindness tonight means nothing—for him, anyway. For me, though, it means everything. Liam’s the first man to awaken me and brighten the darkness.

Liam glanced at me, and my heart thumped. I touched my chest, the erratic movement exhilarating, keeping me alive.

“What?” He veered the car into my street; I’m not surprised he knows where I live.

“Nothing,” I lied, falling harder. “It’s the block here on the left.”

He mounted the curbside and cut the engine. His disapproving eyes toured the graffitied walls, overgrown grass and old fridge freezer balancing on a dirty mattress.

“Thank you for tonight.” Unbuckling the seat belt, I climbed out and hesitated, but Liam didn’t respond, so I walked away.

I entered the building, kicked strewn post mail away as I rounded the stairwell. Fumbling with the keys, I paused by the old welcome mat, put my forehead to the front door and shut my eyes again. I am wrestling aftershock and adrenaline when his cologne drifted between us. “I don’t want to cry,” I admitted, and he sighed harshly behind me. “I have cried enough in life.”

Liam relaxed his shoulder to the wall. “You are stronger than you realise, Alexa.”

I kept my forehead to the door when I peered at him. “You don’t know me, Mr Warren.”

His stare was penetrating. “You are a hardened young woman. Pain will do that to someone.”

Snivelling, I jangled the keys and unlocked the front door.

Should I invite him inside? Is that inappropriate?

My place is clean but dated. I don’t have much. It’s humiliating enough that he knows I live on a council block. “Do you want to come in?’ I heeded, and he straightened. “I don’t have any of the expensive stuff you drink at the club, though. You’ll have to settle for some cheap beer.”

Liam’s shoulder brushed mine as he walked inside. I held my breath, closed the front door and followed him into the living room, where he looked around, inventorying the crap that I call furniture.

I went to the kitchen to grab two beers from the fridge. “Here.” I passed him one, then took a long swig from mine. “Seriously, thank you for tonight. For dropping me home and handling that guy.”

His face scrunched up. “I didn’t appreciate where his hands were.” He sat on the coffee table. “No one touches what’s mine.”

I bite down on my lip. Did Liam call me his?

“You belong to the club, Alexa.” He pulled a swig from the beer bottle. “I would never tolerate it.”

Well, that answers my question.

Sparked into further demoralisation, I re-entered the kitchen to retrieve the first aid box from under the sink.

Liam was a million miles away when I came back. His head, buried in his hands, his elbows to his knees. He flinched when I kneeled in front of him. “What are you doing?”

I picked up the antiseptic cream and sterile wipes from the box and warily reached for his balled-up fist. His rigid fingers relaxed when I gently cleaned his knuckles.

Liam’s thumb stroked my inner wrist. “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”

I gently lathered his knuckles. “Not really.” I smiled flatly. “I’m not sure I want to know what happened after I blacked out. Ignorance is better for my sanity.”

“He didn’t touch you. Not like that.” He withdrew his hand from mine. “If that’s what troubles you.”

I placed the medical gear back into the box. “That’s the first thing I checked when I opened my eyes—that my clothes were still intact.”

He unexpectedly snatched my jaw to put us eye-level. “I was in that bathroom the moment you went down.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I appreciate it, Mr Warren.”

His hand lowered from my face. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, Alexa.”

I wanted to believe him. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Leaving Liam to his own devices, I locked the bathroom door behind me and gripped the basin as I mulled over tonight’s antics. I do a few breathing exercises to get a handle on depressing thoughts.

I am home. I am safe. I am alive.

But my boss is in the other room.

I splashed cold water on my face and returned to an empty living room. “Mr Warren?” He’s no longer sitting on the coffee table. “Sir?”

Did he leave without telling me?

Liam reappeared from the kitchen, the murderous glint in his eyes flooding me with questions. He stepped forward, and I stepped back until my back fell into the wall. “You lied to me.” He prowled me into submission. “You fucking lied to me!”

“What?” Fear snatched my heart. “I didn’t lie to you.”

His hand locked around my throat, and my eyes rounded. “Mr Warren, please.” My fingernails clawed his wrist between heavy bracelets. “You are hurting me.”

“You better start talking, bitch,” he snarled through gritted teeth. “Now!”

Liam was angry earlier, but this is much worse. His deranged eyes dared me to lie to him. His inexorable grip around my throat was asphyxiating. “Alexa!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about—” He flung me to the side with such force I lunged across the carpet. “Please.” I scuttled backwards to get away from him. “Help me to understand.”

“The photo on your fridge.” His stance towered above me. “I will not ask you again.” He gripped my hair by the root, ripping a wince from me, and descended to one knee. “Start. Talking.”

“The photo on your fucking fridge, Alexa.” He fists my hair, keeping me still, face aligned with mine. “Start. Talking.”

The harrowing realisation hit me hard. I blinked away tears and tried to turn my face, unable to withstand the disappointment in his cold eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

What should I say?

How do I tell him?

If Liam is the man responsible for Kathy’s disappearance, I am dead anyway. “It’s my sister…” I can’t even finish telling him. I break down, filling the flat with huge sobs. Years of encumbering grief and heartbreak drain from my body. “I’m sorry,” I cried as hyperventilation increased the pain in my chest. And then, behind Liam’s beautiful, concerned face, I see a shadow, an unreal, disembodied soul determined to keep me in the burning pits of hell. “No,” I screamed, my fingernails raking down my bear arms, tearing through flesh, scratching and eliminating disgusting filth.

His foreign words pounded inside my head.

I shook my head violently to dispel heinous flashbacks.

My fingers tangled in my hair. I tugged, pulled and caused pain to my scalp to keep my eyes open.

I waited patiently for months and ruined everything in ten-careless-minutes. Liam will think I had a hidden agenda—personal to him—but it was because of Him. The monster destroyed me—ruined my sister. If it weren’t for him, Kathy would still be here.

“Don’t fucking do that shit.” Liam shook me by the arms. “Breathe through it.”

I cried in agony, sweltering, burning up.

Why does everything feel so tight?

Filth, dirt, shame and embarrassment slithered in my veins like acid. I’m unable to catch my breath. Flashbacks flashed behind my eyes, taunting, ridiculing.

I thought it was gone.

Why isn’t it gone?

When I heard those familiar, sickening whispers reiterating inside my head, I screamed, “What’s happening to me?”

Liam used force to untangle my fingers. I clung to him, my hands to his forearms, my fingernails pinching his skin. “Breathe, Alexa,” he said, but all I heard was Him.

“Slowly. In and out.” His eyes focussed on mine, not breaking contact. “Deep breaths.”

“Sweet little, Lexi.”

Darkness.

“Lie down for me.”

Pain.

“Good girl.”

Trauma.

“Touch yourself.”

Evil.

“Touch me.”

“Bring yourself back, Alexa.” Liam held my jaw in one hand, his ice-cold blues searing into me. “Don’t allow yourself to go there.”

“Be a good girl, Lexi.”

Darkness.

Darkness.

Darkness.

“It’s just you and me.” His hold on my hair caused a sharp sting to my tender scalp. “You and me.”

“You…and…me.” My voice broke. “You…and me.”

“That’s right.” He nodded, inhaling and exhaling. “Just us.”

“Just us.” My heart is still doing double time. I glanced behind his head to see if the shadow stood there. “You and me.”

“It’s not real,” Liam said as if he read my mind. “Whatever is going through your head right now? It’s not real.”

Arms lethargically drooping to my sides, I blew out a quivered breath.

Relief flashed over Liam’s strained features. “Alexa?” he rasped, and I met his stare. “There she is.”

Humiliation settled on my shoulders. Mortified by what Liam had witnessed, I broke eye contact.

He soared to his feet. “Get cleaned up, and then we can talk.”

Eagerness prompted me into action. I left the living room to lock myself in the bathroom. An unidentifiable girl stared back at me in the mirror. Her weary, bloodshot eyes judged me. Her matted hair and mascara-streaked cheeks mocked me.

What do you see, Alexa?

“I see a mess,” I said into nothingness.

An abolishment of a person that needed to get her head straight.

I eliminated the sweat-sodden clothes on my body, turned on the shower to let the steam fill the small room and stepped under the faucet. I lathered my long hair, keeping an eye on the door as warm suds dripped down my back.

Liam knows about my sister. His vexation floored me. I mean, I speculated that the love between them was unrequited, but that much hate, anger and resentment rang serious alarms. “Shit, Kathy.”

His reaction tonight confirmed doubts. My sister is a taboo subject. I was right to ask for a job first, keeping Kathy a secret and protecting myself from his merciless capabilities.

The truth is out. I no longer harbour guilt or lies. All I can do is hope Liam’s lenient and understands my harmless deceit was based on emotions. I hadn’t meant to cause any harm.

First option: I could try and run, though he will probably catch me within five minutes, then kill me.

Second option: I can go out there and face him, hoping he’ll listen.

Either way, my life is in Liam Warren’s hands.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Liam

Kathy Pearl.

I remembered the encounter like it happened yesterday. It was dead of night when Kathy entered the office. Brad sent her in the right direction to secure a job after hounding the doorman for three hours. I once approved of Kathy. The statuesque, curvaceous, raven-headed broad is brazen, shameless and alluring. Her sexual appeal is what clients looked for when throwing hard-earned cash at Club 11.

I, too, am guilty of falling for her wicked charm.

You see, Kathy is a vindictive siren. Her desirability and seductiveness lured incautious, unsuspecting men into her dark web of sin. Once you fall into a scandalous hole with a blood-thirsty woman, it’s hard to crawl back out. You are neither trapped nor entrapped. You can come and go as you please because Kathy, unlike most expectant women, cared not for romanticism and commitment. If you put her notoriously promiscuousness into perspective, she really is the embodiment of perfection for men who seek casual partners.

Kathy sat in the leather chair across from me, strumming her black-polished fingernails on the wooden armrests, her voluptuous chest rising on calm breaths, and applied for the private suites to dance erotically for men.

As aforementioned, Kathy is audaciously unabashed. Most newly fired women asked for the cages or glass podiums in the main room. Not Kathy. She demanded the big job, the highest-paid job, the depraved act of selling herself for limitless funds and, appreciating her boldness, I delivered.

No. I fell for her bullshit hook, line and sinker.

Before we got down to business, Kathy informed me that she had no baggage. No obsessive ex-boyfriends. No recognised parents. No unwanted siblings.

I am a lone wolf, she told me. I run with no one.

Kathy then proceeded to her knees before me. I never asked for sexual gratification, but she wanted to seal the deal with her mouth wrapped around my cock.

We sniffed cocaine and fucked the same night. Brad, not wanting to miss out on any action, joined the illicit party. It’s not the first time we had shared a woman, but her willingness, her keenness, had taken both of us by surprise.

Kathy’s libidinousness was unexpected.

I hate myself for touching the woman.

Not my finest hour.

Yet, sex became a regular occurrence. I had no romantic feelings for Kathy, but I am a warm-blooded male, so I never rejected her advances. I took from her while she took from me.

Our relationship was an unspoken no-strings-attached agreement.

It worked.

Well, it worked until she screwed me over.

Kathy Pearl is a lying, manipulative serpent who played me like a goddamn fiddle. I trusted her to be alone in the office one night, and the bitch raided the safe, stole fifty grand and did the midnight flit.

Kathy’s had a bounty on her head for months. If any syndicate member locates the woman’s whereabouts, they have orders to kill on sight.

Yes, Pearl is a dead bitch walking.

Collapsing on the leather chair behind the desk, I ran a hand down my face and, head lolled back, glared at the ceiling.

Alexa Haines and Kathy Pearl.

I see it now.

Alexa resembled her older sister.

It’s their eyes.

When Alexa bumped into me at the coffee shop, I could not shake the feeling that she and I had met before. I left under a nebulous cloud, the mysteriousness in mind throughout the rest of the day, and then life moved on, and the short-lived acquaintanceship became a forgotten memory, at least, it was an afterthought until the girl, who looked sinfully irresistible, re-appeared at Club 11.

I have been blinkered ever since.

Despite their features alike, I am not attracted to Kathy, but that’s not to say the woman’s unattractive. However, for me, I saw no unique qualities beyond sex. Her mean-spirited nastiness and acrimonious tongue toward co-workers alike often caused upset in the workplace.

Alexa, though, that’s a different story. I might ignore the rising fondness I feel for the girl, but I am drawn to her deep down. Her kindness and politeness differentiated their personalities. Kathy intentionally provoked defensiveness with the club women, whereas Alexa tries to keep her head down to circumvent bitchiness.

Yet, Alexa lied by omission. Her deceitfulness changed everything.

Kathy never cared for a job. No, her hands itched to swipe the safe’s clientele book and laundered cash, and she succeeded.

Is that why Alexa came here? Did she plan to pick up where her sister left off?

I felt betrayed, disappointed.

Nate knocked on the office door. “Can we talk?”

I eyed the folder in his hand. Dried blood caked his inked knuckles. “What happened?”

He peeled off his suit jacket, leaving himself in all black bespoke, and relaxed on the leather sofa. “Rowdy customer.”

I hired many men before Nate and Brad amalgamated with the syndicate, but they bypassed the ranks and became the elite almost instantaneously for some incomprehensible reason. Brad, in particular, earned his right-hand man position the night he swore fealty to me. Nate, however, required additional training beforehand, which lasted no more than two months.

Nate was a serendipitous discovery. I found him wandering the streets of hackney one night, his brown skin begrimed in mud and bespattered in blood. He was dewy-eyed and soul-destroyed. He walked right past me, past the tailored men, and eased onto a wooden bench to stare at the starlit sky.

Of course, I was intrigued. It’s not often I stumble across seemingly loose-wired men. I took a seat on the bench beside him. He never flinched, but the bloodied kitchen knife in his hand suggested someone had suffered from his barbaric brutality.

Nathaniel Alzaim.

His downcast eyes gazed into space when he addressed me: I don’t want to sell my soul.

Your soul is irredeemable.

Nate killed his mother, stabbed her in the chest innumerable times after he had castrated her lover. His mother, the worthless junkie, defended the cunt she was fucking. The same cunt that molested his little sister.

Nate reacted. He became a wild, ruthless killer.

I decided to keep Nate around. I ordered the men to clean up his mess, the amputated body parts he tried to bury in their back garden, and called Chief Superintendent Reginald Burton, an old, loyal friend at the metropolitan police department. Reginald closed the “missing persons” case before it was publicised. According to police records, Nate’s mother and step-father abandoned their children. His little sister moved to France to live with their aunt, and he’s been with me ever since.

“Nate, where the fuck is Brad when I need him? Your shit can wait.” My stress levels were through the roof. “Get him in the office.”

“Calm down, Bossman.” Brad, bedraggled from his last female encounter, entered the office. “I came here the moment you returned. So, how was she?” He selected the Jameson bottle at the mini bar, took a quick sip, and slumped onto the sofa opposite Nate. “I assume you finally got your dick sucked.”

“Brad, whether or not some bitch sucked my cock is none of your business.” Both men wore the same grim expressions. “I need an enhanced background check.” Extracting Alexa’s file from the drawer, I tossed it onto the desk. “I found out tonight that Alexa Haines is Kathy Pearl’s sister. I want to know everything about them. Have it on my desk by morning.”

Nate and Brad exchanged stunned glances.

“I downloaded Alexa’s file from the National Archives,” Nate said in puzzlement. “Why is her relationship to Pearl not on the records?”

Twisting rizla paper between pinched fingers, I licked the seam and tucked a roach into the end. “I battle the same question.”

Brad stroked his chin. “You should call Reginald.”

I lit the blunt, inhaled a long drag and dialled Reginald’s number. He answered on the third ring. “Warren, what can I do for you?”

“Is it possible that someone at the National Archives deleted public records?”

He never missed a beat. “Yes, it happens from time to time.”

“Right,” I said tightly. “Here is my next question. Is it possible to unpublish internet articles?”

“Yes,” he explained. “If you contact the online publisher directly and request removal, anything is possible.”

I respired smoke to the ceiling. “Are you familiar with the names Kathy Pearl and Alexa Haines?”

“Pearl?” Her surname bemused him. “What interest do you have in the Haines sisters?”

Haines sisters.

“So, you do know them,” I said, and he cursed into the receiver. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

“Law enforcement has the jurisdiction to protect the victims’ privacy. I personally issued an appeal to have articles removed from the internet to protect their identity. As for the National Archives, I had no involvement, so someone else tampered.” He took a breather. “Kathy and Alexa Haines were abducted from their family home in Newquay, Cornwall, back in 1996. They re-appeared in London back in 2003, almost seven years later.”

My hand covered the phone’s speaker. “What of Kathy’s record?”

“Nothing unusual.” Nate adjusted his black-framed reading glasses. “I can re-download her identity verification, but if she lied, or if someone at the Archives discarded her original document, it is pointless.”

I cleared my throat. “Reginald, do you have access to their undisclosed file?”

“Yes, I am looking at them on the computer as we speak.” Keyboard taps sounded in the background. “Would you like me to email them across?”

I loaded the laptop. “Yes.”

Ending the call, I set the phone aside and, twirling the blunt along the ashtray’s groove to reduce ash, toked three hits. “Thoughts.”

Brad’s ring-lined fingers curled around the bottleneck. “Pearl lied her way into the club to steal confidential information. Her being here had nothing to do with money. The bitch nabbed the cash to exacerbate the betrayal.”

“And Alexa’s involvement?” Nate mused about their alliance. “What is her hidden agenda? Did she come to finish the job?”

“No.” Brad wore a permanent frown. “I think she came here for a different reason.”

A notification pinged on the laptop. I opened Reginald’s email, clicked on the attachment and sent it straight to the printer. Nate moved into action. He arranged the printed sheets onto the desk in chronological order. “Sir, I still need to discuss something with you. Darren called from Gateway. He said someone already collected imports. Five hundred Glock pistols smuggled over from France and about two hundred thousand rounds of ammunition.” He placed the final sheet onto the desk. “That is a nine hundred-thousand-pound hit.”

I thumbed the crease between my pinched eyebrows. I tried to stay calm. It’s no good, though. I launched the Jameson bottle at the wall. It fragmented into shards, the brown liquid trickling down the wall.

It has taken me twelve months to get those Glocks.

“Somebody is fucking with me,” I spat, and the men joined forces, relocating in front of the desk. “Who declared war? First, it was The Grape and Vine. Now, it is Gateway.” My hand tapped the piled print-out. “Perhaps the Haines girl can provide answers. Let us consider the facts. Alexa presented herself, and unexplainable incidents occurred as a result. Is she working with someone? Is she helping them fuck me over?” I vented in rage. “I demand answers.”

Brad’s backside perched onto the desk edge. “Well, you drove Alexa home earlier. What happened? Did she admit to any fault? How did you find out about Kathy?”

Alexa’s cries spiralled into inconsolable heartbreak. Her screams pierced my ears. Her pain, her fear, I saw it in her eyes. “I saw a photograph of Alexa and Kathy pinned to the fridge,” I tell them. “Naturally, I confronted Alexa. She started to hyperventilate, crying and screaming. Her fingernails,” I added, “I watched her tear at her skin in an overwhelming state of frustration and devastation. At first, I thought I triggered her perturbation. But it was almost as if someone else was in the room with us.”

“Okay, Alexa sounds like a fucking possessed woman.” Brad’s wide-eyed. “And here I thought she was harmless. I think we should take her to the chambers, tie her to a chair and summon Christ to compel her.”

Nate snorted behind his curled-up fist. “I mean, I ain’t done it before, but I’m not above exorcism.”

I was unamused by their facetiousness. “Alexa was not possessed,” I said in irritation. “Brad, you of all people should understand that psychological stimulus triggers previously traumatic experiences.”

“Fucking hell. Alright.” Indignation honed his jaw. “My past is not Alexa’s past. You cannot compare our situations.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” I retorted. “Perks of being the boss.”

Brad slipped a toothpick between his lips. “So, Alexa’s battling some demons.” He shrugged. “How does her past correlate with recent disloyalties, though?”

My fingers traced the font on the printed document.

Haines Case.

“Well, there is only one way to find out.” Stuffing an unopened bottle of Macallan under the nook of his arm, Brad swiped the document from the desk and, revisiting the leather seating area, turned the case file’s first page onto the high gloss coffee table. “You know what? I think I remember hearing about this case.”

“Yeah?” Nate drawled. “What do you have for us?”

“It was breaking news,” he informed us whilst pouring whiskey into two crystal glasses. “‘Police officials find missing girls seven years after their disappearance.’”

I joined him on the sofa whilst Nate called the local Chinese cuisine for takeaway.

“Medical records.” Brad divided the case file. “Christ, I can’t look at this shit.”

I selected an old, photocopied image of the girls before their abduction. Kathy’s much older, much taller than her younger sister. “What’s the age difference?”

Brad re-checked the details. “Nine years.”

Alexa’s smile brightened the monochromatic image. Her dark, wild, untamed curls practically curtained the jubilance in her eyes. Happy, I thought, noting the rosiness of her cheeks and exaggerated pose.

“Food is en-route.” Nate headed for the door. “I will be back shortly.”

Brad’s engrossed, reading the police notes. “Odd,” he said, his bottom lips rolling between his teeth. “Kathy showed no signs of emotional, psychological or physical trauma whereas Alexa suffered all of the above.” He turned the page. “Both girls underwent Nexplanon removal by a specially trained doctor.” His brows gathered. “What’s Nexplanon?”

I laid the photocopied image onto the table facedown. “Contraceptive.”

He looked sideways at me. “Yet, both girls denied queries of sexual abuse.”

Alexa’s capriciousness started to make logical sense. She is an indecisive individual, which, in all honesty, frustrated the life out of me. Twice, I almost kissed her, and both times, the desire felt reciprocal, but she turned me down.

I was not in the right frame of mind to read anymore. “Close the file.”

Brad went to the desk for a new classification folder first. He slid everything into the dividers and attached labelled tabs in preparation for the filing cabinet. “How did you handle the news?”

I understood the question. “I sent Alexa to the bathroom and left. Otherwise, I may have acted impulsively.”

“So, moving forward.” Removing his suit jacket, he undid the buttons of his shirt sleeves and rolled them up to sit casually at the elbows. “What’s the order?”

“If Alexa has any sense, she will run,” I said into the glass as I sipped whiskey. “Alas, I will chase her down either way. I want answers. I demand answers.”

“What I don’t understand is that Kathy stayed for a short while, emptied the safe and then ran. She did not hang around long enough to befriend anyone. Alexa is invested. Her relationship with Josh is genuine. Trust me. I have watched them interact, and she is spellbound by the foolish tosser. I haven’t noticed anything untoward or sly behaviour, either. My question is if she came here to continue on Kathy’s behalf, when, where, and how? If there is an ulterior motive, did she plan to strike next week? Next month? Next year?” he prattled on while I heeded. “I am inclined to say that treacherousness seems uncharacteristic.”

Nate’s cheerful whistling echoed in the hall. Bearing boxed takeaway, he crossed the threshold and, handing Brad three plates, arranged containers onto the low table. “Any luck with the file?”

“Yes.” Uncapping boxed beef and mushrooms, I forked noodles into my mouth and chewed. “If Alexa doesn’t come back to work, I want you to hunt her down and bring her in for questioning.”

Nate emptied salt and pepper chips onto the plate. “No problem.”

“Meanwhile, can we hire some new birds?” Brad delved into miniature pancake rolls, dipping them into a pot of sweet-and-sour sauce. “Cherry bores the life out of me and, no offence, but Natalie’s undesirable, unappealing, unsightly mug—”

“Brad, I get the fucking picture,” I grunted, and Nate, always one to encourage the wind-up merchant, chuckled quietly. “You think Natalie is unbecoming. Noted.”

“You have to admit. Her mouse ears are a bit of a turn-off.” Thin, crispy pastry crunched under his teeth. “So, what’s the deal with you two?”

There is always a method to Brad’s madness. He is not interested in new employees. He wanted to know why I haven’t engaged with club women lately. “Does it matter?”

“No.” His lips puckered. “Yes.”

I felt nothing, not a stir of arousal when the woman in question radiated seductiveness. “Natalie’s become very clingy of late.”

Brad snorted with laughter. “Natalie elected herself as your personal doormat years ago, so what’s new?”

Nate scarfed down prawn crackers. “I mean, how many times has she walked in on you and another woman? Still, she comes to you the next day.”

“Right,” Brad spoke in casual nonchalance. “Cherry catches me with a bird, and she threatens bloody murder, even though I am not for sale,” he joshed, and I cracked a small smile. “About Gateway. What’s the order?”

I used a paper napkin to dab my lips. “I want surveillance footage to see who dared to steal what belonged to me.”

Nate scraped chicken fried rice onto the plate. “I fear there is a rat among men.”

Yes, I concur. “Then, we shall lure him out.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Alexa

I nursed a mug of warm tea, the additional sugar unsuccessfully quelling twitchiness, and watched Chloe, who is on a mission to convince me into fleeing London, ransack the bedroom. In fact, it’s all she’s harped on about since my eyes opened this morning.

“Then you get out of the shower, and that’s it. Liam is gone. Alexa, I am terrified. You should not go to work tonight. We need to pack up and leave London. Maybe we can jump on a train, head to Wales and get a job on a farm or something. We can Milk cows.” Chloe flung open the wardrobe doors, clutched heaps of clothes and tossed them into an overpacked suitcase. “What do you think?”

When I emerged from the bathroom last night, I changed into comfortable clothes. Primed for Liam’s severe chastisement, I returned to the living room to face the consequences. Yet, I found nobody waiting upon entering the room. He left the building, leaving the front door wide open in a mental state of confusion and disorderliness.

Terrified or not, he and I had unfinished business.

Chloe perceived the conflict in my eyes, and her furious features softened. “Liam is a raging lunatic, Alexa. If I weren’t such a pussy, I’d kill him myself.”

Sipping lukewarm tea, I slouched against the cuddle chair, watching her haul clothes into an available case or travel bag. “Chloe, please stop. It means everything that you’d leave your life behind to run away with me. But I would never expect you to start again because of the mess I created.”

“Alexa.” Her backside dropped to the bed in defeat. “I am scared. You’re taking on far too much with Warren. He’s going to kill you. I can’t lose you, Hon.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I stated with an air of unassertiveness. “If Liam wanted me dead, I would already be in an unmarked grave somewhere with wild animals feasting on my rotten flesh.” At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. “Running away is not the answer. Besides, If Liam wanted to hurt me, he’d chase me to hell and back to do so.”

In miserable quietness, Chloe wrestled Kathy’s old scarf.

My eyebrows raised to add light humour to the dire situation. “Anyway, do you really want to sit on the floor milking cows?”

“No.” Her lower lip jutted out. “But I’d rather milk cows than lose you.”

“Chloe?” Leaving the mug on the windowsill, I sat on the bed beside her. “I’m not going anywhere.” Our shoulders nudged. “You cannot get rid of me that easily.”

“Liam likes you, right?” she asked, her voice teemed in hope. “Maybe he can overlook the small, minuscule, not overly bad white lie.”

I smiled at her efforts. “Maybe.”

“I need to figure this out.” She massaged her temples with therapeutic fingertips. “Liam had a prime opportunity to react last night. If death is the punishment, why didn’t he kill you there and then? What’s the exact reason behind his vexation?” Her questions increased. “Did you tell him Kathy disappeared? Did you tell him that you only went to Club 11 to find answers? Did you, at least, explain the reason behind keeping Kathy a secret?”

“Breathe,” I assuaged, interlacing our fingers. “Liam was normal. Well, not normal. He was calmer than usual. But then he found the photo and freaked out. His eyes,” I whispered, reliving the moment where his belligerence left me horror-stricken, yet his lugubriousness clutched my heart. “Liam was hurt—betrayed. I think he expected more from me, and I disappointed him.”

Chloe’s thumb circled my knuckles.

“I am so confused,” I admitted in dejection. “I think Kathy misinterpreted their relationship.”

She chewed her thumbnail. “None of this makes an iota of sense.”

“Perhaps Kathy thought what they had was real,” I added with a glum shrug. “She’s not here, so I can’t ask her.” A tear fell down my cheek. I swiped it away. “God, I miss her,” I cried into the back of my hand. “I miss her so much.”

“Hey,” Chloe cooed, pulling me in for a hug. “Please don’t cry, Alexa. We will get through it. I promise.”

“I’m sorry. I just want her to come home. I feel empty without her.” I spent too long separated from my sister. “We made a promise.” It was us against the world. “Her and me. Forever.”

Maybe Chloe’s right. Leaving London might be for the best.

“I can’t give up, not until I find her.” Kathy’s still out there. I refused to believe otherwise. “I am going back to the club tonight. I must face him.”

“His dislike for Kathy might work in your favour.”

Rain splattered against the window. “How so?”

“You resemble each other, but your personalities clash. You think Liam hated Kathy. I think he likes you…”

I digested her words. “You don’t think we’re alike?”

Chloe watched me subtly. “Not even a little bit.”

“Just a little bit,” I sing in a monotone voice, diverting our depressing conversation. “Just a little bit.”

“What you want. Baby, I got it. What you need.” Her two fingers pointed at me. “Do you know I got it?”

Rubbing tears from my cheeks, I clambered onto my feet and bounced on the mattress. “R.E.S.P.E.C.T.”

Chloe utilised the hairbrush for a mic. “Find out what it is to me—oh,” she jumped on the bed, “sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me.” Her hip slammed into my thigh. “A little respect. Oh, yeah.”

“Chloe!” Balling into hysteria, I landed on the floor in a heap. “God, I love you so much. You know that, right?”

She fell onto the bed, rolling onto her stomach to gaze down at me. “Sisters are doing it for themselves.”

I snagged the capsized pillow from the floor and thumped her over the head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“I love you, too.” She stuffed the pillow under her chest, her legs kicking through the air behind her. “Now, what’s your next move?”

“I will be honest with him.” My feet braced on the wall. “There is no hiding from this, Chloe. I need to be real with him.”

***

I was thirty minutes late for work tonight. Rather than arriving at the appointed time, I made a pitstop to the local cafe, which stayed open late, and ingested a light meal to line my stomach. I had this nagging, sickening feeling all day and figured food might help.

When I finally braved the club, I should have gone to Liam’s office, but fear got the better of me. I went straight to the bar and tended to the customers instead.

Around three hours into the night, I espied Josh, pallid and spiritless, heading for the bar.

Handing the customer two shot glasses, I offered Josh a slight smile. “You are late.”

“I’m formally unfriending you,” he half-joked, using his fob to log onto the digital cash register. “Kat?”

I put my back to the wine cooler. “You need to be a bit more specific.”

“You remember.” He checked himself out in the long-stretched mirror above the liquor counter. “The lady with the pink hair.” I blinked rapidly. “The one you so kindly offered my services to.”

“Oh?” I didn’t think Josh would actually go through with the date. “So, what’s the problem?” I sucked my top teeth to curb amusement.

“Alexa, I took her to lunch, right? Surprisingly, I had a good time. Kat seemed nice enough. Anyway, she suggested I go back to her place before I started work. I was intrigued, so why not, huh? She has a nice smile. I thought I’d take one for the team.” His lips flattened into a tight line as his eyelashes fluttered shut. “She was kinky.”

I burst out laughing. “What’s wrong with kinky? I thought men preferred their women to be confident in the bedroom.”

Josh’s horror-filled eyes snapped wide. “There is a difference between kinky and kinky if you catch my drift.”

I stared at him wordlessly. My experience in the bedroom is practically zero, so I wouldn’t know the difference.

“She tied me up, Alexa. Then she gagged me. When the fuck did I give the impression that I wanted some aspiring dominatrix thrusting a ball-gag in my mouth? To top it off, she spanked me, like, hard.” Motioning to his rear end, he let out a strangled chuckle. “My arse is raw. Real fucking raw. Spanking is the man’s role, not the woman’s—or should I say, the she-devil that likes to call me daddy.”

“That’s so sexist, Josh.” I smacked his arm with the back of my hand. “Who said women could not be dominators?”

“I said.” He rubbed his butt. “I don’t want a belt to my arse.”

I genuinely loved this guy. “So, I guess another date with Kat is off the table?”

“Too fucking right.” He punctuated each syllable. “I might stick with my fist from now on.” His eyes homed in on Natalie as she sauntered past the bar. “Actually, she will do the trick.”

My lips twisted in revulsion.

I was about to serve the male customer when Brad slid into my peripheral. “Alexa?” His palms pressed onto the countertop. “Got a minute?”

Josh looked between us.

“Hey,” I said meekly. “What’s up?”

Brad was stone-faced. “Boss wants to see you.”

Oh, God. Back to reality.

Do not faint, Alexa.

At least Josh kept me occupied for a short while. He helped me to forget. Now it’s time to face the music.

Josh’s concerned eyes roamed over my face. “Are you okay?”

My clammy hands smoothed over the back of my shorts. “I’m fine.”

“You are visibly shaking.” He drew me close. “Are you in trouble with Warren?”

“No. I’m cold,” I proceeded to lie, not wanting to drag Josh into this mess. “I need to go. You know how impatient Liam can get.”

Josh released me with great reluctance.

My thumping heart is louder than the vibrating music. I waded through carousing customers and went to the dreaded office door. I glanced at the tall, broad-shoulder Suit. “Fun night?”

He side-eyed me without a word of utterance.

I counted to five, inhaled a deep, calming breath and knocked on the door.

Two seconds later. “Come in.”

Locking worries in the back of my mind, I opened the door and peered inside. “You wanted to see me?”

Liam is sitting behind the desk. “Take a seat.”

Leaving trepidations at the door, I walked across the spacious room and became seated on the leather sofa.

After ten minutes of eerie silence, the tension in the air is overwhelmingly suffocating. My boss is still skimming paperwork on the desk. “Liam, please let me explain.”

He tsked me. “Rule number one, Miss Haines. Do not address me informally. You’re an employee. You’re not above me. I am your Boss.” His cold eyes met mine from across the room. “You will address me as Mr Warren. Do I make myself abundantly fucking clear?”

Well, his arrogance certainly shut me up.

Liam walked towards me, tossed a brown envelope onto my lap, and then relocated to the bar to fix himself a drink. His back was to me when he said, “Everything I need to know about you is in that folder, Miss Haines. Feel free to scan.”

Without delay, I opened the binder and flipped through pages. Liam was right. Everything about my life is here: newspaper articles, past police reports, copies of birth certificates.

How did he obtain all this?

A picture of my old family home falls into my hand. Evoked by pleasant memories, I ran a finger over the image. We had a great home, almost cottage-like: whitewashed exterior, wooden decking wrapped around the house, and a makeshift swing, dangled from the giant willow tree.

I pushed my feet forward.

I pushed my feet backwards.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

“You can do it, Alexa!” Kathy’s hand thrust my back to surge me heavenward. “I know you can!”

My head dropped back. Fingers clinging to the frayed ropes, I felt the wind blowing through my hair. “I don’t want to fall!”

“If you fall,” she dashed in front of me, outstretching her arms, “I will catch you.”

Hair swept across my face. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I whispered as the image oscillated to the floor.

Forcing tears to the back of my eyes, I overturned pages and nausea pooled in my stomach.

· Malnourished.

· Infections.

· Broken bones.

· Mentally unstable.

· Contraception abstraction.

My brows met in the middle. I examined the slight, almost impalpable scar on the underside of my arm. “I heard them talking,” I said aloud, recalling the doctor and the detective in the medical room. “At the time, I wondered why the doctor left me bruised. He gave me a shot to numb the skin, cut a small incision and extracted something thin and pliable. I had forgotten.”

I felt Liam’s eyes on me the entire time.

My stare went back to the document.

The detective outlined rape victim and child molestation on the police report.

He labelled me a victim.

Odious flashbacks sprung tears to my eyes. I lied to everyone. I was too ashamed to admit what truly happened. Yet, the detective did not believe me.

I studied the black and white printout. I bring the image closer—and fling away the evidence as if it burnt me. I immediately sought out the London Skyline painting on the wall. Kathy took that canvas down to reveal the safe. She stuffed folders and cash into her handbag.

My sister stole from Liam Warren.

What was she thinking?

Painful screams were omnipresent here. I often watched the ceiling to listen as children scuttled across the floor, crying for their mothers, weeping for their fathers. I used to believe I was the only one until others appeared in the basement. Mostly girls, but sometimes, I woke up to see boys, too.

Yet, they never stayed more than two nights.

Where did they go?

The girl cried as her masked handler dragged her body down the concrete stairs. Ordering her to stay put, he placed her in the corner and, heavy-duty boots ascending the steps, locked the basement door in his departure.

I rolled off the mattress and crawled to the girl. She was really pretty, with bobbed black hair and blue eyes. I lifted my hand to her face, and she flinched, taking in a choppy breath. I paused, then tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

“How long have you lived here?” she whispered, checking the basement door. “I want to leave.”

I toyed with my fingers. “I don’t remember much anymore.”

Head falling into her begrimed hands, she sobbed. “I want to go home.”

My eyes watered. I cannot tell my new friend that home doesn’t exist anymore. Putting on a brave face and a smile, I consoled her, “You’ll be home real soon.”

Peering at me through dirty fingers, she asked, “How do you know?”

“Well, we gotta go home sometimes, I guess.”

She rubbed her nose. “I don’t like those men.”

Neither did I. One in particular. “Do you want to sleep in my bed?”

She took one look at the comforters and unwashed pillows and decided the mattress was better than the cold floor.

I helped her across the room, and we laid together, staring at the cracked ceiling. “How did you get here?”

I have accepted reality. Monster murdered my mother and stole my sister and me to do bad things to us. I know it’s wrong because I feel dirty when he touches me.

If it were normal, why did he hide me away from the rest of the world?

I contemplated telling my new friend the truth, but she was so frightened. “I ran away.”

“You ran from your mummy?” she asked in shock. “Did the bad man take you? Is he going to hurt us?”

“He is not so bad,” I lied, swallowing acidic bile. “You get used to this place.”

“I don’t want to be here.” Her bruised lips wobbled. “I want to go home.”

We didn’t speak much after that. Instead, we fell asleep, holding hands.

When I woke up the following morning, my friend was gone, and I knew she was not coming back.

Why didn’t he take me upstairs like the others?

Why couldn’t I leave the basement?

Why won’t he kill me?

Hearing screams above, I covered my ears and sang my mother’s song. “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there’s a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby.”

The basement door unlocked.

His boots descended the stairs.

I hid behind my hands.

Maybe if I can’t see him, he won’t see me.

“Lexi,” he whispered.

I know my name is Alexa.

“Come to me.”

His voice scared me.

I don’t like his voice.

I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue,” I croaked. “And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”

“Stop singing.” Sharpness speared through my head as he snatched my hair. “How many times must I tell you? You disobedient cunt.” He ripped me off the mattress, kicking and screaming, and tossed me across the cold concrete. “You will learn to obey me, Lexi.”

“Please.” Twisting onto my stomach, I crawled on my hands and knees to get away from him. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Why do I run?

He always chased me.

“No, we do not leave, sweet little Lexi.” His hands grasped my hips, and I stiffened all over. “Your fear only excites me, little one.”

“I’m not going with you!” Kicking him in the shin, I scuttled backwards until my back crashed into the brick wall. “Please.” His dark shadow prowled toward me. “It hurt last time.”

“Alexa, focus on me.” Liam’s baritone voice summoned me to the presence. “Remember to breathe.”

My eyes opened.

Hot tears soaked my cheeks.

I struggled to breathe.

It hurt. Why does it always hurt?

“Alexa, breathe,” he instructed, and I inhaled, held it, and released it. “Good girl.” His hands rubbed my upper arms. It’s only then, I noticed, he’s down on one knee in front of me. “And again.”

I released another breath. “I’m sorry,” I apologised on Kathy’s behalf. “I don’t know why she emptied the safe, but there must be a reasonable explanation.” His grim impassiveness took me aback. “Where is she? You did it, didn’t you?” We stood together in slow rising. “What did you do to my sister? You sick son of a bitch.”

My palm raised to strike his face. He caught my wrist. “Hit me,” he dared in a voice so cold. “I will return the favour.”

“What happened to her?” Tears saturated my eyes. “Please tell me. I need to know what you did to my sister.”

Liam stared narrowly at me. “You didn’t know.”

“Know what?” I tried to snatch my arm back, but his grip tightened. “You are hurting me.”

He seized my jaw and stared deep into my eyes. “Why did Kathy come to me?”

My breathing came out heavy. “Kathy wanted you to help us find our childhood captor.”

“Really?” He wore a sardonic smile. “I do not recall such conversations.”

“Well, she had to wait for the right opportunity.” My teeth chattered. “Her fondness for you got in the way.”

“Fondness?” He gave me a short, caustic laugh. “Kathy Pearl did not have one affectionate bone in her body. We fucked.” His curtness sent heat to my cheeks. “We fucked hard. We did not, however, dote on one another.”

“But you bought each other gifts and stayed in hotels…” His eyebrows slowly elevated. “She was in love with you.”

Rendered speechless, Liam sat on the coffee table, and with his eyes alone, instructed me to sit down. “You were misinformed. I never spent the night with Kathy. I most certainly did not provide gifts.”

Wiping tears from my eyes, I lowered my hands to my thighs. “Then, why did she lie to me?” I was too heartbroken to look at him when I asked, “Is she dead?”

A string of silence lengthened between us. “Not to my knowledge.”

Is it downright crazy that I believed him?

“Kathy had no right to steal from you. I had no idea. I thought…” You thought what, Alexa? “My sister disappeared. I will be honest, Mr Warren. You are a very feared, disliked man in London. Based on research, I lied to get a job because I did not trust…” My throat thickened. “I thought, what if he hurt Kathy? What if I ask him, and he lies to me? I wanted a way in so that I could see for myself.”

He harrumphed. “Did you find anything noteworthy?”

“Besides the fact she used a fake name, and nobody liked her?” I mused sadly. “No, not really.”

Liam’s thumb encircled the rim of his whiskey glass. “Perhaps you did not know Pearl at all.”

I was insulted by his insensitive remark. “Kathy is my sister. I know her better than anyone.”

“Then, where is she?” he asked, knowing I had no answer. “You are unreadable, Miss Haines. Do I believe the tears? Is it all an act? How do I know you two are not working together?”

“No.” Incessant ringing pounded in my ears. “Why would I be foolish enough to double-cross a man like you?”

He spurned the second-hand shoes on my feet. “Money.”

I laughed at his discourteousness. “I have forty-eight grand sitting in the bank.”

“Really?” His haughty sarcasm started to grate on my last nerve. “Yet she lives and dies in the same clothes.”

“Compensation for years of sexual abuse,” I word vomited, and his smirk disintegrated. “I am saving it for a rainy day.”

“Is that what you meant?” He moved to the sofa, his right arm sliding across the leather rear behind my head. “About men taking from you.”

I braved to look him in the eye. “I won’t go back there. If someone pins me down, I will fight this time.”

Liam polished off the remainder of whiskey, set the glass on the coffee table and inched closer. “Look at me,” he ordered, and I obeyed. “Did you come to Club 11 under false pretences?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly. “I didn’t need a job. I just wanted answers.”

He studied me intently in case deceit flared in my eyes or hitched my tone of voice. “I believe you.” His finger grazed the nape of my neck, and I shivered. “It’s a cold case, correct?”

My thoughts swirled. “What?”

Leaning forward to collect dispersed documents on the floor, he slid historical evidence into the folder. “Law enforcement never caught the cunt that snatched you.”

I shook my head.

“He deserved time for what he did to you,” he said in a low, irritated voice. “Ask me.”

“What do I ask?”

“Ask me to track him down and kill him.”

My lips parted in shock. “Kathy did not believe your generosity extended that far.”

“She was right.”

I frowned at that. “So, why is your service available to me?”

His eyes darkened as he spoke. “You’re not her.”

“But I lied to you…” My stomach dipped. “Truthfully, I don’t care enough. I cannot change the past. It happened. I am learning to leave with that.”

Liam seemed disconcerted by the rejection. “Then, what else do you need from me, Miss Haines?”

His question sounded like an impending dismissal. “Nothing.”

“You should get back to work.” He glimpsed at his diamond-encrusted wristwatch. “You have five hours left.”

I flung him a double-take. “I still have my job?”

His cheeks sank in frustration. “Do you want the job?”

I hadn’t considered continuing my position here. I guess I’d like to stay if Liam was cool with it. Sure, I don’t get along with the female workers, but I love the Suits. Plus, Club 11 gave me a reason to get out of bed in the morning. “I would love to stay.”

Liam’s head rested against the leather, his fingers curling a strand of hair behind my ear. It was an innocuous touch, yet I felt it to the bone. “Then stay.”

I am heartbroken. I love and adore my beautiful sister, and even though I did not understand the shades of her foolishness, I can only hope she had valid reasons for making an enemy out of Liam.

And him, Liam Warren, the man looking at me right now, I hope he can find it in his heart to forgive her. He has proven time and time again that he can pardon deception.

“Everything feels so final,” I whispered in devastation. “Kathy is not missing. Kathy chose to escape reality.”

My sister walked away and never looked back.

She forgot about me.

She broke our promise.

Her betrayal hurts more than she will ever know.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Liam

I was signing documents in the office when the door knocked. Glimpsing to the surveillance monitor on the desk, I see Natalie standing outside the door, floundering with her appearance. I was in no mood for her neediness tonight. Lately, the buxom blonde was proving to be problematic. I have turned her down at every corner, yet she continued to pester me.

Pouring neat whiskey into a glass, I relaxed in the leather chair. “Come in.”

Natalie opened the door. “Mr Warren.” Even her innocent smile irritated me. “Can we talk?”

I motioned to the chair opposite the desk.

She became seated. “About us.”

I tsked. “Natalie. You should know better.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Her cheeks flushed pink. “It’s just, well, you hadn’t requested my time…” When I stayed silent, she hunted for the right words. “Is there someone else?”

Her question pissed me off. “I do not answer to you.”

“Then, what did I do?” she argued, her voice rising to a feverish pace. “I can’t even remember the last time we slept together.”

“Our history is not relevant.” Knocking down a shot of whiskey, I set the empty glass on the desk. “Are you sexually aroused, Natalie?”

Pouting, she purred, “Yes.”

“Then I am sure one of the men can assist,” I offered, and her lustfulness diluted into anger. “Close the door behind you.”

My phone vibrated with a text message.

Brad: I need you downstairs.

“I don’t want them,” Natalie retorted, reminding me that she is still here. “I want you.”

“You see, this is where I draw the line.” Building a deck on the desk, I ground marijuana and distributed greens across the paper. “I am unavailable. You know it. I know it. Yet you demand more.”

“You favoured me over the others,” she pointed out with a shit-eating grin. “It hasn’t gone unnoticed, Mr Warren. Everyone knows I am off-limits.”

I stared in bewilderment. “Get out.”

“What?” She flinched. “But Mr Warren—”

“I said, get out,” I snapped, and she staggered to her feet. “You are not unavailable, Natalie. The entire syndicate can rail you, for all I fucking care. You have breached the terms and conditions of our agreement.” Rounding the desk, I grasped her elbow and shoved her toward the exit. “Hound me once more.” Swinging open the door, I forced her across the threshold. “You won’t live to hear the end of it.”

Her lips curled into a snarl. “Fuck you, Warren.”

Thrusting her against the wall, I almost delivered a backhander when my elbow clipped someone in the face. Dropping some of tonight’s bagged up earnings on the floor, Alexa, gasping in shock, cupped her nose.

Natalie is still cowering.

“Go back to the bar,” I ordered, and the blonde damsel rushed to get away from me. “Alexa.” Unheeding the lined security in the hallway, I reached for the woman’s hand and, examining her face, cursed at the sight of blood leaking from her nostril. “Fuck. Get inside.” When she squatted to collect the money on the ground, I gripped her wrist. “Leave it.”

Embarrassed by her nosebleed, she palmed her nose and strode into the office.

With my eyes alone, I told security to pick up the cash and closed the door. “It was an accident,” I said, and she nodded. “Here.” Grasping the nape of her neck, I pinched the bridge of her nose and tilted her head back. “It’s not broken.”

Alexa winced. “Then, why does it hurt?” Her hands fanned her face in an attempt to cool down, and her eyes were glassy due to knocked nerves. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

It’s good that she interrupted as I was seconds away from snapping Natalie’s neck. “Hold your nose,” I instructed, and her fingers replaced mine while I obtained tissue from the en-suite. “Sit down.”

She sat on the sofa.

Putting bunched-up tissue on her nostrils, I sat beside her to staunch the blood. “You could probably use a stiff drink after that.”

Alexa smiled. “Probably.”

Awkward silence lengthened between us.

My gaze lowered to her silken legs. I couldn’t help it. The woman had incredibly long, slender legs. “Is it busy downstairs?”

Why did I ask such a ridiculous question?

Club 11 is always hectic.

“Yes,” she said, blinking wetness from her eyes. “It’s why Josh sent me up with the money. It was clogging the cash registers.”

I pulled the tissue back to assess the damage. The bleeding ceased. With clean tissue, I wiped remnants from her upper lip and trashed the mess. I poured distilled whiskey into the crystal glass. “Here.” I proffered, and she accepted. “You earned that.”

Alexa took a sip. “Thank you.”

My phone jittered on the desk.

I checked the message.

Brad: Do I need to send a search party?

Brad: Anytime tonight would be appreciated, Bossman.

Downing the whiskey in one gulp, Alexa left the empty glass on the coffee table and rose to her feet. “I’ll let you get on.”

“Meeting,” I said as we relocated into the hallway. “I will walk you down.”

Rubbing the chill from her bare arms, she walked alongside me, wordless and reserved.

I side-eyed her. “You are awfully quiet tonight.”

She rubbed her temples. “I’m a little dizzy.”

“What?” I stopped walking. “Did I trigger something?”

“The walls feel like they are spinning around me,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

I clicked down one of the bouncers. “Bottled water.”

“Honestly, I am okay.” Her back pressed to the wall. “Imagine being on the receiving end of your fist,” she joked. “Your elbow was bad enough.”

I inwardly berated myself. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” Her forehead wrinkled. “You can go to the meeting, Mr Warren. This,” she gestured to her face, “will be normal in a few seconds.”

“You are not a doctor.” Receiving bottled water from the guard, I uncapped the lid. “Here.”

Dabbing sweat on her brow, she guzzled water until satiated. “Thank you.”

“What’s the most taxing part of bartending?”

“The customers.”

“And the most enjoyable?”

She paused. “Restocking the chillers.”

“Then, I want you to restock for the rest of the night,” I authorised, and her spirit brightened. “Let the others handle customer demands. Or, would you prefer a short shift? You can leave early.”

“No,” she assured. “I am happy for the quieter shift. Plus, I am already feeling better.”

“Good,” I said, breaking away from our eye contact. “Proceed, Miss Haines.”

Alexa brushed past me.

For some unknown reason, I watched her walk away.

I joined the men in Club 11’s subterranean chamber. In the equidistant of the room, tied and chained to the wooden chair, a naked man, whose identity is concealed behind a black sack, mumbled in indistinct imploration. Hands stuffed in my trouser pockets, I stopped beside him, dodging the piss pooled around his filthy, bare feet, and assessed the overhang of his protruding gut.

Buttoning up his suit jacket, Brad rose from the metal chair. “We found out what happened to the Glocks.”

Nate, arranging tools and weapons onto the steel workbench, hones knives and a machete, all while whistling one of his many favoured Motown tunes.

“Really?” Arching an eyebrow, I kicked the victim’s discarded clothes aside. “Do enlighten me.”

Brad forcefully tears the liner from the guy’s head, revealing a drugged-up Darren. His bruised, battered face lolled as he wrestled semi-consciousness. Blood laced saliva dangled from his busted lips. His arms, which were bound behind his back, looked painfully disjointed.

“Why is Darren tied to this chair?” My stare roamed the tailored men stationed in the room. “Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“When Darren called and said the cargo was missing, I knew something wasn’t right, so I went with my gut and did a little investigating.” Brad handed me a folder. “The fucking renegade jumped ship. He sold you out to this guy.” He pointed to an image. “Flamur Bajramovic.”

Unsettled by the information, I examined the gathered evidence. In one photo, Darren is caught passing documents to the man in question. Flamur Bajramovic. I thumbed through images. Flamur unquestionably comes from money: three-piece suits, designer footwear, top of the range vehicles and solid gold jewellery. “Who is this Bajramovic? I have never seen this man before in my life.”

“Flamur is the head of an Albanian mafia. Nate unearthed that interesting detail.” Brad overturned the page to show me another image of Darren and Flamur attending what appeared to be a clandestine meeting. Both men wore sunglasses and fedora caps to mask their identities. “He’s held citizenship in London for the past fifteen years.”

I dropped the folder to the floor. “What does he do?”

“By all accounts, Bajramovic is a stellar citizen and a respected public figure. He is heavily involved with charities and fundraisers.” Brad placed another envelope in my hand. “He is also married to his high school sweetheart, Zamira Bajramovic.” His wife is a raven-haired beauty with a taste for designer labels. “Bajramovic leads two lives. He might preach world peace, but at nightfall, it is a whole different ball game.”

I was sickened by the evidence. I flicked through endless images of girls, some as young as five, some wearing high school uniforms, found dead in rural areas after months of captivity. “What is this?”

“I found them on Darren’s computer.” Nate’s arms folded. “A chain of disturbing emails between him and Bajramovic. I also uncovered Pamela Leigh in his bathroom.”

Noting my confusion, Brad added, “She went missing last month.”

I glared at Darren. “What of the girl, Pamela Leigh?”

“Dead,” Nate clipped. “I left her there for the authorities. I plan to inform Reginald once we deal with that cunt.”

“Human trafficking.” Brad licked a toothpick to the corner of his lips. “It is not something we advocate, but it is part of the underworld.”

I am renowned in the underworld, but I have no interest in human trafficking or sexual slavery.

“Darren’s tight-lipped.” Nate smacked Darren around the back of the head, and he groaned, licking blood across his lips. “We drew up conclusions, though. Ain’t that right, Darren?”

Darren mumbled, “Stop.”

“Fucking nonce.” Brad snatched the man’s throat. “He has a predilection for little girls.”

“No,” Darren whimpered. “It’s not what you think.”

“Shut up,” I scolded, and the man’s lips sealed. “So, Darren is a paedophile.” My gaze returned to Brad. “This does not fully explain his connection to Bajramovic, though.”

Brad gave Darren a speculative glance. “Bajramovic and Darren formed an alliance because of their fondness for young girls. Meanwhile, Darren opens up about his lifestyle.” He shrugged. “He discusses the syndicate, and Bajramovic took a keen interest.”

“I concur,” Nate drawled. “Too much alcohol later, Darren carped about unfair treatment at work, and Bajramovic made him an offer.”

I glanced at Darren. He is already looking at me. “Unfair treatment?”

Brad smirked smugly. “Darren’s the first man you ever hired, yet he is incapable of achieving high-rank privileges.”

Yes, I hired Darren before Brad and Nate, but he is older, idle and unambitious. He has never proven to be more than dependable security.

Nate exhibited Darren’s bank statements. “Bajramovic transferred three generous payments this month.”

I started to feel enraged.

“He let Bajramovic swipe the Glocks,” Brad continued. “Basically, he sold you out for money.”

“Money,” I deadpanned. “As if I do not pay him enough.”

Nate’s smile was tepid. “With the Albanians, he was respected.” Lowering his mouth to Darren’s ear, he whispered, “You feel worthless here, don’t you?”

Brad, the master of mind games, joined in on the fun. “He is worthless. I have never respected the lazy sod.” Hands clasping to the knees, he spoke directly to the traitor. “Face it, Darren.” He feigned sympathy. “You are not good enough to be one of us.”

“How did they pull this off without our knowledge?”

“Flamur, or his allies, closed in on our men while they conveyed cargo from Gateway to the M4,” Brad explained. “They drove the transits off-road, caused a collision and then shot eight soldiers: two drivers, four carriers and two errand boys. Presumably, Darren leaked information, which gave Flamur an advantage to attack and swipe the goods.”

“What about the cocaine consignment?”

“They seized freight containers.” Nate’s jaw locked in place. “Five short tons. It’s a street value of nearly one billion.”

“I am worth billions,” I said, short and sharp. “My capital is irrelevant, though. I am not charitable. His act of betrayal and greed for theft cost me money.” Dipping my head, I silently ordered Nate to continue the man’s torture. “Up.”

Nate fastened the metal cuffs to Darren’s wrists, which, by heavy-duty chains, connected him to the ceiling. Tugging the chain backwards, Nate elevated Darren off the chair until his only source of balance was his toes, and then he secured the traitor’s upright position for me to interrogate.

Darren is too weak to protest or fight. Arms stretching above his head, he cried, and the men, disgusted by his betrayal, stood back and watched.

Honed knuckle dusters adorned Brad’s fingers. He impaled the man, piercing his paunch stomach. His torture was prolonged. He endured brutal, painful blows to his chest and face until it became too unbearable to cry or plead.

I lit a cigarette. “More.”

Brad and Nate alternated between powerful strikes to his back and ribs.

Respiring smoke, I ordered, “Again.”

Darren’s pain-filled cries echoed throughout the cellar. Blood gushed from lacerations, trickling down his pale body.

I blinked uncaringly. “Drop him.”

Nate hit the motor, and Darren’s body crashed to the ground, the heavy chains smashing against the concrete around him. While Nate rolled a plastic sheet across the floor, Brad slumped Darren onto the chair and bound his arms behind his back.

Losing the suit jacket, I rolled up my shirt sleeves to the elbows and accepted a knife from Nate. “You sold me out to an Albanian cunt.” Seizing the man’s throat, I shoved the blade into his gut, and he gasped. “I don’t fucking like that.”

Darren’s glassy eyes stared up at me. “Warren…”

Twisting the knife handle, I abstracted the blade, and his hacked flesh squelched. “Come on, Darren.” I delivered an open-palmed slap to his face. “You are embarrassing yourself.”

“Boss—fuck,” he sobbed, blood clogging his windpipe. “I can explain.”

“Explain what? That you betrayed me? Was I not good to you? Did I not pay you well?” Impossible rage ignited. I jawed him. “Answer me!”

His head whipped to the side on impact. He spat blood on the floor. “Please.” Guilt and shame flared in his weary eyes. “I beg you.”

“You are the Judas among my table. This hurts me,” I whispered, ripping the undeserving military chain from his neck. “You and I both know how I handle traitors.” Tossing the bloodied blade on the floor, I selected the machete from the workbench. “Rule number eighteen, Darren.” His shoulders hunched forward in defeat. “I won’t ask again.”

“We don’t keep our enemies close.” Blood oozed out of his nostrils. “We bury them.”

“I don’t keep my enemies close.” I stabbed him in the stomach and, in one graceful movement, dragged the machete upward, slicing through thick flesh and organs. “I bury them.”

Darren’s shocked eyes gazed into mine until I witnessed his soul.

I extracted the blade, pushed my hand into his sawed stomach and performed a vicious act of disembowelment. The velvet-like tissue of his intestines snaked through my fingers. I chucked them on the floor. “Such a shame.”

Impaling Darren’s neck with sheer velocity, I rend the delicate skin around his neck. His bones crunched. It was not an attempt at decapitation. It was an inevitable beheading. “Make sure the Albanian receives my message.” His head fell into my hands. I had no regard for his life, or the headless corpse sat in the chair.

He meant nothing. “Nate, I want you to drop his body in the Thames. “Brad,” I handed over the goods. “Sort the head.”

Brad grasped Darren’s head. His lips pursed while he eviscerated the man’s eyes. “I never liked him.”

Nate leaned in and re-lit my cigarette. “I would never have guessed,” I mumbled sarcastically. “You barely tolerated him.”

My men fell into line. They rolled Darren’s body into the plastic sheet and, engaged in light-hearted banter, they secured both ends with chains.

Effacing the blood on my face, I arranged evidence across the workbench. I stared at the array of young girls in the pictures, wondering how many others suffered at this moment in time.

I dialled Reginald’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Warren.”

“That was quick,” I said tightly, and he sighed. “I have a dilemma.”

“Don’t you always?” he joked. “What can I do for you?”

“Pamela Leigh. I assume her parents filed a missing person report.”

“One moment.” He tapped a keyboard. “Pamela Leigh,” he said in thought. “Yes, I have her file. What do you know?”

“Darren is responsible for her disappearance,” I informed him, and he blew out an exasperated breath. “Fret not. I took care of him.”

Reginald considered options. “Is she dead?”

Brad nodded.

“Yes,” I confirmed, and Reginald spat out a slew of expletives. “Her body is in his apartment. Thus, the dilemma. I do not need law enforcement knocking on my door, looking for him.”

“What will you do?”

“The syndicate will discard his body.”

“Can you keep it low-key?”

“I make no such promises.”

Reginald’s tongue clicked in the receiver. “I will handle everything.”

“Good.” Ending the call, I pondered over Darren’s bank statements. “I want his funds wired across. It’s the least he can do for fucking me over.”

Brad nodded in agreement.

“Mr Warren?” Alexa called, and the muscles in my body tensed. “You wanted to see me?” She opened the chamber door, and when her eyes landed on my gruesome profile, her mouth rounded on a sharp inhale. “I…”

For fuck’s sake.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Alexa

Club 11 shook from the rafters tonight. Bouncers overpacked the building, which left minimal room for customers to move around. Clubland music pounded cacophonous dissonance throughout, and erotic dancers floundered seductiveness due to overworked muscles and induced sweat. It’s not often half-naked women face-planted glass podiums because of exhaustion.

I conveyed a tray of ice-filled glasses of water to the back of the bar, where numerous women, togged up in rhinestone attire, exorbitant makeup and knee-high lace-up stilettos, keeled over for a well-deserved break. “Here.” I placed liquidised energy onto the glasswasher machine. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Of course, no one expressed gratitude, but I have learnt to overlook everyone’s apparent dislike.

I returned to the never-ending demands behind the bar.

“Pass the gin,” Josh yelled over the dance music while shovelling ice blocks into glass pitchers. “And cranberry and orange juice.” As instructed, I opened the chiller and reached for the goods. “Grab the vodka, too.”

“Josh.” I juggled juice cartons. “Why don’t I just make the cocktails for you?”

“Don’t be grouchy.” He snagged ingredients and finished the customers’ many-hued order with wedged citrus fruit. “It’s an ugly look on you—next,” he called, tossing twenty-pound notes into the till. “Hey, you never did mention why the boss called you to the office.”

I spritzed tonic water into three tall glasses. “A little positivity and appraisal for working long hours this month.”

“What?” he shrieked with a shrill of a laugh. “Well, that fucking sucks. I barely leave the building, and I haven’t received any damn appraisal or recognition.”

“Don’t be jealous.” I hand vodka and tonic mixers to the paying customer. “It’s an ugly look on you—next,” I parodied, and he stared at me deadpan through sliced eyes. “What?”

“You are annoying.” He pinched my nose, whipped a tea towel over his shoulder, and, hands pressed to the bar top, leaned over the cashier register to listen to the customer’s order. “We don’t sell impurities here, love,” he said in a low, raspy voice, and the woman’s face pinkened. “Quality, not quantity. I can hit you with Goose or Cîroc, though.”

Embarrassment clung to her cheeks in multiple shades of red. Recognising the hesitation in her eyes, the lack of pennies in her purse, I intervened. “Here.” Placing two glasses on the counter, I uncapped Cîroc, poured double vodka and lemonade. “It’s on the house.”

I approached the next customer before Josh’s reprimand.

“Alexa.” His finger jabbed me in the shoulder. “What’s wrong with you? Warren can see everything from his office.”

“It wasn’t a freebie, Josh.” Stealing his tea towel, I dried spilt beer from my fingers. “I will cover the bill. Take it out of my tips.”

“You are too nice for your own good.” He used the back of his hand to efface sweat from his brow. “I will collect empty glasses while it’s quietening down.”

I checked the time on my phone, relieved to see half an hour left on the clock. While Josh was busy somewhere and customer demands alleviated, I cleaned the bar, restocked the chillers and started to drain the ice generators. Technically, I was authorised to take an easier shift since Liam decided to elbow me in the face. I did the opposite, though. It’s hard to stand back and do nothing when overworked staff need extra hands.

“How’s it going, Alannah?” In a burlesque type costume, Cherry strolled behind the bar, delving into bottled Gordon’s. “You look a little tired. Not getting enough sleep?”

An impolite way of saying I look like shit. “I’m fine, thanks,” I responded with great reluctance, sweeping the bottle tops on the floor into the corner for discarding.

The slapdash red-head falls into a quiet conversation with Natalie. If I cared about their gossiping, I’d eavesdrop, but I no longer craved their approval nor friendship. “He kills me,” the blonde whispered, and I took back everything I just said. “I can barely walk, Cher.” Natalie’s thighs pressed together as she winced in a theatrical manner. “I love it, though.”

My ears perked up.

I lifted the crate onto the bar top and slid glasses onto the under-counter shelves.

“I wouldn’t know.” Cherry nursed a glass of gin. “Boss hasn’t touched me for months.”

“What about you, new girl?” Natalie asked, wincing as she fixed her shorts. “Are you this sore after he fucks you?”

I hate that my cheeks are red.

Moreover, I hate that Liam touching Natalie bothered me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Feigned boredom became necessary. “Unlike everyone else in this place, I don’t spread my legs at his command.”

Cherry choked on her drink, spraying gin everywhere. “Shit.”

“You are only jealous.” Natalie’s face turned a murderous shade of purple. “The boss will quite literally fuck anything, yet he hasn’t given you the time of day. Doesn’t that bother you?”

I blew bangs out of my face. “Well, it certainly says a lot about the women he chooses to lie down with.”

Her eyes squinted. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are unexceptional.” My smirk was impish. “Being one of many conquests is nothing to brag about, Natalie.”

She was on me in a flash. “I will beat the living crap out of you.”

I squared up to her. “Go ahead—”

“Whoa.” Josh slid himself into hostilities. “What’s going on, ladies? I leave the bar for ten minutes, and you wage war.”

Natalie’s hand came dangerously close to my face. “It’s that bitch—”

He seized her wrist. “Enough of that,” he said in a displeased voice. “Alexa’s a friend, Nat. I won’t stand here and do nothing if you bite.” He side-eyed the red-head. “Same for you, Cher. We go way back, but I don’t like bullies.”

Cherry’s tongue piercing glittered. “It’s not my fight.”

Josh kept his back to me as the pair retreated. “What did I miss?” He faced me then, the concern in his deep-set brown eyes heightening. “Alexa?”

“Natalie hates me,” I said in conversation, not malice. “It’s always this way between us. I try to ignore it.”

He scratched the sliver of his revealed chest by the dip of his black T-shirt. “Nat’s a viper,” he said as if I weren’t already aware. “If her behaviour is too much for you, go to the boss. He will fix it.”

Yes, Liam might intercede to keep Natalie off my back, but I did not want to cause any more ripples. I have to work alongside these scornful women. “Maybe.”

I finished routine jobs for the next fifteen minutes, ready for the morning staff. Snagging a cleaning cloth, I wiped sticky alcohol spillage from the counters and added another round of dirty glasses into the glasswasher. The DJ killed vibrating soundbars and light effects upon customer clearance, and even though he was due to finish work, he left the melodious music on for fellow employees.

Natalie is outback, speaking to someone on the handheld. “New girl?” she yelled, the phone to her ear. “Boss wants you downstairs before the club shuts down.” She all but slammed the handheld down. “You need to learn how to change kegs.”

I eyed her sceptically. Training employees is Nate’s strong suit, and he hasn’t mentioned keg conversion. “Really?” I queried dubiously. “After your last stunt, Natalie, I am inclined to check with Liam first.”

“Go ahead.” Limping to dramatise the soreness between her thighs, she flicked her fob onto the cash register and emptied tonight’s takings. “He is downstairs, in the cellar, so speak to him and look dumb.”

She is fucking dumb, I thought, leaving the crane on the floor.

The narrow hallway outback offered nothing but off-white walls, dull lighting and forgotten cleaning equipment. I hate it down here. It’s dank and ghostly. I dodged strewn paper towels, reached the ajar door and placed an ear to the cold steel to check for any sounds. The hinges complained as I gently eased it open and dusty darkness and eerie silence greeted me. Descending the precipitous slope of the stairs, I ran a palm over the masonry wall for support and, in the depths of Club 11’s underground, waded through besmirched, powdery boxes toward the veiled light that filtered beneath the door at the back. “Mr Warren?”

Instincts suggested it was another hoax.

“Bitch.” I turned to leave when suppressed complaints gained full awareness.

My senses tingled.

I gravitated to the door.

“Mr Warren?” His muffled voice resounded. I breathed out a relieved sigh. “You wanted to see me.”

Knocking on the door, I jerked the handle and, in an irrational, obtrusive manner, welcomed myself into breath-snatching, spine-chilling gruesomeness. The scene played out in slow motion. My boss and the austere Suits straightened to their full, intimidating heights. Liam, in an almost imperceptible movement, took one cautious step forward. His mouth moved, yet I heard no words as he calmly spoke. I felt the blood thumping in my ears and the franticness of my heart rate, though.

For the first time since knowing Liam Warren, I see the monstrous killer everyone feared. True, promising evil aflame in his specious blue eyes. And the blood. His pale, beautiful features, drenched in bloodied grotesqueness.

My horrified eyes lowered to the lifeless body tossed onto a plastic sheet disjointedly. His hacked, eviscerated organs projected across the floor. Traumatism surfaced. I retched, stumbling back on wobbly legs, and knocked over the wine crate. Expensive bottles dispersed, shattering green fragments and puddles of dark red liquid across the ground.

It’s Darren’s decapitated head. His round, soulless eyes and swollen, beaten face spoke to the coward in me.

Liam killed his own in an inhuman act of cruelty.

“Why are you down here?” Liam’s curt, furious voice sifted through my temporary hearing impairment. “Alexa?”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Sparked by stomach-turning panic, I blew out one assuaging breath and then ran for my life. The men called me, but I never looked back. Not once. I belted upstairs, straight into the main room, unsure if I passed Josh or Natalie, and headed for the exit. I don’t even think I breathed until reaching the head doorman, who hadn’t batted an eyelid as I fled the building.

Cold winds whipped against my face. An impending taxi beckoned me. I dashed across the busy street, opened the door and threw myself into the backseats. “Drive! Now!” My palm slapped against the driver’s headrest just as Liam’s men fell out of the club into the street. “Quick!”

Alarmed, the driver fired the engine, slammed the accelerator and sped straight past Club 11 as I ducked to hide.

I am getting the fuck away from that man.

***

I hide inside overgrown shrubbery opposite the apartment building. I watched Liam’s men break into the flat within the safe hideaway of scraggly twigs and frosted leaves. They overturned furniture, ripped through cupboards and ransacked my bedroom. Every room represented Blackpool, the brightness amidst those four walls lighting up the street.

Liam’s men continued to swarm the perimeters. Bentley vehicles mounted the curb-side. Armed, besuited men amassed near the entrance. They swarmed the complex like a specialised enforcement agency. My neighbours must be beside themselves.

I was picking my fingernails when Brad, the last member, exited the building. He accoladed the men yet remained undeniably frustrated. He stopped near the black car, spoke to someone on the phone, spat on the floor and then fell into the passenger seat. Collectively, those bright headlights illuminated the street as the cars vibrated to life and cleared out.

Yet, I waited for a further twenty minutes to ensure the men did not return.

Unobtrusively, I left the bushes, dusting dry leaves and soil from my body. Mist formed as my hot breath warmed the night’s chill. I crawled to the building on my hands and knees, veering scattered litter and sodden clothes residents had previously hurled out from their windows.

Once more, I peered over one shoulder to be sure the coast was clear and pulled the main door open fractionally to avoid exposure. I collapsed into the dank-smelling foyer. I know the men are gone, yet I am still too frightened to go upstairs and assess the damage or even contemplate packing a suitcase.

Rounding the stairway in an amok haze, I stumbled into the front door, unlocked, entered, locked and bolted. I stepped back to stare at the shaved wood, the peeled paint and tampered deadlock.

I was lackadaisical and slightly nauseated when entering the bedroom. Darkness shrouded the mess. I scuttled across the upturned mattress, the messy sheets tangled in a heap, and opened the wardrobe. “Shit.” I collected tossed clothes on the floor and stuffed them into Chloe’s half-packed suitcase alongside essentials.

I aim for a fresh start. I will find a new home and start again. Liam cleared me of vindication before, but I cannot survive another day after what I had witnessed tonight. Even if I could overlook Darren’s murder, will Liam make allowances for infringing his privacy? No, I cannot risk it. He will kill me. I saw too much. I have no choice but to leave.

And what about Chloe?

Leaving her behind is an option. She has a life here. A job. Not the best family, but still, family. I cannot expect her to uproot and move away with me. It is selfish.

What if Liam comes for her to get at me?

What if he used her as leverage?

I yanked open the dresser drawer, fossicking through underwear—

“We need to stop doing this.” Liam’s baritone voice raked horripilation across my skin. “Miss Haines.”

My head shook imperceptibly. No, Liam did not enter with the Suits. I’d have seen him.

I spun around so fast, the lamp fell off the dresser and crashed on the floor, the ceramic base breaking into pieces.

A jolt of fear lanced through me. I hunted the darkroom in search of his form. And then, he stood and lingered by the window for a long moment before drawing the curtain back slightly, allowing the streetlamp outside to dim the room.

“Three strikes and out, huh?” I half-joked. It was hardly a laughing matter, though. “How did you get in here?” There is no way I missed him entering this building. “The men—”

“Irrelevant,” he clipped, and my lips wired shut. “Why did you feel it was your business to be down in the cellar tonight?”

“Natalie said that you needed me,” I threw her straight to the wolves and uncaringly so. “You were to show me how to change kegs.” I gripped onto the sideboard edge to stop my hands from shaking. “I’m sorry.”

Liam stayed by the window, focussing on the starless sky. His blue eyes scintillated like rare sapphires. He was freshly showered and tailored in a pristine two-piece suit. “Why did you run?”

To evade consequence. “I was scared.”

Satisfied with the response, he gave me a sharp nod. “What did you see, Alexa?” I hadn’t realised he prowled until he loomed over me. I cowered away from the intenseness in his stare. His finger tilted my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. “Alexa?”

“I saw nothing.” I prayed it was what he needed to hear. “Nothing that I care to discuss.”

“I thought I told you not to take orders from others.”

Of course, I am still at fault for Natalie’s wrongdoing. “I apologise.” He caught me by the elbow before I slipped away. “Mr Warren, I am not to blame here.”

“I know,” he rasped, and something about the way he looked at me had my stomach clenching. “Alexa, I know.” His closeness invaded my personal space. “I am not here to hurt you.”

My breath caught. “No?”

He shook his head.

I stared at him, long and hard until his hands slid around my neck and my eyelashes threatened to close. “Will you deny me?” His question whispered against my cheek. “Third time lucky, perhaps.” Light-heartedness gravelled his tone as his lips, soft yet hesitant, kissed the corner of my mouth. “Miss Haines.”

“I…” His thumb entered my mouth and pressed onto my tongue. My neck turned in coyness. Frustrated by the assumed refusal, he withdrew his arms, but I grasped his gold-chained wrists, keeping him close, and pulled his muscular chest flush to mine. I trembled from nervousness. “I won’t deny you.”

Liam dipped his head to steal a kiss. His lips, firm against mine, sought permission to my tongue. A hollow inhale caught at the back of my throat, and he took the opportunity to lazily stroke our tongues together, his mouth firmer, hungrier, dominating and seeking more.

It was my first real kiss, yet all I could focus on was the butterflies in my chest.

I followed his lead. My hands reached up, clinging to his neck, head tilting, allowing him to deepen our kiss, to flick his tongue in my mouth in a sensual fight for dominance. He eased off the gas, his breathing shallow as our foreheads touched, and then he came back to devour me. His hand captured my jaw. “Alexa,” he moaned my name, and flutters ruptured in my chest. His arm aimlessly swept everything off the dresser before he abruptly hiked me onto the cold wood, his hips wedging between my thighs.

My eyes closed in rapture. His lips travelled down the column of my neck, kissing, biting, sucking. Fisting the hair at the nape of my neck, he tugged my head back to expose and suck my throat, leaving painful marks in his wake. He took what he wanted from me, and I let him. “Oh, God,” I moaned, the friction of his hard length rubbing on my hot sex luring me to sin.

Liam only reared his head to tear off my T-shirt, to snap my bra and fling both aside. His growl fell into my mouth as he palmed my breasts. “Fuck.”

Cheeks burning in self-doubt, I clipped his hands away and tried to cover myself.

“Stop,” he said throatily, uncurling my fingers to replace them with his. “I want to see you.”

The women at the club have flawless breasts. My mounds are barely a handful. I don’t express concerns, but he perceived the embarrassment in my wide, panicked eyes.

His tongue licked the shell of my ear as he thumbed my taut nipples. “Fucking perfect.” He gathered me into his arms and carried me to the bed. I fell onto the mattress. He stalked above me, seized both of my wrists in one hand, and pinned my arms on either side of my head. “Kiss me.” His warm breath tickled my lips. “Kiss me and mean it.”

I brushed our lips, slowly licked his tongue, and sucked him into my mouth.

His groan of approval flushed my cheeks.

Liam released his hold on me to peel the shorts and lace down my legs. He laid me bare for him. I was vulnerable. He opened my thighs, parted them for his liking, and settled his hips between them. Haphazardly removing his suit jacket, he sank his teeth into my neck and, smoothing his hands along my thighs, descended lower.

I watched through dilated eyes as his head disappeared down the length of my sprawled-out body. I tried to be responsive. Hands dipping under his bunched-up shirt, I raked my fingernails down his spine.

Liam’s back bowed in growled approbation. “Fuck.” His mouth returned to mine for a long, passionate kiss, the heel of his hand pressing my core as he pushed two fingers inside me. “Baby.”

A moan fell from my lips, and our eyes aligned. “Liam.” Fingers latching onto his broad shoulders, I instinctively bucked my hips and sank onto his knuckles. “Shit.”

His thumb circled my clit, torturing me there as he finger-fucked me and, aching for more, I rode the pleasurable wave building deep.

“I need to fuck you.” He withdrew his hand, sucked my glistening arousal from his fingers. “Need that cunt around my cock.”

Before I had the chance to respond, his mouth slanted across mine. He fumbled with his belt, the buckle clinking together, and shoved his trousers and boxer shorts mid-thigh. His shaft weighed heavily between us.

I have never wanted a man so much in my life. Liam is rushing, though. His clothes were dishevelled but still on. There was no mention of a condom. Thanks to those incorrigible Suits, the mattress sans sheet and coverlets did not offer the most romantic ambience.

Technically, this isn’t my first time with a man, but realistically speaking, it would be the first time I wanted it.

Liam’s lips paid homage to my jawline. He fisted his shaft and, giving himself one upstroke, eased the swollen crown into my soaked entrance. I reached down and gripped his wrist, preventing him from going further.

“Alexa,” he whispered in my ear. “What’s wrong?”

Denying Liam had nothing to do with my past. If it were another man above me, those dark demons and harrowing memories might ruin the moment.

It’s different with Liam.

He always brought me back.

He always made me forget.

“I’m inexperienced.” My involvement has been with one man only. And I can hardly even call it an experience as it was him taking from me.

His hands repositioned to the mattress as he braced himself above me, the silver chain draping from his neck dangling between us. Something indistinguishable flashed in his eyes, and he cursed, falling onto his back beside me. “Fuck.” His hands scrubbed his face. “That was wrong of me. I got carried away.”

“You did nothing wrong. It’s me.” I am more than ready to remove bad memories and replace them with good ones. And I couldn’t think of anyone better than Liam to overcome the fear I harbour regarding men touching me, but his experience with women concerned me. “It’s not the right time.”

What if I’m not good enough?

Liam knows what he’s doing.

Even his kiss was all-consuming, demanding and enthralling.

I don’t want to disappoint him.

No. I’m scared I will disappoint him.

Liam tucked himself away, redoing his belt and zipper.

Feeling like a disappointing, wanton cock-tease, I climbed off the bed to catch a breather.

He propped onto one elbow and followed my movements. “You’re beautiful,” he said with furrowed brows, and I paused, T-shirt firmly gripped to my chest.

He called me beautiful. Me. Alexa Haines. “You think I’m pretty?”

“You put words in my mouth now.” He soared from the bed. “That’s not what I said.” While he adjusted his suit, I stared at him, unblinking and unwavering. “Stop thinking so much.” He snatched the T-shirt from my hand and tugged it over my head. “Forget about it.”

I was speechless, which was unusual. I am never at a loss for words.

“You can’t stay here tonight.” Jangling the car keys in his trouser pocket, he eyed the messy bedroom. “The men disarranged the place. You can come to the office and wait until the morning.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Liam

Alexa locked herself in the en-suite to change into comfortable loungewear. In her absence, I arranged for people to clean the mess at her apartment, the overturned furniture and ransacked cupboards. I will replace the damages before she goes home.

I sat behind the desk, whiskey bottle and Rizla ready. I built a deck, distributed an even consistency of kush across the paper, the roach, and, pinched between my thumbs and fingers, rolled from middle to end.

The bathroom door unlocked.

In casual grey slouch pants and loose black T-shirt, which revealed a sliver of her flat stomach, Alexa went to the U-shaped leather seating accommodation and, stuffing belongings into her black handbag, sat down to read a message on her phone. Her hair sat messily atop her head. I liked the image. It exposed her kissable jawline, the feminine dip of her collar bones and the small beauty spot on her neck.

I licked the Rizla seam. “I took the liberty of ordering you food.”

She glanced up from the phone. “It’s okay. I am not overly hungry.”

“I am,” I murmured, the rolled blunt balancing on my bottom lip. “Thoughts on pesto?”

Her lips thinned. “Are restaurants still delivering at this time of the morning?”

“Yes.” I matched a flame, lit the end of the blunt and inhaled two deep drags. “Perks of living in the city.”

“Pesto looks unappetising.”

“An acquired taste,” I said, and she nodded in agreement. “It comes with reinforcement.”

Amusement glittered in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Bruschetta,” I confirmed, and she laughed lightly. “Surely, grilled bread and tomatoes are appetising enough to tempt you.”

She rubbed her stomach for theatrical purposes, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the prominent lines of her hip bones. “Sold,” she moaned in pleasure. “I will eat everything in sight.” Her eyes paused on me for a moment and then rounded fractionally. “Oh, shit. That came out so wrong.”

I feigned cluelessness. “What?”

Purple flushed her cheeks. “I have foot-in-mouth disease.”

I maintained impassiveness.

“Like, I didn’t mean to eat you—or that,” she stuttered, and it took everything inside me not to comment or laugh. “Please erase everything I just said.”

Her nervousness only intensified the need to go further. “Are you this uncomfortable around men in general, or is it just me?”

Alexa groaned behind two hands. “Are you open to interpretation?”

I nodded.

“I have a love-hate relationship with men. I can appreciate them from afar, but I struggle to let them get too close. If I do allow their nearness, I always say something stupid.” We stayed pensive while she spoke. “For some strange reason, I can handle being close to you. I don’t understand it either,” she added, noticing my confusion. “You are the last person I should feel safe around. Yet, I am less afraid when you are nearby.”

It’s not the first time we broached this subject. It’s less cryptic, though. “And the embarrassment?”

Her brows knitted. “Attraction.”

At least she is honest. “Why?”

“Why?” She gave me a knowing look. “You are hard to ignore, Mr Warren.”

I expelled smoke. “I am no prince charming, Alexa.”

Her smile softened. “I know.”

Security knocked on the door.

My throat cleared. “Yes.”

Popping his head through the door, he raised a medium-sized box. “Delivery.”

“Place it on the table.”

He listened to orders and then returned to his station in the hall.

I left the blunt to smoulder in the ceramic ashtray, grabbed the whiskey bottle and joined Alexa on the sofa. “You needn’t wait for permission,” I said, and she started unpackaging takeaway containers. “Did the driver deliver disposable cutlery?”

Alexa placed napkins and plastic forks on the table.

Uncapping clear containers, I twirled a fork into the spaghetti and swallowed a mouthful. Flavoursome pesto graced my taste buds. I scarfed down food like it was my last meal.

Alexa delved straight into bruschetta, sucking balsamic glaze from her thumb.

“About Darren.” Pouring Jameson into two crystal glasses, I re-capped the bottle. “He was a founding member of the syndicate until he sold me out to the enemy.” Her head stayed down while she listened. “I don’t take kindly to traitors. Everyone working here understands how I operate. You are new. I appreciate that. If you cannot handle what transpires behind closed doors, then I may have to let you go.” It’s not what I want, though. “It’s your decision.”

Alexa looked at me.

My chest tightened.

A question dangled on her tongue. “What did he do?”

I shook my head.

“Sorry,” she whispered, setting the appetiser aside. “I’m here to work. I’m not here to pry or investigate. As far as I am concerned, what happened tonight is already a forgotten memory.” Her fingers rapt the whiskey glass clenched in her hands. “It was quite traumatising, though. His eyes were still open.”

Primary flaccidity. “As I said, I don’t take kindly to traitors.”

“I really would like to stay,” she said quietly. “But I seem to overstep far too much for you to ignore. I don’t want to be the next Darren, Mr Warren.”

I am not opposed to killing deserving women, but I had no desire to touch one hair on Alexa Haines’ head. It would take something highly unforgivable to me to do so, and even then, I would struggle to hurt her. I am dangerously weak for the girl. I have an unexplainable, possessive urge to protect her, to take her under my wing. “When the brothers joined the syndicate, I offered them one lifeline card. As bondsmen, whether a friend, family member or significant other, they can vouch for someone’s immunity. Just one person.”

She listened closely. “Did they immune people instantly?”

“No,” I said as she stared. “I suppose they wish to save power cards for future occurrences.” My heart started to pound. “Ask me.”

Her fingers hooked together. “What am I asking?

I swallowed hard. “To dispel your doubts.”

“Why would you waste immunity on someone like me?” she whispered, her soft look roaming my face.

I had no logical response. “Your fear bothers me. I quite literally hate it.”

She looked taken aback. “You should save exceptions for one who has yet to make an appearance, Mr Warren. Much like your men.”

“Impossible. I will never settle down.” I studied her with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I am the boss. I can exempt everyone and anyone, should I choose to do so.”

Alexa smiled widely. “Well, I was almost an exception.”

“I grant you syndicate immunity,” I said seriously, and her expression hardened. “You will not live in trepidation. You will not fear the men nor their capabilities. You will not panic when I approach you for something as unhazardous as conversing. Now, I expect more smiles and less embarrassment when I pass you in the halls. Understood?”

Alexa wouldn’t be Alexa if she didn’t ask questions. “What If I cannot help the embarrassment?”

When I reached for her hand across the table, I felt the slight tremor in her fingers. “I don’t believe I have ever had this much effect on a woman.” Her cheeks flushed. “It’s intriguing.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I am glad my nervousness amuses you.”

Her small, slender hand laid flat on my palm. “I meant what I said. I am no prince charming. Most women find me overrated.”

Her fingers laced through mine. “Why?”

I have commitment issues. “I am selfish.”

“Your arrogance is a little bit overbearing.”

I can live with that. “My wealth compensates for haughtiness.”

“Well, I am not attracted to a man’s bank balance,” she said, and I believed her. “I can see beyond money.”

“Really?” It was a random conversation, yet I enjoyed talking to her. “What do you see?”

“It’s your eyes,” she whispered as our gaze locked. “I am lost in them.”

Why does my heart rate quicken when she looks at me?

She yawned an apology. “Sorry, I am so tired.”

“You should sleep.” Reluctantly releasing her hand, I forked spaghetti into my mouth. “There are new toothbrushes in the vanity unit.”

Alexa went to the en-suite to brush her teeth. I am glad for the temporary distance. I lose all sense of rationality when she is near. It’s uncharacteristic. I am not troubled by women. Yet, I cannot think clearly when I see her.

I was still eating when Alexa returned to the office. Although subtle, I watched her untie the bobble in her hair and tousle the mass of unruliness atop her head.

Stuffing the suede cushion under her neck for extra comfort, she laid back on the sofa and stared blankly at the ceiling. Her eyelids fluttered shut seconds later.

I was no longer hungry. I re-packaged uneaten food and asked the syndicate member in the hallway to discard leftovers.

Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I squatted by the sofa and draped it over Alexa. She must have been exhausted. She never so much as stirred or flinched when I brushed a thumb across her cheek.

I had to take care of business.

Exiting the office, I closed the door and addressed the men. “Nobody goes in that room until I get back.”

“Boss,” they said in unison.

Natalie is behind the bar, serving energetic customers. Her eyes lit up when I arrived. Her cheeks darkened in colour.

Cherry filled the glasswasher with dirty pint glasses. “Did you need something, Sir?”

I stuffed my hands in my trouser pockets. “No.”

“You look pissed.” She uncapped bottled detergent. “Do you want someone to take the edge off?”

“Why?” I curbed levity. “Are you offering?”

Her laughter was expected. “You haven’t touched me since our younger years.”

Perhaps it’s because Brad stole her undivided attention the second he walked into the building. He mightn’t care too much for the woman, but she is head over heels in love with him.

“Mr Warren.” Natalie left Josh, and the others tend to customer demand to sneak out the back. “Is everything okay?”

I delivered a harsh backhander to her cheek.

Cherry inhaled a sharp breath. Natalie, however, fell to her backside and, holding her inflamed jaw, scuttled back to the wall. I stepped forward, towered above her. “You dare to lie in my absence,” I said in a low, threatening voice as I crouched in front of her. “You better start talking.”

Her wide, tear-filled eyes were myopically locked on me. “I was jealous.”

Alexa does not deserve this woman’s scorn. I am the problem, not her. “I do not belong to you,” I cruelly reminded her. “You are in no position to ward off other women. If I should choose to pursue Miss Haines, you will have nothing to say on the matter.” My finger tucked blonde hair behind her ear. “Understand?”

Natalie nodded.

“Do not confuse sex with affection,” I whispered, and she snivelled. “I would hate to make an example out of you.”

“Sir,” she whimpered.

I stood to my full height. “Get back to work.”

Natalie scampered to her feet.

“I will not tolerate workplace bullying or harassment.” I passed Cherry a glance. “From anyone. You are replaceable. Remember that the next time you target co-workers.”

Wiping tears from her cheeks, Natalie bellied distress and revisited the bar.

Cherry did well to feign indifference.

My phone vibrated.

I checked the message.

Reginald: I am outside.

I text the head doorman to grant the man’s entry.

***

Chief Superintendent Reginald Burton strode into the office. He slammed a case file on the desk, lit a cigar and helped himself to bourbon at the minibar. I seldom express gratitude, but I appreciated his allegiance. He crossed the line of duty for me on numerous occasions. Real-life corruption existed in the metropolitan police department. If it should benefit bent coppers financially, there is nothing they wouldn’t do for career criminals.

You see, I met Reginald when I was just fifteen years old (a story for another time), and he was days away from losing everything: wife, house, job. He had a dream. He wanted to be a cop. I had stolen funds lying around and invested in his future. I suppose I can take credit for his devotedness. I did, after all, hand him a new lifeline. It’s only fair that he returned the favour.

“Warren, I have dead bodies floating in the fucking Thames, wearing dog collars that belong to you.” He blew out a whiff of cigar smoke. “Not to mention the head that’s become the goddamn centrepiece for the London Bridge.” The man is like a fucking pig. He’s beet red and practically hacking up his lungs. His short walk to the office was too laborious. “Why does he make life difficult for me?” His question was for Brad. “How can I keep shit away from his door when he is hellbent on exposure?”

“Who cares?” Brad lit a pre-rolled joint and collapsed on the sofa. “Bluecoat scum know better than to knock on our door.”

Startled by the raised voices, Alexa rolled onto her back and squinted at Brad.

He grinned wickedly at her. “What’s happening, boo?”

Her gaze briefly sought mine. “You are crushing my foot,” she groaned, and he elevated his hips so that she could sit up. “What time is it?”

Brad glimpsed at his wristwatch. “Five a.m.,” he said, and she rubbed her eyes. “You should probably sleep. I am still mad at you for the extra workload last night.”

She reached for her handbag on the floor. “Well, I am angry at you for trashing my flat, so I guess we are even.”

Reginald wore an unreadable expression as he watched the pair interact. He simpered down somewhat. “How can I protect you if you don’t keep a lid on it? There is only so much evidence I can make disappear.”

I glared at my right-hand man. “You put his head on the London fucking Bridge.”

“Great, isn’t it?” Brad chimed. “Good old Darren’s mugshot will be plastered all over the news in a few hours. Our Albanian friends will have heard your message.” His grin virtually touched his ears. “Loud and clear.”

Sometimes, I think he’s almost as sinister as me.

Almost.

“I should have known it was your doing, Jones.” Reginald nursed a glass of bourbon. “Always the mischievous one.”

“Well, I am great like that,” Brad complimented himself. “What’s the point in cutting corners, Burton?”

Everyone quieted down when Alexa stood and excused herself to the bathroom.

“She has grown into a fine young woman,” Reginald said quietly. “I don’t think she recognised me.”

I concur.

Reginald strode to the desk and lowered his voice. “What are your intentions?”

I frowned. “What’s the question?”

“Alexa Haines.” His muffled voice tickled my ear. “It’s a dark story, Warren. I would hate to see her suffer any more than she already has.”

“I am aware,” I clipped. “Fear not, Reginald. I mean no harm.”

“I can see that you have taken a liking for the girl.” His tone stayed low. “Is it genuine?”

My blood fired hot. “I do not answer to you.”

“I helped them,” he seethed from nostalgia. “You do not forget cases like theirs, Warren. Of course, I want the best possible outcome for her.”

I stared blankly at him.

“Were you careful?” he asked Brad. “Homicide won’t link any evidence to you, right?”

Brad popped a pink chewing gum bubble. “Nope.”

“Good.” Reginald ceded. “Okay, Warren. I am expected at the station. I will call you if necessary.”

I stayed quiet until he left the office. “He’s ageing fast.”

“His arse needs to hit the gym.” Brad beamed when Nate arrived. “Howdy, motherfucker. What’s in the box?”

“Breakfast.” Nate dropped takeout on the coffee table. “Do you want some, Sir?”

You cannot beat a traditional English breakfast. I overindulged Italian cuisine, though. “I will pass.”

Brad eyeballed his gold rings. “So, we ransacked Alexa’s flat for nothing, huh?”

I simpered.

“The boss went soft,” Brad told Nate. “She is in the bathroom.”

Nate sent me a questioning look.

“I answer to no one,” I said, and his lips pursed. “What’s in the envelope?”

“I got some info on our guy.” Nate tossed an envelope on the desk. “Flamur Bajramovic. He and his wife will attend a gala dinner this evening for a charity event at the Royal Hotel.” He guzzled orange juice from the carton. “I managed to pull a few strings and got your name on the list.”

“I shall pay him a friendly visit.” I itched to extract the man’s beating heart. “Make further arrangements.” Alexa exited the en-suite, and Nate watched her stroll across the room with perked brows. “We will not attack, though. I want to meet him to see what I am up against.”

Nate left two invitations on the desk. “You need a plus one, Sir.”

I pondered possible dates.

“What about Alexa?” Brad mused as she sat cross-legged on the sofa. “Well?”

I anticipated her response.

“What?” Alexa rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. “I don’t trust you to send me anywhere, Brad.”

He gave her a lopsided smirk. “I am not that bad.”

“Yes,” I agreed, and three pairs of variegated eyes flung in my direction. “Are you available, Miss Haines?”

Alexa’s fingers wrangled. “What am I signing myself up to?”

“Charity dinner.” I re-lit the half-smoked blunt. “All you have to do is show up in a nice dress.”

“Sure,” she said hesitantly. “I mean, I don’t have anything fancy to wear. Is a simple dress okay for the occasion?”

Honestly, she could wear a black bag and look beautiful. “What’s your favourite colour?”

She answered instantly, “Red.”

I respired halos of smoke. “Then wear red.”

“Okay.” Her phone vibrated. “You know, I should probably get home. Chloe is freaking out because the flat is a mess, and there are men replacing furniture.”

Brad side-eyed me. “Replacing furniture, huh?”

Her shoulders lifted.

“Brad will drive you home,” I said, and the dutiful man stood, car keys in hand. “Don’t forget your bag.”

“Right.” Alexa smiled meekly. “I’ll see you later.”

When she exited the office, I sank into the leather chair. “What?”

Nate scratched his chin. “You seem distracted.”

I am more than distracted.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Alexa

Liam requested that I accompany him to a charity event this evening. He’s never asked me to attend anything with him outside of work, and I cannot deny my ever-increasing excitement. Earlier, I spent far too long rummaging through wardrobes, searching for something sophisticated yet sexy to wear. I want to make a good impression; I want Liam to look at me and approve.

Leaning the mop against the kitchen door frame, I paced to my bedroom and cleaned before my unofficial date. I stripped the bed, then put on a new cover, rearranged drawers, folded clothes and vacuumed throughout.

I fall back onto the bed with a sigh.

Time doesn’t appear to be moving. I’m running out of places to clean.

My thoughts trailed back to Liam. God, that man. The things he does to me. The plan was never to get emotionally attached to him, but how could I not? He is most certainly one of the hottest men I have ever had the pleasure of sharing company with. And his eyes. He makes the workplace an extremely challenging environment.

While I have a sanitise-everything-in-sight big, I head to Chloe’s bedroom to sort through her wardrobes and chest of drawers. I switched the white coverlet for fuchsia pink, plucked up scattered makeup on the floor, arranged them into the container on the dresser, and binned the dead plant.

Pleased with how tidy her room looked, I sat on the edge of the bed and glanced atop the wardrobe, where boxes, filled with Kathy’s belongings, collected dust.

I pushed off my tiptoes to grab one of the boxes. I bring it onto the bed, remove the lid and avert my wet eyes, needing a moment. I picked up the framed photograph and swept a thumb across Kathy’s face. I sat beside her, wearing a hideous, unflattering dungaree set that she forced me to wear. In the image, her hand rested on my knee, her genuine smile warming my chest.

Missing her, I exchanged the frame for the photo album and cringed at the awful orange paint Kathy previously used to paint our flat. “I don’t miss the orange,” I said with a light laugh, lacing her animal print scarf through my fingers. Bringing the chiffon fabric to my nose, I inhaled her sweet perfume from the soft fibres.

Beauty products, CDs and cassette tapes. A few romance novels. I didn’t even know Kathy enjoyed reading. I’m about to replace the lid when a black tattered book sparked an interest. I brushed the layer of dust from the worn leather. “The Diary of Kathy.” My forehead creased in perplexity. “Odd.”

It is almost complete. There must be at least five hundred entries.

Sliding to the floor, I rest my back to the foot of the bed. I found something so personal to my sister, and it overwhelmed me. It’s wrong to invade her privacy, but I flipped it open and began reading.

Dear Diary,

It has been too long here, way too long. I do not know how I feel about my life anymore. I miss my family home. Well, not the sperm donor. I mean, why would I miss him? He was not a father. He was the devil—a cruel, worthless man who I loathed more than he who took us.

I do, however, miss my mother. She loved us so much. I never found out if she survived or not, but I am old enough to know better and understand. I think she was dead before we even left that day.

Alexa cries for our mother. She asked me once if we will ever see her again. I did not wish to upset her, so I lied to my baby sister, wanting to protect her.

Unfortunately, as it is forbidden, I seldom spend any time with Alexa. Sometimes, he allows me downstairs so that I can spend the afternoon with her. Alexa loves it when I visit. We craft together and create colourful buntings to hang along her wall, adding a little sunshine to the darkness.

We often tell each other stories and, from time to time, we sing together.

I am sad when I leave her.

Alexa has always been scared of the dark, and that thought stops me from sleeping at night.

I know she is sad.

I know she is scared.

I am sorry, Alexa.

I wish I could protect you.

Kathy.

When I questioned Kathy about our dad, she’d instantly shut me down. Apparently, she remembered nothing. I don’t know why she had so much resentment towards him; I wish I did.

Her thoughts were correct. I was terrified back then. I hated sleeping alone in that cold basement; however, she was wrong to believe the darkness scared me. I welcomed the dark just as long as he never visited.

Dear Diary,

It is beautiful here, not all bad. The house is not like our mother’s, but the warm colours and spacious rooms are maze-like and fun to investigate. When the sun comes up, I sit on the back steps to write, feel the warm rays on my face and sunbathe after breakfast.

Yesterday, I made a cake. The final piece was shocking, but I gave myself a thumbs up for the effort. Plus, it tasted better than it looked.

For a long while, I requested to see my sister, and he reprimanded me. I missed her and wanted to be sure she was okay. After a few weeks, though, the pain eased, and I did not feel the need to visit Alexa anymore.

Is it wrong that the torture I once felt about our separation did not hurt anymore?

I heard him talking recently, telling his friend that Alexa would not behave. I shook my head at that. If only Alexa would be more compliant. If only she would concede and listen, then she could have more freedom—like me.

I do not feel sorry for my sister anymore. Her troubling behaviour concerns me.

I am afraid there is not much more I can do for her.

I am sorry, Alexa.

Kathy.

Why would Kathy want me to act accordingly? That man took us—he stole us from our mother. Furthermore, I was a terrified child. I didn’t have the sense or mature understanding to play those disgusting men at their own game. I merely mustered enough strength to finish those unpalatable meals they rarely tossed my way.

Dear Diary,

Alexa keeps crying. The sobs irritate me. I stand outside her door with my fingers on the handle. I contemplated breaking the rules by visiting her or walking away.

Alexa called my name.

Alexa called His name.

Then she sang that song. The one our mother would sing when we were little. For a fleeting second, it had hit a nerve, but I shrugged it off and refused to be fooled.

I let go of the handle.

I did not want to be in trouble.

If Alexa cannot learn to control her temper, then she’d have to deal with the consequences.

I am no longer sorry, Alexa.

Kathy.

I continued to read, emotional and sickened. Her teenage entries troubled me. If my sister loathed me so much, why did she pretend for so long? Kathy’s words suggested contentment. She was pleased with her new lifestyle. While I was downstairs, fearing for my life, Kathy was sunbathing and baking cakes.

Dear Diary,

I am happy. I used to miss my mother. I used to miss my friends. I do not miss those people anymore. I love this place. I feel so grown up here, like having my own home. I cleaned the house, did the laundry, and even learned how to cook! I started with the basics, using the microwave to frazzle some bacon, then scrambled eggs. Last night I made curry. Okay, I might have cheated, using a jar… I still chopped the ingredients and cooked up a storm.

We went outside the woods today. Only to the nearby lake, so we could use the paddle boat for our adventure.

Diary, I think I am in love.

I am almost sure that he loves me too. He told me as much when we watched the stars twinkle last night. He held my hand, kissed and stroked my jaw, and promised me the world.

But he loves her, too. Why does she complicate things, Diary? Will she leave him alone? She needs to understand that he is mine.

Do not worry, Diary, I have a plan, and she is not in it.

I am looking forward to my future.

I am moving forward.

Kathy.

Sneering in disdain, I closed the diary so hard dust particles flew out and hurled it across the room.

Kathy said she misremembered the hell hole. But everything she once told me was a lie. He let her venture outside, so why did she deceive me for so long?

The night we escaped wasn’t the first time Kathy visited the lake.

I felt sick.

What the hell did I read?

I don’t understand.

Why did she write such hurtful entries about me?

My stomach clenched. Nausea hit the back of my throat. Seconds away from losing it, I drew in a deep breath and held it.

“Hey, Hon. Why are you sitting on the floor?”

I flinched upon hearing Chloe’s concerned voice. She stands in the doorway, shopping bags in hand.

Disoriented and confused, my eyes darted back to the Diary. I think back to my conversation with Josh. He did not speak highly of my sister.

I loved Kathy dearly.

My sister.

My keeper.

My protector.

But why am I starting to get the impression that I didn’t know her at all? Is that even a possibility, not knowing the very person you grew up with? Your flesh and blood.

“Chloe, this is a bit random. What did you think of my sister?”

Letting the shopping bags drop to the floor, Chloe sat on the bed. “I don’t know, Hon. She was okay…” Uneasiness emitted from her. “I guess.”

Chloe knows how much I love my sister, so she is cautiously selecting words. “You don’t have to lie to me. You’re entitled to your opinion, even if you think it’ll hurt my feelings.”

Deep in thought, she continued to observe me. “I don’t want this to affect my relationship with you, Alexa. If you think it will, then I’d rather keep my opinions to myself.”

“Chloe, nothing can affect our friendship. Not now, not ever.”

“Okay, then honestly, I can’t stand Kathy, Hon. I understand she is your sister, and you love her, but I thought she was a bitch.” She waited for my reaction. “She hates me staying here. I have never admitted that to you before, but she would corner me and tell me I wasn’t welcome.”

“Why would she do that? Kathy was barely home. You’d think she’d be pleased that I had you.”

“My observation…” Chloe sucked her top lip. “I am not sure if the feeling was mutual between you two. Kathy was never here, and when she was, she only did what was necessary when it came to you. I always caught her watching you. Her face—it was loathing, Alexa. Like you irritated her.”

Hearing Chloe’s evaluation of Kathy hadn’t upset me. After what I read, nothing surprised me. “Chloe, you really think Kathy felt that way?” It’s an unfair question as Kathy’s the only person who can answer.

Chloe nodded.

“I’m starting to question whether I even knew my sister at all. Everyone at Club 11 disliked Kathy.” I swallowed a painful lump. “Josh is great. He loves everyone, yet he despises Kathy.

“Josh?” She toyed with her bangles. “Is he the cute guy with brown hair?”

“Yes. Josh is the guy who served us the first night we snuck into Liam’s club.”

“God, you’re so lucky. You have all these hotties around you.” She dramatically fans herself. “So, Josh is one of the good ones, huh?”

I smiled fondly. “I can’t imagine anyone having a problem with him. The guy’s great, and working alongside him is such a pleasure, but he didn’t like Kathy at all. He told me she was nothing but a bitch. He also mentioned that Kathy slept with customers for money.”

“Kathy was a prostitute.” Chloe’s eyes protruded. “How did we not know that?”

“Well, Liam would not appreciate me calling the dancers prostitutes, but that’s what they essentially are. They take paying men to private rooms, to do private dances, and sleep with those men in private for money.”

Chloe curved her brow. “All in private, huh?”

“Okay, so it seems I like that word today. Can we not make fun of me and continue?”

“Okay, whether I liked Kathy or not, whether the people at the club liked her or not, she was still your sister.” Her lips puckered. “Where is this conversation going, anyway?”

I hand the diary to Chloe. “It’s Kathy’s. I found it in the box on top of your wardrobe. Read some of the stuff she wrote.”

Chloe scanned the pages. “Alexa, have you read all this?”

I pulled myself up and sat beside her. “No, I only read a few entries. Honestly, I’m not sure I like where it’s leading.”

“Dear Diary,” Chloe reads, “I am sorry I have not opened you in a while. I have been swamped. I finally asked him about Alexa, though. He was mad until I made him see reason. I must get her out of here. She is too much of a liability. If he allowed me to take her away, then we can both continue our relationship, without her being part of it—”

My disgust heightened. “The night we escaped, Kathy came to me and said it was our only shot at running away. Not once did she mention that he authorised it,” I stuttered. “Chloe, I don’t understand.”

Chloe touched my shoulder. “Do you want me to stop?”

I blew out a wearisome breath. “No.”

“Why does he keep her? It hurts me, Diary. I have given him everything, so why must he go to her? I should not love him. After all, the man did take us away from our mother. But I cannot help it. I love him so much. Sometimes, although wickedly cruel, I consider getting rid of Alexa myself, but he will be mad at me. And I can’t handle him being mad at me. When will he realise how much I love him? I know. I will take her away in the morning. She can start again. And then I will return to him. If she cannot comply, I will do whatever I have to—”

“Oh, God.” I jumped to my feet. “My sister wanted me dead—she was in love with our monster.” Shock shrilled through me. “But she claimed to love Liam, so how can she love them both? Please help me understand. It’s too much,” I cried, raking a hand through my hair. “I wish I didn’t find that stupid journal.”

“Alexa—”

“All this time,” I paced the bedroom, “I feared for my sister. I was terrified that something bad happened to her.”

The entire time Kathy cared for me, she resented me. I thought I was safe, protected. I have spent years fearing that the demons of my past would come back for me, not realising I was living with a monster all along.

“Alexa, I’m as shocked as you.”

I am going to throw up.

Slapping a hand over my mouth, I rushed to the bathroom and dropped to the floor in time to vomit lunch down the toilet. I retch violently, hearing Chloe turn on the cold tap.

Satisfied there’s nothing left, I pulled the flush and rested on my haunches. Chloe used a damp cloth to wipe puke from my chin. “I think she is jealous of you.”

“Jealous of what?” I asked, catching Chloe’s muffled prattling. “And why would Kathy be upset that our captor came to me? She knows how much I detested him. If that’s what she wanted? Him? Well, good for her. They could’ve been sick-fucks together for all I care, but I didn’t want any part of it.” Latching onto the towel rack, I pulled myself off the floor. “How could she have those feelings for him? He wasn’t even a person, Chloe. He was a monster—an abhorrently cruel, facinorous monster.”

“Maybe Kathy had that thing? What do they call it when someone develops feelings for the person that’s holding them against their will?”

I made an unsure noise.

Taking a seat on the floor opposite me, she brandished the diary. “Do you want me to read another?”

“Can you skip the beginning?” I scratched the back of my neck. “Maybe read some from the back.”

Chloe opened the diary. “There is something about Liam.”

Naturally, I was curious. “Just read one.”

“Dear Diary. It has been seven weeks since I started working for Liam Warren. I assumed it would be impossible to get a job at Club 11, but I was wrong. That man was practically eating out the palm of my hand the very first night I entered his office. He has no affection towards me, though. I don’t think he’s even capable of such love, but he has a soft side when it comes to me. Maybe it’s because I give killer blowjobs. Perhaps it’s because the other dancers can’t match my nightly takings. Who knows? Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

She turned the page. “I might have fallen for Liam had I met him before, but it’s impossible to love two people at once, right? I told Alexa about him. I had to, really. That girl’s more switched on than I give her credit for. I’m leaving soon. And he will realise what I’ve done. He might find Alexa and use her against me. But Liam can play his games. He won’t win. He can take my sister. I don’t care—”

“I can’t hear anymore,” I silenced her with a raised hand. “Her entries are cryptic and nonsensical. Besides, I am to attend a charity dinner with Liam tonight.”

I could sit in my pyjamas all day, overindulge in cream and wallow in self-pity, but I want to pretend the last few hours never happened and prepare for the gala this evening.

For the first time in a long time, I want to put myself first. I will not let thoughts regarding Kathy exhaust me.

Chloe gave me a knowing look. “That sounds like a date.”

I suppose it is a date. “Would you like to help me get ready?”

Her hands clapped in glee. “I thought you’d never ask.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Alexa

Feeling uncomfortably out of place, I stand beside the large mahogany desk in Liam’s office and observe the bodacious women dancing on the glass podiums and in elevated cages through the floor-to-ceiling window.

Holding the solid gold paperweight to occupy the mind, destress anxiousness, I mouthed along to the music. Liam’s desk is spotless, items arranged in systematic order.

In actuality, the entire office is immaculate. It smelt clean and fresh and quite masculine. His lingered cologne, perhaps. I cannot imagine him cleaning or doing something so mundanely normal, like hoovering the floor and polishing the wooden shelving units.

I doubt he’s authorised cleaners to come in here, though. Nobody entered the office without Liam or Brad present as it’s expressly prohibited.

The thought had a pleased smile dancing on my lips. Brad left me unattended, which meant Liam trusted me, or so I foolishly believed for a nanosecond until the camera rotated above the desk. It’s how they captured Kathy’s betrayal.

What if Liam is testing me?

I almost lobbed the paperweight in dismay. I had no malicious intent or villainous scheme, so this unarguable test on my character is unaccountably indigestible. I am not Kathy. I am not a thieving opportunist.

Suppressing sullen vexation, I placed the paperweight on the desk and marvelled at the Tower Bridge painting to see why it’s so unique and sentimental to Liam. I investigated further, contouring the thick paint with the pads of my fingers. Hunkered low on the muddied embankment sat a young boy.

Why hadn’t I noticed him before?

The boy listened to the guitarist’s melodious music as they studied the constellation of stars above. It’s a sad yet picturesque image. I once said the man was lonely, and Liam challenged my conceptualisation. Now, though, it is remarkably coherent. He knew the little boy was there and found it incomprehensible that I did not.

More than ever, I’d love to know the story behind the canvas.

I guess it’ll remain a mystery as the man’s not the most forthcoming of humans.

Twenty minutes passed, and still no sign of Liam. While waiting for the unpunctual man, I went to the en-suit to freshen up. It is a beautiful bathroom constructed of undulated marble with a spacious glass shower cubicle and twin hand basins.

I stand before the stonework vanity unit and check my reflection in the mirror. Fumbling with the clutch purse, I swept a layer of mascara over my lashes. His cologne collection and watch box laid open on the counter: Rolex, Roger Dubuis, Breguet, Jaeger-Lecoultre and F.P. Journe.

Liam’s watch exhibition was another test.

I closed the lid.

Chloe had beautified and glamorised until I looked presentable enough to accompany Liam to the gala this evening. She styled my long hair into a tight ponytail and applied just the right amount of contour to my face.

I finally ripped the price tag from the red dress I purchased the day she and I went shopping. It’s nothing spectacular—a spaghetti strap bodycon slit dress; however, the satin fabric honed my figure, and the plunge bra gave excellent cleavage, which worked wonders for someone who lacked ample assets.

I paused with the lipstick near my lips and blinked a few times to eliminate the woman staring back at me. I looked like Kathy and had always loved that about us. How parallel we were. Now, our semblance made me feel bilious. I don’t want to mirror my sister or for people to associate me with her, not after everything she has done.

I espied movement behind me and lifted my gaze in the mirror. Liam leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. He looked breath-taking, dressed handsomely debonair in his black suit and satin tie. Gold cufflinks complemented his ever-present chains and Cuban link bracelets. He must have visited the barber earlier for the taper fade hairstyle.

As predicted, Liam glanced at the watch box.

“I closed it,” I blurted defensively.

Liam joined me at the vanity table, his hand hovering above his precious jewellery, the steel pave diamond watch attached to his wrist sparkling beneath ceiling spotlights. Almost reflectively, he tapped the closed lid with a pointed finger, and then, as if nothing mattered, not the extortionate gold nor diamonds, he wrapped a strong arm around my waist and pulled my back to his muscular chest.

My stomach dipped.

“I read a quote once.” His mouth trailed kisses down the side of my neck. “Give a woman the right lipstick, and she can conquer the world.” His blue eyes found mine in the mirror. “You look beautiful.” Turning me in his arms, he hoisted me onto the counter and stood between my thighs. “What were you doing in here?”

I knew he left me unguarded as a test.

Hiding frustration was futile. “I am not her.”

His stare held. “Not who?”

“Kathy,” I’m eager to clarify. “I’m not Kathy. I don’t care for superfluous bullshit, Mr Warren.” I did not recognise the fierceness in my tone. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”

His hands roamed my thighs. “I find your empath abilities most amusing.”

“Do not patronise me.” I cannot think clearly with his rough palms adhered to my hips. “I know exactly what you’re doing, Mr Warren. You instructed Brad to leave me unattended because you thought I was going to steal from you or empty your stupid safe just like my stupid sister—”

His mouth slanted over mine, ending the acrimonious lecture. I hesitated at first, lips irresolute, body rigid all over. And then, irrationally enthralled by him, I parted my lips and welcomed his tongue in my mouth and wandering hands on my body.

Instinctively, my legs wrapped around his waist. I grasped his neck, bringing his body flush to mine. His mouth overpowered, over dominated as he drank the soft moans from my lips. He devoured mine like a starved man. I was no match for his lasciviousness.

“Alexa,” His mouth burned my lips with fervent kisses. “Fuck.” His tongue stroked mine. “I want to fuck you.”

And that was all it took for me to snap out of it.

Breathless, I jerked back.

He is aroused. His eyes were dilated and filled with ravenous need and desire. “What if I don’t want that?” That’s a complete lie; I want nothing more. “I might not be interested in sex, Mr Warren.”

“You want me to fuck you, Alexa,” said the conceited asshole, his thumb pressing into my throat. “I’m not sure why you fight the insatiableness between us. It will happen eventually.”

“Not necessarily,” I said, and he gave me a rather boyish smirk. “What?”

“Turn for me,” he ordered, and I obsequiously slipped off the counter and turned to his command.

Our eyes collided in the mirror as he grasped the nape of my neck. He unclipped the cheap hoops from my ears, tossed them in the bin, and replaced them with perfect pear-shaped diamond droplets. “Mr Warren. I cannot accept these.”

“Nonsense.” He added the symmetrical cut to the opposite ear lobe. “Resplendent diamonds for refinement.”

I touched the flawless clarity of diamonds. “It’s too much.”

Dragging my ponytail across one shoulder, he kissed the line of my shoulder. “Thank me, Alexa.”

“Thank you,” I said in humble gratitude. “Mr Warren.”

“Come.” He gestured to the door. “The car awaits.”

I followed him out of the office.

What are you doing, Alexa?

I am playing with fire.

A woman should never fall for a man like Liam Warren.

No, women should avoid him like the plague.

What if he breaks my heart?

What if he is worth the risk?

This is going to be a long night.

I walked past security to Club 11’s back entrance and exited into the alleyway. Cold winds blew under the trail of my dress. I waited while Liam conversed with his armed men. Sensing the Suits’ inquisitiveness, I rubbed the chill from my arms. They would never question their boss, but that did not prevent their overt judgments. I looked at the one closest. He watched Liam’s hand on my back in perplexity. His bushy brows gathered into a tight frown. His lips melded in disapproval.

My cheeks flushed pink.

A black stretch limousine mounted the curb-side, the driver unrecognisable, but I noticed Brad and Nate, both tailored fashionably, ducking into the Bentley.

Liam’s brows raised to the driver in silent greeting. He opened the limousine door for me to climb in first. I slid across the leather seat closest to the tinted window and, without permission, reached for the champagne bottle.

I am far too nervous to sit in silence.

“Thirsty?” Liam sat next to me. “Would you like a glass?”

I popped the cork. Bubbles trickled through my fingers. “Please.”

Liam pressed a button on the armrest, the compartment revealing two flutes.

“Do you want one?” I asked, filling the glass.

He shook his head.

Limousine vibrating to life, the driver steered down the alley, turned onto the main road and journeyed to the function venue. Music played quietly. It had erotic, sensual vibes, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by either of us. Liam fixed his tie. His sharp jaw steeled in reverie. “Is there something you wish to express, Miss Haines?”

Great. He noticed my watchfulness. “Not really.”

His hand came to my knee, his thumb slowly circling me there. “I like the dress.”

My breath stuttered. “Thank you, Mr Warren.”

Not another word passed between us until transportation reached our destination. The driver opened the door for us. Liam climbed out first. I extended a leg, heel connecting with rolled-out red carpet, and soared into liveliness. Many people dawdled near the venue’s grand entrance, sartorially fitted or modelling exquisite designer cocktail dresses.

Liam reached the main doors, albeit impeded by connections. Yet again, I stand back, unsure what to do with myself or whether it’s impolite to overlook becoming acquainted with deep-pocketed people in business.

“Mr Warren.” A doting Junoesque blonde extended her hand to Liam. Her stunning skin-tight dress hugged her flawless figure like a second skin. “I hope you are well.”

“Indeed,” Liam said, his hand tight around hers. “No date?”

“Of course,” she said sanctimoniously, motioning to the older gentleman who’s engaged in conversation with another besuited male. “Not that it matters.” Her licentious smirk uncaged a demonic entity inside me. “Where are you seated?”

“With me.” Irked by my uncontrollable need to claim him, I reached for his hand. “Now, if you will excuse us.” I prayed Liam did not lampoon me for rudeness. Yet, I goaded him with defiant eyes.

Liam disregarded my unforeseen insolence and led me indoors.

Surrounded by towering marble columns and stunning art décor, astonishing crystal chandeliers, ornate walls, majestic mirrors and unparalleled elegance, I hesitated in the cavernous foyer to catalogue such striking magnificence.

“Alexa?” Liam called from the vestibule. “We are going to be late.”

At a loss for words, I returned to his side and, head tilted back, admired the hand-painted ceiling, where winged baby cherubs swung from the clouds and pointed their gilded bows and arrows.

“Stop fidgeting with your dress.” He took my elbow. “Relax.”

“Mr Warren, I’m nervous.” I gesticulated toward the mass of people, laughing and imbibing champagne. “I have never attended any of these…things.”

We waded through the dinner setting and splendid banquet: all-white tablecloths, floral centrepieces, fine china and crystal flutes.

Dressed formally in all-black, waiters delivered appetisers and champagne, sommeliers proffered sparkling wine, and instrumentalists entertained guests with their mellifluous jazz music and euphonious vocals beneath stage lights.

I do not belong in this world.

My boss’s lips tickled the shell of my ear. “Call me, Liam.”

I stifled an eye-roll

He gives me a severe case of whiplash.

Call me, Liam.

Call me, Mr Warren.

Liam accepted two flutes from the waitress. He sipped from one while slipping the delicate stem of another into my hand.

I downed champagne in one gulp and handed it back to him.

He bowed an eyebrow, chuckling under his breath. “Alexa, it’s dinner and a dance.”

Easy for you to say, I thought.

Liam’s accustomed to inexhaustible extravagance.

“Mr Warren.” Excitement flared in the woman’s monolid-shaped eyes. “Fancy seeing you here.” Her auburn hair slicked down her back. Kitten heels pinched her toes. “Will you be charitable this evening?”

“Of course.” Liam clicked down the barman to order whiskey. “Great Ormond Street Hospital and Starlight Children’s Foundation.”

“You are too kind.” Her hand tapped his shoulder. “I, myself, will sign a rather generous cheque to The Royal Marsden Cancer Charity. They provide an exceptional amount of care and treatment to patients.”

I downed another glass of champagne.

“Mr Warren.” Another woman captured his attention merely fifteen minutes later.” Perhaps I can convince you to dance with me at some point.”

I studied my fingernails.

“I don’t dance,” Liam declined. “Although, I hear there are many available men sitting at the parliamentarian table.”

“Oh, no,” she rejected in an ungraceful manner. “I would rather watch paint dry than dance with those snobbish ignoramuses.”

Liam ordered another whiskey.

I, however, watched the magisterial couples waltz in the ballroom.

The tall and defined brunette chortled. “Warren is too modest,” she said to the raven-haired goddess. “Either that or methodical.”

“Methodical.” Her friend flirted. “Will you attend the December fundraiser, Mr Warren?”

“Yes,” he said, but I called bullshit.

Tonight, is not what I expected.

For the umpteenth time this evening, I am left to listen while he holds a conversation with a group of ungracious acquaintances. Well, their ungraciousness is not extended to Liam. People fall over themselves to gain his attention and approval. However, in regard to me, people care not for introductions or politeness.

Tucking the clutch purse under my arm, I pushed away from the bar, waded through hordes of people and disappeared into the restroom. I went straight to the basin, ran the cold tap and cupped water to swish the heat from my neck. Glancing at my reflection in the light-lined mirror, I reapplied red lipstick.

“Hello, dear,” said the woman exiting the cubicle. “Did you escape too? It is terribly hot in that room.”

“A quick breather.”

“Zamira,” she introduced herself, scrubbing her palms with soapy water.

I smiled politely.

Zamira dried her hands and spurned her reflection. “I hate mascara,” she groused, using scrunched up tissue to efface black marks under her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I do. It always smudges.”

“It’s probably the black eyeliner.” Well, that’s what Kathy told me. “I tend to lean more toward brown.”

She brushed her shoulder-length black hair. “Yes, you might have a point.” Her smile reached her eyes, where slight wrinkles creased her skin. “You never did tell me your name.”

“Oh, Alexa.” We shook hands, her thumb pressing into my knuckle. “Alexa Haines. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Zamira was tight-lipped for a moment. “Alexa,” she said in a whispered undertone. “A beautiful name for a beautiful young woman. I must ask. Have you always lived in London?” Her defined eyebrows incurved. “I feel like we have met before.”

I studied her unidentifiable features. “No, I don’t believe we have.”

Her blank stare retained, and then, fluttering her mascara-layered eyelashes, the clumped bristles bespattering her rosy cheeks bones, she collected her bag. “Ignore me. I drank too much wine.”

Zamira exited the restroom.

I paid one final glimpse to the mirror and left soon after.

I paused by the plush, merlot-coloured floor to ceiling curtain in the regal function room and listened to the male vocalist sing Frank Sinatra songs on the imposing stage. I cared not for Liam’s whereabouts. I did not agree to watch women fawn over him all night, especially while I stood there like a spare part.

“You look lost,” came a honeyed voice. “Are live auctions and musical performances not of any interest?”

I fumbled with the inexpensive rhinestone bracelet on my wrist. “It’s magnificent.”

His shoulder brushed mine as he put his back to the wall. “Then, why the glum face?”

He’s a striking man, broad-chested, angular jaw and combed over blond hair. His tuxedo looked disorganised and windblown, though. Almost as if he had rushed to be here. “I am socially incompatible.”

“Yes,” he agreed with light laughter. “Likewise.”

I smiled at that. “Did your date abandon you, too?”

“Not quite.” He pointed to the man giving a grandiloquent speech on stage. “My father.”

“Oh.” My mouth formed a circle. “He forced you to attend.”

He sipped champagne. “Yes.”

I released a sigh. “Well, that sucks.”

His father said something that prompted the audience to applaud. He passed the microphone to the singer and descended the stage as “Strangers in the Night” launched.

The man to my right tapped my shoulder. “Would you like to dance?”

“She’s with me.” Liam kissed my shoulder. “Alexa?”

Giving the man an apologetic smile, I took Liam’s hand. He led me through the scattered tables. When he bypassed the bar, the accumulation of pretentious women, I frowned. “Where are we going?”

Liam entered the elaborately bedecked ballroom. In the juxtaposition of suave men and fashionable women, his hand pressed to the small of my back and, chest to chest, he turned me in his arms.

My eyes lowered to the floor.

His finger tilted my chin, encouraging me to maintain eye contact. Locked in each other’s intense gaze, we turned to the fading sound of the vocalist’s light baritone voice. Everything in the background sailed, the twirling couples, the instrumentalists and attentive servers.

I only saw him.

“There are a lot of women here tonight.” His chin rested atop my head. “Yet my eyes found you.” Our eyes aligned. “You’re beautiful.”

My breath caught.

When he spun me out of his arms, I panicked, imagining a dread faceplant to the hardwood floor, but he fetched me back just as quickly. My palms crashed against his chest, and bright laughter flew from my lips. His hand returned to my back. He rotated me, the satin train of my dress following seconds later. Happiness radiated in our closeness. The ballroom domed us. Polished floors elevated our feet, and music assisted our movements. He progressed with such suavity, etiquette, formality and predatory grace.

The song continued. Yet, Liam stopped to look at me. His hand brushed to the back of my head. I anticipated his lips when his fingers tousled in my hair. He leaned in, kissed the side of my mouth, and whispered something undetectable. “Alexa….” Something, or someone, caught his attention, and I witnessed the vicious glister blacken his eyes. “I found our table.”