CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Alexa

Liam pulled out an embellished chair, the gilded frame twined in artificial vines, velvet ribbons and white dendrobium orchids, and gestured for me to take a seat. I set the champagne glass on the round, white-covered twelve-seater table and briefly chatted to the older gentleman to my left before a dozen smartly dressed waiters appeared to begin the five-course silver service: a melange of variegated seasonal soft melon and raspberry coulis.

I found the silverware presentation indecipherable.

Liam slipped the correct fork in my hand. He held a long conversation with the male to his right while I eavesdropped on the couple opposite. It’s when the woman laughed that I looked up. “Hey,” I said, and Zamira’s head lifted. “We keep bumping into each other.”

Although Liam is grouped in serious discussion, he noted our friendly exchange.

“Alexa.” Zamira nibbled sliced melon. “How are the feet? Mine are rather sore after all that dancing.”

My feet were fine. “I am sure I will survive.”

“We met in the restroom,” Zamira informed the table of glamorous wives. “Legislative ladies of leisure.” She meant her and the others. “What do you do for a living, Alexa?”

I am a nonentity compared to these women. “I bartend.”

“Adequate,” said the grey-templed man to my left. “Whatever pays the bills.”

“Indeed,” Zamira agreed. “What is your career development goals? Is there room for progression?”

“A mixologist or brand sales representative.”

“Bar work is hardly a career path.”

“Have you considered higher education?”

“You are virtually unemployable without academic credentials.”

My eyes bounced from female to female.

I had barely touched the first course when the waiters re-appeared to remove everyone’s plates.

“Warren.” The man with salt and pepper hair requested a white wine refill. “What are the chances of complimentary champagne when I next visit?”

Liam declined more wine but pointed to my empty glass. “It’s a poor possibility if you are disinclined to purchase the gold membership.

I thanked the waiter for the alcohol top-up.

“Tight-fisted arsehole,” the man joked, and the table guests erupted into senseless laughter. “Fine. I will renew my membership next week.”

“Why would you need a membership for a nightclub?” His snooty wife asked. “It can’t be all that excitable.”

Her husband flashed a toothy grin. “It’s a quiet space out back to relax.”

I refrained from snorting.

There is nothing quiet about the vivacious dancers.

Leek and potato soup with croutons landed on the table.

I assessed the two spoons.

Once more, Liam passed me the correct tool to eat.

“I love bread and butter with soup,” another man drawled, lathering a bread roll in thick butter. “You cannot beat it.”

“I wouldn’t know.” The red-haired woman’s upper lip curled at the corner. “I avoid carbs.”

My eyebrows knitted. “But there are potatoes in the soup.”

She paused with the spoon by her lips. “Well, I avoid bread, then.”

I spooned liquid in the small bowl. It smelt unappetising, but I managed three mouthfuls before the waiters swiped the dinnerware again.

An older male with shoulder-length scraggly blonde hair sat directly opposite me. Zamira’s husband, I think. Two-day stubble peppered his angular jaw. Broad shoulders filled out his timeless suit jacket, and classic textured suspender pairings fell in straight lines down his white shirt. He listened to his wife talk about sun holidays while his deep-set brown eyes stared into space. I glimpsed over my shoulder to find the source of his piqued interest. I suppose the pretty waitress was eye-catching.

Sautéed chicken dressed in lean dry-cured ham accompanied the boiled basmati rice and mixed green vegetables.

My stomach grumbled.

I poured a very moreish sweet-and-sour sauce over the main dish. Liam furtively placed the meat cutlery in my hands before his arm slid across the chair behind my back.

“Are you not hungry?” I asked, cutting into long-stemmed broccoli.

“I am saving myself for dessert,” he whispered suggestively in my ear.

I blushed at his sexual innuendo. “White chocolate truffle, right?”

“No.” He laid a kiss on my shoulder. “It is something far more salivating.”

Zamira’s husband cleared his throat. “Warren,” he said with a heavy accent. “I did not see your name on the guest list.”

“Bajramovic,” Liam said in that rough dictatorial voice that dusted my skin in all-responsive goosebumps. “I am on every guest list.” He exuded imperiousness. “Besides, I’d never miss such a great event.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your date?” Bajramovic tucked into the chicken. “Although, I must admit. She is unlike the women I usually see on your arm.”

Liam’s finger strokes to my neck stilled. “It seems I have an admirer.”

Bajramovic snickered into the wine glass. “I am observant.”

The pads of Liam’s dutiful fingers kneaded the skin at my nape. “Alexa,” he said, “Flamur Bajramovic.”

I wiped my hands with the silk napkin and extended an arm across the table. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Flamur sat taller, which gave prominence to his height. His hand curled around mine, firm and meaningful. Faded tattoos inked his knuckles. Ice-gold rings laddered his fingers. “She is extraordinary.” He spoke as though I weren’t in attendance. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Alexa,” I said with a friendly smile. “Alexa Haines.”

His thumb swept over my knuckles.

I coughed to dislodge the itch in my throat.

Flamur released his vice-like grip to my fingers, and for some bizarre reason, when my arm withdrew, I settled a hand on Liam’s knee under the table. His thigh tensed under my innocent touch. I almost pulled back when he weaved our fingers together.

The waiters cleared the main course. Frank Sinatra’s impersonator sang “My Way”, and Liam, appreciating tonight’s music, watched the show unfold from afar.

Too soon, the chocolate truffles arrived. I had overindulged far too much to make room for more. Instead, I requested a white wine refill, set the dessert plate aside and brazenly moved closer to my boss. “You look very handsome tonight,” I complimented, and he turned in the seat to face me fully, the entire time, his fingers drawing imaginary patterns on my back. “You never wear ties.”

He sipped recently ordered distilled whiskey from the rauk norlan glass. “Only for special occasions.” His thumb traced my spine, and the hairs on my nape bristled. “Do you have a curfew?”

It was an innocuous question. “No.”

Liam nearly asked another question.

“I met a girl like you once,” Flamur interrupted, and I wanted to kick him under the table for ruining the moment. “Not as beautiful. It’s your eyes,” he murmured over a mouthful of food. “Like orbs.”

Flamur chewed like a gluttonous pig.

“Great.” How else does one respond to him talking about knowing someone like me and orbs? “I guess.”

“Not quite green,” he said, and I sighed out loud. “Not quite brown—”

“Hazel.” I helped him out. “And they are nothing spectacular.”

“I would happen to disagree,” he continued. “Hazel coloured eyes are uncommon. Come to think of it. Yours are more striking—much greener. Hers are browner.”

I know it sounds awful. But I really did not care for this conversation.

Flamur’s lecherous gaze lowered to my chest. His tongue poked out to lick his bottom lip while he openly ogled.

I started to feel claustrophobic around him. He seemed like a kind, sociable gentleman, but his unrestrained, wolflike leer jolted me with uncomfortableness.

Zamira’s fingers patted Flamur’s forearm. He broke away to heed her demands.

I was relieved.

Taking a sip of wine, I sank in the chair in time to see Brad wade through the crowd. Initially, I thought something was wrong. I mean, why else would he be here if not to relay information to his boss? Only, Brad disappeared into a dark alcove.

My scowl hardened.

I scoured the busy room to uncover more of Liam’s men dispersed throughout. People are none the wiser to the armed soldiers, but I work alongside these men. I know how they operate.

If this is a regular charity dinner, why are the Suits’ present?

What am I missing here?

My blank stare settled on Liam’s untouched desert.

We’re not here for entertainment purposes.

No, this is business.

I am his escort for the night!

“I should not be questioning you, Mr Warren,” I said, irked by the revelation. “I did not agree to be your personal fucking hooker this evening.”

Liam hearkened to the gent to his right; however, his eye twitched in annoyance. “Not now, Alexa.”

I fumed. Liam can piss right off. If I am here in a possible business exchange, which I recognise will not go accordingly, I am getting drunk.

I clicked down the waiter and ordered a bottle of wine. Everyone at the table disapproved, but I ignored their judgments and mentally prepared for a shit storm.

Zamira’s fingers pinched the layered pearls around her neck. “How much will you donate, Alexa?”

Liam addressed her before I replied. “I will give a donation on Alexa’s behalf.”

I thanked the waiter for the bottled wine and poured a dangerous amount into the glass.

“Alexa.” Flamur leaned back in the chair. “A little woman like you should pace herself.”

“With all due respect, Flamur. I did not ask for your opinion.”

The women at our table gasped in horror.

I stifled an eye roll.

Liam fisted the hair at the nape of my neck. “Alexa,” he whispered in my ear. “I ought to put you over my knee.”

I bite back a wince. “Go ahead.” Luckily, no one overheard our quarrel. “I am here at your service. Mr Warren.”

He chuckled dryly. “You clearly cannot handle alcohol.”

I somewhat deserved his sarcasm. “All you had to do was ask.”

His jaw muscles throbbed. “Ask what?”

“If I could be your fake date for whatever grievous damage that may or may not transpire tonight.”

Liam’s fingers softened in my hair. “Behave.”

Infuriated, I splashed more wine in the glass.

Everyone chatted amongst themselves. Flamur, however, proceeded to study me intently. “You are not from London.”

I toyed with a new fork. “I live in London. Therefore, I am a Londoner.”

“Warren.” Flamur’s head raised inquiringly. “How did you both meet?”

Liam gave me a cursory glance before he responded, “Serendipitously.”

Flamur grumpily expressed dissatisfaction.

“Oh.” Zamira cooed in wonderment. “Was it love at first sight?”

My boss exuded imperturbable poise, yet I sensed their line of questions aggravated him.

“Yes,” I answered on his behalf. “I quite literally knocked the air out of his lungs.” The men dissolved into laughter while the women expelled heavenly sighs. “I was smitten from the very moment I clapped eyes on him. Alas, he did not notice me right away. So, I took drastic action.” I looked at the man with raised eyebrows. “Isn’t that right, Liam?”

Liam’s unreadable expression bore into me for a long, drawn-out minute. “Yes,” he rasped, then he coughed behind a curled-up fist. “Alexa’s introductory measures consisted of scalding coffee and a ruined suit.”

“Touching.” Flamur stared right through me. “However, I am inclined to ask Warren. If you care so much for the girl, why do you ogle the waitress serving wine at the next table?”

I glimpsed at the other table. Lo and behold, a blonde waitress tended to the dinner guests.

Liam’s unperturbed by the man’s antagonism. “I only have eyes for one woman.”

I remained demure.

Some of the dinner guests excused themselves from the table to waltz. Flamur dabbed his lips with a napkin. “Why don’t we get down to business, Warren? You want something from me. Am I right?”

Liam’s forearms rested on the tablecloth. His fingers laced. “You took something from me.”

Zamira peered up from her phone in confusion. “What on earth is he talking about?”

“Hush.” Flamur silenced her with a raised hand. “You were misinformed.”

“I will elucidate. France sent five hundred Glock pistols and ammunition to Gateway. You,” he pointed, “ordered someone to swipe the goods right from under my very nose. Your foolishness cost me greatly.”

Zamira’s pale expression mirrored my own.

“I have eyes on you,” Liam continued, and Flamur, suddenly aware of the syndicate’s propinquity, eyed the room’s blind spots. “All I have to do is say the word.” His fingers clicked. “And you will meet your maker.”

“Oh,” Zamira murmured in distress. “Let’s not be churlish, Mr Warren. I am sure it’s something we can resolve amicably.”

Flamur’s face was puce in anger. “London is big enough for the two of us.”

“No.” Liam’s frown is fierce. “The city of vice belongs to me.”

The man to my left snored quietly.

“You have three days to return imported consignments.” Liam’s fierce countenance betrayed his calmness. “Perhaps I will spare you for compliance.”

“You must think I was born yesterday.” Flamur revelled in their public disagreement. “You plan to kill me with or without contraband.”

Liam and Flamur rose from the chairs in unison, and, of course, Brad and Nate resurfaced from the shadows to form an alliance. Flamur, too, had men clambering from the woodwork until suited stone-faced men surrounded the table.

I was in the midst of warring gangsters.

Unquenchably thirsty, I guzzled wine straight from the bottle and stood. Omnipresent jazz music segued in the background, but stationed party guests held their tongue to heed the impending outbreak.

I see the manager approaching.

“Zamira,” Flamur helped his wife to stand. “I think it is time we left.” He moseyed along, then stepped up to Liam. “Your eminence in London means nothing to me. You might own the streets, but you don’t own me. And I will keep it that way.”

Liam gave him a haughty look of disdain. “You do not want to fuck with a man like me.”

I felt his unsubtle threat to the bone.

“You and I?” Flamur’s ringed fingers wriggled between them. “We are cut from the same cloth.”

“Gentlemen.” The smartly dressed manager forced himself between them. “Let’s separate, or I will have no choice but to call security.”

“You are an amateur at best,” Liam ridiculed Flamur, ignoring the peacemaker. “Three days.”

Zamira tugged her husband’s shirt sleeve. “Flamur.”

Flamur held Liam’s stare for a while longer. Taking his wife’s elbow, he clicked his fingers, silently ordering his men to proceed ahead and walked past the syndicate with his head held high.

Willing myself to breathe, I released a stuttered sigh.

Flamur hesitated to bid farewell. “Bukuria ime,” he whispered as his knuckles stroked my jawline. “Me mungove, Lexi.”

I know my name is Alexa.

Crepitating darkness encased the high-ceilinged room. I saw nothing bar him as disembodied screams of tormented souls ricocheted above.

Time stood still.

I stood still.

Immobilised.

Heartbroken.

It is freezing in the basement.

Why did they take my socks?

My feet are cold.

Mummy said I must wear socks or else Jack Frost will get my toes. I wonder what Jack Frost looked like. I chalked the floor. He has blue hair, white skin and sparkly lips. He played in the snow, so I created snowflakes.

Dust particles fell from above and landed on my head.

Looking up at the planked ceiling with bated breath, I whispered, “Kathy?” Hurrying to my feet, I ran up the concrete steps and, kneeling on the cold floor, put my ear to the steel door. “Kathy?” I knocked twice and waited. “Is that you?”

“Alexa,” she said, and excitement bubbled in my tummy. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” My dirty palms flattened on the door. “I can hear you.”

Kathy let out an audible sigh. “Are you okay in there?”

I hated the dark. “I am now.”

“You are?” She sounded hopeful. “How so?”

“Because of you, silly!”

Her finger tapped the door. “Did you eat?”

“Yes.” I ate a few days ago. “What about you?”

“I’m okay,” she said whispery. “Alexa?”

My head rested on the door. “Yes, Kathy.”

“I miss mum.”

Tears beaded on my lower lashes. “Me too, Kathy.”

She snivelled. “It’s her birthday.”

I blinked rapidly. “Why don’t we sing for her?”

“She can’t hear us, Alexa.”

“That’s not true,” I protested. “I hear her all the time.”

“Well,” she said, “what should we sing?”

We had to sing Mummy’s favourite song. “Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,” I said softly. “There’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.” My ear pressed to the door to listen. “Kathy?”

“Someday, I’ll wish upon a star. And wake up where the clouds are right behind me,” she croaked, and a lone tear rolled down my cheek. “Where troubles melt like lemon drops. Away above the chimney tops.”

“That’s where you’ll find me,” we whispered in unison. “If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why can’t I?”

Heart-thumping silence lengthened between us.

My big sister whimpered, “Happy birthday, Mum.”

“It’s okay, Kathy.” The pads of my fingers drew imaginary pictures on the door. “We still got each other, right?”

Her knuckles rapped on the door. “It’s us against the world.”

“Forever and ever…”

“No, Kathy,” I whined, listening to her footsteps fade into the distance. “Please come back.”

I heard jingling keys.

My back welded to the wall in stark panic.

He unlocked the door, and bright lights blinded my eyes.

I hissed behind two hands like a feral animal.

“Bukuria ime.” He crouched in front of me. “I did not want to leave you for so long. I had to travel abroad for business. You understand. Don’t you, Lexi?”

I know my name is Alexa.

Peering at him through begrimed fingers, I pouted. “They kept me in the dark.”

“Did they?” His hand smoothed my head. “I will punish them greatly.”

I felt bad for his mean friends. “I don’t want you to punish people. That’s not very nice.”

He unwrapped a parcel. “I bought you a present.”

I stared at the book. I had hundreds of them stacked by the boiler. “Thank you.”

“Stand,” he ordered.

I pushed onto my feet as instructed.

He craned his neck slightly to look up at me. “Did you miss me, Lexi?” His brown eyes were ablaze in molten exhilaration. “As much as I missed you.”

No, I did not miss him at all. “Yes.”

He smiled in appreciation. “I will take you for a shower,” he said, and my stomach knotted. “If you behave, I will let you watch a movie tonight.”

“Really?” It had been so long since I watched the television. “Will Kathy be joining us?”

His once pleased smile turned into a harsh scowl. “You did not see Kathy while I went away, did you?”

I shook my head.

“It is forbidden,” he reminded me, and I nodded in agreement. “Your sister is no good for you, Lexi.”

I did not believe him. “I know.”

Blond strands of hair fell over his pinched eyebrows. “You look me in the eye and lie.”

My hands began to feel clammy. “I am not lying—”

He backhanded me in the cheek.

I crashed into the wall as dizzy spots danced behind my closed eyes. “No,” I sobbed, rubbing my sore cheek. “Please don’t hurt me. It makes me sad.”

“Bukuria ime!” he shouted. “I am sad. You lie to me when I do good things for you.” His hand raised once more, and I recoiled into a protective heap on the floor. “What are the rules, Lexi?”

I am not allowed to talk to my sister.

The champagne glass shattered in my hand.

I just walked back into my nightmare.

CHAPTER TWENTY- TWO

Liam

The champagne flute imploded in Alexa’s hand. Blood-stained shards of glass fell to the floor in crimson droplets. Her pale face blanched as Flamur and his wife, Zamira, absconded from the building with their loyal subjects preserving their penetrable shield.

I stared at the dispersed wine streaked in crimson on the ground and pondered whether or not Alexa’s clumsiness was the result of another anxiety attack.

“You should go,” said the scrawny manager, and I side-eyed him. “It’s for the best, Mr Warren. I would hate to take precautionary measures.” Condensation frosted his spectacles. “Will you still donate, though?”

Brad’s toothpick wedged between gritted teeth. “You kick the boss out the door and then demand handouts.”

His ungroomed eyebrows shot up. “It’s for charity.”

“Give him the cheques,” I ordered, and Brad extracted two white envelopes from his inner suit jacket. “No need to be dramatic.” My shoulder clipped the manager as I barged past. “I was just leaving.”

Alexa discerned the blood on her hands in belatedness. Her thumbs swept the depthless cuts on her palms. Frowning at the shattered glass on the floor, she tried to understand the unexplainable.

I sidled to her side. “What happened?”

Her eyes seemed lighter.

“Alexa?” My hand fell to her lower spine, and she squirmed as though the contact repulsed her. “Your hands.” I gripped her wrists and jerked her into awareness. “Breathe.”

With a sharp exhalation, she squinted at me.

I searched her eyes. “Where did you go?”

Her pallid face expressed exhaustion as she leaned onto the roman column.

“Nate,” I said, and the man stepped into my peripheral. “Bring the Bentley around. I will meet you outside so that you can examine her hands.”

Nate’s head dipped. “Sir.”

“Is she having another episode?” Brad’s question was unapologetically tactless. “Too many glasses of wine, perhaps.”

“No idea.” I picked up Alexa’s clutch purse on the table, took her elbow and headed outdoors. Light rain and mistiness fogged the streets of London. I removed my suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders as we strode down the red carpet to the parked Bentley.

Nate rose from the driver’s side door. “Are you good, Alexa?”

Alexa is immersed in thought.

I popped a cigarette to the corner of my mouth. “What’s the damage?”

“It ain’t too bad.” Thoroughly cleaning her hands with sterile wipes, Nate inspected the minor cuts, uncapped skin glue with his teeth and closed the wound along the underside of her thumb. “I’ll wrap them in bandages for tonight.”

Brad fumbled with the first aid kit that’s laid open on the passenger seat. “Won’t the dressing stick to the glue?”

Nate’s eyes visited the sky. “Obviously, I will wait until the glue dries, Brad.” He unpackaged tweezers and unearthed wedged shards from the inner surface of her fingers. “This should hurt,” he said to me, perceiving the woman’s unresponsiveness. “Well, get over here and help.”

Brad unwrapped two rolls of cotton gauze and handed one to Nate. They worked as a team to tighten the tourniquet around her palms while bickering over the most trivial of subjects—late-night takeout. As much as they fight like cat and dog and disagree with each other more often than not, they forged an unbreakable bond when joining the syndicate. They are founding members of The Brotherhood. No number of disputes will rupture their long-standing friendship.

“I want Chinese,” Brad griped.

“No,” Nate argued. “Thai.”

Brad’s nose furrowed. “Fuck Thai. Noodles.”

“Fine,” Nate agreed for a peaceful life. “But tomorrow, I am buying Thai cuisine.”

Watching Alexa subtly, I matched a flame to light the end of the cigarette. I let the smoke roll to the back of my throat and exhaled. “You can return to the club,” I tell the men as they finalise her dressing with messy knots. “I will drive Alexa home.”

Brad tossed the first aid kit into the boot of Nate’s Bentley. “What about the limousine?”

I only utilised the Mulsanne for event transportation. “Drive it to the underground.” We store syndicate vehicles in Club 11’s subterranean car park. “I will catch up with you later.”

Nate proffered the Bentley keys before he left with Brad to collect the limousine.

I unlocked the car.

Alexa climbed into the passenger side and, red-faced and abashed, buckled up.

Relaxing behind the steering wheel, I closed the driver’s door, fired the engine and, double-checking the wing mirror for on-coming vehicles, accelerated away from the venue.

I cracked the window slightly to decrease cigarette smoke. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alexa rubbed her temples. “There is nothing to say.”

“Where did you go?” I asked, and she ignored me. “You are not present when mentally under attack. I see it in your eyes.”

“Liam,” she sighed. “I really don’t want to discuss it.”

I decelerated to stop at the red traffic light. I had two choices. I could drive her home or take her to the penthouse.

My hand rested on the gearstick. “You can come to mine.”

***

I parked the Bentley in the luxury residential building’s underground car park. Jerking the driver’s door open, I stepped onto vast concrete in tandem with Alexa, locked the vehicle and strode to the sectional door.

Tonight, is the first time I have invited a woman to the penthouse. Yes, I fucked many women over the years, but I never gave them false hope. Sexual affairs stay at the office. On the rarest of occasions, I might let female interests lure me into their private home for a night of meaningless sex; I leave the second I climax.

Yet, I am holding a woman’s hand and wondering how tomorrow looked.

Alexa followed me down the long hall to the grand lobby, where residents loitered near the all-marble front desk to discuss matters with the vivacious receptionist.

I led her to the elevator and stepped inside in time for the doors to close.

Our eyes reacquainted in the mirror.

My throat tightened.

Alexa is a work of art. In the eyes of the beholder, she is the epitome of perfection. Yes, her slenderness and flat-chested figure contradicted the predilection I have for curvaceously heavy-breasted females, but she is unlike any woman I have ever met. I am drawn to her in more ways than one. If it were not her unfaltering beauty, then her endearing unassumingness.

My fingers itched to touch her mile-long legs. I have imagined her beneath me more times than I care to admit, which is mentally torturous. I am almost ten years her senior. I am not supposed to be this attracted to a nineteen-year-old, and even when I directed her to the penthouse suite without expectations, I could not help but wonder if she would let me taste those lips again.

Alexa marked the syndicate men safeguarding the top floor. Armed men stand watch twenty-four-seven to prevent the incursion of opportunistic enemies.

I unlocked the front door and entered the all-encompassing marble living quarters adjacent to the kitchen diner. The U-shaped leather sofa bedecked in faux fur cushions dominated the room. I tossed Alexa’s clutch purse onto the coffee table, unclipped the gold cufflinks and set them on the sideboard beside the watch.

While the woman marvelled at the expensive furniture, I poured a neat Jameson in the kitchen, opened the double doors to the balcony and leaned onto the railing to feel the cold air on my face, to admire the panoramic views of London. It’s one of the reasons why I bought the penthouse. I loved the city’s picturesqueness at night.

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” Alexa’s heels clicked as she walked to the balustrade. “You can see the River Thames from here.” Her eyes glittered when the privately hired boat drifted down the river. “I have never done a city cruise before. I bet it’s romantic at night.”

I doubt she’d speak with such warm approval if she knew how many bodies floated with the fishes. “It’s overrated.”

Alexa smiled, but it was sad. “I cannot imagine you and another fine-dining beneath the stars.”

“Likewise,” I agreed, and dimples dented her flushed cheeks. “I did, however, reserve a unique fleet of private charter vessels once for Brad’s birthday.”

Her smile broadened. “Was it magnificent?”

“Hardly,” I said in amusement, recalling the night like it happened yesterday. “I will share a secret. Brad is afraid of water.” Her eyes rounded. “He spent the entire night in the restroom, hugging the toilet.”

Alexa laughed lightly. “Why did he hug the toilet?”

“Nausea,” I explained. “If I’d have known Brad had aquaphobia, I’d have tossed him in the river years ago.”

Her head shook. “That’s cruel.”

I shrugged. “You must face fears to overcome them.”

Alexa mulled over the indirect remark. “I suppose.”

Knocking back the remainder of whiskey, I set the glass on the bistro table. “Why did you go there?”

Loose hair strands gently blew across her face. “Sometimes, I revisit the past.” Her voice broke. “I don’t know why it happens, but when I am scared, I find myself back in the dark.”

I listened intently. “Was it my fault? Did I cause you to be upset?”

“No,” she said fiercely. “It’s not you, Liam.”

“Then, what happened?” I have replayed the event over and over again. “Alexa?”

Her breath came out harsh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I seethed with frustration. “You will never vanquish the voices inside your head if you cannot address them.”

Alexa took umbrage at the insensitiveness in my raised voice. “I have tried,” she argued. “It’s easier said than done, Liam.”

“I want to understand.”

“Well, I don’t want to share the most humiliating part of my life with someone like you.”

When Alexa stormed inside, I followed. “What is that supposed to mean?” She helped herself to the vodka bottle under the stonework island’s counter. “Alexa!”

“What?” Her voice hitched. “What, Liam?”

I felt her heartbreak. “I am trying to help you.”

“Really?” She threw me an incredulous look. “Do not pretend to care about me, Liam. I know where I stand in the scheme of things. Hell, I wasn’t even your real date tonight. You used me.”

Heat simmered under my skin. I began to unbutton my shirt. “If I required an escort, I’d have hired Cherry.” Her lips curled with a slight sneer. “I asked you because I wanted you at my side.”

Her jaw steeled. “I should go.”

Let her leave, Warren.

“Wait.” My hand fisted the side of her dress. “I won’t apologise for the man that I am,” I said hoarsely, and she peered up at me. “You might disagree with how I handle situations, but I can assure you directness is more effective than attentiveness.”

Her watery gaze lowered.

“Do you think I don’t have shadows, Alexa?” I asked. “I lived in darkness. I heard voices. The difference between you and me is I fought back every single fucking time because I refuse to yield.”

Her protective wall began to fracture.

“You were sexually abused,” I said, having read the majority of her medical records. “Why did you deny it?”

Alexa’s bottom lip wobbled.

“Give me something to work with,” I growled as she wiped the single tear falling down her cheek. “Help me to understand.”

“It’s such a loaded question.”

“It’s an open-ended question.”

Unable to face me while she spoke, Alexa put her back to me and, hugging herself, studied the wall-mounted Muhammad Ali painting in the living room. “I was ashamed,” she whispered, and I held my tongue. “Perhaps if I denied it long enough, it would be a disturbing figment of my imagination rather than reality. I stopped fighting.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “In the end, I laid there and let it happen. Why didn’t I fight, Liam?”

“Alexa.” My hands cupped her shoulders from behind. “You were a child.”

“It’s what I see,” she admitted. “Whenever I panic, I see him standing over me. And I hate it.” Her body shook as tears streamed down her cheeks. “When will it end?”

I had to stay true to myself, and that’s brutally honest. “When you address it.”

“Well, I don’t want to address it,” she said bitterly. “I want to forget it ever happened.”

“You cannot erase indelible scars,” I rasped, and she respired a stuttered breath. “You must learn to live with them.”

Alexa’s face was devastated. “Why should I have to?”

“Life is cruel,” I whispered, and she hung onto my every word. “To outlive the heinousness of childhood is a miracle.”

Her tears beaded on her blotchy cheeks. “You believe that.”

“Yes, in most cases,” I said, having lived a tough life myself. “You lived to tell your story. Can we say the same for those still missing?”

“My sister had the same attitude.” She smiled dismally. “Kathy was always the stronger sibling.”

“How can you say that?” My eyes narrowed. “Who is the force to be reckoned with, Alexa? The one who ran away to evade the consequences of her actions, or the one who bit the bullet and argued her case.” We have yet to discuss what triggered her anxiety this evening. “If I did not cause you to be alarmed, who did?”

“It was the wine,” she lied, and I fought from admonishing her. “I drank too much.” Unaddressed tears stubbornly wet her cheeks. “I am sorry for troubling you, Liam.” Her eyes held mine, and something unexplainable transpired between us. “It won’t happen again.”

I held her cheeks one palm at a time. “Will you deny me?”

“How could you want me after tonight?” Alexa seemed confused by the question. “I’m senile.”

“Have you met me?” My mouth twitched. “Baby, I’m the worst of our kind.” I brushed a thumb across her lips, and they parted. “I will not push, Alexa. It is for you to decide.”

I had meant a kiss, but when Alexa reached behind her back to unzip the dress, I had no complaints. Her fingers trembled as she dipped them under the thin spaghetti straps, lowering them down her arms to reveal her small breasts. Her nipples, the colour of soft pink, were taut and salivating.

My hands smoothed over her slender shoulders, and then, fisting the gathered material at her waist, I crouched before her and dragged the dress down her legs. It pooled around her heeled feet. I leaned in, whispering a kiss to her exposed cunt. “No lace,” I said throatily, almost tasting her on my tongue.

Her skin dusted in goosebumps as my palms toured to the apex of her thighs. I stood in haste desperation and, grasping the nape of her neck, stole a long, heated kiss. Her mouth parted on instinct for our tongues to dance.

“Liam,” she moaned into my mouth, and I took her into my arms. Her legs wound around my waist. “Oh, God.”

I held her derrière in two hands, squeezing her toned flesh. “Tell me what you want,” I growled in between insatiable kisses. “I will break, Alexa.”

Her fingers clung to the root of my hair. “Do your worst, Liam.”

“I could take you here.” My teeth tugged her earlobe. “But I need to watch you come undone as I fuck you.”

I carried Alexa down the hall. Her mouth devoured mine as I unlocked the door to the master bedroom. We stumbled to the king-sized bed. Not wanting to crush her, I broke the fall, my hands secured on either side of her head. I carefully untied her bobble to release her lustrous hair. “I like it,” I whispered, and her brows gathered. “Your hair. It’s usually so wild.”

Her bottom lip rolled between her teeth. “Which do you prefer?”

Both, I thought as my fingers combed through her silky strands to see it fanned across the pillow. “I am not looking for a relationship,” I said before we continued. “Is that an issue?”

Alexa reached for my belt. “No.”

I kicked off my shoes and socks while she helped me undress. The belt buckle clanked between us. I lost the trousers and, on my haunches, peeled the unbuttoned shirt from my body.

Alexa sat upright, her hooded eyes fixating on my chest. Her heels dropped to the floor, and even though she seemed confident in the kitchen, her twitchiness suggested otherwise.

I caught her ankles and yanked her down the bed, which earned me nervous laughter. “Let me take it from here,” I half-joked, standing to discard the boxer briefs. My fully erect cock sprung from restriction, and her thighs pressed together in restlessness. I stroked myself from base to tip. Pre-cum leaked from the engorged crown. My thumb swept arousal over the head as I put one knee on the bed. “Grab a condom from my wallet.”

Alexa rolled onto her side, reached for the trousers on the floor and retrieved my wallet. Unzipping the side compartment, she picked a condom wrapper and handed it to me. My teeth tore the wrapper. Rolling the rubber down my cock, I gave myself a tight squeeze and crawled over her sprawled out body. Her nervousness heightened. After all, I am the first man she welcomed to bed. “Open for me,” I whispered against her lips, and her thighs slackened. “Good girl.”

“Shit,” she stuttered when my fingers slipped between her plump folds.

My tongue flattened along her throat. Feeling oddly possessive, I suckled the tender skin on her neck. I know she is not a virgin, but I had to ensure she was ready for me.

Her juices soaked my fingers. I eased one into her soaked cunt and, locating her G-spot, teased her there. Her head pushed into the pillow in rapture. Circling my thumb on her pulsing clit, I added another finger and, knuckle-deep, stroked her inner walls. Her hips bucked on the mattress. I laid a palm on her lower stomach, pinning her in place, pumping my fingers in and out expertly.

“Liam.” Her hands grappled the sheets. “Oh, God. I don’t think I like it.”

Knowing she will fucking love it, I stifled laughter. “Relax.” My teeth nibbled her jawline. “Feel it.”

Alexa’s breaths came in harsh and fast. Misted in sweat, she rocked her hips and rode against my fingers, taking what she wanted from me. My cock ached to be inside her. It was almost too unbearable to watch her fall apart. I caressed her walls, feeling her throbbing with desire. I pushed into her with a steady rhythm, sensing her closeness, and she came, but what’s more, her fingernails dug into the back of my neck as she moaned my name. I unwedged my fingers to strum her swollen clit, to prolong her orgasm, and she writhed, soaking the sheet beneath us.

Her cheeks scorched. “What the fuck?” she cursed behind the back of her hand. “I didn’t want it to end.”

My fingers coated her lips in glistening arousal. I kissed her soft lips, tasted her sensualness as an erotic moan fell from her mouth to mine. One hand supported above her head, I nestled between her thighs and, in one harsh thrust, buried myself to the hilt. Her fingernails raked down my spine, and I hissed. “Careful,” I warned, flicking the shell of her ear with my tongue. “You couldn’t handle me at my worst.”

A challenge flared in her watery eyes. “Yeah?” Her legs locked around my waist as her cunt deliberately clenched my cock. “I think I can take you.”

I gave her a moment to adjust to my length. She was insanely tight and unaccommodating. Her delicate body was far too small to be buried beneath me. Yet, I moved, thrusting in and out, slow and unhurried for her to conform.

“I am not breakable,” she breathed in my ear. “I want whatever you give to others.”

No, I am unkind and selfish. I fuck women senseless until I come and toss them aside like worthless discards. Alexa did not want or deserve such disrespect.

I may not be her end game, but I will make tonight memorable for her.

Her eyes belatedly noticed the mirrored ceiling, and she watched in fascination as I drove into her. I whispered in her ear, “Do you like what you see?”

Alexa’s neck turned, and our eyes aligned. I tightened a hand around her throat, applying just the right amount of pressure, and licked the seam of her lips, coaxing her to taste. And she did. Her tongue lazily stroked mine in a slow, sensual dance.

Her lips overpowered mine. I rolled my hips, buried my groans on her shoulder and repositioned my arms above her head. Her tits jerked with each impale, taunting me. “Alexa,” I growled, thrusting into her needy cunt. Her all-consuming kiss set me on fire. “Fucking hell. That’s it.”

I slid an arm under her spine, rolled onto my back and saddled her above me. Her knees were positioned to the mattress, her hands to my chest, and she moved her hips. Her mouth stuttered open as I filled her. “Liam.”

Admiring the beautiful view from dazed eyes, I held her waist. I was at her complete mercy.

Her arse crashed against my thighs each time she lowered. Moaning breathlessly, she dropped her head to my shoulder. With her in the thrall of my arms, I moved my knees to the back of her thighs and slammed up, pummelled in and out. Her throaty cries send shivers down my body.

“Kiss me,” I groaned, fisting her hair. “Fuck.” Her mouth slanted across mine. I swept my tongue through her lips, savouring every second. “You’re killing me.”

Our gazes locked, and somewhat affectionately, she grasped my jaw and watched me watching her.

The connection was too much.

“Harder,” I croaked, the pleasurable sensation rising. “Faster.”

Alexa sat taller, running her hands down my chest. “I’m close.”

With her arse bouncing in my hands, I hissed through gritted teeth.

Her spine anchored as her head fell back. I witnessed the moment she unravelled. Her rear end tensed, so I pulled her to the root of my cock and too lost in her mesmerising beauty, combusted in the three hot spurts. “Fuck.” My eyes squeezed shut as the orgasmic waves numbed the overwrought muscles in my body. “Alexa. Fuck.”

Her head nestled on my chest. “I did not know it could feel like that.”

My fingertips played the piano down her spine. “Are you sore?”

“A little,” she said, so I eased out of her.

“I need to discard the condom.”

Alexa collapsed on the bed in exhaustion.

I went to the en-suite and binned the condom. When I returned, she was curled onto her side, quietly processing what happened. I suddenly felt guilty.

Was I wrong to fuck her tonight?

Was she even ready to replace bad memories with good ones?

I had a doused hand towel in hand.

Stretching across the bed beside her, I slipped a hand between her thighs and compressed her swollen sex.

Blood spotted the towel.

I bit back a curse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she assured, but I was unconvinced. “You are big, though.”

I am well-endowed. However, I don’t usually stumble across issues.

Her eyes watched me closely. “What?”

“Nothing.” Fuck. I felt like an arsehole. “I should shower.”

I needed a breather to think.

CHAPTER TWENTY- THREE

Liam

I was in the process of responding to emails in the office when aggressive body language on the surveillance monitor raised an eyebrow. Enhancing the camera angle, I zoomed into the hallway fringed in private suites, where the angry male client gesticulated madly at Cherry, who was half-dressed in rose-patterned lace garters and bejewelled platform stilettos.

Polishing off the last drop of whiskey, I set the glass on the desk and headed downstairs to see what the fuss was all about. By the time I turned the corner, Brad had arrived and tried to reason with the middle-aged man. “Right.” My right-hand man lifted his eyebrows in silent acknowledgement. “I appreciate that.”

“Do you?” The client’s cheeks burnt bright red. “I call bullshit, Jones.” His slackened trousers hung low on his hips, and his creased, unbuttoned shirt revealed excess paunch. “I don’t see why I should settle the bill when I’m disappointed. I did not orgasm. It’s unsatisfactory.”

I joined the commotion. “What did I miss?”

“Mr Warren.” The guy tossed a thumb in Cherry’s direction. “With all due respect, I pay extortionately for their services.”

“He hired a private room and asked me to accompany him.” Cherry’s exposed chest heaved on a deep inhale. “I spent over an hour on his erection.” Her derisive glare landed on his denim-clad manhood. “That opportunist took some Viagra or some shit. No man can withstand oral for that long without release.”

“There is no time limit conspicuously detailed for copulation with clients,” he recapitulated the contract guidelines. “Fixed fee for coital experience and guaranteed pleasure. You did not deliver, Cherry. Why should I have to pay?”

Cherry’s blue eyes glittered in vexation. “I still had to put my mouth down there.”

“I paid for a rush of libidinous pleasure,” he seethed. “I will not leave unsatisfied.”

“You can get fucked.” Her temper sparked. “Go home to your wife. Get her to beat the meat because I am out.”

“Breach of contract.” He kept his frustration in check. “You are not allowed to mention the client’s spouse when engaged in sexual activity.”

Her tongue piercing poked out. “Well, it’s a good job that I am not participating in lousy fornication, isn’t it?”

Brad’s too bewildered to comment.

Alexa and Josh exited the employees’ changing rooms down the hall. I am both confused and bitter toward the woman.

Last night, I left her alone in the bedroom to shower and returned to find an empty bed thirty minutes later.

According to security, she fled the penthouse with great haste and jumped straight into an impending taxi.

If it weren’t for the raw claw marks down my back, I’d blame lack of sex for the very vivid dream.

“I am entitled to a full refund. And I will never pay for reluctance again.” He espied the dark-haired female down the hall and simpered down. “I want her next time.”

Alexa’s oblivious to the altercation.

“Her?” Cherry snorted. “Good luck with that frigid bitch.”

I felt a surge of protectiveness. “Watch your mouth.”

Her eyes rolled.

“Cherry is not responsible for impaired ejaculation,” I said in a somewhat tired manner. “You will settle the bill and request another female next time.”

“Extra two hundred.” Brad snatched cash from the guy’s wallet. “For wasting our time.”

Nate ambled around the corner, pausing to speak with Josh and Alexa. Hands to her hips, she craned her neck to look at his looming frame and playfully scolded him for something.

My eyes raked over her body. Her long, slender legs evoked pleasant memories. Alexa might be inexperienced, but she satisfied cravings in more ways than one.

Typically, after I sleep with a woman, I am anxious to escape.

Yet with Alexa, I was prepared to let her stay the night.

Brad’s hand waved in my face. “Are you still with me, Bossman?”

Cherry and the client disappeared in different directions.

“Am I paying Cherry for tonight?” he asked, and I shook my head. “Here.” He slapped the confiscated cash onto my palm. “I am driving to Gateway with Nate to collect cranes. Do you need anything before we go?”

“No,” I said as Alexa and Josh went downstairs to start their shift. “Come to the office later.”

Brad gave me a two-finger salute.

I stayed in the hallway long after everyone left.

I went to the office and imbibed alcohol for hours to forget.

It doesn’t matter how much I try to fight it. I had to speak to Alexa. I need to know what happened last night.

Loud club music reiterated around the cavernous room together with humid smog and flashing strobe lights. Drunken bodies crammed the space. I waded through throngs of people and beelined the bustling bar. Pushing through the door, I strolled past the operating glasswashers outback and lingered at the threshold to watch energetic employees tend to customer demand.

Alexa is nowhere in sight.

I went to the closest cash register, opened the drawer and deducted tonight’s takings.

“Mr Warren.” Natalie used a tea towel to wipe alcohol spillage on her fingers. “Did you need something?”

My gaze flickered throughout the room. “Where’s Josh?” I asked, knowing full well he’s pegging cougars.

“Um…” she glanced over customers’ heads. “I don’t know, actually. He was here a minute ago.”

Alexa re-appeared behind the bar. Zigzagging between co-workers, she set the crane of steamed glasses on the counter and restocked shelves.

Natalie mumbled indistinctly.

I looked at her. “What?”

Her fair eyebrows met in the middle. “I asked if you wanted me to go and find him?”

“Yes.” Tucking fifty-pound notes into my trouser pocket, I closed the till drawer and approached the woman determined to avoid me.

Alexa replenished the wall-mounted liquor. My chest pressed to her back as I reached over her shoulder to grab the Jameson bottle. I caught the slight hitch of her breath over the loud music. “You are avoiding me.”

Loose strands of dark hair framed her face. “No.”

I stood beside her to pour a drink. “Why did you run last night?”

She sprayed disinfectant on alcohol spillage. “It would be arrogant to assume I had an overnight invitation, Mr Warren.”

“Touché.” Her dismissiveness chagrined me. “You could have let me drive you home, though.”

Tossing a tea towel on the counter, she busied her hands by cleaning.

My jaw clenched. “Presumably, I upset you.”

Her eyes jerked up.

“Correct?” I probed, and her cheeks hollowed. “Elaborate.”

Alexa huffed in exasperation. “I had a lovely night, Mr Warren.”

Yet, she can barely look at me. I will never understand women.

“Plus, I was tired.” Her cheeks were often pink when I stood too close. “I fell straight into bed.”

I masked umbrage. “Your performance appraisal is due. Can you swing by the office when your shift ends?”

“It’s late.” She checked the time on her wristwatch. “Can we do it tomorrow? I will come in half an hour earlier.”

“Sure,” I said aloofly. “How are you getting home tonight?”

Neglecting the cleaning equipment, she crossed her arms, and her pert eyes stared up at me. “Why?”

“No need to be sassy.” I passed her a harsh glance. “I was going to offer you a ride home.”

She responded after a slight pause. “Why?”

I rasped a gravelly exhale. “Why, what?”

Her eyes slithered into slits. “Why are you offering to drive me home?”

“I don’t fucking know.” My brows snapped together. “To be nice, I guess.” She laughed, and my frown heightened. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

Alexa’s infectious smile knotted my stomach. “I just am, Liam.”

Pensive, I stared.

“Mr Warren.” Natalie virtually wedged herself between us. “I found Josh. He’s on his way over.” Her hand touched my shoulder. “Should I come to the office later?”

Alexa restrained an eye roll.

“Get back to work,” I ordered, and Alexa almost walked away. “Not you.” Ignoring Natalie’s scornful glare, I snatched Alexa’s elbow and, with unaggressive coercion, dragged her away from the bar.

Alexa’s feet struggled to rival my long strides. “Where are we going?”

I remained tight-lipped until we reached the office. Punching the code to the door, I entered the quiet space, sat behind the desk and logged out of servers. “I will drive you home.”

“What?” Alexa’s hands slid to her hips. “I don’t need a ride.”

I snatched the paperwork Brad left on the desk for me to sign. Clicking the top of a pen, I balanced an unlit blunt on my bottom lip and scribbled signatures across dotted lines.

“Mr Warren?” Alexa’s impatience increased. “I still have four hours left until I finish.”

I looked up from the desk. “Go and get your belongings.”

Her cheeks were rosy. “Right.”

Listening to her footsteps fade down the hall, I tossed tonight’s takings onto the desk, fished the car keys out of my pocket and locked the office door behind me.

When I reached the employee changing room, I knocked on the door to alert Alexa. I waited a further fifteen minutes before the woman showed her face again.

Alexa looked displeased.

I was not apologetic.

Parked Bentley vehicles thronged Club 11’s alleyway. I unlocked the Continental GT and sat behind the steering wheel. To avert awkward silence, I turned on the radio station and smoked the blunt.

Alexa pulled the seat belt across her chest. “Natalie will accuse you of preferential treatment.”

Grasping her headrest, I looked over one shoulder and reversed out of the alley. “Natalie is in no position to question my authority.”

“Does she know that?”

Steering one-handedly, I backed the vehicle onto the main road. “Is there something you wish to get off your chest, Alexa?”

Her arms crossed. “She hates me because of you.”

I sped away from the club. “You are not blameworthy for another person’s interest.”

Alexa chewed her inner cheek but said nothing.

“I am not sleeping with her,” I felt the need to clarify.

She watched my hand working the gear stick. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

I concur.

Thirty minutes later, I parked the Bentley outside of Alexa’s apartment building. I did not wait for an invite. I soared from the vehicle and, hands stuffed in my trouser pockets, followed her inside.

Alexa unlocked the front door. “Chloe might be home,” she said from the poky hallway. “You can come in if you want.”

I stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind us.

Disappearing down the hall, Alexa entered the unlit kitchen. “Would you like a beer?” Glass bottles rattled. “It’s cheap, remember? But it does the trick.”

I jingled loose change in my pocket. “Sure.”

With two uncapped bottles in hand, Alexa emerged from the darkness, stepped out of her heels and used her hip to open her bedroom door. “Chloe left a note on the fridge.” A bright light lit up her uncomfortably small room. “She went clubbing with work friends. See, that’s the part I hate most about working night shifts. I miss all the fun.”

Her bedroom was immaculate, except for the strewn makeup on the sideboard. “About last night.” Popping open the button of my suit jacket, I became seated on the foot of the double bed. “I had good intentions.”

Alexa smiled fractionally. “Do you expect me to believe sex never occurred to you?”

“Of course, it occurred to me.” I stared at her from under furrowed eyebrows. “However, I had no ulterior motive for comforting you.”

She passed me a beer bottle while sipping her own. “I know.”

My thumb picked the bottle’s label. “Then, why did you run?”

Alexa seemed embarrassed by the question. “You looked regretful,” she said in a low, sheepish voice. “Bit like you do now, actually.”

“I make mistakes and learn from them, but I have no regrets.” My frown held. “You were not a mistake, Alexa. I fucked you because I wanted to.”

“You showered almost instantly.”

Her sense of judgment was incomprehensible. “And?”

“You couldn’t wait to wash me off you.”

My eyebrows rose to my hairline. I set the beer bottle on the floor and stood to my full height. “I will not pretend to understand. I showered. I came back. You were gone. Now I am guilty of offensive insensitivity.” Her mouth pressed into a flat line. “Spell it out for me, Alexa.”

“I thought it was your attempt to wash undesired feelings away,” she said in distress. “I apologise if that weren’t the case. I told you that I am inexperienced, Liam. I cannot read between the lines. Everything is uninterpretable.” Frozen in place, she whispered, “Showers and shivers.”

I cursed inwardly as her past dawned on me. “Alexa.” Removing the bottle from her rigid fingers, I placed it on the windowsill and, palming her cheeks, looked her straight in the eyes. “I do not regret what happened last night.”

Alexa’s hands latched onto my wrists. “You must think I am such an idiot.’

My thumbs circled her cheeks. “You have a lot to learn,” I said, her throat bobbed. “I wish to speak freely.” Running a hand down my face, I stepped back for her to breathe. “I think about you.”

Her head cocked.

Fingers threading, I clicked my knuckles. “Although unprofessional on my behalf, I have a proposition for you.”

She bent a defined brow. “Must I sign a contract?”

“No.” I overlooked her strange sense of humour. “What are your thoughts regarding casual relationships?”

If the concept offended her, she did not show it. “What, like, friends with benefits?”

“A mess-free arrangement if you are emotionally mature enough.”

“What do casual relationships entail?”

“We must share the same expectations, so we need to be clear about our intentions.”

“What are your expectations?”

“We enjoy our time together and part ways amicably.”

“Will there be respect and compromise?”

I sat on the bed again. “I am open to negotiation.”

“No possessive behaviour.”

I swallowed hard. “Possessiveness is innate for a man like me.”

“I do not share,” she said fiercely.

“Likewise.” My mouth ticked at the corner. “We do not make future plans.”

“Discretion,” she mentioned, and I listened. “I work alongside contemptuous women. If Natalie catches wind of our possible agreement, she will come here to murder me in my sleep.”

“You give her far too much credit.” I rotated my thumb ring. “No affectionate or romantic display in public.”

“Are there any other boundaries?”

“It’s probably best to avoid sleepovers,” I half-joked as she pulled a swig from the bottle. “What do you say?”

“I have one more question.” Her lips pursed. “Why me?”

I smirked at that. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

Her nose wrinkled. “No.”

“I am insanely attracted to you,” I admitted, and her expression grew serious. “Last night was far too unquenchable. I need more.”

“Will you expect sex tonight if I agree?”

“That was two questions,” I pointed out. “Minimum expectations, remember?”

“What if I fall?”

“You don’t want to fall for me, Alexa,” I said sternly. “I will break your heart.”

Her eyes rounded. “Savage.”

I stared wolfishly. “Honesty is the best policy.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and my heart palpitated. “I want to try, so what happens next?”

I leaned back to rest on my elbows. “Come here.”

Alexa slid down from the dresser. “Where do you want me?”

I glanced at my thighs.

Perceiving the silent order, she removed the bobble from her hair and straddled my waist. Her hands hugged my shoulders.

My knuckles brushed her cheek. “No need to panic,” I whispered. “I only wanted a kiss.”

Her lips pressed to mine, soft and hesitant.

Grasping the nape of her neck, I parted my mouth and slowly guided. Her moaned assent vibrated against my lips. I deepened the kiss, tasting the beer on her tongue, the absentmindedness of her slow hip rotations making me painfully hard.

My phone vibrated. I ignored it.

I palmed her backside under the shorts and squeezed. “Take them off.”

Breathing heavily, she sat straight to unbutton the shorts and shimmied them to the floor.

My hand was around her throat just as quickly to steal another kiss. I rend the delicate thong concealing her most intimate area. Her dripping cunt, her soaked lace, coated my fingertips. “So responsive,” I murmured as my thumb circled her swollen bud. “Do you want to come?”

Alexa nodded helplessly.

My phone vibrated again.

Two fingers eased between her hot cleft and into her tight hole. I stretched her to my liking. Her walls clenched in desperation. I started slowly, in and out, the thumb on her clit, stimulating her bundle of nerves. Her hips rocked shamelessly as she rode my fingers, her arousal seeping over my knuckles. I was intently focused on her, the soft, exoticness of her moans, the emptiness in her lidded eyes and prickled goosebumps on her skin.

“Look at me,” I rasped, and her eyelashes fluttered open. “Just you and me, remember?”

Alexa combusted in my arms. I caught her fall, the strong gush of her arousal soaking my thigh when I withdrew my fingers from her pulsing sex. “Fucking hell.” Her body writhed in the aftershock. “Tell me that was as good as it looked.”

She smiled against my lips. “Master of foreplay.”

I chuckled at the ridiculousness. “I should get back to the office.” Giving her a chaste kiss, I rose from the bed and, nabbing the facial wipes on the dresser, scrubbed the marks on my trousers. “What time does your shift start tomorrow?”

Alexa laid on her stomach, giving me the perfect view of her arse. “Nine p.m.”

I tossed the wipes in the bin. “Do you want me to lock up?”

“Yes.” She yawned into the pillow. “Thank you, Liam.”

I locked the front door, posted the keys through the letterbox. Turning to return to the car, I came to an abrupt stop. A man wearing a tattered beanie hat smoked a menthol cigarette by the ajar window in the foyer. I glanced from him to the neighbours’ door opposite Alexa’s flat. “Do you live here?”

He blew smoke halos. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” I tucked my hands into my trouser pockets. “Which floor?”

His stained teeth flashed. “Ground level.”

“Then, why are you up here?” I questioned, and his bushy eyebrows welded. “You are not welcome on this floor. Move.”

“Jesus,” he cursed as I followed him downstairs. “I was just smoking in peace, man.”

I waited until he entered his flat and then sent Brad a text message.

Me: I want surveillance installed in Alexa’s apartment building.

Three dots danced on the screen.

Brad: I love how you ignore my calls and then make demands.

Me: Brad…

Brad. No problem, Bossman. I will go over there when she is at work tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Alexa

It’s six o’clock in the morning, and Josh ingested odoriferous sludge he bought from a nearby twenty-four-hour takeout as an alternative to sliced fruit and coffee. I don’t know how he can stomach the amount of crap he eats or where he puts it. His body is insanely sculpted with minimal effort.

“Do you want some?” He shoved a tray of curry, cheese and chips in my face. “It’s so good.”

I dry-heaved.

He pulled a disgusted face. “You are such a dramatic bellend.”

“You’re a dramatic bellend.” I chewed a pineapple stick. “How do you work it off?”

Forking stringy cheese onto his out trusted tongue, he licked sauce from his upper lip. “What’s the question?”

“How does one melt body fat?”

He snorted. “One must exercise.”

“You never eat healthy food.” I double-checked for oncoming vehicles and crossed the road. “Gym junkie.”

“High metabolism,” he said without a degree of medical validation as we descended into the London Underground. “I do work-out, though. After smashing this bad boy in my face, I will hit the gym before I head home for some shut-eye. If you consider our dysfunctional sleep pattern, I don’t eat much at all—not the required amount, anyhow.”

I suppose he had a point. It would be a good day if I consumed two meals.

“Add sex to the mix.” His eyebrows danced suggestively. “Yeah, I burn some mean calories when I nail birds. It’s all those hip movements.” He moseyed past computers while hip thrusting, the tray of unhealthy fodder elevated above his head. “Did you see what I did there?”

“Josh,” I said, trying not to laugh. “You looked constipated.”

“Really, Alexa?” He deadpanned. “Constipated?”

“I blame the clenched backside.”

“Well, I had to clench the arse to demonstrate intimate thrusting.”

I snickered behind two hands. “What is intimate about dry humping thin air?”

“Whatever.” He trashed the greasy chips, having lost his appetite. “The bottom line is I look good because I train hard. Hey, you could always join me. I am on the prowl for gym buddies.”

I could think of nothing worse than jogging on a treadmill and lifting weights. “Maybe.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Go and catch the train.” I dumped leftover fruit in the bin. “Mine is due any moment now.”

“Are you sure?” He guzzled Lucozade. “I don’t mind waiting.”

We debate after every shift. At the halfway point, we argue about safety procedures and separate, not before Josh offers to be a bodyguard, though. “I will be fine.” I ebbed away from him. “And do not be late tonight. I hate working when you’re not with me.”

Josh slapped a hand on his chest. “Oh, I could never let you suffer so wickedly.”

I grinned at him. “Promise you will never leave me.”

He outstretched his arms, accidentally striking someone in the face, and winced an insecure apology. “I promise I will never leave you!” he yelled, his stentorian voice gaining the awareness of others. “Just as long as you keep on swallowing!”

The majority of straphangers condemned me with critical eyes.

My mouth dropped open. “Too far, Josh!”

“Not far enough,” he retorted uncouthly, flinging the gym bag over one shoulder. “Anyway, go home. And get some sleep,” he added. “You look fugly.”

I waited until Josh vanished in the crowd and searched my purse for the oyster card. “Shit.” Jerking loose change, I slapped a hand on my forehead. “Idiot.”

How could I forget the transportation card?

I contemplated asking someone for a few quid, but pride would not allow it.

Walking home seemed impossible after a long night on my feet.

What choice do I have?

I hiked the bag strap over one shoulder and ascended the concrete staircase.

Had I known I lost the only means of getting home safely, I would have omitted coffee.

Fortunately, the warm temperatures and soaring sun dwarfed daybreak’s haze, so soft light kissed the streets of London. I unlocked the phone, browsed the app store and debated social media. I downloaded Instagram and created a profile to occupy the brain—a blank, boring, unproductive account sans images.

Phone clasped between two hands, I extended my arms, snapped a selfie and uploaded the windswept image online. I am friendless. Nobody will like the photo or comment, but it’s a start in the right direction.

I clicked onto safari to be greeted by Google. I hovered a thumb over the search bar as I pondered who to stalk, and, of course, Liam’s face flashed in mind. I typed his name, flicking through unofficial websites. I found it odd that there was no bad publicity considering his reputation. There are many articles on gossip forums where columnists praised him for modelling timeless suits and driving top-of-the-range vehicles.

My feet were starting to hurt.

When I came to work last night, Liam put his number on my phone.

I might text him.

No, I cannot.

It’s a casual relationship, Alexa.

I asked Google.

Can fuck buddies send text messages?

Future hook-up sessions only.

Well, that’s disheartening.

Me: Let’s arrange a hook-up.

Message delivered.

Message read.

Why did I do that?

My heart stuttered.

He is responding.

Liam: You are insatiable, Miss Haines.

“Moi?” I spoke aloud. “I wish.”

Me: Help me out, Liam.

Me: I am a newbie, remember?”

Liam: What do you need?

Me: Let’s say I am at work. Is it against the rules to swing by the office on break?

Liam: No.

Me: How does the arrangement work outside of Club 11?

Liam: I will come to you.

I sent him the wink emoji.

Me: I see what you did there.

Three whole minutes later, he replied with a question mark.

Me: “I will come to you”.

Liam: I am not sure I understand.

I huffed.

Me: Are you pulling my leg?

Liam: Perhaps.

I turned the sharp corner, smashed straight into someone’s chest. “I am so sorry,” I blurted out, the phone falling from my hand and skidding across the floor. “I didn’t see you…”

I was alone.

The street resembled a ghost town. I saw no sign of life, not even a bird sweeping above or moving vehicles afar.

Hand latching onto the bag strap, I stepped onto the desolate road and glanced from one end of the street to the other. “Hello.”

Had I imagined the collision?

No, it was too realistic.

I felt the blow to my chest.

A morning jogger in neon loungewear emerged from the narrow gully in the spitting distance. His Labrador retriever scuttled close behind.

Picking up the phone on the pavement, I strode speedily. In warped delusion, I felt the eyes of another.

Terror closed in. I walked backwards, the phone gripped tightly in hand, and hobbled across the road. My head whipped from side to side. I hunted the street for possible threats when a ghostly silhouette soared like an apparition from behind a parked vehicle. Horror-arousing fear caused horripilation and goosebumps to rise. My eyes closed and opened to evaporate what I deemed hallucinations, but the person whose identity hid beneath the rim of the ball cap was still standing there.

Fear clawed at my chest.

I bolted at breakneck speed as his frantic footsteps boomed behind me.

Whipping around the street corner, I dared to glance behind, and life flashed before my eyes like a freight train. He prowled in the shadows, the sharp glint in his hand posing a deadly threat. “Help me!” I screamed into nothingness. “Somebody!”

Breath coming in small spurts, I ran across the road on skittish feet. My knees clipped the bonnet of a parked car, and pain shot up my leg. Toppling from the unexpected strike, I almost fell on the ground when— “Whoa! Easy tiger.” Two strong hands captured my fall. “Alexa, what happened?”

My head snapped back in stark shock.

Brad towered above me.

“Oh, God.” Puffing out a relieved breath, I melted in his arms. “He chased me.” I gestured animatedly, but when I looked over one shoulder, no one stood there. “And he had a knife. I saw it. I think…I don’t know what I think. He definitely had a knife, though. He wanted to kill me. At least, I think he wanted to kill me,” I whimpered. “What did I do?”

“Who chased you?” His enraged glare drifted over my head. “Do you know which direction he ran?”

I watched burnt-orange leaves roll across the pavement. “I saw someone.” My heart thudded painfully against my breastbone. “He came after me and…and he had a knife in his hand…”

“Alexa.” His fingers dented my upper arms. “Did he say anything? Did you hear his voice?”

“He said nothing. And I couldn’t see his face because he pulled his hood right down…I mean, I think his hoodie…” Assessing the empty street, I scratched my head, where sweat-slicked hair gathered at the nape. “What are you doing here?” I asked suspiciously. “You’re a bit way off the club, Brad.”

Brad pointed to the pulled-up Bentley opposite the brownstone apartment building I reside in. “Did you walk home?”

“I lost my oyster card…” I stared widely. “Seriously, Brad. I am grateful you showed up, but that does not explain why you’re here.”

“You left this in the staff room.” An Oyster card slid from his leather wallet. “You’ll need it for work later. As I was on the job over In Croydon, I figured I’d be a good gent and drop it off.”

“Thank you.” My fingers curled around the card. “I appreciate it, Brad.”

He walked me to the communal doors while messaging someone on his phone. “You don’t have any enemies I need to worry about, right?” he joshed, but I know my response will cause obstreperous carnage. “No psychotic ex-boyfriends or crazy serial killers in the family?”

“No,” I assured the actual serial killer. “I have never dated.”

He rocked back on the heels of his shoes. “So, what’s the deal with you and Warren?”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. “Nothing.”

Brad’s all-knowing smirk flaunted cheek-dimples. “It’s my job to know everything,” he said smugly. “I doubt he came here for shits-and-giggles last night.”

I felt impossibly hot. “If it’s part of your job description to know the ins-and-outs of a cat’s arse, why not ask Liam directly?”

“Liam,” he whispered, and I wanted to kick myself for the informal blunder. “First-name terms, huh?”

Nate rose from the Bentley. His folded arms rested on the car roof as he peered over.

My eyes sliced to Brad. “Nate too, huh?”

Brad smiled flatly. “He came for the ride.”

I hummed in scepticism.

He reached behind me to jerk the gate open. “Get inside, Alexa.”

Dragging my feet indoors, I rounded the all-concrete foyer and ascended the stairs to the sound of the Bentley ripping out of the street.

Plucking the keys from my handbag, I unlocked the front door and drifted to the bedroom to faceplant the comfortable mattress.

I am too adrenalised to sleep, even though I am exhausted.

Rolling onto my back, I tapped the oyster card with my fingernails and spotted an important detail. Bolting straight as an arrow, I scrammed to the window to see if the Suits were still outside.

Brad lied to me. He said I left the card at work, but it expired two years ago. It does not belong to me.

Why did I find Brad skulking outside of the apartment building?

More confused than ever, I shimmed out of the shorts, lost the T-shirt and sagged onto the edge of the bed.

I hurled the oyster card in the bin.

A framed photo of Kathy sat on the bedside table.

I blinked owlishly.

“What the hell are you doing out of the box?” I snatched the frame, swung the door open and marched straight into my friend’s bedroom. “Chloe?”

Chloe is positioned like a starfish on the bed. Her mouth was agape, and a watermelon sleep mask covered her eyes. Glow-in-the-dark bracelets lined her wrist. Her pink skirt and lace bralette almost took the attention away from the multi-coloured toenails.

Nudging her leg, I whispered, “Chloe?”

Tugging the eye mask to her forehead, she licked her dry lips and squinted at me. “What?” Fuchsia lipstick smudged across her cheek. “Is that you, Alexa?”

“Who else would it be?” Sitting cross-legged on the bed, I lifted the discarded lace thong. “Was someone here?”

Her blonde hair stuck out in multiple directions. “Why do you ask?”

I wriggled the obvious.

“Oh.” she snorted. “I masturbated before you got home.”

I chucked the thong aside. “I had a weird night.”

“Can this weird night wait?” Peering at me under the pillow, she grumbled foggily. “I need to sleep.”

I nodded, sprawling out beside her. “Do you mind if I sleep with you?”

“I love a cuddle partner.” Her leg cocked over my hip. “Why is Kathy staring at me?”

“What?” I jumped, and she tore the frame from my hand. “Oh, Kathy. I came in here to ask you the same question.”

Her lips puckered. “Huh?”

I placed the frame on the floor. “You were probably trying to make me feel, but Kathy is the last person I want to see after the whole diary fiasco.”

She tugged an eye mask over my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Black silk impaired vision. “You didn’t leave it there?”

“No.” She snuggled into my back. “You probably left it out when sprucing the flat last week.”

I felt sick to my stomach. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“What?” Her hysterical laughter pierced the thick, humid air. “Are you high? Those hotties got you smoking something, huh?”

“No, I am deadly serious.” I raised the eye mask to meet her gaze. “Someone chased me tonight—or so I thought…” I am losing my mind. “And then Brad showed up.”

“Brad?” Mascara blotched her cheeks. “He came here?”

“Well, not in the flat.” I swear the girl has a secret crush on him. “Outside—”

“Our flat?” Her tired eyes brightened. “Why?”

“I got to the Underground and realised I lost my oyster card, right?”

Chloe nodded, engrossed in conversation.

“I had insufficient funds, so I decided to walk home. I minded my own business when someone crashed into me.” My head began to thump. “When I turned to apologise, no one was there.”

“Huh?” Her nose crinkled. “You bumped into someone…”

“My head was down because I was texting on the phone.”

She itched the crease between her brows. “And?”

I showed her the cracked phone screen. “I thought it was in my head, but I felt like someone was watching me. I looked across the street and saw someone just standing there. He was looking right at me. I think he anticipated my fear.” My eyes glazed over. “Chloe, I quite literally ran for my life. He had a knife. I saw it…And then he vanished.”

“Vanished,” she whispered. “What do you mean? Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. I am so confused. Am I losing it? Did it even happen?”

“Hon,” she cooed. “I don’t like this.”

“That’s when Brad appeared.”

Her body stiffened. “You don’t think it was him, do you?”

“No, I ran into Brad when the other guy was hot on my heels. It’s impossible for him to teleport.” My gaze darted over her face. “I did not put the frame on the bedside table, Chloe.”

Her concerned expression froze. “Then, who did?”

I shrugged in despondence.

“I think we should call the police,” she suggested, but I had lost faith in the metropolitan police department a long time ago. “What if someone breaks in here?”

“I will not involve the police,” I said sternly. “I will, however, speak to Liam.”

“Liam?” Her face scrunched up. “Why? I doubt he will be much help.”

I fingered the bejewelled duvet. “I have something to tell you.”

Her weight propped on one elbow. “I am listening.”

“I slept with my boss,” I admitted, and her eyes protruded. “After the charity dinner, I went to his penthouse and, well, I agreed to casual dating.”

Her jaw hit the floor. “Oh, no.”

I grimaced. “What?”

“You should never agree to casual dating when emotionally invested.”

I dismissed her concerns. “It’s fine. I am not that attracted to him.” Her brow cinched. “Okay, so, I like him. I won’t invest, though.”

She made an unconvinced sound in the back of her throat.

“Anyway, I will speak to him later—that’s if Brad hasn’t already.”

“You still haven’t told me why Brad was here.”

“Brad said I left the oyster card at work.”

“He dropped it off?”

I nodded.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“It’s not mine,” I tell her. “He lied. It expired two years ago, which means he was here for a different reason.”

Her face paled. “What is happening right now?”

“I have no idea.”

“How are you not freaking out, Hon?”

“I am too tired, I guess.”

“Something is seriously wrong.” Her feet sunk into the carpet as she stood. “I am too hungover to think.” Tilting the curtain slightly, she peered into the communal guardian. “I feel unsafe.”

I climbed off the bed to stand next to her.

“You didn’t imagine anything, Alexa.”

I appreciated her efforts to mollify.

Her terrified gaze slowly turned to me. “Look by the wheelie bins.”

Frowning, I peered from behind the curtain. I saw the man in the hoodie. He stared at the window like he knew I lived here. It’s not possible for him to see me, yet he watched as if waiting for someone to notice him lurking. “Chloe,” I whispered, but she’s too discombobulated to respond. “You can see him, right?”

She breathed heavily. “Yes.”

His head cocked to the side, and, ever so slowly, he waved.

I released the curtain as if its thick fabric burnt my fingertips. “Lock all the windows and check the door.” I unlocked my phone and placed it to my ear. “Chloe, snap out of it.”

She jerked into action.

An operator answered the call. “What service do you require?”

I grasped the hair on top of my head. “Police.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Alexa

The police have yet to visit to gather relevant information. I called hours ago to report the chase, the brandished knife and lurking in the communal garden. No one came. I am not a priority. I am an uncredible trauma victim paying for the lies of her past. If only I had divulged more when interrogated all those years ago. Perhaps detectives would take matters more seriously had that been the case.

I felt unsafe behind the four walls of beleaguered concrete.

I raised questions regarding the unknown person hellbent on harassment.

Is it someone I know?

Was this morning our first encounter?

How long has he been watching me?

Did he plan to use the knife?

Who put Kathy’s photo on the bedside table?

Did he break into the flat while I worked?

Iciness nipped my bear arms.

Flamur Bajramovic.

Is he the man behind the mask?

Is he the man who chased me this morning?

Is he the man who put Kathy’s frame on the bedside table?

Is he taunting me? If so, why? It’s not as though I told people about his whispers at the charity dinner. I never exposed him to his wife, Zamira, or his enemy, Liam.

Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. “I listened.”

I behaved.

I always behaved.

I studied the cracked phone screen and fired the browser. For the third time today, I typed his name into Google. In the words of Wikipedia, Flamur has raised an estimated twenty million for charities. He is extensively praised for his personal qualities and often regarded as an eccentric adornment. He is a ubiquitous face to the British public.

Flamur was born and raised in Albania.

My captor had a strong, Albanian accent.

I remember now.

The monster from my past leads a double life. He is an appraised public figure by day and a sick, twisted paedophile by night.

I made an overdue phone call. It went straight to voicemail. “Hey, Liam. it’s me.” My eyes squeezed shut. “It’s Alexa. I am not feeling too good today. So, I won’t be at work tonight.” Rain bespattered the living room window in soft dews. “Hopefully, I will be better tomorrow. I will see you then.”

I ended the call.

Chloe’s shoulder leaned onto the kitchen door frame. “Are you okay?”

I am stronger than I used to be. “Yes.”

“The police are useless.” She tugged her jumper sleeves, restless and fidgety. “It’s almost six p.m. Anything could have happened by now.” Blonde bangs framed her light-coloured complexion. “We are out of tea bags again.”

My knees bobbed anxiously. “I bought some last week.”

Chloe scrubbed a palm down her face. “Is it just me, or is everything missing lately?”

I placed two hands on my knees to settle twitchiness. “What do you mean?”

“It’s all the time.” She puffed out an audible breath. “I put milk in the fridge before bed. It’s gone by the morning. I buy cosmetics, use them once, and then I can’t find them. Last week, I worked overtime, so I treated myself to a new handbag. I left it in the bedroom while I showered. When I came back, I could not, for the life of me, find it anywhere. I was ninety-nine percent sure that I left it on the bed. Hon, I still haven’t found the handbag.” She was on the verge of tears. “Do you think that guy comes in here?”

Yes, I had considered the possible magnitude of his shuddersome capabilities.

But I hated to see her upset, so I mollified. “No, I think it’s paranoia. We know someone is playing games, and that’s worrisome.”

“Maybe.” A pair of green, sceptical eyes landed on the phone in my hand. “I need some fresh air. I will blow a gasket if I stay indoors any longer.”

“Is that wise?” I asked as she stomped her socked feet into tanned sheepskin boots. “Shouldn’t we wait until the police arrive before we venture out again?”

“Police?” Her arms stuffed into the sleeves of a Parka coat. “I don’t see them anywhere. We cannot stay locked up forever.”

I was extremely uncomfortable with her leaving. “Just give it another hour.”

“No.” Purse in hand, she wriggled her fingers into woollen gloves. “Alexa, it’s fine. I will go to the corner store to restock and grab Chinese takeout.”

My stomach heard and growled. “I’ll grab my coat and come with you.”

“No.” Her finger pointed to the sofa. “Stay put until I get back. And lock the door behind me.”

I listened to orders, locking the front door and double-checking the handle. With nothing better to do, I snuggled on the sofa and watched trash television shows until the noodles arrived.

***

Merely a few minutes passed when I heard indistinct knocking. I cracked one eye open and confronted darkness.

When did I turn off the television?

Everything caused mental befuddlement. I grabbed the phone on the floor to check the time and nearly fell off the sofa. It’s been over two hours since Chloe left for the store.

I had two missed calls from Liam and one missed call from an unknown number. Nothing from my roomie, though. I dialled her number to be forwarded to her answerphone. I tried a text message instead.

Me: Chloe?

Me: Did you come back?

I called once more.

Me: Answer your phone.

And again.

Me: This isn’t funny.

I tossed the phone on the sofa.

My bare feet touched the carpet. I lethargically went to the kitchen to see if she had returned and put food in the microwave. Only there were no leftovers anywhere, no tea bags or milk. Her shoes, I thought as I ambled down the hallway. My friend is disorganised. If she had come home, the boots would be on the floor instead of the shoe rack. Her coat would be on the sideboard rather than on the second-hand hatstand.

I re-checked the front door.

It’s locked.

God, I am obsessively anxious today.

The old, worn floorboard groaned inside my bedroom.

Trepidation triggered piloerection. I had goosebumps on my arms and neck. Incapable of breathing, I studied the door, the rusty safety chain attached to the wooden doorframe, and gingerly reached for the mechanical fastener.

My bedroom door creaked open.

I shut my eyes and lived in the darkness of denial.

It’s all in your head, Alexa.

None of this is real.

It is not real…

I felt someone’s warm exhale on the nape of my neck.

Screaming at the top of my lungs, I slid to the ground and, hiding behind two arms, cowered in the corner. I was not brave enough to run or fight the person to unlock the door.

My body went into flight mode. Lungs deflated. Head pounded. Oxygen Malfunctioned. Tears burgeoned. Dreading the unpreventable, I cried into the moisture-laden air until the intruder’s soft chuckles crescendoed into maniacal laughter and then an ominous silence.

I quelled fear.

“Someday, I’ll wish upon a star. And wake up where the clouds are far behind me,” Kathy’s whispered song ripped my heart into pieces. “Where troubles melt like lemon drops. High above the chimney tops. That’s where you’ll find me.”

My lungs burnt. “What if you’re not real?”

Her hand closed around my hiked knee. “I’m real, Alexa.”

Immense grief shattered me. I broke into hysteria, sobbing inconsolably into my palms. In the juxtaposition of relieved happiness and mental anguish, I wiped the tears from my cheeks and looked at my sister through blurry eyes. An unrecognisable person squatted in front of me. Her hazel-coloured hues, the only distinguishable feature. Faux fur buried her gaunt, cadaverous frame. Her scarred face was thin and haggard, and dark circles outlined her puffy, blood-shot eyes. Blonde hair fringed her pallid, pimpled face, and dull, leaden-blue tinted her chapped lips. “You don’t look pleased to see me.” Her voice was harsh and scratched as if something irritated her throat. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You dyed your hair.” My sister had waist-length ebony hair. It used to be wild and unmanageable. “Are you sick?”

“No.” She raked sharp, begrimed fingernails across her chest, which ruptured encrusted scabs. “Why? Are you saying I look like shit?”

Her deliriousness quite literally broke my heart.

“No.” I smiled sadly. “No, you’re beautiful, Kathy.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, yet pulled a disagreeable face. “I guess I still look like Mamma. If you take away the blonde hair and stuff.”

No, Kathy. You stopped looking like our mother the moment you injected heroin in your veins. “I’m really sad,” I whispered, and her untamed eyebrows drew in. “I thought something bad happened to you.”

“I need a beer.” When Kathy went to the living room, I stayed on the floor to rein in dispersed thoughts. “Get me that beer, Alexa.”

“Sure.” I traipsed in her wake. “Actually, I am worried about Chloe.” From the living room doorway, I glanced at the front door. “She left ages ago to grab food.”

“I’m sure she is fine.” Eliminating her coat, she gave me a flippant wave. “I am thirsty.”

Kathy’s head looked disproportionate to her corpse-like body. Even her sweater and black leather skirt threatened to peel from protruding bones.

Hiding disappointment, I went to the fridge, grabbed a bottled beer and handed it to her. Utilising her lower canine as a bottle opener, she spat the mental cap on the floor. “You didn’t want one?”

“No.” My gaze alternated between her and the front door. “No, I’m good.”

“I hope she pays her way.” Faded bruises and needle punctures discoloured her arms and legs. “I mean, with the bills and stuff.”

“Why are you covered in track marks?” I asked, and she didn’t even flinch. “Are you an addict? What happened, Kathy?”

“I don’t know,” she said dejectedly. “I used to smoke, right?”

I frowned. “Occasionally.”

“Well, I dabbled in different drugs and…” Her happiness dimmed. “I guess I tried heroin one night. I’m stuck on it now.”

My lips trembled. “Kathy…”

“No,” she muttered. “Don’t look at me like that, Alexa. I am fine.”

You are not okay, I thought.

She chewed her fingernails. “Is there any food here?”

“Food?” I asked in utter shock. “You cannot waltz in here and pretend everything is normal. We must talk.”

“Why?” Although nonsensical, her question was genuine. “I don’t see anything abnormal.”

I needed a minute to ruminate. “I deserve answers.”

“No,” she disagreed with a pained grimace. “You deserve very little for the way you have behaved.”

“I grieved you,” I murmured, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Losing you broke me. I thought you were dead.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” She sagged onto the coffee table. “I had shit to do.”

“You had shit to do,” I repeated in disbelief. “What, and you didn’t have the sense to enlighten me before you woke up and vanished, huh? Just like that.” My fingers clicked. “You walked out of my life and never came back.” She stared blankly at me. “You selfish bitch.”

“Someone grew up.” She itched her neck, and something glittered in her ear. “Go you.”

I looked askance at the pear-shaped diamonds in her ears, the ones gifted from Liam. “Where did you get those?”

Her fingernail flicked the white diamonds. “Oh, these old things.” Her devious smile deepened the knife of betrayal in my back. “I can’t remember.”

Chloe’s previous rant smacked me in the face like a sledgehammer. “How long have you been sneaking into our flat?” I asked accusingly. “What did you do? Make cups of tea and watch television while playing hide and seek with my shit?”

She giggled like a little girl. “Chloe drinks too much tea.”

“You’re sick,” I said, the muscular organ in my chest accelerating in beats. “And I don’t know when that happened or how I missed it, but I want to help you.”

“I am not sick.” She chucked the beer bottle on the sofa, the sizzling bubbles soaking the cushions. “I am the happiest I have ever been. Well, I was happy until you butted in. I don’t get it, baby sister. I left everything to you: flat, money, ugly roommate.” She wiggled an accusatorial finger at me. “Nothing is good enough for you.”

“Don’t be bitchy.” My nostrils flared. “Chloe’s a good friend to me.”

As if marvelling at an inside joke, she cackled gleefully. And then her jubilance drastically turned into a grim sneer when her arm twisted behind her back to obtain—the diary. “Look what I found.”

My heart leapt from my chest. “What is it?”

“It was under your bed.” Kathy clicked her tongue, her thumb combing through delicate pages. “How far did you get?”

Tears threatening to break, I shook my head.

“Dear Diary,” she said hoarsely as her fingers traced the penned entries. “I did a bad thing…”

I did not recognise her. “Kathy, please.”

“What about this one?” Her finger tapped the page. “Tonight, I fucked my boss until I couldn’t walk straight.”

Jealousy flooded within. “I don’t care.”

“I am sore.” she recited churlishly. “I think he loves me—” I snorted, and she pinned me with a contemptuous glare. “Got something you want to say, Alexa?”

My heart couldn’t take much more. “I think you should leave.”

“But we were just getting to the good part.” Pages turned rapidly. “Look. He degrades me, and I love it. It’s the feeling of being stretched as he ploughs into me from behind. You see, Liam is—”

“Kathy, stop,” I chastised, and she smiled triumphantly. “You made your point. I should look for no redeemable qualities in you.”

“It’s about Liam, though.” Her eyes dared for me to spill truths. “You didn’t fall out of love already, did you?”

I made a puzzled face.

“He’s your bed mate, right?” she asked, and I stood taller. “I saw you and him together. You went to the charity dinner—hand in hand.” Her tongue stuck out as if to be repulsed by the remembrance. “Why would you willingly lay down for that monster? Warren is disgusting.”

I was awash in defensiveness. “Lack of attraction did not stop you from climbing into his bed. I’d rather sell my soul to a man like Liam Warren than fall to Flamur’s feet again.”

Her hazel eyes darkened. “What did you say?”

“I know everything, Kathy. You never helped me escape that night to protect me. You freed me for selfish reasons. You thought I was a threat” Flashbacks of us running through the forest invaded. “You never asked Liam for work to uncover our childhood captor or dated him for love.”

She wielded the diary. “Got all that from here, did you?”

“No,” I said, and she scowled. “I asked Liam directly.” Of course, I omitted the events between. I will not give her the satisfaction of ridiculing me further. “He never loved you. He never spent the night with you. He never purchased expensive gifts or romanticised. You lied about everything to protect the enemy.”

“Flamur is not the enemy.” Hurt flashed in her eyes. “He helped us, Alexa. If only you could see that.”

“He did not help us. He stole us from our mother.”

“Mamma.” Her bottom lip wobbled. “Mamma failed us. We were exposed to so much more danger in her care.”

I refused to believe anything she said.

Her stare narrowed. “You don’t remember.”

A lump lodged in my throat. “It doesn’t matter, Kathy.”

“You are ungrateful.” Pushing onto her feet, she squared up to me. “I did everything for you.”

“Really?” I croaked, not backing down. “I thought I angered you for being his favourite—” Her hand cracked across my cheek, the burning sensation causing immediate redness to my face. “You hit me.”

“You are not his favourite.” She snarled in pure repulsion. “Not anymore.”

I touched my sore cheek. “Why did you pretend to love me?”

Tears brimmed her wistful eyes. “I tried to do right by you. I tried so hard, Alexa.”

“It’s always been us against the world,” I cried, and she whimpered. “It’s not too late for us, Kathy. You don’t want to hear it, but you are unwell.” Her head shook in denial. “We can stop this together. You and me. Like always.”

She grasped two handfuls of scraggly hair. “I am not sick.”

“My big sister is an addict,” I whispered as her forehead lowered to mine. “You need help. Please let me help you.”

“He will kill me,” she said, and I knew she meant Liam. “Warren will kill me, Alexa. I stole from him.”

“I know.” I rubbed her arms, the dark, crusty scabs speckling blood drops on my fingers. “But we can run away, Kathy. Far away—wherever you want to go. It will be tough, but you will rehabilitate, and we can start a whole new life together.”

“I can’t!” Her hands whacked mine away. “I am not leaving Flamur.”

“Kathy, what you feel for him is not real.” I wanted to shake some sense into her. “He’s a sexual predator. He preys on the young and vulnerable. You and I were two of many victims.”

No,” she stuttered, tears streaming down her blotchy cheeks. “No, it’s not like that. Flamur protects me. He always protected me.”

I choked on air. “Even now?”

“Especially now,” she cried, scratching the encrusted blood between her knuckles. “He is waiting for me.”

Fearing he might appear, I glimpsed at the front door. “Does he know that you’re here?”

“No.” Kathy snivelled. “He’d kill me if he knew.”

“Kathy, what you feel for him is not love.”

“Stop it, Alexa,” she cuts in, and I growled in exasperation. “You’re just jealous. You were always jealous.”

My ears deluded me. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” she sympathised bogusly. “You know exactly what I am talking about, Lexi.”

I flinched.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You loved it, didn’t you? He has a great dick. Surely, you can admit that.”

“You are revolting,” I snarled. “Lies upon lies. Pretending you saved us from that hellhole. Pretending to hate him! Preaching injustice!” I shoved her chest, and she stumbled back. “You held me when I cried! You said you’d always protect me! Me, Kathy. Your sister!” A raw sob lodged at the back of my throat. “We were best friends.”

“You wouldn’t let go,” she spat, her spittle airborne between us. “It was only a matter of time before you hunted him down and ruined everything for me!”

“No,” I argued, wishing she’d listen. “Kathy, I—”

“I got you away!” She sounded helpless. “Was that not enough for you?”

“Yes,” I said in utter devastation. “It was enough. Now please go.” I gestured to the door. “Go and be happy. I am not stopping you.”

“It’s too late.” She scratched bloodied tears across her cheek. “Why did you involve Liam? Flamur has a bounty on his head, and it’s all your fault.”

My confusion heightened.

What is Kathy talking about?

She blew out a choppy breath. “You didn’t need to get him on your side.”

“Liam’s issue with Flamur’s has nothing to do with me. It seems Flamur did a fine job of making enemies all by himself. Do not come here and point fingers at me. Even if I did tell Liam what that vile monster did to me, I would not apologise for it. After what he did to our family, he deserves everything that’s coming for him.”

“Right.” Reaching into her boot, she retrieved a blunt knife, and this morning’s attack flashed before my eyes. “Very well.”

“It was you.” Fresh tears of sadness surfaced. “You were going to hurt me.”

“Kill,” she corrected, and I gasped in outrage. “Why couldn’t you let it go?” Premature drops of guilt-ridden tears fell from the corners of her eyes. “All this could have been avoided if you let go.”

My back fused to the wall. “I’m your sister.”

“I know.” Her sobs spluttered into hiccups. “That’s why it hurts more. I cannot bear the thought of you hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I said sincerely. “Kathy, I love you so much. I know it’s hard. A lot happened, and it’s confusing and life-changing, but that doesn’t define us or our future. There is more to life than our past. We will get through it—together. Please, don’t do something stupid. You will never forgive yourself if you hurt me.”

Her sad eyes cast to the floor. “I never felt loved until him.”

“That’s not true,” I cried, wiping moisture from my eyes. “Forget about our parents. Forget about him. You had me. You always had me. I loved you just as much then as I do now.”

“Why?” she asked with knotted brows. “I lied to you. How could you possibly care, after everything I have done to you?”

“Put the knife down and let me help.” So much, I wanted to hug her, but I feared the blade in her hand. “I forgive you. You’re my sister. It’s as simple as that.”

She used the blade’s sharpest point to pick her scabrous knuckles. “He hasn’t forgotten you.”

I felt queasy. “Well, I care not about his cognisance.”

“He talks about you all the time,” she said in a bored tone. “Attending the gala was a bad move, Alexa. You made quite an impression. For the record. He approved.” Eyeing me from head to toe, she added, “It’s for the greater good. I won’t let him take you there.”

“Take me where?” Prickling anxiousness soared to perilous heights. “What are you talking about?”

When she looked at me, I knew I had lost her. Her eyes were almost black, dark and soulless. “To the compound.”

I cringed. “I will never return.”

“You won’t have a choice.” The knife handle tapped her palm. “When he is ready, he will come back for you.” Her finger stroked the honed blade. “I have to eliminate the problem, Alexa.”

My sister is here to kill me.

I shook my head. “Kathy…”

“Just close your eyes,” she wept. “Please close your eyes, Alexa.”

“Flamur will be angry.” I tried reverse psychology. “If you hurt me, then you hurt him, too.”

I waited with bated breath.

“No.” Her hand tightened around the blade’s brown handle. “I am prepared to risk it.”

Kathy charged toward me. I had no time to unlock the front door, so I bolted straight for the bedroom, slammed the door in her face and slid the steel bolt in place.

“Alexa!” Her palms beat against the door, the determined blows cracking the wood, rattling the old hinges. “Unlock the door!”

With herculean strength, I heaved the dresser across the floor, the tattered thread of strewn rugs curling around the plastic wheels and backed it against the door to hinder the process of her entering.

Yanking the curtain aside, I jerked open the window. “Help!” I shouted into the night, the sound of terrified shrieks echoing down the dark street. “Please! Help me!” The door cracked, splintered. “Oh, God! Somebody, help me!”

“Alexa!” Thump, thump, thump. “Open the door!”

Watching Kathy fight her way into the bedroom, I speared two hands through my hair. “Kathy,” I sobbed as wood splintered into the air. “Please. I beg you.” Shoving her arm through the cracked wood, she palmed the door blindly and disengaged the lock. “We were best friends.”

Her shoulder rammed into the door, forcing the dresser forward.

Delving into her chaotic mind, I coaxed her toward the light. “Mum will be turning in her grave.”

Kathy toppled into the bedroom, landing on her hands and knees. “Adaline has been long forgotten.”

“And what of our father?” I whimpered, and something equivalent to fear dilated her eyes. “What if he finds out?”

What are you doing, Alexa?

For all you know, the man is dead.

You have no memory of him.

“No,” she stuttered, and I bellied uneasiness. “He died.”

My eyes fixated on the knife in her hand. “I never saw his body.”

Kathy uncurled her spine and stood.

“Kill me if you must. Face murder trials. Hit breaking news.” I succumbed to defeat. “Let’s hope he can overlook your crimes.”

“Manipulation is futile.” Her body trembled. “His daughters were abducted from Newquay and returned seven years later in London. I don’t remember seeing his face amongst the crowd, do you?”

“No,” I whispered. “I only remember yours.”

“I wish it could be different.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I do love you. But it’s not enough.” When she stepped forward, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed as her hand wrapped around my throat. “I’m so sorry, Alexa—”

Blood besprinkled my face.

Loud ringing whistled in my ears.

In slow motion, I watched the blade slip through Kathy’s fingers as her knees, one by one, descended to the ground, exposing the tailored shooter in the doorway. Her body slumped forward, the bullet wound in the side of her head trickling blood, gore, ruptured flesh.

“No.” Dropping to my knees, I grasped her head to staunch the bleeding. “No, no, no.” A sob ripped from my chest. “No, please.” Lifeless eyes stared back at me. “Kathy, don’t you dare leave me…I will help you…I want to help you.”

“Shh!” Kathy pressed two fingers to my lips. “We have to be quiet.”

I nodded, holding the teddy tight to my chest. “Where are you taking me?”

She crept toward the door, pointing to the loft. “It’s a surprise.”

“No,” I cried, burying my nose in her wet hair. “It’s not real.”

“It’s scary up here, Kathy,” I whined, ducking from cobwebs. “And it’s dark.”

“Look.” Kathy pointed at the roof window. “I can see the moon.”

“You can?” I gripped her nightgown, craning my neck to see the dark sky. “Wow.”

“Crazy, huh?” Banging the torch against her palm, she shone the light onto the makeshift bed on the floor. “It’s bigger than the world.”

“No way,” I said in awe, slumping onto the beanbag. “Will mummy get mad?”

Her shoulders shrugged as she opened the attic window.

“Alexa,” Liam’s rough voice breathed against my ear. “Look at me.”

Snuggling close, Kathy aimed the torch toward the sky. “Watch.”

Fascinated, I curled an arm around her waist. “What are you doing?”

“Saying hello,” the torch intermittently glimmered heavenward, “to the stars.”

“This is the best birthday ever.” As if the stars overheard, they twinkled, and I smiled. “Thank you, Kathy.”

“I’m your sister, Alexa.” Her hand found mine under the throw blanket, and she laced our fingers together. “You don’t have to thank me.” Our noses nudged. “How much do you love me?”

“Too much,” I wept as Liam pried Kathy’s head out of my hands. “Don’t touch her!” Anger mixed with sadness heightened adrenaline. “You killed her!” My arms locked around my sister’s dead body. “I hate you! I fucking hate you, Liam!” His hand covered my eyes as he lifted my kicking body off the ground. “No, I can’t leave her! Don’t make me leave her!”

“Alexa,” he scolded. “That’s enough.”

I twisted in his arms until we faced each other. He paused in the hallway, his concerned eyes not once leaving my face. “Alexa…”

“Why?” Tears streamed down my cheeks. “She was sick.”

“I chose you.” His cold blue eyes glanced over my shoulder. “It’s for your own good.”

Brad gripped the nape of my neck. “Just a scratch.”

I fisted Liam’s shirt. “Release me at once.”

“It’s all good, Alexa.” Nate injected something into my neck. “Five seconds.”

Liam’s thumb brushed over my lips before darkness befell.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Liam

Armed men carried Alexa’s boxed belongings into the penthouse while her friend and roommate prepared coffee in the kitchen. Kathy had followed Chloe down the street, beaten her to a pulp, and left her unconscious on the ground before confronting her younger sister. Angry-looking abrasions marred the girl’s pale cheeks. Her tired eyes are grotesquely swollen. Deep lacerations pained her purple-tinted lips. Her sore, beaten face necessitated medical attention to hinder infection. Even extracting uncombersome milk from the fridge was too arduous. Her exhausted limbs were limp and wilted.

Everything moved around me, yet I lingered in the juxtaposition of variegated guest rooms, wondering if I had lost my mind. I had invited two wretched women into my private home. Alexa being here unperturbed me. Chloe was a different story, though. I appreciate that she is Alexa’s friend, but I did not know her. As far as I am concerned, she is untrustworthy until further notice. I had to be on guard and vigilant while Chloe roamed the place freely. In all fairness, I stored smuggled contraband and illegal firearms in the penthouse, not to mention the undeclared cash concealed in secret storage.

Nate perceived Chloe’s difficulty. He unzipped the black holdall, snapped on a pair of latex gloves and arranged medical equipment onto the granite counter.

While Nate tended to Chloe’s injuries, I brushed past the assemblage of men in the hallway, dodging scattered boxes on the floor, and selected the bedroom furthest away from the west wing. I can tolerate her residency if there is a generous distance between her room and master bedroom.

“No,” I said calmly, and the man unpackaging her suitcase peered up. “Do not go through a woman’s personal possessions. Did your mother teach you nothing?”

Brad snorted, stepping into the bedroom. “Mothers are bastard useless.”

“Indeed.” My hands thrust into my trouser pockets. “Light humour. You may proceed.”

The young man stared wordlessly at me.

“A mere wisecrack,” Brad explained on my behalf. “It’s called a joke, prick. Unpack her shit and get out.”

Fumbling with the box, he emptied clothes onto the king-size bed and folded them into neat piles ready for the drawer.

Brad guzzled Jameson straight from the bottle. “Where is Alexa?”

Alexa was dead to the world when I last checked. I had carried her unconscious body to the master bedroom until the sedative injection dematerialised. Putting her to sleep was the best option. Her hyperventilation caused breathlessness. Anguish spiralled into a disturbed psychological state. Tears bled from her devastated eyes. If she could have prevented Kathy’s death, she’d have thrown herself into the firing line and taken the bullet.

Alexa was unprepared for my arrival. After listening to her voice message and receiving the news regarding her unidentified attacker this morning, how could I not swing by? With Bajramovic in the shadows, waiting to reacquaint with his past, I had to be sure she was safe. Of course, when I entered the flat and saw Kathy with her hands wrapped around her sister’s throat, the scene had taken me aback. Pearl was the last person I thought I’d see tonight. I am not sorry nor regretful for the point-blank shot to the back of her head. The bitch had deserved a merciless killing for double-crossing the syndicate, for emptying the safe, for her endless list of deceptions and mocking every ounce of generosity I bestowed. Her death was inevitable. Yet, I killed her for an entirely different reason: to protect the younger Haines sister, Alexa.

I accepted the bottle of Jameson. “Asleep.”

“You need to find out what happened. First, some guy chased Alexa in the street and then Kathy’s rocks up to what? Pick up where he left off? What is the connection between premeditated attacks? Something fucking stinks, and I don’t like it. Either Kathy attempted to kill Alexa twice, or there is another threat.”

Harsh liquor warmed my chest.

“Come on, Bossman.” He walked alongside me down the hall. “You must be intrigued.”

Yes, I wanted answers. “All in good time.”

He read a notification on his phone. “Food is here. Shall I plate some pizza for Alexa?”

I hesitated by the entrance. “Yes.”

Brad headed to the foyer to pay the delivery guy while I poured neat whiskey into a glass. I craved something stronger to numb overwrought muscles, but alcohol did the trick for now.

“I am tired.” Chloe sat on the sofa. “Can I take anything to reduce the pain?”

Nate tossed her a box of co-codamol. “Knock yourself out.”

Tearing through the package, she washed two tablets down with bottled water. “I am so sad for Alexa. I dread the moment she wakes up. Kathy,” she whispered, licking ever-present tears from her bruised lips. “She idolised her big sister.”

Nate clicked his fingers. “It was either Kathy or Alexa. Whether you agree or not, Warren made the right choice.”

“I know.” She blew her nose into bunched-up tissue. “I couldn’t care about Kathy. We never liked each other, anyway. But Alexa never stopped believing. Kathy’s disappearance consumed her. It was all she had to live for.”

I disagreed but remained closed-mouthed.

“Now what?” she asked, looking from Nate to me. “Months and months of investigation flushed down the drain in less than thirty seconds.” Her stare lasered in on Brad as he strolled across the living quarters to arrange pizza boxes on the kitchen island. “She will never forgive you.”

My blood simmered. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Chloe gave me a half-smile. “Just an opinion.”

“Keep your fucking opinions.” I fixed her with an icy glare. “You are only here because of Alexa, so don’t get comfortable.”

“Trust me.” To her feet, she pushed. “If I had anywhere else to stay, I would not be in this penthouse tonight. You don’t trust me, right? I can see it. That’s fine. And reciprocated. I don’t trust you, either.”

“Listen, gob-a-lot. You won’t get an intervention from us if he comes at you.” Brad chewed a folded pizza slice. “You might want to pipe down.”

“We know what you are all about.” Against Brad’s advice, she flung me a disparaging glare. “Your close relationship with the metropolitan may protect you from punishment, but bribed coppers cannot delude the streets of London. Your name is dishwater. It is filth. People only tolerate you because they fear you.

“Now, I don’t know what the deal is between you and Alexa, but if she has any sense, she will kick you to the curb and put such madness down to a lapse of judgment before her body ends up in the same ditch as her sisters.”

My grip tightened around the whiskey glass. “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,” I recited the proverbial verse. “Vulnerable people should avoid insulting others unless they can handle articulated retaliation. I can rip you to shreds in one sentence. Your father fucked his current wife whilst your mother listened from her deathbed.” She grew pale and ashen-faced. “Cancer, wasn’t it?”

She gasped for air. “You are lying.”

“No,” I said arrogantly. “I am, however, honest to a fault. Although your mother, God rest her soul, wasn’t innocent. Her love affair with Uncle John raised controversial issues in the household. How can daddy dearest truly love his only child with his brother’s name on her birth certificate?”

Her eyes trailed over my face. “Who told you?”

“As you so kindly pointed out, I am hated widely throughout London. I make it my job to know everything about possible quandaries, and you, Chloe, are a huge fucking quandary.” My shoulders pushed back. “I am in bed with Alexa. Did you honestly think I would discount her docile friend’s capabilities? I might be blinded with lust, but I am not senseless enough to take my eye off the job.”

Nate wore an unreadable expression, but even in silence, he reflected on previous conversations. After all, it was his job to run a background check on the roommate, and he delivered. Her file raised no red flags. It was an interesting read, though.

“You are a nasty piece of work.” Her tears resurfaced. “Did all that make you feel better? Are you happy now? You better hope this is bullshit, Warren. If not, then, well, thank you for the insensitive heads-up. Who do I call first? My father? Uncle John?” Fuming, she cleared moisture from her eyes. “God, I hate you.”

“As aforementioned,” I said into the glass. “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. You might want to consider that the next time you take a pop at me.” Her lips wobbled. “Go to your room.”

I never asked twice.

Chloe’s bedroom door slammed on its hinges.

“Well, that went well.” Brad slid three pizza slices on a plate for Alexa. “I might be a gent and comfort her.”

Nate barked a laugh. “Stay away from the door, Brad.”

“What?” Brad gave us a shit-eating grin. “I like emotional sex.”

“Bitch, what?” Nate splashed gin into a glass. “Don’t come crying to us when she straps herself to your ankle.”

Brad mumbled in agreement. “I suppose I better resist.”

“I need one of you to discard Pearl’s body.”

Both men complained.

“Tonight,” I added, and they fell into exasperated quietness. “Which will it be?”

Brad’s arms crossed. “I went last time.”

“The hell you fucking did.”

“Toss a coin.”

“I ain’t tossing a coin.”

“Just toss a fucking coin.”

“Fine.” Nate grabbed a pound coin from his wallet. “Heads or tails?”

Trying to predict the unpredictable, Brad glared at the coin in Nate’s hand. “Heads.

Thumbing the coin, Nate slapped it on his hand and checked the result. “Obviously.”

“Enjoy the drive.” Brad collapsed on the sofa, kicking off his leather shoes. “I will be with you in spirit.”

Leaving the men to bicker, I went to the master bedroom and saw an empty bed.

Alexa is not where I left her.

Detecting running water, I set the plate on the sideboard. Knowing I had to tread carefully, I cracked the en-suite door open, where steam rippled over the undulated marble floor tiles, and condensation left droplets on the frosted glass panel. I invaded her privacy. I could vaguely see Alexa’s figure in the cubicle. She sits on the floor underneath the warm spray, knees hiked to her chest, sobbing into two palms.

Slipping out of the suit jacket, I hung it on the back of the door, rolling my shirt sleeves to the elbows. Crouching behind the misted glass, I threaded my fingers, elbows hung loosely over my thighs and contemplated tactful, non-confrontational ways to help in her hour of need.

Unfortunately, I am not the best sympathiser, especially where Kathy Pearl is concerned. In saying that, for some inexplicable reason, Alexa’s hitched snivels had touched a nerve. She did not belong on the floor, grasping the shards of her broken heart.

“Alexa,” I said, and she choked on a shuddered inhalation. “I am not good at this.”

Putting her head to the glass, she wiped tears away frantically. “At what?”

“Empathy.” I rotated my thumb ring. “I do not understand or possess the ability to feel the way you do right now.”

“Why?” she wondered out loud. “Is it because you hated Kathy?”

Partially, I thought. “I have never experienced grief.”

She let those words sink in. “Yet, you witness death daily.”

Sliding down the tiled wall, I held the whiskey glass with rigid fingers. “That’s not a good comparison.”

“Have you ever lost anyone you cared about?”

My eyes closed.

“What are yuh doin’?” He snatched the switchblade from my hand. “Yuh can’t shave with a blunt knife, Liam. And what is this?” Snatching my jaw, he assessed what resembled carpet burns on my jawline. “Yuh did it dry, huh? That will hurt like a bitch tomorrow.”

“It hurts now,” I complained, rubbing my sore cheek. “Am I bleeding?”

“Come here.” His boots trampled through long spears of wet grass. “I got some shavin’ foam in the bag. We can grease yuh up.”

I followed him into the shed. “You promised to teach me.”

“Busy.” He hunted the bag for supplies. “Mi got time if yuh want to turn the frown upside down.”

Flashing him a sardonic smile, I folded my arms, resting my back on the shed’s wooden interior. “Why do you have shaving cream, anyway? Your beard is longer than Yeti’s.”

“Why the insult? Yuh don’t like it?” His begrimed fingers stroked his ungroomed beard, which, just recently, sprouted grey hairs. “I got it for yuh, didn’t I?” Squirting white foam into his palm, he lathered my face, flipped open a sharp switchblade and, gingerly, shaved downwards. “Ah, he is becomin’ a man.”

My eyes rolled. “Have a day off.”

“Growin’ hair in all right place,” he prattled on. “Do we need to address some grey areas?”

I grew guarded. “What do you mean?”

“Yuh know.” He wiped the blade across an old jumper. “Puberty.”

My stomach sank. “Fucking hell.”

“Watch yuh tongue,” he scolded, and I grimaced. “It has to happen at some point.”

“No. It really doesn’t.” My face heated. “Anyhow, I know enough.”

His brow bent. “Yuh do?”

I nodded.

“How?” He swept the blade across my jaw. “Talk to mi.”

“I am not a stupid dumb ass.”

“I never said yuh were a stupid dumb arse.”

“You insinuated as much.”

“Tell mi wah yuh kno!”

I glared until he calmed down.

“Fine.” He collected himself. “Tell mi what you know.”

Pleased by his efforts to tone down the accent, I picked up the towel and patted foam remnants from my face. “I know about girls.”

His brown eyes sliced. “What ’bout girls?

“Just that I like them, I guess,” I said coyly. “What?”

“Yuh there already, huh?” He sat on the compost sack. “Mi figured there was more time for that.”

My head started to spin. “Time for what?”

“Yuh see, I meant hormones and…an unfamiliar hardenin’ of the penis.”

“Penis? Really?” I deadpanned. “It’s called a boner. And I found that years ago.” He looked appalled. “So, what’s the problem? Did you think I had a thing for lads or something?”

He uncapped a flagon of cider. “Dis conversation tek a sharp tun.”

I pinched the bridge between my eyes. “You are boring me to death.”

“Right.” His palms rubbed together. “It will go somethin’ like dis. Know yuh woman, and don’t make derogatory jokes. Women are not a conquest. Learn respect. Avoid the whole,” his hands peddled for the right words, “friends with benefits. Learn the dangers of sexual chemistry and practice safe sex—no cheap thrills. Most importantly, stay true to yuhself. There. I did my good deed of the day. Let’s find some fodder.”

My jaw was still on the floor. “Why are we talking about sex.”

He swallowed cider. “Enuff seh.”

“One,” I counted on my fingers, “I am too young for sex, though I read somewhere that I won’t be able to stop when I start.”

“What?” His throaty laughter crescendoed. “Look at yuh boastin’ about stamina. Come back to me once yuh do the deed, mi boy. Mi lookin’ forward to that chat.”

“Two,” I ignored his jesting, “I doubt I will ever have sex because girls don’t see me.” His amused smile vanished. “I’m a runway, remember? That shit doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Yuh too hard on yuhself,” he whispered, recapping the cider flagon. “Give yuhself time to grow. The girls are gonna love yuh.”

“Yeah?” I asked, hopeful. “How can you be so sure?”

“Mi have good faith in yuh.” He stood, which only made him a few inches taller than me. “Look at yuh genes.” His hand grasped my jaw. “Ah, he has got those puppy dog eyes and—”

I shoved his shoulder. “Quit messing around.”

“Yuh heartbreaker.” Tousling my hair, he slung the backpack over his shoulder. “The world wasn’t ready for yuh, Warren. They won’t even see yuh comin’.”

“If you say so,” I muttered under my breath.

“Yuh doubt mi?”

“All the time.”

“I have experienced many losses and survived them all.” Rapping my knuckles on the glass partition, I downed the remainder of whiskey and watched her hand efface condensation until her face became visible. “There she is,” I whispered, and she chewed her lower lip to stifle tremors. “Are you ready to come out?”

We stood in tandem.

Alexa turned off the shower and, covering her breasts, stepped out of the cubicle.

My arms outstretched, and she turned for me to wrap the towel around her body. Masculine shampoo wafted from her wet hair. Dislodging the knot in my throat, I curled an arm around her middle section, drawing her back to my chest, and dropped a kiss to her shoulder.

“I had to wash Kathy’s blood off my face.” Her downcast eyes stared ahead. “How do I unsee it?”

I contemplated lying, but honesty always prevailed. “You will learn to live with it.”

In the bedroom, Alexa towel-dried while I looked for comfortable clothes. Pulling the cotton T-shirt over her head, I tossed the towel into the laundry basket and offered her the pizza, which she declined. “You can sleep in my bed. I will use the guest bedroom next door.”

Nodding numbly, Alexa sat on the bed.

Unable to withstand her mental suffering, her silent tears, I closed the door behind me and locked myself in the guest bedroom. Stripping down into boxer briefs, I placed the phone, watch and jewellery on the bedside table.

I killed the light, drew the curtain back and cracked open the window until a soft breeze cooled my heated skin. Lighting the end of a pre-rolled blunt, I let mind-numbing haze roll down the back of my throat and exhaled a veil of smoke outside.

Alexa sobbed next door.

For the first time in my life, I felt an indescribable emotion and had a heavy, incessant strain in my chest and discomfort in the pit of my stomach.

I do not regret Kathy Pearl’s murder.

But I hated the thought of Alexa holding me accountable for losing her sister.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Alexa

I was face down on the most comfortable king-sized bed, basked in the masculine ambience of Liam’s master bedroom. His room had become a temporary safe place over the past week. It’s dark as I never draw the curtains. I used the en-suite on occasion to freshen up, then I returned to the safety of the comforters. I escaped reality in dreams. If I closed the door on life, I could pretend, for a short while, that Kathy never tried to kill me.

Moisture pooled in my eyes.

I could not ignore the gaping hole in my chest, though.

Kathy is dead.

Everyone hated my sister, so I cried alone.

I had never felt so lonely in my entire life.

***

Liam accommodated Chloe. He allowed her to stay in one of many guestrooms while I mourned in silence. I hear them argue quite often, especially at night. My friend despised Liam Warren and, judging by his short temper, the feeling is mutual. He never overstepped or took insults too far, which was uncharacteristic. He is renowned for haughty tactlessness, yet I imagine he kept a lid on disgruntlement for my benefit.

My friend sat on the wing chair earlier, explaining how Kathy followed her down the street the night she left to buy takeout and hit her over the head with a heavy object. My sister beat her into unconsciousness and left her bruised, battered body on the cold floor in the alleyway by the store.

Unable to condone Kathy’s behaviour, I apologised for her cruel act of brutality, which Chloe countered as I was not responsible for my sister’s viciousness.

Yet, I still love Kathy.

***

“Are you hungry?” Brad asked from the doorway. “I ordered pizza.”

I shook my head.

“What about a drink?”

“I’m fine,” I croaked, buried under the warm blanket. “Thank you, though.”

He dithered by the threshold. “What about a drink? I am not good with the kettle, but I can ask that annoying roommate of yours to make tea or something.”

I sighed into the pillow.

Brad closed the door.

***

Chloe cracked open the door this morning to tell me she had work.

I rolled over and fell back to sleep.

***

I heard Brad and Nate singing in the kitchen. They enraged Liam with their inharmonious vocals and infuriating saucepan drumming. Pulling the duvet over my head to drown them out, I overheard Chloe chastise them before Brad chased her down the hallway.

***

I sensed Liam’s vigilance but never opened my eyes. Looming beside the bed while losing his suit, he undressed and barricaded himself in the bathroom. I listened to the water running as he showered and smelt his cologne when he fixed his appearance for work.

Not once did he speak to me.

I never wanted him to speak to me.

Or maybe I did.

***

A bowl of soup sat on the bedside table.

The thought of food consumption nauseated me.

I wasn’t hungry, anyway.

***

Liam is rarely home. It made me wonder if the man ever slept. He cannot spend the night in his bedroom, though. It was part of our agreement. We can use each other’s bodies, but we cannot share a bed. And I have stolen his bed.

I should leave soon. It’s only fair. After all, it’s his penthouse, not mine, and I am not his burden to bear.

Go home, Alexa.

Home, I thought.

I never wanted to step foot inside the flat again, not after everything that happened with Kathy.

My sister.

Where did they bury her body?

I cried.

***

“You need to get up.” Chloe attempted to rip the blanket off my body, but I held on tight, refusing to leave the bed. “This is unhealthy, Hon. It’s been two weeks. You don’t eat. You barely shower.” She gained possession of the duvet, and I curled into a fetal position. “And said in the nicest way possible, you look like shit.”

Studying London’s picturesque views at night through the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows, I laid on the cold mattress.

“Look, I get it, okay?” She cried, slumping onto the beside me. “You loved your sister, and you’re hurting right now. Alexa…” Snivelling into the nape of my neck, she hugged me, her warm tears falling onto my shoulder. “I hate seeing you like this, Hon. I miss you.”

My lips started to wobble. “I’m sorry.”

“Please,” she begged, stroking my cheek. “Please come out and eat with us. The guys are in the kitchen with takeout.”

“Okay,” I lied, wiping tears from under my eyes. “I will be out in a minute.”

I never moved.

***

“Has she left the bedroom?”

Liam’s impatient voice peeled my eyes open.

“I tried earlier,” Chloe said as his footsteps advanced toward the master bedroom. “Leave her alone, Warren.”

The bedroom door flew open and slammed in Chloe’s face.

“Alexa.” His authoritative voice droned in my ear. “Get up.”

Hiking my knees to my chest, I nestled my head into the soft pillow.

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He hurled the duvet on the floor. “Now, Alexa.”

I am incapable of sustaining his brusqueness. “Go away.” Suddenly, I am up in the air, thrown over his shoulder and hauled into the en-suite. “Liam! Let go of me!” Thrusting me into the all-glass cubicle, he turned on the shower, and a downpour of skin-biting cold water befell. “It’s freezing.”

Liam lost every item of clothing. He unclasped his wristwatch, leaving it on the ledge of the floating marble basin. Entering the spacious stall, he removed my T-shirt, chucked it on the floor, then lowered to his knee, peeling the wet leggings down my legs. “Turn,” he ordered, and I covered my breasts, turning to face the wall tiles. “I have seen it all before.” He towered behind me, his defined chest grazing my back. “Hands to the wall.”

I hesitated, then splayed my fingers on the wall.

Liam squirted Creed shower gel onto the loofah, the smell reminding me of his most used cologne, and luxuriated my body before washing his own. Not waiting for instruction, I uncapped the shampoo, lathered my hair and rinsed it out under the spray, which heated at some point. I conditioned the ends, my fingers combing through matted curls. Sure, I felt more human. Everything still hurts, though.

Satisfied that I no longer embodied a cavewoman, he turned off the shower and tossed me a soft towel. “Get out.”

Wrapping fluffy cotton around my body, I stepped out of the cubicle.

“This ends now.” With the towel knotted around his waist, he pushed open the balcony door. “I have given you time to mourn, but this pity party ends tonight. Move on.”

“Move on.” My grip on the towel tightened. “It’s not that easy, Liam. I lost my sister—”

“Kathy was a fucking nutcase. If I hadn’t come in when I did? You’d be dead.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why Liam came to the flat on the night in question, but stubbornness suppressed curiosity. “You did not have to kill her,” I whispered. “She needed medical help.”

“So unassuming,” he gritted under his breath. “Irritatingly modest yet delusional. Kathy Pearl was irredeemable, Alexa. The sooner you can come to terms with her deceit, the sooner you can move forward.”

“I don’t care for your opinions.” I summoned inner demons. “Your perception of Kathy differs from mine. To you, she was the enemy—”

“Damn fucking right.” He glared at me beneath turned up eyebrows. “That motherfucker was on my hitlist regardless.”

“I loved her regardless.” Imitated sarcasm dripped from my tongue. “My sister meant everything to me.”

“She was lucky that I was caught off-guard. Had I not acted on instinct, the thieving bitch would have endured far fucking worse.”

I believed him. “Where did you bury her?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” Rage bubbled up inside. “I need to say goodbye.”

“You need to forget she ever existed.” He got in my face. “Remove it.”

Fumingly mad, I shoved past him and scanned for a T-shirt.

“What, you fucking blame me for this shit?” Of course, he hauled me back to face his vitriolic onslaught. “She tried to kill you.”

“It’s still there, Liam.” My hand pressed to my chest. “The pain and guilt. You cannot erase indelible scars. It’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible.” He failed to convince me. “Do not allow this to fester.”

“Let go of me,” I asked calmly, concealing murderous thoughts. “Now, Liam. I don’t want to be near you.” The incorrigible man defied me. “Please, I want to sleep and forget—” His fingers snatched my jaw. “Liam, stop! Just because you are a heartless bastard—”

His mouth slanted over mine. His kiss was firm yet reverent. I backed into the wall, trying my utmost to break away, but his kiss intensified. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, demanding entrance. Fingernails clawing into his neck, I sank my teeth into his lower lip and prepared for his chastisement. No, he tapered down exasperation. He palmed my cheeks, deepening the kiss, the taste of his blood leaking onto my tongue. “You want to fight me?” Ripping the towel from my body, he gathered me into his strong, muscular arms. “Fight me.”

“I hate you.” My whimper was a lie. “I don’t want this.”

“No?” His strength overpowered mine. “You don’t want this? You don’t want to feel good, baby?”

“Liam,” I sobbed into the groove of his neck.

“Tell me to walk away.” His stubbled jaw and open-mouthed kisses scorched my throat. “I need to hear you say it, Alexa.”

Fisting his hair, I fused our lips, kissing him like he was the air that I needed to breathe. His cock forced into me, and I moaned at the invasion. Holding onto his shoulders, I adjusted to his thickness. He stretched me unbearably yet beautifully. Fingers bruising my hips, he pulled back a touch and then drove deeper. “Liam.” My arousal lubricated his shaft. “Shit.”

“Do you feel me?” His slams were hard, tight and determined. “Baby.”

“Yes,” I gasped, the muscles in his back flexing under my palms.” Don’t stop.”

Liam pushed us away from the wall and lowered me to the bed. His hand captured my wrists, pinning them above my head. My spine curved off the mattress, and he groaned his approval, seizing my waist in his rough hands. Teeth set on his bottom lip, he pounded into me with restrained vigorousness.

He filled me, and I cried out. I accommodated his punishing length over and over again until a combustible wave numbed every muscle in my body. “Liam.” His name escaped my lips like a desperate plea. “Shit.”

He held me to the base of him as I came down from my paralysing high. When I slacked against the mattress, he eased out, and I immediately missed him. His head moved south, and I cupped him by the nape, keeping him close. Sucking and biting my small mounds, he licked the crevice of my breasts. “Do you feel good?”

Why did he keep asking me that?

His hands smoothed along my thighs. He outstretched my legs, opened me wide, bared me to him—and then his mouth closed around my delicate clit.

“No,” I gasped, my hips threatening to lift from the mattress. “Liam, it is too much.”

His thumbs divided my swollen lips for his tongue to flick and attack my sensitive bundle of nerves. Sucking the soft tissue of my most intimate area, he lapped every drop of arousal, his mouth forming a circle, and devoured.

My trembling thighs shamelessly opened further. He moaned, his lips circling my clit, sucking long and hard. Our eyes locked as he slipped two fingers into me. He pumped back and forth, his thumb teasing my pulsing ache.

Over sensitised and overwhelmed, I cried sounds unrecognisable to my ear as he drove over the edge. “Oh, God.”

He caressed and licked once more, and I clenched around him, crashing against another orgasm. Tasting his fingers, he crawled over my body, and I could look nowhere else. I was lost in his gaze, in his captivating eyes and handsome face. His hand captured my throat, holding tight, and then, ever so slowly, his lips met mine.

Hips pressed onto me, cock prodding my entrance. His wide head eased in until I felt him everywhere. I curled my legs around his waist, encouraging him to continue. Head falling on my clavicle, he murmured something indistinct in my ear, his lips ravishing my neck.

Chest rising up and down as pleasure radiated through me, I bit into his shoulder, hanging on by a thread.

His lips overpowered mine. “Can you give me another one?” He asked, breathing heavily in my mouth. “Come on, baby.” He wedged himself to the point of no return, fucking me mercilessly against the mattress. “One more.”

Our slapping bodies sent a dusted flush to my cheeks, but, in secret, I didn’t care. I loved how harsh he hammered into me, how his rough hands claimed every inch of my body.

I am powerless and at his mercy.

Liam’s forearm braced on the pillow above my head.

Opening my legs wide, giving him more room, I held onto his thrusting hips.

His movements became frantic as he chased his release, yet when my body collapsed beneath him, he slowed down. “Do you feel good?”

I barely mustered a nod.

He grasped my jaw in his hand, giving me a bruising kiss. His shaft weighed heavily between his thighs when he pulled out and fell onto his back beside me. Staring at our reflections in the ceiling mirror, he smoothed a hand down his chest, rested it on his lower stomach.

Disappointment flooded me. “You didn’t come.”

Catching his breath, he rubbed two hands down his face. “It’s not a problem.”

“It looks like a problem,” I said, and he cracked a humorous smile. “What man doesn’t want the end result? Is it because you are drunk?”

Disbelieving laughter vibrated in his chest. “I forget.”

I frowned. “Forget what?”

“How young and innocent you are.”

What every woman wants to hear right after amazing sex, I thought.

“You didn’t fuck me like I was some fragile, innocent young girl. You fucked me like I was all that mattered.”

Liam relieved an itch from his nostril. “Drop it.”

Oh, the penny dropped, alright. “You are coked-up.”

He flung me a sidelong glance. “What do you know about sniff?”

Ready to climb off the bed, I moved onto my knees. “Enough that it kills your mojo.”

“Mojo?” His disgusted tsk warranted a hangarage. “Why do you have to be so sensitive?” Clutching my wrist, he pulled me into his arms. “Why are you upset over this?”

Honestly, I had no logical response. “You didn’t wear protection.”

“I knew I wouldn’t come,” he said, and my rage hit its pinnacle. “For fuck’s sake. If it bothers you so much,” he based his shaft with a tight fist and stroked, “come over here and wrap that sassy little mouth around it.” His harmless teasing hit me hard in the chest. “What?”

“Nothing,” I whispered, faking a smile. “It’s not you; it’s me.” I sat crossed-legged, swallowing acidic bile. “I guess I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

His wry expression faded. Propping onto one elbow, he grasped the nape of my neck and drew my lips to his. I melted into his tender touch, our tongues coming together for a passionate dance. “You want me to come?” he asked hoarsely, and I averted my gaze. “Look at me.”

Our eyes aligned. He began stroking himself, unhurried and strangely erotic.

I watched, captivated, thighs clamping together.

His large hand worked an upstroke, thumb smearing leaking pre-cum over his swollen crown.

It was salivating.

Liam was stationed onto his haunches, one hand gripping my neck and the other hand working his long arousal. His lips teased mine, kissing and nibbling, his breaths coming in heavier, strained.

I was too unconfident to put my head down there, but I rebelled against his assertion. I could make him orgasm. Hell, I will please this man. Leaning over him to yank open the bedside drawer, I retrieved a condom, ripped the wrapper with my teeth and paused.

Understanding passed through our heavy-lidded gaze.

He released the tight hold he had on himself. “Roll it on.”

Pulling him in my hand, I stroked, and he hissed, his eyes briefly closing in euphoria. Sheathing his length, praying I was good enough, I pushed his back to the bed.

Humming throatily, he watched me straddle his waist. His arms folded behind his head.

Catching his heavy length in my hand, I rubbed his hard flesh against my cleft, lined him up and lowered onto him.

I granted myself a moment to adjust to our new position. Leaning down, I inhaled his incredible masculine scent and rolled my hips, which proved to be what he wanted. He groaned, his palms caressing the swell of my arse, and when his fingers dug into my flesh, I tightened around him.

“Alexa.” His one arm coiled around my shoulders, pinning my breasts to his chest. “Are you going to fuck me, baby?”

Accepting the challenge, I twisted my hips and bounced above him.

“Fuck.” His hands moved to my hips. “That’s it.”

I didn’t care what drugs he had stupidly consumed—I am determined to make this man come undone.

Breathless, I fucked hard and fast.

“Come here,” he rasped, and I dipped my lips to his. His kiss set my soul alight, but I knew not to over analyse. “Baby, make me come.”

I felt an impending orgasm and inwardly scolded myself.

My face nuzzled into his neck. I licked, then I bit into his flesh, sucking until tingles deadened my tongue. Yes, I branded him. I claimed him in the only way I knew how. What I found most shocking was the fact he never stopped me. In fact, his head dropped back to elongate his throat, welcoming the burn I left on his flesh.

Grasping my arse cheeks, he shoved into me, meeting me thrust for thrust. His franticness eased. Holding me in place, he emptied himself inside me, and I will never forget his throaty moan when he came or how his arms wrapped around me to ensure I stayed. “Fuck.” He blew out a shuddered breath. “You killed me.”

“Yeah?” I kissed his chest. “So, you couldn’t orgasm, huh?”

He gave me a low, lopsided smirk. “Don’t get cocky.”

I felt him softening. “You should get rid of that.”

Liam went to the en-suite to discard the condom.

Wincing from the soreness between my thighs, I face-planted the mattress.

Minutes later, he exited the bathroom and entered the walk-in wardrobe. Turning my head, I shut my eyes, tugging the duvet over my body. I felt him staring while he changed into a suit.

Duty calls, I thought.

Liam had to leave now. He will join the men and drive over to Club 11. Yet, I wanted nothing more than for him to climb into the bed and spend the night with me. It’s unfair to make such demands, though. Detachment in between sex is what I signed up for. But my feelings for him were getting harder to ignore.

“Alexa?” His hand touched my shoulder, and I pretended to be asleep. “Baby?”

And then, as if our situation could not get any more confusing, he kissed my cheek, whispered goodnight and closed the door on departure.

I later realised that he helped me forget.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Liam

I entered the penthouse at midnight. It was dark inside, yet I caught faint movement in the kitchen. Alexa’s friend and roommate, Chloe, hunted the fridge for late-night snacks. Even when she strolled across the entirety of the living quarters with packaged goods tucked under her arms, she had no idea that I stood by the locked front door.

Her bedroom door clicked shut.

I dropped the car keys and phone on the marble sideboard and ventured to the guest room across from the master bedroom. My hand stilled over the gilded door handle. Every chamber provided en-suite bathrooms, yet I continued to use the private bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom. It’s the only time I get to see Alexa.

Alexa struggled with her sister’s death, which is unfathomable. Kathy, the unhinged mental case, tried to kill her younger sister. Had I not appeared when I did, Alexa would be dead. Still, the empathetic woman grieved and cried in the hours of culpability, even though she was unblameworthy. I hear her muffled lamenting through the wall from the guest bedroom when I lay awake in bed at night. Her sobbing bled into the pillow. Her heartbreak echoed through the halls. I hated how much I felt it. Her pain brought me pain and emotional anxiousness I had never experienced before. It takes great resilience to not climb into her bed and comfort her. We had made a verbal agreement. It is unwise to overstep boundaries, and sharing a bed is most definitely overstepping boundaries. I am not allowed to spend the night with her in my arms. It’s a rule I implemented to ensure neither of us became too attached or invested. Yet, I stood at her bedside at night, listening to her soft breathing, watching her sleep peacefully before dark memories turned her dreams into nightmares, and her sobbing would proceed all over again.

Like now, for instance. I opened the door to solitude and darkness and loomed above her sleeping form. Dim light from the hallway outlined her body. She looked far too small in the king-sized bed. Her dark hair blended into the black sheet and coverlet. Barely noticeable goosebumps freckled her soft, creamy skin and the oversized T-shirt she had pinched from the wardrobe buried her slender physique.

I yearned to touch her. I crouched at the side of the bed and palmed her cheek cautiously. Her furrowed eyebrows softened upon detectable contact. My thumb swept across her blemished cheek as if to wipe away hours upon hours of stained tears. I wish I could remove the ache for her. I wish I had the power to make her smile once more. “You will get through it,” I whispered, knowing she could not hear me. “I promise.”

Alexa’s parted lips expelled shallow breaths.

I traced her nose with the pad of my finger and, leaning in, kissed the corner of her delectable mouth. It was faint yet unhurried. I had to pull away, but my forehead fell to her shoulder instead, where I stayed for longer than I should have to feel her normal resting heart rate beneath my palm until she sensed the presence of concern and jerked into semi-consciousness.

“Liam,” Alexa croaked in my ear, and my eyes closed. “Oh, God. I don’t want to wake up.” Her alarmed voice seized my heart. “I need to stay asleep. Please, give me something to take it away.”

I shook my head.

Alexa tried to sit up, and I caught her wrists and pinned them to the bed. “Liam,” she cried, her arms wriggling beneath hand-grasped restraint. “I didn’t want her to die.” Her tears warmed my cheek as I pressed our temples together. “I loved her. She loved me.”

Yes, deep down, I believe Kathy did love Alexa. Alas, she loved their childhood captor more.

“Kathy was so sick, Liam.” Her strained whimpers breathed in my ear. “I should have seen the warning signs and helped her. That’s what family is for. They are supposed to help one another, stand by each other. I failed her. She needed me, and I let her down. I let you kill her.”

“You are unaccountable for my actions.”

“If it weren’t for me, Kathy would still be alive.”

No, Kathy betrayed the syndicate. “I was going to kill her regardless.”

Alexa’s breath hitched.

“She is gone,” I rasped, and she suppressed raw sobs. “I said it once, and I will say it again. I will not apologise for choosing you.”

I primed myself for another argument, but Alexa’s head dropped into the pillow in defeat. Teary-eyed, she roved over our reflection in the mirrored ceiling,

I knuckled her tears away. “Do you honestly believe she would have let him go?” I asked, and her lips wobbled. “Ask yourself the unbearable, Alexa. If she had to choose, make an impromptu decision, would it have been you or him?”

Alexa’s face scrunched up.

My hand smoothed over her delicate throat. “I asked you a question.”

One tear fell from the corner of her eye. “I lost her, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I said frankly. “Now, you can go through life, reliving her betrayal, the pain and grief, or you can hold onto precious memories that not even God himself can erase.” Her round, wet eyes reacquainted with mine. “Here.” Helping her sit straight, I tilted her chin. “Share something with me.”

Alexa’s throat worked on a forced swallow. “Like what?”

I never looked away. “Your sister.”

Her breath shuddered. “I used to wait for Kathy to come home from my bedroom window,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I loved my mother, but the house was too quiet when Kathy wasn’t around. Some nights, I would fall asleep on the window bench because I was so tired, but I refused to go back to bed until I knew she was home safely.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I overheard loud noises once and awoke with a start. They were arguing, Kathy and our mother, because she came home too late. My mum was worried sick. She was crying. Kathy was crying. I was listening at the top of the stairs…” Her face hardened while she revisited the memory. “Mum found emergency contraception in Kathy’s bedroom. Why did I not remember that before?”

I had no response.

“That happens sometimes. I get snippets here and there…” Alexa glanced at the curtained window. “Kathy stormed up the stairs. I panicked and hid behind the bannister, hoping she missed my snooping.” Her smile was sad. “Of course, she caught me. But she never yelled at me or anything. She just took my hand and asked if I wanted to go on an adventure.

“Kathy put me first. Even when she hurt the most, I was her main priority. Her tears didn’t matter. My mother’s upset did not matter. I mattered. It pained her to see me so frightened.

“We waited until our mother went to bed and snuck into the woods behind our house.” Her eyes welled up. “And we walked right to the edge of the cliffside and waited for the sun.

“I was such a disappointment.” She looked away. “I think I fell asleep within five minutes. Kathy woke me up in time to witness the birds soar into the sunrise.”

I forced her eyes back to me. “Go on.”

“It’s stupid.” Her cheeks darkened. “Kathy said, when we grew up and left home, we could fly high with those birds. We could go wherever we wanted to go, just as long as it was together. I was willing to fly to the end of the earth to stay with her.” Not one of us broke away from the intensity of our gaze. “Am I foolish for believing her?”

“No. Hold onto her,” I said, and she seemed puzzled. “You need to remember Kathy for what she was, not the person she became. She did not lie to you, Alexa. When she took your hand and promised you a better future, she meant it. She placed you before everyone because she loved you more than she loved herself.”

Alexa hung onto every word.

“Evil ripped your family apart, but it is powerless against the innate bond of love. Yes, Kathy was unwell, and she lost her way. You kept those memories alive for both of you, and you will continue to preserve those memories because it’s all you have left.”

“I am scared.” Terror etched her pale features. “I don’t know life without her.”

“You might have been the younger sister, but you were always the stronger one.”

“How can you say that?” she gestured to herself. “I am a mess.”

“You have outlived far more than most do in a lifetime.” If only she could see herself the way I see her. “Seeing is believing, Alexa. Remember that.”

Her nod was agreeable. “No matter what happens. I will never stop loving her.”

I cannot relate. I despised Kathy Pearl with every fibre of my being. “I have to shower. Why not head to the kitchen and fix yourself something to eat?” The woman refused to leave the bedroom. “You must be hungry.”

“It’s too late.” Her eyes followed me around the room. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Motion sensor lights dimmed the spacious walk-in wardrobe upon entry. I punched the code to the safe, extracted ammunition, diamond knuckle dusters, and pondered between tailored suits. I almost selected blue Dormeuil Vanquish bespoke when Alexa came to my side.

“I like the blue suit because it matches your eyes.” Her investigatory fingers traced the Brioni’s fine fabric. “But the grey suit paired with a black shirt is my favourite look on you. If anything, the colours hone your features.”

I was fascinated by her punctiliousness. Typically, the women I entertained noted price labels and designer brands, not the minutiae of appearance. At least, not to my knowledge. “It’s just a suit.”

Alexa smiled widely. “Then, why the colour-coded ensemble?”

“Well, you can never have too many…” My hands are buried in my trouser pockets. “Presentation is the key to success. It’s for a good cause.” She laughed once, and it was nice to hear. “I am a suit aficionado. Sue me.”

When she reached for the slate-grey three-piece, I lowered my head to her shoulder and kissed her there. It was unplanned, but it felt natural to do so.

Our eyes aligned. Her hazel hues to curious blues.

What is it about you? I thought in reverie. Her beauty is unmatched. Her pained eyes told sad stories, yet she rarely spoke of them.

I was completely lost in her, and it terrified me.

Taking the hanger from her hand, I laid the suit onto the chesterfield sofa and excused myself to the en-suite.

Alexa had fallen back to sleep when I re-emerged twenty minutes later.

***

“How is Alexa?” Brad blew warm breath into his cold hands and rubbed them together to generate heat, which I imagine is ineffectual as it is bastard freezing tonight. “Has she picked up yet?”

Alexa’s disconsolateness was enervating yet understandable. I appreciate that she loved her sister, but Kathy Pearl is unworthy of remembrance. I am glad she is gone because I can finally wash my hands of the woman. “Alexa hasn’t stepped foot outside of the bedroom.”

“Did you find out why Kathy attacked her?” Lighting the end of a blunt, he blew smoke toward the night sky. “Do you think she is the person that chased Alexa?”

“It’s likely.” I exhaled heavily. “As for questioning? Alexa is pretty tight-lipped.” Not entirely true. I had interrogated the girl, but she wasn’t overly forthcoming. “I will try again in a few days.”

“What?” His brow bent. “Make her talk.”

“Alexa can divulge when she is ready.”

“Christ.” Brad passed Nate a knowing glance. “What did I tell you? The Boss has gone soft.”

Both men chuckled at my expense.

“Never thought I would see the day.” Brad grinned at me. “And here I thought ‘Warren demands answers.’”

“Enough.” Ignoring his pettiness, I pointed to the ball of fluff on his head. “What is that?”

“It’s a fucking bobble hat.” He doesn’t understand why I’d even ask. “What does it look like?”

“I know it’s a bobble hat, you piece of shit,” I spit back, “but that doesn’t explain why you’d wear it.”

“Because it looks pretty, and I am bastard cold. Is that okay with you?” He dropped a large gym bag at my feet. “Here is everything you asked for.”

“I swear, we better make some progress tonight.” Nate armed himself. “I am sick of coming out empty-handed.” He has worked tirelessly to locate Bajramovic and his hidden estates. Tonight, isn’t the first time we have uncovered one of his warehouses. “Third time lucky, huh?”

Squatting by the bag, I unzipped, passed firearms to the men and tucked a switchblade into my suit pocket. “Are the others ready?”

“We got ten men located in our vicinity, waiting for your orders.” Nate slammed a magazine round into his gun. “I left a few at the trucks, too. In case we need back up.”

“Here you go.” Brad gives me a radio transceiver. “I bought these for the special occasion.”

“What’s wrong with the earpiece?”

“I thought it would be fun.” Brad flashed me a toothy grin. “I have always wondered what it’d be like to play real-life modern warfare.”

“Why is everything a fucking joke with you?”

“What?” He feigned obliviousness. “My life is pretty good right now. I got my dick sucked tonight. Got a gun in my hand, and I’m about to kill some Albanians.” The toothpick balanced on his bottom lip. “Excuse me for being blissful.”

Him and his fucking bliss.

“Disperse and lead troops around the building. Ambush from four corners. Kill anyone who hinders the process.” I palmed the trusted Eagle. “I want every kilo before we vacate.”

Leaving the men to finish up, I meandered through leafless trees and jogged down the muddied slope to an eight-foot metal fence. Fingers clinging to the wire mesh, I clambered over until my shoes hit the floor on the other side. Graffiti vandalised the crumbling walls of an old building nestled between dense woodlands and encroaching winter ice. Rough-hewn scaffolding fenced the exterior. People operated indoors. I heard their merriment through the exterior’s metal casing. Skulking between two bright yellow industrial skips, I settled my back to the building wall, listening for any unwanted visitors, when patrolling night guards armed with rifles emerged through low-hanging fogs. They conversed in their native language, so I had trouble understanding their exchange, but when the larger of two males pushed his interest against the skip for a hot, passionate kiss, I took their distraction as an advantage. Tucking away the Eagle, I wiggled my fingers into leather gloves, flipped open the pocketknife and, finger smoothing along the honed blade, sidled from the darkness.

“Unë jam me brirë,” the smallest male groaned as his lover palmed his cotton-clad arousal. “Me merr. E vështirë.”

“Not here.”

“Yes, here.”

“Do ta jap ty.” With his back to me, he unzipped his pants, freeing his growing length, and used force to spin his lover around. “Moan,” he ordered, reaching for the guy’s belt and zipper, yanking his denim jeans mid-thigh until two glowing arses illuminated. “Unë të dua.”

Fisting the man’s sweat-slicked shoulder-length hair, I drove the knife into his muscular shoulder, the flesh tearing and squelching as I twisted and turned the blade. “Not tonight,” I rasped in his ear, and his lover, too stunned from the brutal penetration of another man’s cock in his arse, caged between man-and-skip, tried to reobtain his rifle on the ground. “Is he here?” Ripping the knife from the guy’s back, I sliced his throat, his choked gargles falling on deaf ears, his projected blood trickling down my leathered fingers and tossed him aside with a heavy thud. “I don’t like repeating myself.” Unseeing the shrivelled pecker amid masses of black netherhair between the smallest guy’s legs, I shoved him against the skip, keeping a firm grip on his throat. Taunting him with the bloodied blade, I nicked the tender skin beneath his eye. “Flamur Bajramovic. Where is he?”

He whimpered, grasping my arms by the elbows. “Please, let me help him.” His round, wet eyes studied the dying man on the ground. “He will bleed out.”

“His life span is not my problem,” I said uncaringly. “Now, answer the question.” When he refused to comply, I slashed the knife across his cheek, the clean-cut ripping husky cries from his throat. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Tears mixed with blood dripped from his jaw in beads. “Please, I beg you.” His fist smashed into my jaw, and I stumbled back two steps, having not foreseen the blow. “Do të vdesësh!”

Quick on his feet, he snatched the rifle and raised his arms, ready to shoot, but I was faster, angrier. I whacked the gun out of his reach, grabbed his wrist, snapped breakable bones, and elbowed him in the face, the powerful blow knocking him out. His knees crashed to the floor before his body slumped across the concrete, kicking up construction dust.

“It’s not personal.” Impaling the nape of his neck with the blade, I left it there, then retrieved discarded rifles. “Quick but effective.”

I stepped over the half-naked men bleeding out on the floor and chased the sound of unremitting gunfire in the distance. Fearing the safety of my men, I held the stupid transceiver, pressed the button and held it to my lips. “What happened?”

“Machine gun.” Nate’s line crackled. “They took out six men.”

My jaw flexed. “Brad?”

“Bossman,” he chirped.

A sigh of relief passed my lips. “Keep your head out of your fucking ass.”

“My head is never in my ass,” he responded. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to bounce.”

Dumping the radio in the skip, I unobtrusively wandered around the warehouse, close to the shadows, eagle-eyed and cautious. Sporadic gunfire clipped indoors, where men battled for survival. I peered around the building’s corner when someone seized my shoulder. He caught me off guard, shoving me into the wall. “Warren.” His throat was thick from chain-smoking. “Sonte do të vdesësh.”

Bracing myself for possible disadvantages, I threw my head back, clipping him straight in the face. “Motherfucker.”

“Ju pidhi!” he bellowed, clutching his busted nose. “Do të vras!” Spear tackling me to the ground, we wrestled for an upper hand, landing brutal punches to each other’s jaws. “Budalla!”

My head whipped to the side in time for his fist to strike the ground. Stealing the serrated army knife strapped to his ankle, I stabbed him in the side, his suckling flesh swallowing the jagged blade. Pain radiated off his vibrating body. I watched the life drain from his eyes, felt his blood gush through my fingers, and then he collapsed on top of me like dead weight.

I rolled him to the side and stared at the dark sky. Once more, I wiped someone’s blood from my leather-clad hands, stepped over his lifeless body and gravitated to the rusted back entrance: two double doors and a broken padlock.

I unclipped the bolt, cracked access and headed inside. An indescribable stench irritated my nostrils. Darkness and shadows clambered the sewage walls. I stopped at another door. On-going shooting reiterated throughout, and shrilling screams echoed as bodies hit the deck. I hoped the men were safe but had faith in my most trusted. I slipped into the dark cavernous space bursting with wooden crates as I closed in on the commotion. I was close to bright lights and upheaval.

Hearing Brad’s ebullience pacified me until somebody came into my line of vision. He entered the small space lined with metal cranes and importation. Rabidly frothing, he brandished a firearm and pulled the trigger, the bullet whistling through the humid air, ripped through the top of my arm. It burnt. Skin scorched. Before he could do any more damage, I let fate steer the Desert Eagle and blindly aimed fire as we both ducked behind containers to evade death. I am a sharp-shooter.

My marksman skills never failed me.

His chest took the final blow and, although I was too adrenalised to witness his faceplant to the floor, I bore triumph, slumped on the ground and clasped an arm to the feverish wound in my arm. “Motherfucker,” I spat through clenched teeth. Propping my back against the metal partition, I slipped out of my suit jacket, lost the shirt sleeve and examined the damage. My fingers adhered to ruptured skin to staunch the bleeding. “Fucking hell.”

Brad came into my peripheral. Fixing his skewed bobble hat, he scurried between accumulated containers. “Christ, Bossman.” Squatting in front of me, he assessed the rippled flesh. “How the fuck did you manage this bullshit?”

“Heard your gob,” I joshed, ignoring the pain. “Presumed an all-clear.”

“We lost nine men.” He extracted the silk napkin from his double-breasted suit jacket. “But we came out stronger.”

My jaw steeled. “Is Flamur here?”

“No.” Fingers sinking into my bloodied skin, he searched for the bullet. “Almost.”

“Fuck,” I growled, banging the back of my head to the crate. “Hurry up.”

His fingers curled around the bullet until it fell into his possession. “Done.” Throwing it over his shoulder, he tied the silk napkin around my upper arm, preventing further blood loss. “You will need to hold out until we get back.”

I dragged on the suit jacket, buttoned-up, and followed Brad toward the uproar. In the equidistance of the cavernous warehouse, loyal men shackled the Albanians. Grouped, shackled and gagged, they blubbered hot tears as I approached. I eyed the stationed syndicate members. They equally wore unreadable expressions, but their eyes lingered on the men we had lost. I went to the closest, his body sprawled across the floor, submerged in blood, and reached down to obtain the military chain on his neck. “Where did we get the restraints?”

Nate lifted heavy-duty chains from inside an opened crane. “Found them here.”

“Christ.” Brad wrenched open a wooden case. “Look at these.” He revealed a pkm machine gun and aimed it at the Albanians. “I bet this bad boy slices through flesh like a knife to butter.”

I rolled my eyes. “Brad—”

He triggered the weapon, and the machine gun chewed through belts of ammunition, bullets ripping and pinging into his chosen victim, splattering blood and flesh in its wake. “Fucking Christ.” His tone vibrated with excitement. “Look at that.” Motioning to the unrecognisable dead guy on the floor, he extended a low whistle. “What did I tell you? Knife to butter.”

My frown held. “Satisfied?”

Passing the gun to Nate, he dusted off his hands. “Fucking beautiful.”

Nate overturned the weapon to read its engraving. “They’re Military.”

Accepting the crowbar from Brad, I chiselled into a wooden crate, prying open the lid. It came off smoothly, exhibiting boxed leather shoes. I flung them to the side, rummaged through sawdust and found heroin and cocaine packages. I moved to the next crane, uncovered the Glocks, the Hecklers, and helped myself to a bottle of imported Russian vodka. “Reverse the trucks,” I ordered, and a younger soldier jogged to the loading asphalt. “I want everything distributed tonight. Nate, make the call and arrange drop-off points. I want merchandise back on the streets of London.”

The trucks reversed near the open entrance, and the men collectively conveyed stock onboard.

Nudging the tied-up Albanian with his boot, Brad asked, “What do we do about these?”

A myriad of men peered up at me from the floor, rope muffling their sobbed begging. They probably have wives back home, possibly children. “They’re not my problem.”

The hope in their eyes diminished.

Unscrewing the vodka bottle, I elevated my arm. Fear replaced sadness as I drenched their soiled clothes and bloodied profiles. Their pleading eyes homed in on Brad, who fumbled with the matchbox I tossed his way.

Swigging leftover vodka, I stood back and admired my handiwork. “Burn it.”

“No, please,” one screamed, his body spasming to break free. “I beg you.”

Howling shrieks reiterated and bounced off the walls, the men roaring, striving to eliminate limitations. Brad scraped the match, ignited the dancing flame and released it onto the older male before repeating the process. Orange and blue hues swept and licked across their bodies, the scent of burning flesh starting to permeate the once scentless air.

Lighting a cigarette, I watched their skin melt and listened to their agonised wailing as heat danced warmth across my face, the fire catching and claiming its nearby stock.

Like every other time we locate one of Flamur’s hidden gems, I obliterate them with cataclysmic effect to burn his ego alongside the billowing flames of his crumbling establishments.

I leave the warehouse alongside my men and return to impending Bentleys. In the background, the building groaned. Metal joists incurved as smoke and uncontrollable flames scattered embers into the starless sky.

“I am Hank fucking Marvin.” Brad unlocked the vehicle door, climbing behind the steering wheel. “Takeout?”

“Word.” Nate ducked into the backseat. “Thai.”

Relaxing on the passenger seat, I lowered the window. “I need to get this arm stitched up first.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Alexa

Raucousness roused me from slumber. Head resting on a pillow, I peeled an eye open, immersed with ever-present dimness. London’s kaleidoscopic nightlife patterned through the panoramic windows.

I heard Brad’s gregariousness down the hall and smiled. Hell, Nate sounded exasperated by the jokester. Judging by his half-hearted verbal counterattacks, he, too, is susceptible to Brad’s eccentricities. He is the only person that can slew inappropriate jokes and escape consequences.

Stretching the limbs, I rolled onto my back, kicked the satin coverlet from my body and studied an unfamiliar face in the ceiling mirror. The woman staring back at me was nauseatingly pallid and unattractively dishevelled. Ashamed by the dire state of my image, I crawled off the bed and made a pitstop to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Once again, I caught sight of the unprepossessing woman in the mirror. I lost the T-shirt, entered the shower cubicle and turned on the water. Ice-cold shards pierced my skin as I washed away gruesome flashbacks and dirty images from my mind, body and soul. Soon, the temperature warmed, and heat cloaked the enclosure. Feeling no better than I did thirty minutes ago, I pressed two palms to the tiled wall and stood under the spray. If nothing else, I was cleaner and less fatigued.

Killing the water, I stepped out of the cubicle onto the plush bathmat and wrapped the fluffy white towel around my body. Wiping condensation off the mirror, I re-assessed my reflection, tousling the dripping locks cascading down my back.

I returned to Liam’s master suite, towel-dried and shimmied into lace underwear. I almost went into the walk-in wardrobe to find something decent to wear when the folded women’s loungewear on the corner sofa piqued my curiosity. Pretending not to see the expensive price label, I unfolded the

Pale grey two-piece and held the slouch pants to my waist. It’s size. I might be presumptuous, but Liam must have bought it for me. I slipped into the soft, comfortable set and stepped over the threshold into the all-marble hallway.

Tailored handsomely in a three-piece suit, Nate sat on the U-shaped leather sofa, tucking into a takeaway container. He spotted me and paused with chopsticks near his mouth.

“Alexa.” His pierced eyebrow arched. “Are you going to join us?”

Hesitating, I nervously fumbled with my hands. “I was hungry.”

Brad appeared from the kitchen. His white unbuttoned shirt revealed his broad-chested pectoral muscles, the white gold military tag coruscating beneath the ceiling lights. He regarded me warily when he asked, “Do you like Thai food, Alexa?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

Brad beckoned me closer. I took small steps to the kitchen and thanked him for the container of noodles. Becoming seated opposite Nate, I delved into food hungrily, having not eaten in what felt like weeks. I felt their watchfulness, their concern and worry. “Is Chloe about?”

“She went clubbing with colleagues.” Nate jotted down cryptic passages in a leather notepad. “I don’t think she will be back any time soon.”

Brad poured neat whiskey into a glass.

Setting the half-eaten food onto the coffee table, I glanced at the main door of the penthouse. “Where is Liam?”

Slumping onto the sofa, Brad sipped whiskey. “Taking a shower in his bedroom.”

It was an innocuous response, yet my heart squeezed. I am not angry nor disappointed that he avoided the master bedroom. After all, the man ditched his privacy to provide free accommodation. I did, however, feel a twinge of guilt. Why should he shower elsewhere or sleep in a different bed because of me? The penthouse belonged to him, not me.

“Okay,” I respond, hoping the vigilant Suits overlook my dissatisfaction.

I chewed a few morsels and then beelined the bin to dump leftovers. While in the kitchen, I grabbed the milk from the fridge-freezer. Putting the kettle on to boil, I prepared a sweet cup of tea.

I need to talk to Liam at some point. We agreed to a sexual relationship but inviting me to live temporarily in his home changed the dynamics.

“I think we should inform Reginald about the shackles.” Brad sprinkled hemp into the prepared deck on the coffee table. “We know that twisted bitch is into slave labour and human trafficking…”

Adding sugar to the mug, I drown out their deep conversation.

“…It might mean something,” Brad swiped his tongue across the rolling paper seam and rolled it between pinched fingers. “If we can get intel on his extracurricular activities…”

Footsteps advanced in the hall, and my spine straightened. Liam was bare-chested in low hanging jogging bottoms. Droplets of shower water misted his hair. Descending the marble stairs into the open-plan room, he knotted the white bandage on his upper arm and joined his men for downtime.

“Save some for me.” Liam’s chin jerked to the rolled joint in Brad’s hand before he selected an unopened food container. “And I already messaged Reginald. I got him and a small team looking into Bajramovic’s whereabouts—” I dropped the mug, shattering ceramic across the tiled floor. Three pairs of eyes swung in my direction. Liam’s eyebrows climbed in surprise. “Alexa,” he said, shooting his men an unappeased look. “Did you eat?”

Heart beating double time in my chest, I crouched down to gather broken pieces off the floor.

“Stop,” Liam ordered, and I flinched. “You.” He pointed at the Suit guarding the front door. “Pick that up.”

The Suit kicked himself away from the wall.

“No, it’s fine—”

Liam shovelled rice into his mouth. “Immediately.”

Great. Now I feel bad for the guy. I put my back to everyone and prepared another mug, the poor Suit cleaning my mess while I just stood there.

“Good call.” Brad sparked a lighter flame to light the joint. “Reginald can shine some light and send us in the right direction.”

“Flamur crawled underground right after the gala.” Nate adjusted his titanium nose ring. “Sir, he will stay low and wait for an opportunity to take you out.”

Anxiety and distressing flashbacks seized my body. I don’t want Flamur getting to Liam or damaging his establishments. “I might be able to help,” I whispered, and the men prattled on, oblivious. “Liam…”

Listening to Brad drone on about Flamur’s possible hideout, Liam pulled a drag from the joint.

“Liam,” I said firmly, and his eyes lifted to mine. “I might be able to help.”

“Help?” He relaxed on the leather chair. “How so?”

“I know him,” I admitted, and his scowl darkened. “Well, I don’t know him anymore. But I used to know him…”

Brad and Nate exchanged puzzled glances.

“What?” Liam’s eyebrows crept in. “What are you talking about?”

I swallowed acidic bile. “Flamur Bajramovic is the man who stole my childhood.”

“Come on, Kathy,” I said churlishly, dropping apples into the bucket. “Mummy said we must fill the entire bucket, or we won’t get any apple pie.”

Collecting fallen apples from the grass, I rubbed the waxy layers on my dress to remove mud.

Kathy lays like an angel on the floor, staring up at the summer sky. “Alexa, I don’t want to make any pie with mamma. I want to go down to the river with all my friends.” She huffed out a bored sigh, throwing a tennis ball in the air, catching it. “Plus, Ben is down there. I wanted to see him.”

“Who is Ben, Kathy?” I drop another apple in the bucket. My sister never mentioned Ben before. “Do you like him?”

Rolling onto her stomach, she rested her chin on her balled-up fist. “Ben is my boyfriend.” Her face turned beet-red. “And he is super cute, Alexa. Last week, before daddy grounded me, Ben took me to the movies and paid for popcorn. It was the best date ever. And…” she gnawed the corner of her lip, “we kissed.”

I gasped. “You kissed a boy!”

She pulled an ugly face. “Well, I don’t want to kiss girls, Alexa.”

“I am never doing that.” My nose wrinkled in repulsion. “Kissing is gross.”

“I am sure you will think differently,” she grinned from ear to ear, “when you meet your Ben.”

“If I meet a boy called Ben, I am running far, far away from here.” Tossing one more apple in the bucket, I quickly counted to ensure there were enough for mummy to bake. “Plus, you can’t have a boyfriend. Daddy won’t like it.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “Don’t you worry too much about what daddy likes and wants, Alexa.” Rising to her feet, she peered over one shoulder. “Anyway, the last one to the house,” she bolted ahead, “is a rotten egg!”

“That is not fair, Kathy!” Bucket in hand, I dashed behind her. “You cheated!”

I don’t know why I still play this game.

Kathy always wins.

Reaching the back of the house, I pushed the back door open and kicked off my shoes. “Mummy, I got the apples.” My feet slap against the wooden floor. “Kathy didn’t help me pick one.”

I entered the kitchen, looking for Kathy, and stepped in something warm and wet. Before I could check or regain footing, I slipped, sending the bucket heavenward. I landed on my back, the apples thudding and crashing around me, the empty bucket rolling under the wooden table. “Ouch,” I cried, touching the back of my head. “Mummy.”

My head pounded.

I rubbed the ache away, turned onto my side to pick up the green apple…red splattered the waxy green skin.

Sitting upright, I lifted my red-stained hands. “Mummy?”

I followed the crimson trail on the floor, and the apple slipped from my fingers and thumped, thumped, thumped across the ground.

Mummy laid on the kitchen floor, her arms relaxed beside her head, the floral dress skirt hiked to her waist, where more red caked her thighs. “Mummy,” I whispered, crawling to her side. “Are you sleeping?” Purple marred her wrists and throat, and there was a bump on her forehead. “What happened?”

“Prying one of her eyes open, I studied her pupil. “Talk to me. Are you hurt? You can’t be hurt, mummy. I got you apples.”

“I was too young to understand.” I looked from Brad to Nate and then Liam. “But I knew something terrible had happened.”

“Please wake up,” I cried, pulling her dress skirt down to cover her private area. “I am scared.”

“My mother had dark bruises on her neck.” Recalling her raw abrasions, I touched my throat. “And her clothes…” I blinked rapidly to blink back tears. “He’d torn her clothes.”

“Please, don’t leave me.” Burying my head on her chest, I cried, clinging to her lifeless body. “I am staying with you, mummy. I promise.”

“I promised to hold her.” Vivid flashbacks immobilised me. “I broke my promise.”

“Mummy isn’t going to wake up.” A man’s voice breathed behind me. “Don’t be frightened.”

“Who are you?” Hugging my mother, I eyed the tall man beneath furrowed brows. “I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” He kneeled on the floor and smoothed a hand over my head. “Come with me, sweet little Lexi. Kathy is waiting for you.”

I pouted. “That’s not my name.”

“It’s pretty,” he insisted. “A pretty name for our lovely princess.”

“But I know my name is Alexa. And I don’t want to leave without mummy. What if she wakes up? She will be scared and frightened if she can’t find me.”

“She will follow shortly, but we must let her sleep first.” He offered me a hand. “You don’t want mummy to be tired, do you?”

My chest ached. “No.”

“Well, come on.” His fingers laced through mine. “Your sister is waiting for you.”

“The senseless child inside me,” I explained, wishing I had the sense to run that day, “believed him.”

The man led me outside to where the white vehicle awaited.

“I kept looking back,” I said numbly, “waiting for my mother.”

Another male rounded the van to unlock the backdoor.

“Who is that man?” I asked, craning my neck to look up at the person holding my hand. “He looks scary.”

“No one you need to worry about, Lexi.”

I don’t know why I suddenly felt scared, but something told me this was very, very wrong.

“When I reached the transit back, I saw my sister on the floor, tied up,” I continued, and Liam leant forward and clasped his hands. “They hit her over the head with something because there was a cut…”

“Alexa!” Kathy screamed, lashing against metal restraints. “Run!”

“I don’t know what happened after that. I just remember darkness. I do recall, however, waking up in an unknown place.” Quickly jogging my memory, I averted my gaze to the floor. “A lot happened there. It was deceivingly big.”

“Where is this place, Alexa?” Brad draped an arm across the sofa. “Do you think it’s possible that Bajramovic still hides there?”

“Without a shadow of a doubt.” I accepted the refilled mug of tea from Nate. “That place is his haven. It’s where he can be true to his vile self.”

Brad’s itching for more information. “Tell us how to get there.”

“I can’t tell you the location.”

Liam scratched his jaw. “Why not?”

I winced. “Because I don’t remember how to get there.”

All three men conversed with their eyes. Nate tore a clean sheet of paper out of the notepad, clicked the top of his pen and dipped his head. “The police found you on the motorway.”

I nodded.

“How did you get to the motorway?” Liam asked, and the nib of Nate’s pen paused on the line until I answered the question. “Even the most insignificant detail can help.”

“I…” My fingers tapped the mug in my hands. “I climbed over a fence…I think it was before the trees—no, it was after the trees. Yes, I…”

Liam’s lips pressed together. “How can you forget?”

“Sod’s law.” I laughed at the insanity. “A therapist mentioned trauma. She believed I subconsciously blocked out certain aspects to protect myself. It makes sense. All I know is I ran away with Kathy and never looked back.”

Nate fixed his black-framed glasses. “Why didn’t you press charges?”

“I told leading detectives everything.” Against Kathy’s orders, I thought. “I didn’t know his name, though. Based on my statement, they tried to pin him down…” They never found him. “And then after the charity dinner, when realising who he was, I considered going to the station to tell them what I knew…” My cheeks heated. “But I thought…”

“You wanted me to deal with him,” Liam filled in the gaps, and I nodded. “Then, why has it taken you so long to confide in me?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I mean, what if I am wrong? What if I accuse an innocent man of a crime he did not commit?”

“No,” Liam said angrily, and I recoiled. “That’s not a good enough excuse. You know it’s him. Why are you hellbent on protecting him?”

I flinched, spilling hot tea on my fingers. “I’m sorry.” Needing to be alone, I placed the mug onto the coffee table and stood. “I should go.”

Leaving the living quarters, I hurried down the hall, wishing I had kept my stupid mouth shut. I almost closed the bedroom door when Liam barged into the room.

I stepped back.

He closed the door, privatising our conversation. “You ran.”

“I thought I could be of more help. But so much happened back then. My intention was never to protect him, Liam. If I remembered more, I would have informed the police. God knows, I tried.”

He studied me. “We can find him without additional information. It’s not an issue.”

“There was a lake,” I said, but he didn’t blink. “In the forest, I mean. There was a lake and…”

“Stop,” he said, his voice sounding pained. “Alexa, I don’t want those memories if it drags you back to a dark place. As I said, we can find him without additional information.” His Adam’s apple bopped. “I will kill him without making you suffer. Although, I do wish for elucidation. How is it possible, even if unintentional, to erase such heinousness?”

“I wish I could give you a direct answer.” I hugged myself. “All I know is every step I took away from that building, the less I remembered. Sure, I get flashbacks or zone out and listen to disembodied conversations, but everything else is blurred and faded. I can tell people what colour nightgown I wore or how the cold floor hurt my feet. However, I cannot tell you one meal I ate while living there, how many showers he gave me, or if I ever listened to music. It’s gone. He was gone. If it weren’t for his voice, I would never have known it was him.”

His eyes softened, and something tightened in my chest. I did not recognise the feeling. It was stronger than flutters. It was deeper than any emotion I had ever experienced.

Getting a hold of myself, I broke eye contact first. I pushed away from the dresser, ready to climb into bed when his hand captured mine. “You left the bedroom.” His thumb circled my wrist slowly as he pondered. “I’m glad. Two more days, and I’d have dragged you out, kicking and screaming.”

My throat cleared. “I had to leave eventually, right?”

He remained expressionless. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Embarrassed by the evident admiration in my eyes, I looked away. “I don’t know.”

“We should talk about our agreement.” His jaw muscles throbbed. “Has anything changed?”

I shook my head. “I still want you.”

“No,” he rasped, his thumb circles to my wrist continuing. “That’s not what I meant.”

I could lie or be honest. I chose honesty. “I like you, Liam.” His thumb movements paused on my inner wrist. “Don’t worry. I am not madly in love with you. I do care, though.”

My response appeased him.

“Good.” Blowing out a relieved breath, he tugged me closer. “I care too. In fact, I care too fucking much.”

I sensed his reservations. “But?”

“I am not the right guy for you.” He focused on our joint hands. “I will disappoint you.” His voice was a mere whisper. “You don’t need any more disappointment in life.”

“Don’t walk away.” I already feared life without Liam. I don’t know when or how it happened, but I became quite reliant on him. “At least, not yet.”

“I am too selfish to walk away, Alexa.” His laugh was low and throaty. “Having a weakness is dangerous. You understand.”

I nodded demurely.

“I will never want a relationship.” He coaxed me to the bed, and when I fell onto the mattress, he crawled above me. “It can never be love.”

Love, I wondered as he leaned down to steal a kiss from me.

Is that what I felt when his lips bruised mine or when I caught him looking at me?

Am I in love with Liam Warren?

“I am starting to feel things that I have never felt before.” His hands pressed mine into the mattress as he gazed deep into my eyes. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

My heart skipped a beat.

I am falling hard for this man.

“You don’t have to do anything, Liam,” I assured him, knowing I would leave this situation hurt. “I’m a big girl, remember?”

His thumb parted my lips while he kissed me. My tongue swept into his mouth, and he groaned, his hips nudging my thighs open so that he could settle there. “I just want you.”

My feet pushed under the waistband of his jogging bottoms to peel them down his legs. Not once did he come up for air. Even when he fucked me, which was slower than usual, he kissed me breathless.

Yes. Love.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Alexa

Letting go of Kathy is the most complex challenge to date. We were best friends once upon a time. I needed no other with her at my side. Losing her is like losing a part of myself. Her death was more than bereavement. It felt like abandonment.

If only I could have found her sooner.

I have lived in my sister’s shadow since the moment I pushed onto two feet and wobbled behind her. I traipsed in her footsteps and learnt from her mistakes and solved her problems while she solved mine.

I would sell my soul to the devil if I could reach into the past and bring her back.

Now, I have to exist in a world without her, and that hurts more than she will ever know.

I sealed the final box of Kathy’s belongings. I held onto photos and keepsakes, but everything else had to go.

For me to move on, I had to open a new book and start the first chapter. Who knows how the story ends? It will be an adventure if nothing else. I get to rewrite the past and control my own destiny.

A member of the syndicate conveyed boxes to the car, ready for the charity hope. I hope someone finds value in her possessions.

“Anything else?” the straight-faced man asked.

“No.” Watching the Suit set the last box into the car boot, I hugged myself. “Thank you.”

Not wanting to stand on the side of the road and watch him drive away, I returned to the penthouse and spent the afternoon cleaning. Well, I faffed with cushions, emptied the dishwasher and polished marble furniture. Liam’s home is immaculate, so it’s hard to find any mess.

Nonetheless, the quick potter helped to take my mind off everything.

After a long shower, I sat cross-legged on the bed. I had to escape these four walls before I drove myself around the bend. Changing into the club’s uniform, I applied makeup and spent extra time on my hair as it lacked lustrousness. Slipping my feet into heeled shoes, I grabbed the spare key card for the penthouse and freed myself from grief.

***

“You’re back?” Josh hauled me in for a tight bear hug the second I arrived at the club. “I missed you way too much for it to be considered normal.” He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “It kinda sucks arse when you’re not around.”

I am not in a good place mentally or emotionally; I am far from over my sister’s death. In saying that, I need some level of normalcy in life.

“I missed you, too.”

The night I returned to work, everything passed in disorienting fuzziness. I zoned out numerous times, smashed an excessive number of glasses and even allowed Natalie to continue her blabbering disapprovals without counterattack.

Liam called me to his office and expressed stern gratitude for my return. His nonchalant and platonic demeanour had puzzled me, considering we’d slept together the night before, but I suppose his professionalism at work made sense.

Brad welcomed me back with a painful shoulder punch.

Nate asked if I needed assistance.

Cherry called me Alannah.

I gave her the middle finger.

Work became life’s reasoning. I snapped up every shift, worked unsociable hours and fell asleep standing.

After three weeks, Liam found rectitude and self-discipline very difficult. He demanded I swing by his office each night where he’d pounce before one word passed my lips. His passionate kisses and overwhelming desire invigorated me. I let him take me against that locked door; I willingly bent over his desk and moaned his name as he fucked me.

“What did the boss want?” Josh asked, pouring ice blocks into three pitchers. “You look flustered.”

I poured two white wines for the customer. “Just checking in,” I told him, discerning Natalie’s pointed awareness. “Nothing serious.”

Josh believed my bullshit response.

Natalie smelt a rat.

I cared not.

Days rolled into weeks.

Weeks rolled into months.

Chloe loved living in the penthouse.

I overate ice cream.

“Baby,” Liam whispered in my ear. “Do you need a ride home?”.

Sporadic club lights and deafening music encircled. I smiled at the friendly customer, handing over four sambuca shots. “It depends,” I teased, eyeing him over one shoulder. “Who is offering?”

Liam brushed a thumb over his bottom lip. “Your boss.”

“My boss?” Hands sliding to my hips, I turned to face him. “I am not sure I like him very much.”

“Really?” He grasped the bar top, caging me in. “You weren’t saying that last night.” Tugging my ear lobe between clenched teeth, he murmured, “Do you need a reminder?”

Recalling his head between my thighs, devouring me like a ravenous man, I blushed further shades of embarrassment. If we are not undressing in his office, he is crawling into my bed (technically, his bed) at night to consume every part of me.

Still, Liam has yet to stay at my side. Once he has finished fucking me into submission, a fused kiss, a short conversation, a goodnight departure. His indifference is somewhat deflating but expected. It’s what we agreed on.

At work, however, he is becoming more careless. He often seeks attention, with or without the watchfulness of others. Like now, for instance. Josh is standing by the cash register, witnessing our heated exchange, but Liam is unmoved by the matter. It’s almost as if he wanted people to know about us.

“Alexa?” Hand tightening on my hip, he whispered feather-light kisses to my neck. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Of course, I waited until Liam finished with the Suits and accepted his car journey back to the penthouse. The second we entered the penthouse, I kicked off the heels, jumped into his arms and demonstrated just how much I appreciated the ride home. He carried me to the master bedroom while we undressed, fell above me on the king-sized bed and coaxed me to moan his name with each invigorating pinnacle.

Living with Liam Warren is illogical, but neither of us seemed to care for reasonable explanations. Instead, we overlooked what some might consider abnormal and rolled with routine.

“I like these.” Chloe lifted glitter-filled glass baubles. “Look, Hon. They are personalised.”

I selected the delicate glass oval decoration, contemplating Liam’s reaction. He’d frown upon Christmas sentiments, I am sure. My assured prognostication hadn’t stopped me from purchasing, though. In fact, I bought everything on the shelf.

“It looks like St Nick shit all over the penthouse,” Brad half-joked one night, giving the eight-foot tree a disgruntled look. “Does the Boss know that you splashed sprinkles in his gaff?”

Shrugging, I added metallic beads to evergreen branches. “I love Christmas.”

“Why?” Shower dews dripped down his bare chest. “It’s just another day.”

“Because I missed so many.” I admired the over-elaborate masterpiece dominating the balcony window. “It’s my favourite season.”

Brad watched me closely.

“Here.” Opening the white storage box, I fossicked through, finding the one I’d bought him. “I got one for you, too.”

Emotionless, he accepted the store purchased bauble. “I don’t live here.”

I don’t know why he felt it necessary to explain his living circumstances; however, it’s pretty evident with Brad showering, eating and sleeping in the penthouse that he preferred to be here. “I didn’t want to leave you out.”

Draping red ribbon onto the branch, he positioned his personalised trinket. “I guess it will suffice.”

The following night, I helped Josh wheel empty spirit bottles to the alleyway behind the club, ready for the early morning recycling collection. “Do you think it’ll snow?” My head tilted back to study the dark sky. “It’s cold enough, right?”

“It never snows in London,” he said, bumping knuckles with a suited guard. “Plus, I hate that stuff. It messes with my hair.”

Raising an open palm heavenward, I felt soft flecks dust my fingertips. “I think you might be wrong.”

Josh’s eyes bounced to the sky. “Well, that sucks.”

“Yeah.” I smiled as snowflakes sprinkled on my eyelashes. “I suppose.”

I loved working at Club 11. Lately, though, with the Christmas festivities among us, the liveliness enjoyably soared, and I embraced every moment of it. Hell, I even purchased Santa hats for the bar staff.

Josh complained about the hat. “Why must I wear it? I look ridiculous.”

I tapped the customer’s order onto the touchscreen cash register. “You look cute.”

“Cute?” He scoffed. “Yeah, because that makes me feel tons better.”

Pouring two gin and tonics, I laughed at his crabbedness. “Who doesn’t want to wear a Santa hat at Christmas?”

“It’s green,” he pointed out.

“Well, a cute elf, then.”

“An elf?” He was horrified. “I got demoted in less than ten seconds.”

I was in stitches. “I think the colour makes your eyes pop.”

“Pop,” he said whispery.

“Hey, if it’s any consolation,” I said quietly, “I think it’s worked a treat on them.” My eyes signalled to the group of women at the end of the bar. “See?”

Josh’s spine straightened. “I’m going in.” He fist-bumped my knuckles, and I wasn’t prepared. “How do I look? And don’t say cute. Men don’t want to hear that shit.”

“You look scorching hot—”

“Gross.” He shoved me in the side of the head. “Get back to work.”

Josh got laid that night.

Elf hat be-damned.

“You need to stop,” Liam reprimanded. “It’s getting out of hand.”

I sat on the floor in the penthouse, wrapping presents for Chloe. “What?”

“This.” He held up festively patterned toilet paper. “Everywhere I go, I see fucking Santa. He’s in the kitchen, the bathroom and the balcony. I open the goddamn wardrobe, and, lo and behold, I hear Christmas carols.” When I chuckled, he fumed. “Alexa.”

“What?” I pushed the metallically wrapped parcel under the tree. “I can’t help it, Liam. I am so excited. It’s not even funny.” Yet, I looked at his angered face and laughed. “Sorry.”

He placed the loo roll on the kitchen counter. “I struggle to stay angry with you.”

My smile vanished. “Why?”

“It’s nice to hear you laugh again.” He rocked back on the heels of his shoes. “I will not dampen the mood for you.” And then, he frowned sharply. “What’s under the silk robe, Miss Haines?”

“Oh, this old thing,” I teased, revealing my red lace-clad breasts. “It’s very fitting, don’t you think?”

His eyes bore into me.

“Mr Warren.” I recognised the lustfulness in his intense gaze. He wanted me to come to him. I stood gracefully and slid to his side.

He stood there with his hands pushed in his pants pockets. “Disrobe.”

Of course, I obliged. I let the silk slip down the length of my body, all while holding his eyes, and, without instruction, unclasped the bra. Not once did the man’s gaze lower to my naked chest. He palmed my cheek, leaned in and kissed me softly. His tongue sought mine for a passionate dance as he backed me up against the counter, where I pulled myself up and parted my legs for him to stand between them. My back met the cold surface. His head lowered down my body, and his mouth, eager to please, laid a kiss on my bare sex.

If I fall any harder for this man, I might get burnt.

***

Thanks to Josh, I had to be at Club 11 two hours early. He gestured for me to get comfortable on the stool in the kitchen, ignoring the afternoon chef that objurgated his team members in the background. “Right.” He organised: glasses, pitchers, ice buckets, spirits, juices, sodas and chopped fruit. “The Boss needs a new line-up.” He mixed drinks. “Taste.”

Bringing the festive concoction to my lips, I slipped. “No.”

“Okay.” He whipped another flavour together. “Try this one.”

Pomegranates floated in the glass. I sampled. “No.”

“No?” He huffed. “Okay, this should be a winner.”

Cherries frizzed on the surface. I drink slowly. “Oh, I like this one.”

“Halle-fucking-lujah.” Clicking the top of a pen, he marked it down on the clipboard. “Next.”

It’s a rosemary-garnished whiskey sour.

I gave him the thumbs up.

Pointing to the goblet, I asked, “What’s that?”

“Black Manhattan.” He slid it across the counter. “Knock yourself out.”

I sipped. “Yes.”

He ticked the box.

“Alexa?” Brad called before the kitchen door flew open. “Get your lazy arse behind the bar.”

I was offended. “I am not lazy.”

Even his eyes smiled. “Move it, woman.”

“It’s okay.” Josh waved me off. “I can take it from here.”

I chased behind Brad in the hall. “I am early,” I reminded him, but he was unfazed. “Technically, I don’t start work for another sixteen minutes.”

“It’s busy.”

“Not my problem.”

“I made it your problem.”

I did as instructed.

Midnight struck the clock, yet partygoers had no intention of leaving the building anytime soon. I should have gone on break fifteen minutes ago, but I had to wait for Josh beforehand. When he did show up, I pegged it to the staff room before someone else exhausted my energy. En route, I made a pit stop at Liam’s office. I raised a tight fist to knock on the boss’ door when it flew open.

Natalie appeared.

Her blonde hair was slightly dishevelled, and her cheeks were red, heated. Shouldering past me with deliberate scorn, she strode down the hallway, tidying her appearance.

I entered the office.

Liam is relaxed in the leather chair behind the desk, fussing over paperwork. “Alexa.” He eyed me over the monitors. “What can I do for you?”

A pang of jealousy squelched my chest. “I was just…”

I stood mumchance.

His head tilted. “Alexa?”

“Josh is almost finished with the cocktail menu for Christmas,” I lied, and Liam, innately astute, noticed my dishonesty. “Anyway—”

“Wait,” he scolded the second I tried to flee. “Come inside. Shut the door.”

I am not sleeping with him after Natalie. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You are upset,” he said as I closed the door. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I hate the thought of him and other women, especially Natalie. “It’s been a long night, that is all.”

He moved to the front of the desk. Resting his back on the carved edge, he folded his arms and feet at the ankles. “Are you asking for more time off?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Come here,” he ordered, and I shook my head again. “Alexa, that was an order.”

My traitorous heart thudded. I pushed myself away from the door and stopped in front of him.

He caught the waistband of my shorts, tugging me closer.

“Liam.” My hands settled on his chest. “I am not in the mood.”

His eyebrows pinched in confusion, but he continued his advances. His hand smoothed over my arse while his lips teased my neck. “Perhaps I can assist,” he murmured, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses on my skin. “Relieve some tension.”

“What about you?” I asked somewhat bitterly. “Do you not require a release?”

He inched back to look at me. “What’s going on?”

I was upset. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying.” He snatched my jaw, forcing me to meet his cold gaze. “Elaborate. Now.”

“I like our arrangement,” I said, and his inquisitive glare sharpened. “Is it unreasonable to demand some level of respect, though?”

His lips curled into a grimace. “What?”

“Josh is probably looking for me—” His hold on me strengthened. “Liam.”

“This is about Natalie,” he said, and I never denied it. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

My tongue licked the roof of my mouth. “I don’t want you fucking them.”

“You see, that’s something people in relationships would say,” he said furiously.

I wore a blank expression. “You were open to negotiation. We agreed not to share.”

“We also agreed to non-possessive behaviour.”

I scoffed in disbelief. “Said by the most possessive man I have ever met.”

Liam chuckled dryly. It was not mutual merriment. He merely expressed amusement at my expense.

I left the office without a backward glance.

Liam never dropped me home that night or the night after.

“Hey, Hon.” Chloe jumped on the sofa opposite me. “No work?”

“Everyone had the night off.” I scooped vanilla ice cream into my mouth. “Nice PJs.”

She beamed. “Tesco.”

“I need them in my life.” Her pyjamas had cute gingerbread men all over them. “The woolly socks, too.”

“Alexa,” she scolded, and I jerked with the spoon in my mouth. “You do this every year. I buy you presents for Christmas, and then you spoil it.”

I was slack-jawed. “How am I supposed to know that you bought pyjamas?”

“Well, let’s see.” She tapped her chin. “I always buy matching PJs for Christmas because you like to pair up.”

I smiled guiltily. “I know.”

We exchanged Christmas eve stockings.

“Can I look?”

“No,” I warned, but the cheeky mare still peaked inside the cable knit sock. “Chloe!”

“Alright.” Knotting the stocking, she stuffed it behind a pillow. “Let’s watch a film.”

Chloe fell asleep fifteen minutes later. I covered her with a fleece blanket, cleared the coffee table, washed a few dishes and crawled into bed. I had no concept of time when the bedroom door clicked open. Liam lingered by my bed, removing his clothes.

I shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Lifting the duvet, he slipped in beside me, curling a strong arm around my waist. “Alexa,” he whispered, and I smelled whiskey on his warm breath. “Give me your eyes.”

Resisting stubbornly, I buried my head in the pillow.

“Baby.” His arm tightened around my waist. “I hate it when you are mad at me.”

Liam’s concerned voice had my eyes snapping open. Rolling onto my back, I looked at him. His eyes were bloodshot from drink and drugs. My finger brushed his furrowed brows. “I won’t share you with other women, Liam.”

His lips paid homage to the side of my neck. “I did not touch her.”

I wanted to believe him. “Natalie is always in your office.”

“I am not interested in Natalie. To put your mind at ease, I will explain once and once only. My employees, male and female, come to the office to deliver money or updates. You witnessed Natalie leave earlier and automatically thought the worst of me. I did not touch her. She did not touch me. If you must know, I haven’t so much as looked at a woman sexually since you and I made an agreement.”

There was no prevarication in his tone. “Just me?”

“Just you.” His lips teased the corner of my mouth. “Kiss me.”

Curling a hand around his neck, I held him tightly, leaning in for a long, heated kiss. Eliminating my T-shirt, he pulled me above him, his hands on either side of my head, his lips overpowering mine. His arousal rested between my thighs. “Alexa,” he breathed into my mouth. “Fuck me.”

I sank onto his length, feeling him everywhere.

Fusing our tongues, he drew me closer. Rolling my hips, I trapped his bottom lip between my teeth. “Fuck,” he groaned, meeting my slow movements. “That’s it, baby.”

Our closeness felt passionate.

My heart swelled. “Liam, I think it changed between us.”

His fingers on my arse stiffened. “What?”

The proliferation of his heartbeat thudded against my palm. “I don’t know when or how it happened. But I fell in love with you.”

His gaze intensified. “No,” he said to himself, spearing a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’re in the wrong lane, Alexa. You can’t love…” His eyes briefly closed. “I am not worth it.”

My cheeks flushed pink. I sat upright, bringing the sheet to my chest. “I can’t help the way I feel.”

“I knew this was a mistake.” He rolled out from beneath me and went to the walk-in wardrobe, pulling on a clean pair of boxer briefs. Rubbing two hands down his face, he hesitated by the archway. “Why complicate it?”

I never expected reciprocated love, but when his expression twisted in disappointment, I felt impossibly stupid.

He swung open the bedroom door. “I am not the end game, baby.”