CH 1-10

Summary

This book contains adult language and subject matter, including graphic violence, drugs and explicit sex that may be disturbing to some readers. This series is NOT a typical romance. It’s NOT for the young or the faint-hearted. If you hate toxicity, disturbing situations, dubious consent, excessive violence and dark triggers, please do not read this series. Liam overcame his dark past. Alexa vanquished her taunting demons. They laughed together, cried together, fought hard and loved even harder. What started as a toxic relationship turned into a beautiful disaster. Liam Warren is renowned for his infamous imperiousness and cruel manner, but there’s a powerful woman behind every dangerous man, and she so happens to be a sinful siren in the devilish colour of red. Alexa knows she’ll never tame the fierceness in Liam, and, quite frankly, she doesn’t want to. Their love is intense. Their pain is profound. But love—no matter how unbreakable—can withstand Liam’s corrupt lifestyle. Their relationship slowly turns into a prison sentence and their separation has them fighting for air. More lies unfold. More secrets breach the surface. And before either of them can find their way back to each other, an excruciating turn of events has them in a state of inexorable despair. You can’t turn back the hands of time or change what sealed one’s fate. It’s time Liam Warren paid the piper

CHAPTER ONE

Alexa

I don’t know the woman in the mirror. She is unrecognisable, unidentifiable, beautifully incognito. Her mother’s timeless rhinestone hairpiece embellished her lightly plaited feminine updo. Diamond pear-shaped halo earrings, a gift from her fiancé, dangled from her ears, the exquisite design akin to the scintillating halo of dazzling bead-set diamonds and stunning tear-shaped ring on her fourth finger.

Heather, the unqualified beautician, applied minimal makeup to the bride’s face. Nude glossed her lips. A soft glow highlighted her defined cheekbones. Natural eyelashes accentuated her glassy, hazel-coloured eyes. Her sophisticated mermaid-cut gown, designed to hug her figure in the right places, falls behind her in a chapel train of floral elegance and lace, beneath the semi-transparent tulle, white Aveline sandals, decorated in fascinator bows.

“You look incredible, doll.” Modelling an ice-grey three-piece suit and a white, slim-fit shirt, Grayson, his hands casually laid on my hips, met my eyes in the mirror. “And you smell divine. I could eat you.”

Spending six hours in the hotel’s spa will do that to a woman. The female aesthetician performed an array of cosmetic treatments; skin rejuvenation, recent facial, body-wrap and waxing. My skin is softer than warm butter and smells like pungently embedded pomegranate. I sparkle, too, which irritates the eyes. Body glitter spray was hardly necessary, but Grayson insisted. In fact, he’s the culprit for many unfavourable outcomes. He importuned me into a hotel slumber party last night to drink lethal cocktails, to wear novelty pyjamas, to slap on a mint-infused face mask and to sport edible cucumber eyes. He forced me to wax every inch of my skin this morning, shoved chocolate-coated strawberries into my “objecting” mouth at breakfast and had the audacity to call me “Immature” for requiring pain killers for an unceasing headache. I mean, call me a grousing mare, but this man’s too eccentrically expectant at times. And high maintenance.

He’s incorrigible, too.

Yet, I wouldn’t change him for the world.

Grayson’s intervention guaranteed a successful bachelorette party. Well, if you can even call it a celebration. I am friendless, specifically on the girl front, but he made sure I had a night to remember, a crazy morning to laugh about in the future, and memories I shall treasure forever.

“Oh, Lord.” Heather’s antique-rose formal coat matched her Mariposa knee-high dress and Roseville twist fascinator. “I might cry.”

I sent Heather and her partner, Ivor, an invite to the wedding, hoping for their attendance, but received no correspondence. Imagine my stunned ebullience when the innkeeper who welcomed us with open arms, who took care of us, Jace and me, back when reality debilitated and shattered us, knocked on the room door two hours ago, dressed in royal fabrics, a cosmetic case in hand, a bottle of fizz in the other hand, iron-curlers and cosmetics sticking out of her handbag. “Don’t cry,” I said, laughing lightly. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”

“I can’t help it.” She dabbed her cheeks with bunched-up tissues. “You look beautiful, Alexa.”

“You can’t deny it, doll.” His hands in his trouser pockets, Grayson rocked back on the heels of his shoes. “Warren might pass out when he sees you.”

“Yeah?” I bite my bottom lip to refrain from smiling. “I scrub up well, huh?”

“Here.” Teary-eyed and lachrymose, Heather fixed the white-gold chain around my neck. “Must you insist on wearing these?” The military tags clanked against Adaline’s locket. “I can’t persuade you to wear something more delicate?”

Heather shared no semblance to my mother, yet her innocuous question, loving attentiveness and motherly demeanour hit me hard in the chest. I’d give anything for Adaline to be here with me, to help me prepare, to walk me down the aisle. My memories of her are that of a child’s perspective, but I know, if it weren’t for the cruel world we live in, she’d be fussing with my dress, holding my hand, giggling and spilling tears with my sister, Kathy. They’d look statuesque in their floor-length gowns, sipping champagne, reminiscing about what used to be. Kathy, in jest, would lecture me for marrying an older man at age twenty, whilst my mother, partly in Kathy’s favour, would chastise my sister for light-hearted teasing. I wanted that. I wanted them here.

“Are you alright, dear?” Heather asked, and I blinked back unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. You can wear the chain. It was only a suggestion—a stupid suggestion nonetheless.”

“Heather.” Swallowing a sore lump, I grasped her upper arms. “You didn’t upset me. It’s fine.” I faked a small laugh. “But I am not removing the necklace. It stays.”

“Ignore Alexa.” Grayson slipped an arm across my shoulder. “She likes to think everything is about her.”

“Gray.” I elbowed him in the ribs, and he doubled-over on a theatrical wheeze. “It’s my wedding day, asshole. It’s allowed to be about me.”

“Oh, Lord.” Heather did the sign of the cross. “Profanities, Alexa.”

I restrained an eye-roll.

“I need a drink.” Grayson popped open a champagne bottle and poured effervesces into the ceramic mugs he stole from the hotel’s restaurant. He offered an elbow to Heather. “Care to join me on the balcony, madame?” The pair relocated outside to enjoy the afternoon sun before our hired transportation arrived.

Liam covered all expenses; conveyance, church, venue, hospitality and entertainment. My only requirement, to buy whatever desired at the bridal boutique and to meet him at the altar.

It’s been a whirlwind of emotions since the night Liam asked me to be his wife. Even Christmas, my favourite day of the year, became an afterthought. Of course, we celebrated in the traditional sense. We half-heartedly decorated the tree and bought each other, friends and family, thoughtful gifts. Tony and Camilla visited. Brad rocked up late to dinner in his black tracksuit, having only just rolled out of bed. Nate spent the holiday with his aunt and younger sister. Josh and his grandmother celebrated at home. And Liam’s brother, well, nobody has heard from Vincent for a while.

January 14th, the day I marry my inamorato, the love of my life.

I envisioned many optimistic scenarios growing up, but finding my soulmate and falling wholeheartedly in love, at no time, under no circumstances, did such possibilities spring to mind. If truth be told, I never thought it possible for a man to love someone as damaged as me. Moreover, after what I suffered as a child, I hated to be in the sights of any male, despised the idea of them appreciating me, touching me, so from a young age, I resigned to a lifespan of singleness.

And then I met him, Liam Warren.

I didn’t know how much my heart needed Liam until it began to beat for him. It wasn’t love at first sight or the personification of true romance. Our relationship, it’s messy, toxic, painful and dangerous. Being together hurts more often than not, but parting ways, irrespective of failed separation periods, breaks hearts—our hearts. People might judge him for loving damaged goods. People might judge me for loving a criminal. But the inconsequential opinions of others didn’t matter then, and they didn’t matter now. I am signing my life away to this man, and there isn’t a force on earth that can stop me.

My eyes returned to the vanity mirror. I looked too pure and seraphic. It’s what a bride should represent on her wedding day, sublime angelicness. Something was missing. Emptying my handbag onto the dresser, searching for cosmetics, I picked up the unopened matte red lipstick and stained my lips. It’s not too bright, too loud. It’s the perfect shade of regal carmine.

I lowered my gaze to clear the desk when the room door knocked. “I’ll get it,” I shouted, not that Grayson had any intentions of leaving his rattan chair. The impatient person knocked again. “Just a second.”

Holding the train of my dress to the waist, I unlocked the door, swung it open and came face-to-face with my best friend, Jace. He looked far too imposing and intimidating in the hotel’s majestical hallway. His combination of tattoos and facial piercings differentiated from armed, tailored security that unsubtly regarded our exchange. Jace’s ice-grey suit duplicates Grayson’s, which makes me wonder if their decided attire had been unintentional or prearranged. His three-piece suit and leather shoes were a striking contrast to his usual all-black and leather. “Wow,” he said, eyeballing me from head-to-toe. “Alexa…” He slowly shook his head. “Just incredible.”

“Thank you.” Jace had two patternless navy ties slung over one shoulder. “Did you guys shop together?” I let go of my dress to upturn his collar. Pulling one of the ties around his neck, I began to fix him a full Windsor knot. “And what’s with the matching blue ties? What am I missing?”

“Grayson told me where to buy the suit.” His hands clasped to the back of his head.”Said he forgot the ties, so I had to pick them up. As for the colour? Instruction.”

“Evasive.” My fingers splayed across his chest. “Orders from whom? Gray? Liam?”

“Mind your business.” Grayson shoved me aside. “How’s it going?” Outstretching his arms, he gestured for Jace to show him some love. “Quit procrastinating, hot stuff. Hug me.”

“Christ.” Jace aimed for a quick round of formalities. “You’d never think I spoke to you on the phone half an hour ago.”

Our former boss had other ideas, though. Hauling the reluctant man into his arms for a long squeeze, Gray openly ran his nose along Jace’s neck, sniffing the scent of his masculine cologne. “Damn,” he purred, and Jace wriggled to get away from him. “Can’t I convince you to swing a different way? Just for one night?”

“No,” Jace barked, his cheeks flushed. “I don’t like cock, Gray.”

“Jace!” Heather scolded behind us, and he flashed her an apologetic smile. “Must you be so vulgar? I can barely tolerate the word ‘penis’.”

“Why not?” Grayson’s genuine question had me in a state of laughter. “You might like ‘penis’?”

Jace put a closed-up fist to his mouth. “I don’t like…penis.”

“How can you be sure?” Gray nabbed his tie from Jace’s shoulder. “You ain’t sampled it yet.”

“I don’t want to sample…” Jace narrowed his eyes. “Grayson, quit looking at my fucking crotch.”

“Jace!” Furious by Jace’s slew of expletives, Heather’s short yet indomitable frame arose in our circle. “Please, for the sake of my sensitive ears, terminate bad language.”

“Sorry, Heath.” Jace upheld his boyish smile, and she melted. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“Good.” She diverted her caution to Grayson. “You,” she pointed in his face, “Mr Troublemaker, can come with me to cool off.”

Albeit protesting, Grayson let Heather take him by the ear to the balcony. Drowning out his peevish voice, I carried two mugs of champagne to the brown leather Chesterfield sofa and, not wanting to crease or wrinkle the lace of my dress, carefully became seated. Jace relaxed beside me. His arm draped on the sofa’s rear. His green eyes looked brighter beneath the room’s vibrant ceiling lights. Brighter upon searching. “What?” I asked, unable to read his expression, the inquisitive flicker in his stare. “Have I smudged my makeup?”

“You chose a backless dress,” he stated the obvious. “Your wings show.”

“Good.” I hand over a mug. “I shall bear them proudly.” While gazing into space, his finger absently traced feathers on my back. “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Resting his ankle on the opposite knee, he put the mug to his lips and slaked thirst. “Why wouldn’t I be? My friend’s getting married.” He glared into the empty mug as if it offended him. “I’m drinking fluff in a cup.”

“Fluff in a cup?” My nose crinkled. “Is Armand de Brignac not to your standards?”

“Ace of Spades,” he said, reading the label of the bottle with pouted lips. “It’s good. But I prefer the Russian stuff.” He glanced over his shoulder, keeping an eye on Heather and Grayson. “I met a broad.”

My interest skyrocketed. “You met what?”

“A broad?” He deadpanned. “As in—”

“I know what broad means, Jace.” My arms folded on my lap, I leaned in, nose-to-nose. “Who is she? What does she look like? Is it serious? Will I like her?” I squinted. “Will I have to kick her ass?”

“Calm down, Tiger.” He shifted closer. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want Grayson to overhear. You know what he’s like for gossip.”

I had a light-bulb moment. “Is it Harlyn?”

“No.” His face screwed up. “No, it’s not Harlyn. The fuck? Her as a roommate? That’s bad enough.”

“Well, kill the suspense, Jace.” I grabbed a champagne bottle from the coffee table to refill his mug. “Who is she? Actually, go back to the beginning. What does she look like?”

Jace mulled over my question. “She’s pretty.”

“Pretty? What, that’s it?” My forehead creased. “No profile description?”

“What do you want? A full disclosure?”

“Yes, I want that,” I syllabised, and he rolled his eyes. “What? You can’t blame a girl for trying. I need all the juicy details.”

“It’s not serious,” he said unconvincingly. “I think she might be different, though.” Sadness clouded his expression. “You know?”

My chest constricted. I think Jace likes the girl more than he lets on. But he doesn’t want to, or rather, he’s too scared to let go of Lucy, Summer’s mother. “Did you invite her to the wedding?” He gave a curt head shake. “Jace?” I placed my hand atop his. “Labels mean nothing in our world. Extemporise. Play it by ear. See what happens.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, masking discomfort. “I overthink shit. Ignore me.”

“I see.” From beneath the archway, Grayson enters the seating quarters, his accusatory glare condemning us to Hell. “Having a party without me. I am wounded.”

Jace squeezed my shoulder. His way of ending the conversation. “Why doesn’t our bride have champagne flutes? Who utilises kitchen mugs for someone’s wedding day?”

“We do.” Grayson flexed a hand between us. “If you have a problem with that, put those legs to use, walk your cute behind downstairs and pinch us an alternative.”

“Alexa!” Camilla’s unanticipated voice jerked me out of my skin. “Look at you.” Before I had a chance to stand and greet, she pushed between Heather and Grayson, an assortment of metallic helium balloons in hand. “Well, come on. Stand up.” She shoved the balloons in Grayson’s face, and he whacked them aside to nose. “Let me get a better look.”

Passing the mug to Jace, I soared to my full height, letting the train fall to the ground. “I thought I’d see you at the church.” Camilla and Tony booked a room at the venue last night. They plan to stay there for the entire weekend to enjoy celebrations before returning to Newquay, Cornwall. “We need more champagne.”

Gray elected himself. “Leave it to me.”

“Oh, Alexa.” Clapping her hands lightly, Camilla glanced at Heather and smiled. “Doesn’t she look marvellous?”

All their sentimental compliments began to darken my cheeks an impossible shade. I hate being the centre of attention. “I look like any other bride.”

“We don’t care about other brides,” Tony said. “We care about our bride.”

Seizing the bottom of my dress, I moved around the horde of guests to find the man himself. I observed his tailored suit first. It’s the same colour as Jace’s and Grayson’s. Dashingly suave and handsome, he’s clean-shaven. His dark hair slicked back. “Why do you all wear the same suits? Did Grayson boss you around, too?”

“I heard that,” Gray chimed somewhere.

Tony met me halfway. “Alexa.” Pulling me in for a tight hug, he whispered, “You look just like your mother.”

I held onto the back of his suit jacket. “I wish she could be here,” I said quietly, opposed to unsettling Camilla.

He nodded in agreement.

“Now, will someone tell me the story behind these suits?” Everyone laughed except me. “Well?”

“Well,” Jace parodied, his eyes going from Gray to me. “You need bridesmen.”

Assured I heard incorrectly, I stopped breathing. “What?”

“And I thought…” Tony hesitated. “I could walk you down the aisle if you want.” His eyebrows furrowed into a sympathetic frown. “Is it what you want?”

“Really?” Toying with the charm bracelet on my wrist, I asked Tony, “You’d do that for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He took my hand. “You’re my daughter.”

Today’s not supposed to be sad and emotional, yet unpreventable tears flooded my eyes. “Oh, God.” Wiping the moisture from under my eyelashes, I blinked up at the ceiling. “Guys, don’t make me cry.” Silence persisted. “Shit, on a serious note, I cannot wait to see Jace and Grayson walking down the aisle together.”

“Likewise.” Grayson wrapped his arms around Jace’s waist. “It’s like a dream come true.”

“Gray,” Jace spat through gritted teeth. “Quit fucking about.”

“I can’t take much more of their language.” Heather collected the champagne and empty mugs. “Camilla, shall we prepare a toast? And Alexa? Is it okay for me to text Ivor? He’s in the suite by himself.”

“Yes.” Rubbing my clammy hands together, I added, “The more, the merrier.”

Grinning impishly, Camilla accepted a bottle of white wine from Tony, kissed him on the cheek, and followed Heather to the balcony.

“Shall we join them?” Tony offered the men cigars. “Saved these for a special occasion. Cuban.”

Jace slid one from the box and popped it in his mouth.

I left the men unattended for a quick bathroom break, which proved to be complicated. I had to hold the dress up to my head to relieve urination. And don’t even start me on the tissue blunder.

Washing my hands in the basin, I rechecked my reflection for the umpteenth time, reined in scattered thoughts and returned to the suite. Everyone is outside, smoking cigars and drinking champagne. Both vices failed to appeal. Meeting Liam at the altar, half-cut and bumping of smoke, he’d kill me.

Conveying a silver tray of crustless sandwiches, I opened the front door to offer the Suits something bitesise to eat. I found no one, not one member of the syndicate. “Gavin?” I mused, stepping into the hallway, looking concerningly down the other end. “Hello?”

“You should know better,” Vincent whispered behind me, and, in sheer panic, the platter fell straight off my upward facing palm to its shambolic death. “Pity.”

“Vincent.” Wiping the back of my hand across my forehead, I turned to face him. “You scared me.”

Vincent wore a slate-grey, two-button, single-breasted suit jacket over his black shirt. He’d styled his hair. It’s slightly longer than I remembered, dark strands wisped under his ears, and his firm, angular jaw, grey with a five o’clock shadow. He looked dark and mysterious. I wondered if his timeless suit complemented Liam and his groomsmen. “Where were you?” I later found my voice. “Liam’s been looking for you.”

“You should protect innate modesty and guileless, Angel. Monsters pry on the unassuming.” He stepped closer with predatory grace, levelling me with his eyes, the same crystal blue eyes as his brother. “You and I both know Liam’s unperturbed by his brother’s whereabouts.”

Vincent’s wrong. I know Liam. He mightn’t admit concerns, but he worries for his younger brother more than his ego permits him to acknowledge. “Why are you here? You should be at the church alongside the groomsmen.” I withstood his stoic glare. “Next to your brother.”

“You are due to be my sister-in-law.” A small white box exhibited between us. “Have a look.”

I studied the box in perplexity. “Why?”

“Why did I come here to congratulate you?”

“Why did you buy me a gift?”

His gaze roamed over my face. “Open it.”

Knowing Vincent’s not going to answer my question, I reached for the box, but his unmovable fingers caged it. “Well, release it.”

“I didn’t say you could take it out of my hand.” His jaw steeled. “I said, open it.”

“Fucking Hell. You moody bastard.” I unclasped the delicate lock, popped open the lid and found a white-beaded rosary. Diamond spacers filled the gaps between white marble beads and an encrusted cross centred attention. “It’s beautiful.” I glanced from the white-gold cross in his lobe to the onyx rosary on his wrist. “Am I supposed to wear it as a bracelet? Like you do yours? That’s if you allow me to have the untouchable gift, of course.”

He lifted the rosary from off the velvet bed, closed the box and tucked it in his trouser pocket. “May I?”

Removing my mother’s bracelet felt wrong, but I carry a piece of her on my necklace. “Sure.” Extending my arm, I waited for him to unclasp the charms. “It’s a thoughtful present. Thank you, Vincent.” His fingers grazed my wrist as he wrapped layers of delicate beads. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

“It’s deceiving,” he said under his breath, his two fingers testing its resilience. “Done.”

Pulling my arm back, I examined the rosary and belatedly noticed two black and silver beads. “That’s a bit dark for something so holy, isn’t it?”

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “It serves its purpose, Angel.”

“Alexa?” Grayson’s voice boomed from behind the door. “I hope you ain’t gone all ‘runaway bride’ on us?”

“I’m out here,” I called, my eyes on the door as it flung open. “Gray?”

“What happened to the sandwiches?” Dragging a hand over his pink hair, Grayson assessed the mess on the floor. “And why are you standing in the hallway like a spare part? We only have twenty minutes before the horse-drawn carriage arrives.”

“You better be lying, Gray.” Dread like never before detonated inside me. “I will not arrive at the church by chariot.”

“It’s a joke.” He waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Champagne?”

“One more glass.” Grappling the train of my dress, I returned my gaze to Liam’s brother. Like an apparition, he had disappeared. Not a trace of him in sight. “Vincent?” His pungent cologne lingered in his wake. “Where did he go? You could have told me he walked away.”

“Vincent?” Gray’s eyes rounded with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. “What about him? Is that why you snuck out? To call him?” He exited the suite, shutting the door behind him. “Are you having an affair with the younger Warren? Girl, what even? Give me your phone. Right now. I am to text that man and give him a piece of my mind—”

“Gray,” I whisper-shout, tugging him in by the tie. “Why must you get carried away? I am not sneaking around with Liam’s brother. Vincent was out here. He came to give me a gift.”

“Do you have a fever?” His judgemental eyes hold me in place. “Hallucinations? Too much bubbly?”

“You infuriate me.”

“My apologies.” His hand slid into his pocket. “But I cannot reason with a nonsensical woman.”

Exhaustion hindered explanations. I no longer cared to explain or defend myself. “Champagne?”

“Oh, yes.” Opening our room door, he entered the suite, rubbing his hands together. “I found her outside. Talking to herself.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Ignore him.”

Jace passed me a ceramic mug the second I joined everyone on the balcony. “A toast,” Tony said, offering everyone fizz top-ups. “To my beautiful daughter on her wedding day. Here’s to love, laughter and happily ever after.”

My cheeks ached from smiling so hard. “Thank you, Tony.”

Grayson’s phone bleeped. Polishing off the last drop of champagne, he dabbed a napkin on his lips, unlocked his phone and read a text message. “Transportation just arrived.”

Whilst everyone moved around in excitement, I clutched the back of a chair and inhaled a long, encouraging breath. Inert with emotional anxieties, I rolled my shoulders back, collected the beautiful cascade of white calla lilies from Heather, thanked her, and walked ahead in a daze.

Flanked by six members of the syndicate, I followed the others out of the hotel to the long-line of stark-white Rolls-Royce vehicles dominating the car park. A Suit’s hand on my lower back, I tilted my head back to feel the sun on my face and braced myself for the future.

CHAPTER TWO

Liam

Within the confines of the Warren Manor, I stood inside the office, a crystal glass of distilled Macallan in reserve. Knelt before me, polishing the surface of my Hermès leather shoes, the respectable tailor. Nate secured a gold chain across my double-breasted waistcoat and clipped fine diamond cufflinks to the sleeves of my crisp white shirt. Threading a classic paisley navy tie along the seam of my upturned collar, he fastened an Eldridge knot and centred an Arabesque patterned tie bar.

Knocking back the remainder of whiskey, I passed the empty glass to Josh and turned for Brad to assist with my suit jacket. My men looked debonair in their ice-grey three-piece suits and satin navy ties. Boutonnières pinned to the lapel of their jackets. “Leave,” I ordered, and the tailor nodded sharply, collecting his leather briefcase upon exit. “So, how do I look? Acceptable? Adequate?” I half-joked, moving to the floor-length mirror to admire my reflection. “Egotistically self-assured?” A crescendo of male laughter tugged a small smile to my lips. “Josh,” I point to the box on the desk, “I bear gifts.”

Exchanging puzzled glances, the three of my most trusted men set their drinks aside. Listening to instruction, Josh unclasped the box and whistled. “Patek,” he said in disbelief, taking out an iced-gold watch. “Thank you, Sir.”

“No gratitude from me,” Brad muttered under his breath, clasping the watch around his wrist. “I am the best man. Mine should have more diamonds.”

Nate refilled his glass with neat gin. “Shut up, Brad.”

Flashing me a low, grateful smirk, Brad carried the other two watches over. “It’ll do,” he whispered, so the others didn’t hear. “I assume this belongs to you.” His eyes danced as he read the engraving, but he kept thoughts to himself. “Who’s the fifth one for?”

It’s a gift for Vincent. That’s if he bothers to make an appearance. He’s hiding from me. He hasn’t answered my calls or text messages since the night he absconded Raymond Warren’s estate. “What time does the car arrive?”

“Soon.” Brad made a show of checking the time on his new watch. “Fifteen minutes to kill, men. I say, we shackle him and run for the hills before he throws his life away.”

Suppressing a humoured grin, Josh sat on the edge of my desk. “Alexa will only hunt us down and slaughter him.”

“She’d have to find him first.” Brad gave me a pointed look. “Honestly, Bossman. I never thought I’d see the day. You, settling down with one bird. Not trying to overstep boundaries or whatever, but are you sure I can’t talk you out of this madness?” His jovial banter had the desired effect. “Just imagine in five, ten years’ time, when she’s all wrinkled and boring in bed—”

“Quit annoying the boss, Brad.” Nate handed the said man a double shot of whiskey. “Let’s save the wisecracks for next week, huh?”

“Who spoke to Will?” I take a seat behind my desk to quickly scour files. “Is he aware of my absence next week? Has anyone systemised additional security for the Grape and Vine whilst I am away?”

“I hired temporary management to assist Will at the restaurant,” Nate explained, picking up a folder from the file tier. “And rotational guards for nightfall.”

“Cherry’s cognisant,” Brad elucidated. “She was more than inclined to have my personal number on speed dial, just in case the club requires attention—if or when I am not on the premises. I swear if she hounds me at any point while you are on vacation, soaking up the sun, I want a generous raise and new wheels.”

“We commissioned an auxiliary team of security to manage Club 11,” Nate continued, adjusting his black-framed reading glasses. “I assume Vincent was disinclined to represent on your behalf?”

“Undetermined,” I clipped, tapering down aggravated bitterness. “I’ll discuss matters with him this evening.”

Brad bent an eyebrow. “Why isn’t Vincent’s agreement already set in stone?”

Because the annoying brother of mine likes to defy me. “Are you authorised to ask me questions?”

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Brad slumped onto the leather sofa. “I apologise, Boss,” he said flatly, popping a pre-rolled joint between his pinched lips. “Remind me to stay in my lane next time.”

“I have told you on numerous occasions,” I remind him, and he winked. “You don’t fucking listen.”

“Selective hearing is a cause for instant dismissal,” Josh taunted, his arms folding at his chest. “Or, in some instances, a miraculous disappearance.”

“Have a bastard day off.” Brad’s lips twisted in haughty disdain. “I am not going anywhere, Joshy Boy.” He spread his arms over the sofa’s rear, marijuana fumes crawling from his mouth. “Bossman’s invested. Plus, he mightn’t admit sentiments aloud, but he loves me dearly. I am, after all, his blissful favourite.”

“Why must you antagonise your peers?” I was seconds away from wringing his neck. “Isn’t there something more productive for you to do in life?”

“What’s the alternative? Humdrum silence?” Brad frowned. “Excuse me for possessing a sense of humour. I shall remain tight-lipped and acquiescent for the rest of today’s shenanigans. How tedious and boring?”

I could never be so fortunate. “If you insist.”

Brad parted his lips to clapback, remembered his blasé agreement, and wired his mouth shut instead.

Nate chuckled. “I give him less than five minutes.”

“Ten,” Josh mused, itching his chin. “Ten beautiful, silent minutes.”

Both men watched Brad intently, their smirks taunting his unrestrained impulses. Long-standing uncommunicativeness weighing heavily in our proximity, he leaned forward to snub the joint and slipped a toothpick to the corner of his lips. His knee-bobbing up and down, he clamped a hand over it, muffled a curse, stood abruptly and stormed out of the office. His angry vitriol on the guards echoed soon after.

Glimpsing at his watch, Nate said, “Three minutes.”

“Fuck,” Josh spat, extracting two fifty-pound notes from his wallet. He slapped money onto Nate’s upward-facing palm. “Honestly, I thought his ego might save him.”

“No,” Nate drawled, tucking the money into his back pocket. “Ego be damned. Brad’s too gregarious for his own good.” Weaving his inked fingers together, he smiled triumphantly. “Drinks on you tonight.”

“Fine.” Josh checked a message on his phone. “The car has arrived. Do you need anything before we leave, Sir?”

Tossing down the folders, I unpackaged a bottle of newly delivered Clive Christian and sprayed my neck and wrists. I craved a cigarette but opted for no-smoking until after the ceremony. Alexa’s never complained about my bad habits, not once, but I am unprepared to kiss my bride at the altar with a taste of nicotine or cannabis on my tongue. “Any updates from security?”

Nate drew on his suit jacket. “Head of security texted upon arrival,” he said, following me out of the office. “After assessing the vicinity, he called-in extra guards for the perimeters. I authorised on your behalf.”

An interpretation was futile. I am fundamentally aware of the risks. Today, Liam Warren’s to be married. It’s not only an unprecedented yet celebrated event for those attending to show support. It’s a foreseeable bloodbath for opportunistic serpents to ambush. If not a bullet in my chest, then a target on Alexa’s head. I had to stay vigilant at all-times. “Head of security?”

“Dillan.” Nate fixed his wireless earpiece. “I told him you’d call.”

My men know me too well. I dialled Dillan’s number, placing the phone to my ear as I exited the manor. “Warren?” he answered on the third ring.

“Close the church gates,” I ordered, descending the few steps to the pending white Bentley. “Nobody enters the premises without an official invitation. I want six armed men out front at all times.” I cut the call, passed the phone to Nate and let Brad pin a boutonnière to my suit jacket. “It’s a beautiful day, gentlemen. Let’s keep it that way.”

***

I stand at the church entrance to welcome guests, a handshake here, a handshake there, pretending to appreciate their enthusiastic congratulations. “Thank you for the invite, Mr Warren,” said an unrecognisable man, the voluptuous wife lingering close behind him. “It was very unexpected.”

“Nonsense,” I said tightly, gesturing for them to enter through the double-arched church doors. “Proceed ahead.” When they disappear inside, I glare furiously at a close-lipped Brad. “Who the fuck invited them? I barely know any of the people inside that church.”

“You do.” He stepped aside for a cluster of fashionably dressed middle-aged women to enter. “In fact, you ate lunch with him and his wife last year.”

I had no recollection of such madness. Through hordes of smartly clothed attendees, I spot a familiar face approaching. Holding his wife’s hand, Reginald Burton, suited and booted, ascended the steps. He bore a friendly smile and an eye-watering amount of cologne. “Warren.” He gave my hand a tight squeeze. “An honest man, you shall become. I must say, I never thought I’d see the day.”

Yes, so everyone proceeds to enlighten. “I’m a lucky man, Reginald.”

“Indeed.” He motioned to the unbecoming woman to his right. “My wife, Margret.”

Red-framed glasses encircling her condemning eyes, Margret, unable to hide abhorrence and dislike, curled her soft fingers around mine. It was a quick, repulsive exchange. I sensed she’d rather be anywhere but here.

“It’s nice to meet you, Warren,” she lied, unclenching her jaw. “I have heard so much about you.”

“Not all bad, I hope.” My eyes revisited Reginald. “I see why you keep this one hidden.” The woman’s distastefully unattractive, unsociably judgemental and has a tight upper lip. When the Chief slides a reluctant arm around her waist, she visibly flinches. A loveless marriage of convenience, I thought. Their forced affection certainly explains his long line of infidelities. “Margret’s certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

“Yes,” Reginald agreed, his brows tightly knitting into a dark scowl. “Anyway, we better head inside to find a seat.” He glanced at Brad, whose distraught expression almost tugged a smirk to my lips. “What climbed up your ass? It’s not like you to be so quiet.”

Brad’s lips were thin. “I am at a loss for words.”

Reginald began to usher his wife indoors. “Well, your wordless stupor is without parallel.”

His eyebrows pinned to his hairline, Nate stayed quiet until the undemonstrative couple departed. “Margret’s a bruiser.”

“She’s Nannie Doss reincarnated.” Brad shuddered from head to toe. “Did you see the black shit on her teeth? Fucking Christ.”

Josh chortled. “Like you haven’t fucked the dregs of a barrel.”

“I have standards.” Brad’s mischievousness plummeted. “Unlike you, Nate.” He pointed towards the sea of ostentatiously fashioned bodies. “What the fuck is that ugly bint doing here? I didn’t send her an invite.”

I looked to see the cause of Brad’s instant displeasure and located Blaire. Wearing a crème knee-high dress and six-inch heels, she waved a hand, consciously swaying her hips as she sauntered towards us.

“Don’t start, Brad.” Nate glimpsed over his shoulder to smile at the girl. “She’s my plus one.”

“She’s the knife to your fucking throat,” Brad snipes, shaking his head vigorously. “Why haven’t you fucked her out of your system yet? No good will come of this—”

“Enough,” Nate barked, the vein in his neck throbbing. “Just for one day, Brad. Can you keep opinions to yourself? Not for the sake of our positions, but for the sake of The Brotherhood—for our alliance. That’s if friendship means anything to you, of course. If you had an interest in someone, I’d welcome her for you whether I disapproved or not. I’d never, ever give you an ultimatum. Not unless warranted. Thus far, Blaire’s been nothing but tolerant and patient. She has given you no reason to dismiss her, so cut the bullshit and give her a goddamn break.”

I had never witnessed raw emotions and discomposure from Nate. His verklempt defensiveness for Blaire rang serious alarm bells. He has one card. One opportunity to vouch for another’s immunity, and frankly, she’s not worthy of his testification.

“Afternoon.” Dragging a hand down her sleek black ponytail, Blaire meshed to Nate’s side. “Congratulations, Mr Warren.” Her bag shielded her hand that clung to Nate’s suit jacket. “I am sure Alexa’s beside herself today.”

“I concur,” Nate conversed, unsettled by Brad’s and Josh’s deaf-muteness. “Last I checked, Alexa still hadn’t left the hotel.”

“Oh?” Blaire pulled a disgruntled face. “I hope she doesn’t have cold feet—”

“Next joke,” Brad interjected, waving grouped guests through the door. “Alexa would never leave Warren at the altar. Right, Bossman?”

I hadn’t considered Alexa’s renunciation of marriage. “No,” I said confidently, though deliberation tightened the muscular organ walloping erratically inside my chest. “Alexa will be here.” It is then, in our awkward propinquity, I noticed Vincent, the insubordinate yet soignée man, at the entranceway, gesticulating rapidly between the two tailored guards, shielding the main gates. Beyond the church grounds, an older man wearing a tasteful crème and ivory three-piece suit tilted his Gambler hat in my direction. I did not recognise him or his stylishly accoutred family. “Leave.”

The men seemed taken aback by my curtness. Nonetheless, they did as instructed. They left me alone to tend to Vincent. With long, furious strides, he approached, the uninvited family traipsing in his wake. “Apologies for tardiness, brother.” Spearing a hand through unruly hair, he came to my side. “Errands.”

“Where were you?” I asked, feeling the intensity of the other man’s glare at the back of my head. “I called. I sent messages and left voicemails. You deliberately ignored me, Vincent. I want to know why.”

“Perhaps we can discuss sibling disputes later?” His molten blue eyes stressed the watchfulness of outsiders. “Brother, I’d like to introduce you to someone.” The older gent in the Valentino stepped forward. “Alberto Moretti.”

Later, I’ll hang Vincent by the balls for this charade. In the presence of divergence, I reined in any wild, imaginative thoughts of killing the unwanted brother and shook the man’s waiting hand.

“Warren,” Moretti said in accented Italian, not releasing his tight constraint to my fingers. “It’s an honour to meet you. Lord knows it’s been in the pipeline for quite some time. I must say, you are a hard man to pin down.”

I withdrew my hand and tucked it into my trouser pocket. “Who is this man?” I asked rudely, and the muscle in Vincent’s jaw popped. “This feels like an ambush, Vincent. I am not interested in business. Not today.”

Wrinkles tightened around Moretti’s eyes. He tried to school irrefutable chagrin, smiling meekly at Vincent. “You were right. Warren’s insufferably officious and dictatorial.”

I spared Vincent a questioning glance.

“Moretti’s not here to talk ‘business’, Liam,” Vincent tried to reason, testing my IQ levels. “Although, at a later date, he has something he wishes to discuss with you.”

Alberto Moretti had ice-ringed fingers, Cartier sunglasses and polished loafers. He reeked of money, wealth and corruption. “Confabulating shall be left to an arranged meeting orchestrated by myself,” I said calmly. “Business talk is hardly appropriate on the day of my wedding.”

“Certo,” Alberto muttered tightly. “This is my wonderful wife, Rosa.” Rosa’s decent on the eye for an older woman. Lustrous black hair cascaded down her back. Fuchsia painted her full-lips, and designer shoes braced her elegant refinement. “Questo è mio figlio.” He dragged a young boy forward. “Mio figlio, Romeo.”

In a designer suit that buried his frame, Romeo used a hand to shield his eyes, blinking up at me. “It’s great to meet you.”

“Lorenzo,” Alberto threw a thumb in the other lad’s direction, an older son. “He’s good-mannered. Very respectable, unlike this madame.” He gripped someone’s arm, a young girl, and pulled her out from the obscurity of her mother. “La mia bellissima figlia.”

Her green eyes were glassy as she outstretched her arm to shake my hand quickly. “Angelica.”

“Angelica promised to behave,” Alberto jokes, and the family laughed. “If you catch her overeating at the buffet, just call me, and I’ll give her a celery stick.”

Her cheeks burnt red in humiliation. The purple dress was far too tight for the overweight girl, but the father’s tactless comment had been unjustifiable. She was tearful before his stamp of facetiousness.

“Angelica is no trouble.” Rosa’s hand fell to her daughter’s shoulder. “It is you who needs to learn the principles of etiquette, Alberto.”

Lorenzo, the older brother, surged by possessiveness, reached for Angelica’s hand. The pair stumbled between us, their little brother, Romeo, soon chased behind them. Their strained formalities were an avoidable anomaly. I cared not for the Italian family and their attendance. In less than ten minutes, I am due to marry my fiancé. “By all means, join the service, but the vigilance of your men remain outside of these four walls.”

Alberto looked to the closed gates where his staunch men lined up outside. “I bring no trouble, Warren.” His heated glare to the group silently cautioned them to step back. “Precaution.” He and his wife gravitated towards the church. “That’s all.”

I unleashed my tongue when the Italian scent expired. “You had no fucking right to invite that man.”

“Relax.” Vincent’s scowl faded. “I want to observe him on holy grounds before—”

“No,” I cut him off. “Under no circumstances do we talk business, Vincent. I mean it.” Extracting the Patek Phillippe watch from the inner pocket of my suit jacket, I slapped it to his chest, held it there. “You do not make judgment calls by yourself. From now on, everything goes through me. Understand?”

His jaw hardened. “You will thank me soon.” He slid the watch on his wrist without an ounce of appreciation. “When authorised to debate, I expect an apology from you.”

“You’ll wait forever.” Smoothing two hands over my head, I fixed my appearance and headed indoors. “Now, let’s go inside so that I can get married.”

The church was a magnificent embodiment of concave and baroque architecture. Stained-glass windows cast multicoloured shadows on the floor, and somewhere hidden inside serpentine alcoves, the pianist performed melodious music, calibrated for the bride’s arrival. Exquisite drapery constituted the greenery and white floral arrangements on the end of packed pews, and as I strode down the aisle, white rose petals graced the soles of my feet.

You could hear faint conversations from guests. I felt eyes on me everywhere, but nothing, not even God himself, had the power to strike me down or condemn me to Hell. I am minutes away from marrying the love of my life.

Vincent did the sign of the cross before he sat beside Nate, Blaire and Josh in the pew reserved for close friends and family.

“What took you so long?” Brad asked, glimpsing at his watch. “I began to think you fled.”

“Never.” I squeezed his shoulder. “Rings?”

“Sorted.” He put his back to the church and flashed me a cheeky wink. “I am Hank fucking Marvin, Boss. The second we step inside the venue, I am hunting down the catering staff to steal some fodder. And a bird. A sexy bird.” His hands clasped low at his waist. “I might book a room, actually. What, with you sailing off into the sunset, I got nothing better to do.”

I’ll argue with him later. “Brad,” I said quietly. He leaned in to listen, his eyes on the grand altar. “Alexa wouldn’t leave me here, would she?”

“What?” His brows jumped up. “Is that fear I smell?” Snorting at my expense, he scratched his cheek. “Come on, Bossman. You don’t have a nervous bone in your body.”

Nervousness was the catalyst of irregular breathing and palpitating heartbeats. I expelled a subtle breath and observed the satin adorned priest. With a bible tight to his chest, he dipped his head in acknowledgement, adjusted his silver-framed reading glasses and said, “All rise.”

Brad gave me a smug look.

Loud footsteps followed the sound of creaking pews as everyone stood. Congruous piano music slowly released coiled-up tension. Brad angled his body slightly to watch the entranceway, and I spied Jace and Grayson taking a position to my left. My best man’s shoulder nudged mine, prompting me to look. And I did. I straightened, turned and watched with adoring eyes as Tony walked his daughter down the aisle. Everything drifted, vanished. I saw nobody—only her. An angel graced from Heaven. A gift from God.

I am one lucky son of a bitch.

Tony paused at the marble steps, brought Alexa’s hand to his lips and laid a fatherly kiss on her knuckles. His eyes brimmed in tears. He took the bouquet and handed them to Camilla, who’s newly seated beside an expressionless Vincent.

Alexa grasped the lace of her white dress to ascend the steps and stopped in front of me. Without second thoughts, I lifted the delicate veil from over her face and draped it behind her. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful. My woman had the power to bring a man to his knees—this man.

Breathing hitched and nerve-stricken, Alexa stared at the floor, the lump in her throat locked and then bopped. Her chest was rising and falling at a concerning pace. It bothered me.

“Baby, look at me,” I whispered, my finger tilting her chin. In painfully slow motion, Alexa’s beautiful hazel eyes met mine. A small, relieved smile brightened her morose countenance, and that heart of mine thumped harder. “There she is.”

Threading our fingers together, Alexa rolled her shoulders back, readied herself and breathed out a stuttered breath. Her eyes on me, she nervously chewed her bottom lip, ignoring everyone except me.

I caught snippets of the priest’s opening speech. “You look beautiful,” I mouthed, and she freed her lip to smile. “Breathtaking.” Her hands trembled in mine. I held them tighter, pulled her closer. “Only us, baby.”

If time passed, if minutes ticked, I wasn’t aware. Not until Brad’s hand appeared, the two white-gold engraved rings on his palm.

“I, Liam Warren, provide you with this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I pledge my heart and soul to you. I ask you to wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today,” I rasped, thumbing the grooves of my name on her ring. “On our wedding day.” Sliding the band down her finger, I rubbed my thumb across the encrusted layer of diamonds. “As It encircles your finger, may it remind you always that my enduring love surrounds you.”

A stray tear slides down Alexa’s cheek. “I, Alexa Haines, provide you with this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. Because this ring is seamlessly symmetrical, it signifies the perfection of true love. As I position it on your finger, I give you all that I am,” she croaked, her lips pinched as she strives to keep tears out of sights. “And everything I hope to be.” The wedding band, with her name on it, claimed my finger. “Because this ring has no end or beginning, it will forever signify the continuation of true love.” Our hands together, she added, “Always.”

The priest continued, “Bride and Groom. You have expressed your love to one another through the commitment and promise you just made. It is with this in mind that I pronounce you husband and wife.” Everyone cheered and whistled. But our eyes locked on each other. “You have kissed a thousand times. Maybe more. Today, the feeling is new. No longer partners and best friends. You have become husband and wife and can now seal the agreement with a kiss. Today, your kiss is a promise.” He placed a hand on my back. “You may kiss the bride.”

My hands slide around Alexa’s neck to angle her head back for our sealed kiss. Her eyes fluttered shut. I lowered my mouth to breathe a kiss to her soft, delectable lips when she said, “Liam, I love you.”

I felt her love everywhere. “You have no idea, Alexa.” Our mouths touched, firm and strong with a lifetime of promises. I struggled to disconnect. “Baby,” I said hoarsely, resting my forehead on hers. “Open your eyes.”

Alexa’s eyelashes flickered, and her dazed eyes stared deep into mine. “I’m Alexa Warren.”

“No.” The pad of my thumb traced her lips. “You’re my wife.”

CHAPTER THREE

Alexa

Sandstone gazebos and exquisite marquees materialised in the manicured gardens, the majestic forest, an idyllically romantic backdrop. A blush of white roses, tulips, anemones and peonies embellished the wooden trellises that soared the enchanted castle’s architectural magnificence, where guests can admire the sweeping views from their balconies.

In a resplendent white dress refined for royalty, delineated for a princess, I stood alone in the castle’s grand entryway, watching unidentifiable individuals converse inside the marquee. Besuited men indulged in liquor and cigars, and glamourous women imbibed champagne and smoked cigarettes.

Our fairytale wedding, Liam’s and mine, catered five hundred humans, yet I knew only a handful by name. Everyone perceived him, though. Liam Warren. He had a dominant air about him, an imposing presence that demanded attention wherever he surfaced. If not the awe-stricken, reverential men who fell over their shoes to steal five minutes of his attention, then the wonderstruck females, giggling foolishly and regarding him in avid delight. Time stood still for that man. Everyone discontinued their night of carousing to listen to him speak, to watch him in wonderment, to immerse themselves in the rarity of his contentment.

Nursing a glass of lukewarm champagne, I put my back to the wall and let Liam’s voice fade into the distance.

“Found her.” Brad’s baritone voice jerked champagne onto my fingers. “Why are you out here by yourself?” In all his tailored glory, he moved in front of me, blocking the garden views. “Alexa?”

“I needed fresh air after the sumptuous five-course meal,” I said light-heartedly. “I fear overindulgence might tear this dress.” Sucking in a tight breath, I set a hand to my lower stomach. “I can barely breathe.”

Brad pinched the lace by my waist and tugged it three times. “There’s room for another bride in there,” he joked, and I rolled my eyes. “Is it that bad?”

Was it? I don’t know. I had the tendency to gripe for no apparent reason. “It leaves scarce room for movement. And it’s too hot in there.” My thumb aimed towards the palatial ballroom. “I feel like a fat, sweaty, squealing pig.”

His lips meshed together. “Lovely.”

“I can’t help it.” Dabbing sweat from my brow, I chattered awkwardly. “I am a motormouth who talks before she thinks.”

“Why do you look so sullen?” Josh appeared from nowhere. His accomplice, Nate, right beside him. “Shit, she looks ready to pass out?”

Nate slapped a large, inked hand on my forehead. “Do you feel sick or anything?”

“No,” I reassured them. “It’s just too hot and—”

“Alexa’s all fat in her dress,” Brad finished, and the two men gave him contemptuous glares. “What?” He held up two hands in surrender. “Her words. Not mine.”

“Alexa?” Josh snorted. “You don’t look fat. I think she’s had too much to drink.”

“Yeah.” Nate’s arms crossed. “Maybe some bottled water for the bride, huh?”

Liam handed me one glass of champagne during our sit-down meal. The same glass, clenched between my rigid fingers, currently fogged from condensation. I have barely touched alcohol all night. “I am not drunk. I’m sticky.”

“Sticky?” With a boyish smirk, Brad’s eyebrows danced mischievously. “I like sticky.”

“Oh, stop.” I jerked his shoulder with a pitiful amount of vigour. “I am not in the mood for your sexual innuendos tonight.”

“What? Moi?” He gestured to himself. “I would never speak such filthy double entendres. I am wholeheartedly offended.” Pensive reconsideration greyed his narrowed eyes. “I say that loosely, of course.”

“Lewdness is part and parcel where you are concerned.” I looked from one man to another. “Shouldn’t you be inside, enjoying the free champagne, or finding someone to warm your bed, perhaps? Why are you out here?”

With me, I thought.

Tattooed hand adhered to his mouth, Josh shared a silent conversation with the men. “Let’s take her upstairs.” He seized my wrist, dragging me alongside him. “My room?”

“I—what?” I struggled to keep up with their determined strides. “Unless you want me to break an ankle and fall flat on my face, I suggest you stop manhandling me.”

“No problem.” Josh released his unyielding grip to my wrist. “She’s all yours.”

“I am…” Brad prowled towards me. “What are you doing?” He bent down, tucked his arms under my legs and swept me off my feet. “Brad!” I wriggled in his arms, the glass flute lost in my grip, shattering on the ground. “What are you doing? Liam will have a stroke. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Brad carried me like I weighed nothing. “Alexa, be quiet.”

Holding open the castle door, Nate stepped aside for Brad to convey me indoors. Knowing it’s impossible to fight this man, I slackened in his arms and stared at the kissing angels and rosy-cheeked cherubs’ hand-painted on the regal ceiling.

Five minutes later, Brad drops me onto the comfiest mattress of a four-poster bed. Laid motionless on my back, I admired the twisted, vertical columns and red, crushed velvet drapery. I hear the men rifling through holdalls. “Josh, I could die in your bed.” I sat upright, sweeping fallen hair strands out of my eyes. “Why am I here?” The door knocked. “And who’s that?”

Not paying a blind bit of attention to my curiosity, Nate unlocked the room door and pulled Blaire inside. Instant anger detonated. I am not inclined to share her breathing space. “I need a drink—”

“Wait.” Brad gripped my elbow, lowering his voice to whisper, “She’s not staying.”

My stare drifted over his shoulder.

Blaire gave Nate a black bag all-while kissing his accommodating lips. I mightn’t like the girl very much, unshakable aversion is more appropriate, but she seemingly makes him happy.

I stopped myself from gagging.

Nate’s worthy of more than someone who, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, harbours feelings for another man—the same man who so happens to wear a wedding band with my name on it.

While undeniably intimidating, Nate’s the friendlier, more approachable of the Suits. He inarguably loves women. I witnessed as much whilst working at Club 11. If you compare him to Josh and Brad, the unashamed Lotharios, he’s unlikely to be the man juggling multiple females. He’s respectable with his advances. However, judging by the vomit-inducing display transpiring in the room, he’s ready for a serious relationship.

I wish I could be thrilled for the man, but Nate’s on the road to mass destruction. Yes, innermost thoughts fester from past encounters and personal dislike. We can’t all be wrong, though, can we? Josh’s irked by their affectionate closeness. Brad is so peeved by their unhidden intimacy that I fear the vein on his temple might pop.

Blaire is a fake, misleading bitch. I called it from the beginning. Her dark, beguiling aura stinks to the high heavens. Every voice inside of me projected untrustworthy, minacious and dangerous.

“Yes.” Nate kissed Blaire’s cheek one final time, keeping the door open for her to leave. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Blaire briefly slipped her gaze to me. “I hope you sort the dress, Alexa,” she said sympathetically. “It would be a shame if you left early.”

I am immune to her bogus kindness. “Hm,” I mumbled flatly, thanking Josh for the glass of room-temperature vodka. “Bye, Blaire.”

Nate closed the door and emptied miscellaneous items onto the chaise lounge. He felt everyone’s dissatisfaction and did well to ignore it. “Hold the bottom of your dress up, Alexa.”

I downed vodka in one gulp, set the glass onto the wooden dresser and hoisted the train of my dress to the waist. Threading a needle and fine white cotton, Nate positioned to one knee and examined the lace layers with a stern frown. He balanced the needle between gritted teeth, gathered delicate material and sampled possibilities. “Josh, find me something to use as a button.” He made a stitch by my lower back and a panicked breath filtered into my lungs. “Don’t worry, Alexa. I promise not to stab you.”

Losing his suit jacket to the bed, Josh rolled up his shirt sleeves and eyed the vintage-looking room. “What, from clothes?” He scratched the back of his head. “Where do I find an unwanted button, Nate?”

“What about this?” Brad carefully unclipped my mother’s rhinestone hair comb from my hair. “You can make it work, right?”

“Hold it in place,” Nate instructed, and I felt Brad’s hand on the bottom of my spine. “Keep still, Alexa.”

“Am I allowed to ask any questions?” Nobody answered. “Fair enough.”

“See if there’s any string.” Nate stitched the jewels in place. “Preferably white.”

Josh rifled through random contents. “Is this from your bag of tortures?” he asked. “Why did you bring this shit here?”

“I never go anywhere unprepared,” Nate drawled, snatching a ball of white string from Josh. “You never know,” he added evasively. “Hands behind your head.”

“I can hear the music from this room.” I clasped the nape of my neck. “Good luck trying to sleep through that madness tonight, Josh.”

He smirked wolfishly. “I’ll be lost in too much fanny to give a toss.”

“Gross.” My face scrunched up. “I feel cooler already.”

Nate elevated the string-knotted train to my lower back, affixing it to my mother’s rhinestones. Brad removed pearled jewels from my hair and tossed them on the floor. Dark coils loosened in individual sweeps. His fingers combed strands as he collected hair atop my head. “Better?” he asked, and I nodded. “Good.” He snapped a bobble off his wrist and knotted my hair in place. “You don’t feel like a hot pig anymore?”

“No,” I said, ambuscaded by bewildering sentimentalism. “I love you.” Three pairs of different coloured eyes regarded me. I had a sudden urge to cry. We all had something in common, them and me. We were castaways, belonging to no one, directionless, abandoned and melancholic. Damaged, broken souls with a heinous past acclimatised to tempestuous chaos and friends with darkness. Liam Warren found us, one by one, irrelevant to bloodlines, and he made us a family. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. “I love all of you.”

Brad slapped a hand to his chest. “How touching?”

My smile hardened. “Would it hurt you to reciprocate?”

“She’s not so bad for a white girl.” Nate adjusted his nose ring. “I can admit, I care somewhat.”

“Yeah.” Josh locked an arm around my neck and kissed the column of my neck. “I tolerate her.”

“Assholes.” My fingers curled around Josh’s forearm. “Love me back, or I’ll disown you.”

The four of us exited the room as two women saunter past. “Fine,” Brad relented, his eye on the glittering prize—a glorious ass bedecked in satin. “I love Alexa as much as I love the idea of taking her,” he points to the brunette, “to bed tonight.”

Female merriment echoed. I kept my sights on the insufferable blond Suit. “Well, that’s demoralising.”

Nate chuckled dryly. “We better get you back downstairs before the boss comes looking for you.”

We descended the gilded staircase and entered the imperial ballroom in time to see the lights come on. I was a deer in the headlight, unsatisfied by the array of attentive eyes on me. Loud music decreased to a low melody. People deserted the dancefloor, the bar and marquee al fresco stations to sit at elaborately decorated tables. “What did I miss?” I clung to Josh’s side. “Did someone die?”

“Alexa?” Teetering on unstable feet, Tony, half-cut and oddly eccentric, came forward. “You almost missed the speeches.”

“Oh?” My favourite Suits separated and dispersed. “I’m sorry. I had to freshen up.”

“Come.” He ushered me between fully seated tables. “I’m glad I found you before Liam did. He’s been spitting feathers—”

“Alexa?” Liam’s ringed fingers locked around my upper arm. “What happened?”

Tony offered a flat smile, kissed my forehead and left me to handle Liam. Free from the laborious weight of the dress train, I snaked an arm around my husband’s waist and batted my look-how-innocent-I-am eyelashes. “Mr Warren?”

“Mrs Warren.” He gave me a low, sexy smirk. “You disappeared.”

Just one look from this man sheathed me in goosebumps. “Ten minutes is hardly a disappearance.”

“Fifty-nine minutes,” he corrected, wrapping me in his muscular arms. “I counted.”

I smiled against his lips. “Everyone’s staring at us.”

“Let them look.” His nose nudged mine. “I am so fucking in love with you.”

Life, you were a bastard. In my darkest hours, I thought I was alone. But with weakness comes strength, and with strength comes courage and survivalism. Amidst the battle upon searching for the person you dragged through hell and back, I found an imperfectly perfect man to mend my broken heart and fix me back together again, which served more purpose than the pointless lights and disillusionment of what the universe had to offer. So, thank you for being cruel and unkind. If it weren’t for trials and tribulations, I wouldn’t be here tonight, lost in the ravenous kiss of a man who set my soul alight. “And I love you,” I whispered, light-headed and completely enamoured.

“Now that heart-warming display is over.” Brad tapped a microphone. “If you can sit down. Just a suggestion. Not an order. Don’t kill me,” he added figuratively, and interminable hysterics reiterated in every part of the ballroom. “If nobody knows where I am in the morning?” He fake-coughed, coasting a glance of insinuation to his boss. “Look in his trunk. No pun intended.” More belts of laughter. “Christ, you lot are naughty.”

We reached the bridal table. I sat to Liam’s left, beside Tony, who’s got his arm around Camilla. To her left, Jace and Grayson. Brad, the best man, stands to Liam’s right. Vincent, Nate and Josh, in that order, to Brad’s right. Now that I know where everyone is, I can sit back and enjoy a glass of champagne.

“Traditionally, the best man follows the groom’s speech. In this case, Warren deems himself too superior to bestow gratitude to his guests, so you get me instead.” Brad downed a shot of whiskey to quench thirst whilst Liam’s far too incensed to blink. “Firstly, can we take a moment to appreciate our beautiful bride?” The acclamation of handclapping commenced. “Alexa came out of nowhere.” The room’s cheerfulness accelerated. “No, seriously. It was a normal day and trip to the coffee shop when she came barrelling into Warren’s chest like a hot, turtle loving hodgepodge.”

Everyone continued to laugh along to Brad, whereas I sank deeper in the chair.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight,” Brad picked up where he left off, “Yet I witnessed something special that day. I saw a man—this man,” he gestured to Liam, “in an Armani suit, I might add, falling to his knees for a woman. Call me presumptuous—or handsomely precise, but that’s a rare sight, am I right?”

Delighted by Brad’s extemporaneous speech, our guests clapped and hooted a cycle of whistles.

“Let’s face reality here for a second. Warren’s not the easiest person to get along with, but Alexa, she fought against the odds.” Brad paused to consider his next line. “She persisted long enough to, not only earn a place in Warren’s heart—and I speak for myself, and on behalf of the brothers when saying, she earned a place in ours, too.”

I mouthed, thank you.

“Even if there were no Warren, Alexa is—and will always be family to us.” When the room applauded, and Brad seized the moment to neck another shot, I sat in reverie, tasting salty tears on my lips. “Bossman,” he punctuated, scratching his eyebrow. “I’m going for the whole unsentimental approach, but it’s proving to be difficult.” He gripped the microphone tightly. “Before Warren even knew who I was, he’d saved my life twice.”

Brad’s ambiguousness had me glancing at Liam in wonder, but the man’s too engrossed in his best man’s speech to feel me looking.

“I was not the gorgeous, suave and besuited man you see today. In actual fact, I lived on a council estate, working dead-end jobs, struggling to make ends meet.

“Everything I am is down to this man.” Brad laid a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “He picked me up when I was at my lowest. He put the fear of God into me and forced me to shave my bastard beard off.” Brad rubbed his chin as if remembering the moment like it was yesterday. “He’s helped many—and I don’t mean financially. I’m talking about the acts of kindness, which he’d never admit, for those in need of support, friendship and acceptance. He’s a man of integrity. A man of his word. A man who fights hard but loves even harder. He stood by me in the darkest periods of my life,” he whispered the last part. “He has many names, some offensive and unspeakable. For tonight’s celebrations, Warren’s appropriate. I call him my brother.” He grasped the nape of Liam’s neck. “I have never been happier for you than I am right now. You deserve this moment.” Intense silence stretched throughout the ballroom. “To Liam and Alexa. May all your ups and downs come only in the bedroom.” Grinning alongside everyone else, he pinched the bridge of his eyes. “I stole that one from online.”

In less than an hour, our family and friends individually stood to raise a toast. Each unique vocalisation was just as heartwarming as the first.

We seemed to do everything backwards. I was yet to dance with Liam or Tony, and the tiered cake remained untouched, which wasn’t a problem. Everyone’s busy enjoying the music, the dancing, the unexpected encounters and rendezvousing.

I found Jace at the bar. “You didn’t give a speech.”

A day of celebratory drinks had dishevelled Jace. His navy tie hung loosely around his neck, and his glassy, bloodshot eyes were the result of excessive vodka. “People don’t understand our relationship, Alexa.” He rested his back to the bar. “It’s not like I can speak from the heart.”

I pursed my lips. “Since when did we care what people think?”

That earned me a lopsided smirk. “You want a speech?”

I nodded.

“Okay.” Clicking down a bartender, he ordered a round of vodka shots. “Me and Warren don’t see eye to eye, but we share a common interest. You.” He handed me a glass. “When I hit rock bottom, and I drank too much and was angry with the world for taking my…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “For taking my baby girl, I sat in my car one night, a bottle of Russian in one hand, a nine millimetre in another, contemplating suicide.”

I felt the colour drain from my face.

“But I kept thinking about this girl.” His cheeks hollowed. “She’s probably waiting for me back at Heather’s place. What about her, right? I brought her into this mess. How can I end everything, my entire being, not knowing if she’s safe, or if those fucking Albanian’s find her and nobody knows she’s even missing because everyone think she’s already dead.”

My throat tightened. “Jace…”

“Even when I didn’t deserve her benevolence, she held me.” His finger grazed a lock of hair behind my ear. “She kept me afloat.”

“And I’d do it again,” I said fiercely.

“She’s quite possibly the most infuriating woman I have ever met. She sounds like a tortured cat when singing in the shower. She eats so much ice cream; I am surprised she still has any teeth left. She forces me to stare at designer shoes for an insanely long duration when we both know she’ll buy them regardless. I mean, she literally invades every factor of my life.”

I shoved him playfully. “Asshole.”

“Yet, I love her,” he said earnestly. “I love her so much that I couldn’t walk away.” His empty shot glass landed on the bartop with a clink. “She’ll never be mine, and that’s cool because what she and I share, it’s different. It’s unconventional. People who don’t understand the dynamics of what pain did to us judge us. It’s not about intimacy or passion and sex. It’s about two broken hearts, two best friends; odds and ends; down and out.”

I raised my shot glass. “One and the same.”

“And that’s all there is to it.” He waited for me to finish the vodka, placed the glass down and curled his hands around my head. “Now, for an appropriate finishing line. I am so fucking happy for you. I can give the groom a protective brother lecture, but I’ll cut to the chase. Warren would rip my balls off and feed them to me if I dared to overstep.” We suppressed laughter. “He’ll take care of you. I can sleep peacefully at night, knowing you are okay.”

And I am one advantageous human to have, not one, but many males in my life.

“Oh, yeah?” Jared boomed behind us. In black trousers and a white shirt, he squeezed his way through the crowd, called down a barman and slapped twenty quid onto the beer mat. “What am I missing here, then?”

Jace kissed the top of my head and stepped back. “It’s private.”

“Wait!” Grayson fell into my back, enveloped his arms around my waist and lifted me off the ground. “It’s party time in Atlanta!”

“Gray!” My eyes protruded. “Put me down!”

“We’re not in Atlanta.” Shane tossed extra cash onto the bar. “How drunk is this guy?”

“Not drunk enough, bell boy.” Grayson plonked my feet to the floor and began to sway behind me. “Come on, Alexa. Move them hips.”

I snorted. “I can’t cope with him.”

“Likewise.” Shaking his head, Jace passed around vodka shots. “Who else is in the mood to get shit faced?”

“Put all our names down,” Grayson sings, wiggling a finger in Jared’s face. “Are you straight?”

Jared blinked rapidly. “I think so?”

“Too indecisive.” Gray waved him off, licking his lips at Shane. “What about you?”

Shane’s eyebrows lifted at Grayson’s forwardness. “I’m all for the pussy.”

“I guess that leaves you and me, hot stuff.”

“It’s not happening.” Jace held up a glass, and we all followed suit. “To a night of good memories and a killer hangover.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Alexa

Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” honoured the ballroom with his mellifluous harmonies. Half-eaten dinner plates, empty glasses and soiled, folded napkins strewed white-clothed tables: fresh foliage and fragrant floral swags mantled chairs with pendulous vintage lace. Discarded handbags, impressive shoes, and decorative fascinators disordered the circumference of the zestful dancefloor.

Six vodka shots and four rounds of champagne laced my system. Unchosen soberness alienated the minority—yours truly. In contradiction of the bevvied assemblage, I am sober as a judge. Unlike every other hopeless inebriate, alcohol refused to cooperate.

Nevertheless, I experienced a night to remember. It’ll be a calamitous morning for everyone nurturing their hangovers while I ingest warm pastries and consume orange juice, fresh-faced and energised.

Due to Nate’s sewist adroitness, I can urinate effortlessly. No toilet paper malfunctions or lace layers above my head.

I left the cubicle, washed my hands in the basin and checked the state of my reflection in the light-lined mirror.

My pout required a top-up. I unclasped my velvet clutch-purse, found the lipstick and stained my lips. I am midway on the rim of my upper lip when the cubicle door behind me crashes open.

Rummaging a hand inside her designer handbag, Blaire stumbled out, the heels of her shoes scraping across the white and gold marble effect floor.

Thirty furious seconds transpire before the dimwit catches me in her sights. “Alexa?” she burped, yanking the cold tap with blundering hands. “I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

Breathing through my nose, I blinked away any vivid dreams of flushing her head down the toilet, stepped to the right, away from the infectious parasite, and proceeded to paint my lips red.

“You look great.” Jutting a hip to the sandstone counter, she cocked her head and watched me apply makeup, a bizarre expression of fascination on her pallid face. “You hate me, don’t you?”

Is she seriously choosing the day of my wedding to air our dirty laundry?

“I don’t know you enough to hate you,” I said in a bored tone. “Don’t take distance personally, Blaire. I simply prefer to keep a small circle.”

“But we understand each other. It makes sense for us to be amicable.” Her pink-polished fingernails strummed my purse that’s laid open on the counter. “Is it because of him?” she asked, and Liam’s face immediately came to mind. “Flamur?”

Acidic bile clogged my throat. “You will not speak of that vile man in front of me.”

“Oh,” she whispered, furrowing two brows. “I think, for everyone’s sake, it’d be easier if we got along. I mean, we can even be friends?” Her hopeful eyes had mascara smudges. “Nathaniel, he’d love that. Please, Alexa. Us girls, we should stick together.”

Nate, I thought, recapping the lipstick. “Sure.”

“Great!” Her hands clapped. “And for the record, that stuff between Liam and I, I am so over it.” My entire body froze, and unanchored uneasiness sent a burning sensation down my spine. “I don’t want you to think of me as a threat or anything. What he and I shared? Well, it’s yesterday’s news—”

“Warren,” I corrected, and her miffed face twisted. “It’s a common formality to speak of him with respect.” Ripping the purse from under her rapacious hand, I tucked it into the nook of my arm. “It’s also disrespectful and inappropriate to wear white to someone’s wedding.”

She fingered the satin bow at the back of her dress. “It’s crème—”

“It’s white.” Unable to withstand the disgusting sight of her, I swung open the bathroom door. “And I don’t see you as a threat, Blaire.” I flashed her the diamond rings on my fourth finger. “Liam swore fealty to me. Not you.”

I had walked in a straight line all night, but after that encounter, I could barely hold my chin high. Impossible rage and jealousy soared to dangerous heights. I wanted to murder Blaire. No, I wanted to murder Liam for keeping her a secret.

Upon entering the ballroom, the dignified waiter offered a champagne flute. I guzzled it in one, wiped suds from my chin and snatched another.

Hiding from Jace and the Suits, I tossed the purse on a random chair, slipped out of the ballroom through the garden doors, dodged seated guests and cigarette smoke and ventured ahead.

Pain tore at my insides. I am on the verge of a panic attack. Pressing a hand to my chest, inhaling a long, deep breath, I respired in intervals, willing myself to calm down, to shake it off, to do anything other than succumb to a meltdown.

I went from all-consuming perturbation to acute sadness. Of all the women to choose, Liam had to lie down with her. Blaire, the unwanted, tagalong leech, the damsel in distress, the pebble in my bastard Jimmy Choo. He has the bold disrespect to keep the contemptible vixen within his inner circle, knowing they share a past. He expects me to look at her, tolerate her, all day, every day, with this undesirable knowledge.

Whacking a pendulous branch aside, I walked under the arched hedge way, shaking the last drop of champagne onto my tongue; the glass stayed on the floor in my wake.

My peregrination through the scenic castle gardens soon alleviated the strain in my chest. Twinkling lights adorned the tree-lined hedges and the shallow stream beneath the old, wooden bridge, bubbled stacked boulders and fallen branches. Each heeled step echoed through timbers, the cold, night air blowing strands across my face. I gripped the coarse balustrade to peer down at the water, watching it cascade along the muddy bank.

I can’t stomach thoughts of them together. Him touching her. Her touching him. Two of them lost in each other, repaying passion, receiving affection. Blaire’s worse than Kellie. No, she’s worse than Hellen Bennett, and that’s emphasising extremeness. I hated both women. Aristocratic Bennett tipped the scale, but Blaire’s a different breed altogether. The deceiving temptress is rotten to the core.

Horripilation clambered my spine. I knew he was here. I felt him. “You didn’t need to follow me. I’m sure security located my whereabouts the second I left the castle.”

Liam’s masculine cologne, a mixture of saffron and spice, greeted me before his smooth hands trailed my shoulders. “Who upset you?”

His question held an unspoken threat. I knew this man. He’d capsize the entire castle to put inferiors in line. If I informed him of the mere “happenstance”—more like an intentional stratagem—with Blaire, there’d be no preventing the inevitable. Her demise would stain his hands by sunrise.

“Baby?” he whispered, his arms snaking around my waist.

The unknown wreaked havoc on my brain. I had many questions and multiple, unspeakable visions of skull-dragging the witch to Liam’s feet to demand blood. Her blood.

I’m innately a blabbermouth who doesn’t know the acceptable means of communication. Still, the topic of Blaire will be the starting point of an argument, a lamentable, distressing controversy between newlyweds for everyone to bear witness, including the schadenfreude anticipating the performance.

I blew out a worrisome breath.

Liam and Blaire’s tormenting situation, whatever their state of affairs entailed, cannot be overlooked by any means. I refuse to fulfil her wish, though. Tonight’s about us. It’s our moment to cherish, not her opportunity to tarnish. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, or the day after that, I’ll raise concerns. I’ll approach Liam in a mature manner and ask for understanding. It’s liable he’ll strive to shut me down, but it’s happening whether he likes it or not.

Liam’s teeth nibbled my earlobe. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

“No one upset me.” I reached behind me to cup his jaw. “I had too much to drink and thought the fresh air would do the trick.”

He made a gravelled sound in the back of his throat. “We didn’t cut the cake.”

As if any of those drunken fools cared for cake. “We didn’t dance, either.”

“Affirmative.” His hands roamed my lace-clad thighs. “Earlier, when watching you, I reached a conclusion.”

I wasn’t aware of his engrossment. “What did you conclude?”

His lips ravished my neck. “I am accustomed to public reverence.”

“Really?” Only the stars witnessed my eye-roll. “You are a bit late to the party, Liam. I could have told you that.”

God, what an insufferably egotistical man?

Hollow laughter vibrated in his chest. “Is it wrong to be vainglorious?”

My eyes rounded.

The unruly empath needs to get out of my head.

“I am not a mental telepathist, Alexa.” With me caged in his arms, he rested his chin on my shoulder. “I know your thoughts because you speak of them.”

Of course, I do. I adopted a lousy character trait called sotto voce. “Some might call you narcissistic.”

“Synonymous for vain,” he said roughly, studying the constellation of stars above. “Now, back to my initial reasoning. I determined there’s one fragment of my life I prefer to privatise.” He turned me in his arms, and I had to crane my neck to look at him. “You.”

I gave him a teasing smirk. “You don’t like to share me?”

“No,” he said, short and sharp. “I don’t.” His lips traced mine. “I searched longer than necessary to find the right song—our song. For you, I hope I chose wisely.” Unlocking his phone, he selected “I Belong to You” by Jacob Lee and set it down on the wooden balustrade. “Mrs Warren.” Our fingers interlaced. “May I have this dance?”

I am speechless.

Liam takes unhurried steps backwards, bringing me with him. His intense stare flushed a shade of pink to my cheeks. My glassy gaze lowered to the ground, which prompted him to tilt my chin, a silent order to look at him. His arm captured me by the waist, putting us chest-to-chest. Locked in each other’s eyes, we turned to the fading sound of Jacob’s euphonious voice. Everything in the background sailed, the wading river, the faraway castle and faint, whispering winds.

I saw him—only him.

Liam’s head dipped, our temples touching. “I get to love you for the rest of my life.” His arm tightened around my spine. “My only regret is not meeting you sooner.”

I caught my breath. “Liam Warren’s unapologetically unregretful.”

“I have many when it comes to you,” he admitted, fracturing my heart. “You look fucking beautiful.” Our mouths met for a long, searing kiss. His knuckles brushing along my spine, he grasped the nape of my neck, held me in place and swept his tongue through my parted lips. He thumbed a stray tear from my cheek, his demanding kiss raw and passionate.

I felt Liam’s enamour to the bone, to the beating pain in my chest. I couldn’t pull away if I tried, not that he’d permit it.

His lips moved to the corner of my mouth, to my cheeks, the tip of my nose.

Laughing and smiling, I futilely protested, “Liam.”

“Baby?” Liam hid his boyish smirk in the groove of my neck. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” I said breathlessly, and he turned me in his arms. “I think I love you.”

“You think?” When he spun me out of his reach, I envisioned a dreadful face-plant to the floor, but he fetched me back just as quickly. My hands crashed against his chest. “Let’s rectify those uncertain emotions, Mrs Warren.”

Liam’s hand grasped mine, and he rotated me, the dress following seconds later. Happiness radiated off me, I am sure. For a slow song, we danced as though an eventful ballroom domed us, as though polished marble floors elevated our feet and instrumental music gilded our movements. He progressed with such etiquette, formality and predatory grace. It came naturally to him, to a handsomely tailored man whose imperiousness contradicted his actions. It’s something I hadn’t perceived until now. He can be himself around me.

Watching me with unbridled adoration, Liam held my hand whilst my fingers adhered to the lace of my dress. It was an unpractised, unpremeditated dance, yet synchronisation ensued effortlessly.

My cheeks ached from smiling so hard, and the heart belonging to him beat even harder. “Will there be many a dance?” I asked as he dipped me under his arm. “Many private moments for us?”

“For you,” he brought me back, his lips gently to mine, “I’d do just about anything.”

My heart skipped a beat. “I’m in love with you, Liam.”

He gave me a rare, rueful smile. “We should cut the cake.” Taking his phone, ending the song, he slipped it in his trouser pocket and draped a protective arm across my shoulders. “Unless Brad’s delved into it already.”

We walked back to the castle alongside each other. “Are we spending the entire weekend here?” I combed a strand of hair behind my ear. “With the others?”

Liam’s evasive mask stayed in place. “No.”

I bellied disappointment. “Why not?”

“We’ll stay the night,” he explained, his fingers absently massaging my shoulder. “And in the morning so that you can enjoy breakfast with everyone, but our flight leaves midday—”

“Our flight?” I stopped in my tracks. “What flight? And to where?”

He laid a chaste kiss on my cheek. “It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.” A combination of dread and excitement rattled my bones. “Liam, you must tell me. I won’t sleep otherwise.”

It’s not an over-exaggeration. If he withholds information, I’ll be tossing and turning all night with irrational deliberation.

The thought of boarding a flight to the land of nowhere had my stomach in knots. Yes, the pilots are skilled, highly trained humans, but what if they miscalculated the fuel uplift? What if there is a mechanical failure? And if the plane encounters hellacious weather, sabotaged by turbulence, what happens next? We plummet forty-thousand feet to our premature death.

“I don’t want to fly, Liam.” Nausea coiled my insides. “It’s too high. Let’s hire a caravan and stay on the beach instead—”

“A caravan?” My suggestion repulsed him. “It’s our honeymoon, Alexa. You are worth more than a bag of chips and a trailer.”

“Really?” I scratched the back of my head. “I like chips.”

“As do I,” he said humouredly, and I sensed a clause. “But the sun, sea and—”

“A&E?”

“And sex.” He grasped my backside, lifting me off the ground. “I want lots of sex with my wife.”

My arms and legs wrapped around him. “People have sex in caravans, Liam.”

He licked his lower lip, caught it with his teeth. “Not my woman.”

If people watched Liam convey me through the marquee, I wasn’t privy, nor did I care. Multicoloured lights and loud eighties music ricocheted inside the ballroom. It’s still bursting at the seams; people are dancing and eating additional portions from the salad bar. Liam put my feet to the ground to converse with another gentleman, his hand glued to mine. Whilst they talked, I scoured the dancefloor, the seating area and the bar, looking for Tony. He was pretty merry earlier, so it wouldn’t surprise me if Camilla forced him to call it a night.

“Come,” Liam ordered, wandering down the all-brick corridor. “I…” Vincent and an older male I did not recognise turned the corner, and his voice faltered. “Vincent.” His back became my shield. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yes.” Vincent briefly eyed me over his brother’s shoulder. “Can I borrow you from the bride?”

“Alberto Moretti.” A crème Valentino suit sheathed his broad body. “Alexa Warren.” He stuck his hand out for me to shake, and Liam visibly tensed. “I’ve heard a lot about you. You should sit with me. I’d love to introduce you to my family.”

My cold fingers squeezed his large ones. “I wish I could say the same,” I said warily. “Liam’s yet to mention you.”

“Inessential ceremoniousness, Moretti.” Liam invented sarcasm. “Misdirecting your efforts? It’s rather desperate, wouldn’t you agree?”

Vincent clasped a hand over his thin lips.

“It’s common courtesy to be polite.” Folding his arms, Alberto rocked back on the heels of his shoes. “Take it how you will.”

Liam’s jaw locked. “To be in Alexa’s good graces does not guarantee an attendance of conclave.”

Completely nonplussed, my eyes bounced between them. Liam’s angered expression ignited unmitigated apprehension. I was out of my depths. I knew as much as a bystander, the tension amongst men is syndicate business.

Vincent stared at his brother, prolonged and intense. “The perfect paragon weighing one hundred carats,” he said equivocally. “That in abundance.”

I could almost hear the cogs inside Liam’s head rotate. In aloof muteness, he stood taller, fixing his diamond cufflink. He side-eyed me, then returned his stoicism to Alberto. With me in their proximity, he won’t interrogate or ask questions. He wanted to, though. His eyes gleamed with something indescribable. Intrigue perhaps. “How? And choose your words carefully.”

Alberto’s eyes went from me to Liam. “Gateway.”

“Of course.” Liam chuckled darkly. “Everyone covets Gateway, misusing the connections that I worked hard to build and retain. Let’s call a spade a fucking spade, Moretti. You wear Italian’s finest on your back and reek of wealth and deception. You have a strong accent. You left Italy recently. Why? A family vacation?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Or are you hiding from someone?”

Jesus, Liam got all that knowledge by looking at a man’s suit.

“Hiding is a bit extreme,” Alberto drawled. “I left Sicily for a fresh start. Warren, I mean no disrespect. I’ll be honest with you. I need you for importation. You’ll benefit jointly by your brother.”

Heart-thudding stillness lengthened between us. Liam studied the Italian intently, hunting for a dent of trickery. “I want to adjourn this conversation for a later date.” He fisted the lower part of my dress. “Two weeks. I’ll make the arrangements through Vincent.”

Alberto seemed minimally grateful. “I shall wait. Impatiently.”

When Alberto walked ahead, Liam slapped a hand on Vincent’s chest, preventing him from leaving. “Do you trust that man?” His voice was low yet commanding. “I don’t.”

When the door opened and music spilt into the hallway, indicating that Alberto joined the ballroom, Vincent began to reason with Liam. “I trust very few people in this world. Moretti isn’t one of them.”

Liam arched an eyebrow. “Yet you wish to amalgamate with the Italians.” Vincent’s unforeseen candour perplexed his older brother. “At what cost?”

“Not ours,” Vincent said with conviction. “It’s only business, Liam.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” It’s almost impossible to decipher their vague interaction. “Why does Alberto need Gateway? And how does something already in Liam’s possession benefit anyone? Oh, and whilst I am on the subject. What’s a perfect paragon? Banned and restricted goods? Drugs? Guns? Live bait?”

“What?” they both asked in unison.

I groaned in frustration.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Liam brushed past Vincent, dragging me with him. “I’m taking my wife to bed.”

We headed upstairs and entered our bridal suite moments later. With garden views, the room had a regal palette of blood-red fabrics, plush upholstery, gilded furniture and luxurious carpet.

Liam hoisted an overnight bag onto the bed, simultaneously tugging off his navy tie. Whilst he’s busy rifling for comfortable clothes, I snagged the handbag from under the high back chair, the one I asked Grayson to hide for me, and locked myself in the bathroom.

Clearing my throat, I moved to the basin and emptied all-white lace to the marble counter. Peeling off the dress became taxing. I almost gave up the fight until it fell to my feet. “Thank you,” I muttered, folding it in an acceptable pile.

Drumming my fingernails against the counter, I checked my reflection and shimmied out of the skin-tone lingerie, opting for a white bra and lace briefs. Its intricate style looked fabulous on the website but did absolutely nothing for my figure. The full briefs gave me a saggy backside. My breasts looked even more negligible. “For crying out loud.” I unclasped the bra, dropped the knickers in the bin and selected a satin negligee instead. It’s perfect for someone who seeks something more conventional. Not what I had in mind, though.

Liam knocked on the door. “Alexa?”

Turning on the tap, I squeezed toothpaste onto a toothbrush and scrubbed my teeth. “Just a minute.”

“Is everything okay?”

I made a noncommittal noise.

“Can I come in?”

I spurned my reflection. “No—I mean, I need to pee and other stuff…” No, I didn’t. Why did I say that? “Not the other, other stuff…” His husky laughter sent a hot blush to my face. “Please erase the last five seconds from your memory.”

Liam’s footsteps retreated from the door.

“Fucking hell,” I mumbled over a mouthful of toothpaste.

Ripping the negligee over my head, dumping it with the briefs, I glanced between the G-string and high-waisted thong. If I can’t get the bra to accommodate, I will have to compromise.

Cupping cold water to my lips, I rinsed minty freshness, selected the lace thong and yanked it over my rear end. A white bow adorned the back. It’s simple but sexy.

If nothing else, my breasts are perky. I cupped them—wait. Why am I so nervous? I’m not a virgin. Liam’s fucked me senseless before now. He tears my underwear and throws it on the floor within minutes. It’s no big deal. I can work with this.

Leaving my hair a mess, I unlocked the bathroom door and braced myself for Liam’s reaction.

CHAPTER FIVE

Liam

I placed the Salvatore Ferragamo shoes alongside the Dormeuil Vanquish bespoke suit on the cushioned chair, ready for dry-cleaning. It’s a non-smoking room, but I am not one to heed instruction. Tossing essentials onto the wooden dresser, I built a deck, licked the rizla seam and rolled a blunt. Popping open the window, I drew the heavy curtain aside, parked the roach to my lips and matched the end. Pungent fumes gyrated around me, calmative haze soon catalysed.

In ruminative musings, I watched guests interact from the bay windows. I had been ultra-civilised, approachable and gregarious for an auspicious outcome. With diligent forethought and punctilious consideration, I planned a paradisal wedding for Alexa. She deserved the best from me. After everything I put her through at the beginning of our relationship, she more than warranted an unforgettable occasion. I hope I delivered.

I heard the bathroom door unlock and Alexa’s light footsteps as she strode across the room. “Leave your wedding dress on the chair.” I blow a slew of smoke through the cracked window. “Nate will take it to the dry cleaners.”

Alexa came to my side, and what I saw almost cinched aloofness. Acting as though her brazen nakedness wasn’t a distraction, she avoided my questioning stare and peered through the Venetian blind. Her feigned indifference failed to hide unsteady breathing, though. I let my eyes forage, admire, outline her small mounds, taut, dusty nipples and flat stomach. Delicate white lace fringed her waistline, and a satin bow adorned her ass. Her skin looked soft and delectable. Dark hair knotted and dishevelled.

Fucking beautiful.

I get to own every inch of that desirable body tonight.

Concealing unbearable ravenousness, I forced myself to look away and inhaled another drag. Alexa had barricaded herself in the bathroom for nearly fifteen-minutes. Ergo, I presumed needless beautification commenced; wild, loose hair, retouched lips, suspenders and six-inch heels. Instead, she emerged as herself sans hideous knee-high socks, in the eyes of the beholder, perfection.

Alexa’s arms crossed. “May I try some?”

I coughed mid-drag. “What?”

“You glamorise it.” She eyed the blunt. “I feel left out.”

“No,” I said resolutely, expelling a long veil. “It’s not happening.”

Her expression hardened. “Why not?”

“It’s not you.” Snaking an arm around her lower body, I drew her closer and ran my nose along her neck. “I refuse to corrupt you.”

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I just married a criminal. Corruption is my middle name now.” Her hand closed around my wrist. “Liam?” she whispered, and our eyes aligned. My heavy-lidded to her hazel hues. “I’m not a fragile wall-flower. I love your protectiveness, but please don’t cage me. I can fly as high as the best of them.”

I hate that Alexa’s right. Where she’s concerned, it’s hard for me to let go. From the very beginning, right from the moment she barged into my life, I had an unexplainable urge to protect her. But she’s not the same timid girl I once knew. Alexa can hold her own, keep her head above water and tackle life and its predicaments, yet I refuse to acknowledge her capabilities. In the wake of my ignorance, I allowed other people, Jace being one of them, to unclip her wings, to help her breathe freely and channel her inner deviousness.

Isn’t it high time I accepted the truth?

“Fine,” I clipped, holding the blunt between us. “Do your worst.”

Pure surprise glazed her eyes. Her fingers pinching the blunt, she drew it to her lips, took a slight drag and coughed the second smoke billowed in her throat. “Shit,” she spluttered, wafting fumes from her face. “How can you stomach that? It burns.”

“I thought you could fly as high as the best of them?” I teased, and her eyes narrowed. “Come here.” Cupping the back of her neck, I inhaled a long drag, brushed her mouth with mine and whistled haze through her parted lips. “Hold it.” Her eyes wider, glassier with each hit. I gave her two more, enough to extinguish attraction, flicked it outside and dropped my arms around her. “Satisfied?”

Our lips met for a slow, sensual kiss, tongues lazily stroking, dancing together. Alexa’s hands ascended my back and clung to my shoulders, her pebbled nipples grazing my bare chest. I palmed her spine, her soft backside, the apex of her thigh and drew her leg around my waist.

Hard-on pushed to Alexa’s sex, I backed her up to the wall and hoisted her off the ground, deepening our kiss. I fixed a palm to the wall as the left hand travelled south to get a feel of her soaked lace. I made minimal contact, and she moaned, more than ready for what’s in store. Her dripping desire glistened my fingers as they parted her lips, slow and determined, stroking her throbbing clit, easing her ache.

Her primitive instinct was to sink her teeth into my bottom lip. The tip of her tongue swept the sting she’d put there, the tang of metallic copper on our taste buds. It was the type of pain I craved, proprietorial and intoxicating.

My hair fisted in her unyielding hand, she yanked my head back, exposed my throat and left open-mouthed kisses to my Adam’s apple, scorching me from the inside out. Her tongue flattened, sucked and branded, and I allowed it because I daren’t forbid it.

“Liam.” My name escaped her mouth. I lost it, tore the flimsy lace between us aside to shove two fingers inside her clenched cunt. “Oh, shit.”

Her walls tightened, pulled them deeper. I sucked in a breath, wedged my fingers to the point of no return and gave her what she wanted, what she craved. Juices coated me to the knuckles. The sound of her wetness elongated my cock. Desperate for more, she seared her fingernails down my back. I pressed a thumb to her sweet bundle of nerves and circled, slow, steady, increasing her need.

“I’m fucking obsessed with you,” I growled, biting down on her shoulder.

“Don’t stop.” Her hips rocked into a steady rhythm as she chased her orgasm. “Please don’t stop.” Watching her come undone, I locked an arm around her waist and finger-fucked her to the brink. “Liam.”

“I know, baby.” In and out with piston pace, I felt her walls start to contract, stole her unrestrained, teasingly loud moans with a bruising kiss and withdrew my fingers in time for her combust.

Her body writhing in my arms, she hit her pinnacle and drenched my stomach in arousal. “Oh, shit.”

Splaying a hand across my abs, I gathered her salivating taste, sucked her clean from my fingers. She captured my wrist, fluttered her tongue on my palm and tasted herself. It was an exotic sight. My two fingers in her mouth as she moaned around them.

Pushing us away from the wall, I carried Alexa to the bed and dropped her spent body onto the regal sheets. With this beautiful woman in my sights, I eased the boxer briefs down my thighs and exposed myself. My cock was achingly hard and ready, springing loose from restraint.

Alexa rolled onto her back, gave me a naughty smirk and parted her legs. My impishness mirrored her wickedness. Positioning one knee on the bed, I peeled the torn lace down her legs, tossed them over my shoulder, smoothed my hands over the back of her thighs and spread those sinful legs wide. Coyness flared her cheeks a delightful crimson. Her bare pussy opened bare for me. Granting myself a moment to marvel, I brushed a thumb over the faded scar beneath her eye, skimmed a hand on her breasts and the slight dip of her stomach. Turning a blind eye to the vitriolic voice emphasising innermost judgements, I knuckled her jutted ribs and prominent hip bones.

Now isn’t the time for chastisement, Warren.

It’s our first night together as husband and wife.

The pads of my fingers traced Alexa’s war wounds, her battle scars, the uneven, silver lines of her hollow abdomen. A place where my child once grew, where this woman sacrificed her body to bring light into our dark world.

Keeping hold of Alexa’s thighs, I dipped my head and breathed a kiss to the largest of disfigurements. I loved everything about her, including the blemishes she bore proudly.

Propped on her elbows, Alexa reached down and curled her fingers around my nape. It wasn’t an unvoiced demand. Her devoted fingers raked through my hair until I met her gaze. I am inches away from devouring her soaked pussy.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and I shook my head, lowering myself between her trembling thighs. Her cunt clean-shaved and anticipating attention. I put my thumbs to her lips and spread them, opening her to me. I lapped once and her spine anchored. “Liam.”

“Soaking,” I rasped, suckling her glistened bud. “Wider.”

Unfurled and beautifully unveiled, Alexa’s knees slackened to the side. My mouth formed a circle around her clit, and I sucked long and hard, tongue trailing downwards, upwards, through her wet folds.

Heat reddened Alexa’s neck and chest. I extended an arm to grab the swell of her breast, to graze her stimulated nipple with my thumb. Her hand covered mine, keeping our fingers threaded. Our wedding bands united.

My tongue caressed her swollen lips with feral hunger. Forcing two fingers into her needy hole, I searched for her G-spot, knuckle-deep and scissored. Her sensual flavour glazed my mouth. She can come again, but this time, I wanted inside her. Lifting my head, kissing her navel, the valley of her breasts, I snatched her jaw, delved in for another raw kiss and let her drink herself from my mouth. Palming my cock, giving it a stroke, I rubbed the engorged head through her cleft and pushed forward until satiated.

Alexa curled her fingers around my chain. “Are you going to fuck me, Mr Warren?”

“No.” I braced my forearms astride her head. “You can take whatever you want from me tomorrow.” My hips pressed forward, and she shifted, meeting me thrust for thrust. “But tonight, I will make love to my wife.”

“Liam,” she keened, wrapping her arms and legs around me. “Fuck.”

Her lips overpowered mine. I rolled my hips, buried my groans on her shoulder and repositioned her arms above her head. With my forearms resting on hers, I thrust slow yet meaningful. Her tits jerked with each impale, taunting me. I closed a hand over her wrists, pinning her in place to palm her breast.

“Alexa,” I growled, thrusting into her tight cunt, pumping in and out. Her walls gripped my shaft with each stroke. Her dominant, all-consuming kiss set me on fire.

I had never felt this way about a woman. Alexa is everything I never knew I needed, and that used to terrify me, but now, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than here, with her in my arms.

I slipped an arm under Alexa’s spine, rolled onto my back and saddled her above me. Her knees on either side of my thighs, she rocked her hips, worked my length at a punishing pace. Admiring the beautiful view from dazed eyes, I held her waist and relished in the moment of her riding me and moaning my name.

Her body misted and glistening in perspiration, Alexa had me at her complete mercy, taking whatever she wanted. Her ass crashed against my thighs each time she impaled me, fucked me. Moaning breathlessly, she fell forward, and the friction of her warm cunt had the vein in my neck pulsing.

With her in the thrall of my arms, I moved my knees to the back of her thighs and slammed up, pummelling back and forth, driving my cock into her tightness.

I dropped my head back, briefly closed my eyes and groaned, “Do you want me to pull out?” My cock throbbed. I am on edge. “Tell me, or I’ll fill you.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, fisting my damp hair by the roots. “You know how much I want this.”

Alexa picked up the pace, fucking her name right out of my mouth. Readying myself for orgasm, I flipped her onto her back and drove home, stretching her for my liking. Her throaty cries sent shivers down my spine.

“Alexa.” I was completely high for this woman. “Fucking hell.”

Raking her fingernails across my shoulders, she clung to me, combusted beneath me. My lips smothered her moans as I came. With three hot spurts, my cock swelled and emptied inside her. “Fuck,” I rasped, lightly trembling from release. “Are you clenching on purpose?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes shiny and mischievous. “I’m not taking any chances.”

Alexa’s unpredictable menstrual cycle plays a dangerous game. At the end of every calendar month, her period shows late. It upsets her, confuses her. It’s a cruel reminder of what may never happen—pregnancy—her carrying my kid. “It’s no rush,” I whispered, nibbling the hollow spot beneath her ear. “It’ll happen eventually.”

I’m unsure if she bought my bullshit. With only a fifty percent chance of conceiving, I knew the odds were stacked against us. But I’ll do and say whatever necessary to appease her, to ensure her happiness.

Respiring a heavy breath, I pulled my cock out and fell onto my back, light-headed and spent. “Give me ten minutes to recover,” I half-joked, smoothing a hand down my chest, “and I’m yours.”

“I’m not a nymphomaniac, Liam.” Alexa slid an arm across my torso. “I can go for half an hour without sex.”

I chuckled, turning my head to look her in the eye. “How does it feel to be the official property of Liam Warren?”

Her nose wrinkled. “I belong to no one—”

“Careful.” My voice is an authoritative undertone. “I don’t take kindly to insolent facetiousness.”

“How can I treat this issue seriously?” Alexa’s breasts shook as she laughed. “You are crazy.”

“I’m crazy about you.” The end of my tongue teased her earlobe as I scraped a hand down her thigh. “Get up here and ride my face. I want that cunt on my mouth.”

“What? No.” She shoved my shoulder, and my smirk stretched. “I’m sensitive. And must you be so crass?”

“I can fix that within five seconds,” I husked, my teeth nipping her jawline. “Not vulgar. Honest—” Loud gunfire echoed down the hallway, throwing me into immediate defensiveness. “What the fuck?”

Alexa bolted upright, her hair loose from the bobble. “Liam?”

“Stay here.” Ripping myself away from Alexa, I snatched boxer briefs from the holdall, put them on and slammed a magazine round into the Eagle. “I mean it, baby.” She’s already on her feet, buttoning herself in my shirt, stomping her feet into odd-coloured knee-high socks. “Do not leave this room.”

Unlocking the door, I stalked down the regal hallway as room doors flew open and people poked their heads out to see what all the commotions about. In my peripheral, Nate emerged from his suite in grey sweatpants, spewing profanities. His eyes were soft and apologetic. “Sir,” he drawled, sliding a hand over his head. “It’s all good. Just a little mishap in the bedroom—”

“Move.” Shouldering past him, I strode into his luxurious bedroom as Blaire appeared from their shared bathroom. Her messy hair and naked angles took me aback. I looked away, the muscle in my jaw ticking. “Cover that shit up.”

Scampering across the room in a panic, Blaire grappled a towel and half-heartedly sheathed her body. I could still see the curve of her breasts. “I’m so, so sorry, Mr Warren,” she stuttered, raking a hand through her sweat-slicked hair. “I saw a mouse and panicked—”

“A mouse?” I belatedly saw the gun in her hand. “You saw a fucking mouse?” The castle was spotless, immaculately majestic. “In a place like this?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyes blackened. “Not all mouses live in filth and dirt, Sir. The website might claim it’s a five-star retreat, but nothing in life is guaranteed. You can’t stop field mice from sneaking indoors—”

“You don’t question my rationality.” Picking up Nate’s hoodie from the chair, I hurled it in her face. “I told you to cover the fuck up.”

“Sir.” Nate’s hand laid on my shoulder. I side-eyed him, and he stepped back. “I’ll cover any damages—”

“Damn fucking straight.” I used the Eagle to gesture above, where the aftermath of Blaire’s nonsensical behaviour cracked the plasterboard. “Do you expect me to believe a rare vermin species scuttled across the fucking ceiling?”

Blaire released her iron grip to the sheet to pull on Nate’s hoodie, displaying her naked chest. Alexa chose that exact moment to arrive on the threshold. “What’s going on?” Her disparaging glare roamed over the other woman before she looked at me. “Liam?”

“It’s my fault,” Blaire piped up, buried in navy layers. “I saw a mouse run across the room. It rattled me.”

I almost missed Alexa’s imperceptible shake of the head. Masquerading her emotions, she entered the room, extracted the gun from Blaire’s reluctant hand and slapped it on Nate’s bare chest. “Maybe you should keep onto this for the rest of the night. We wouldn’t want any other mishaps.” With those final words of mockery, she stormed out, leaving me to deal with Nate and his senseless need to mollycoddle his new love interest.

“It’s not a toy,” I enunciated, dumbing myself down to level with the unhinged woman. “When we fire a gun? We aim to kill. You should fucking know better.” I diverted my abhorrence to Nate, whose sullen eyes cast to the ground. Good. He remembers his place. “I thought she understood how to operate.”

“She does.” Nate’s crestfallen glance at Blaire almost made me feel bad for him. “Blaire acted on impulse, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

My lips twisted into a snarl. I shoved Nate in the shoulder, and he stumbled back, his hands raised in surrender. “Get her in line and fast,” I ordered, and I meant it. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

I left the room and slammed the door behind me, rattling its hinges. Floorboards complained underneath my angered strides. I returned to my suite and shut that door ten times harder, louder.

Alexa’s perched on the windowsill, watching guests imbibe champagne in the garden. Her eyebrows knotting in a sharp frown, she rapt her manicured fingernails on her thigh. “Do you believe her? Blaire?”

I set the Eagle onto the bedside table. “No.”

Her stare was cold and unsympathetic. “Then why isn’t she dead already?”

Fuck, I hit the jackpot when I met this woman.“For fabricating mice?”

“For lying to you,” she punctuated, and something dark and threatening blazed in her eyes. “Isn’t deceit a cause for instant exile?”

The corner of my lip twitched. “Indeed.”

“Then do it already.” She huffed out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t stand that repulsive woman.”

“Likewise.” I am standing at the dresser, building another deck. “But killing her is a breach of The Brotherhood. Nate vouched for Blaire’s immunity.” Grinding a bud, I emptied greens into the Rizla. “He’s a goddamn idiot.”

“Liam?” Her stare settled on me. “What happened between you and her?”

My stomach tensed. I had expunged Blaire’s imprudent stunt at the penthouse from my mind. “You think I’d entertain that fucking runt?” I arched an eyebrow, licking the rizla seam. “Give me some credit.”

Alexa blinked. “So, you never touched her? Not once?”

I rubbed my jaw. “Define touching?”

“Really, Liam?” She uncrossed her legs and slid off the window ledge. “Why must you circumvent the problem?”

“Where’s the ersatz tergiversation?” My shoulders rolled back. “Prevaricating is ending this preposterous conversation entirely.”

“No, you can’t do this, Liam.” Alexa’s hands hugged my rigid shoulders, her woeful face tugging on my heartstrings. “Honesty is the best policy. You taught me that.”

“You want to do this now?” It’s our wedding night. “Why does it matter?”

Alexa remained surprisingly demure. “Liam, if the shoe were on the other foot, you’d be the same.”

“Blaire…” Fuck, how do I explain myself? Baby, I thought you came back. I let another woman in my bed just to steal five minutes alone with you. It sounds outlandish in my head, never mind aloud. “You know I hit rock bottom when you disappeared.” I reworded “death” to “disappearance” because it made logistical sense. “And Blaire stayed at the penthouse. I don’t know if I was drunk, sniffed up or downright fucking crazy, but she roused me from sleep one night…I thought she was you.”

“How is that possible?” Her eyebrows snapped together. “You thought I died.”

“Affirmative.” I tapped the blunt against the dresser. “Yet the irrational part of me saw you everywhere. That night, when she joined my bed, it wasn’t the first time I envisioned you in my arms.”

Sadness dilated her eyes. “How long did your relationship last?”

“Relationship?” Dry laughter spewed out of me. “No, baby. You got it wrong. I came to my senses within minutes and kicked her out. She and I shared nothing. If anything, she took liberties that night. In my senseless condition, I thought she was you, and she allowed me to believe it—”

“Are you telling me that bitch sexually assaulted you?”

“For fuck’s sake.” Enraged by her assertion, I pried her hands off me. “I am not a victim. Don’t put words in my goddamn mouth.”

Alexa’s lips parted in shock. “Liam, she took advantage of you—”

“I don’t care.” Collapsing on the edge of the bed, I lit the joint and inhaled. “Fuck, Blaire. It’s done. Move on.”

“Your stubbornness infuriates me,” she muttered under her breath. “She had no right to climb into your bed or to delude you by pretending to be me. Liam, I will rip out her throat for this.”

Alexa roamed across the room to confront Blaire, but I was on her in a flash. I seized her neck, shoved her back to the wall and faced her head-on. “No,” I sneered, her throat bobbing in my hand. “We honour the code. Nate’s one of mine, and that means something.”

“When are the rules non-applicable?” Her eyes were wild and ablaze with fury. “We both know she has it coming to her.”

“If Blaire damages the syndicate or betrays her bondsman, I won’t even need to lay a finger on her. Nate will snap her neck in a heartbeat.” My brother’s pussywhipped, but his loyalties lie with me. “Give her enough rope, baby. She’ll hang herself.”

“The fool chooses to sleep in her bed,” she spat in disdain. “I hate her, Liam. We might share demons, but I came back to civilisation somewhat normal. She returned with shadows. I said it before. I don’t trust her motives.” Her harsh tone cooled. “Mark my words, Liam. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

A dark smirk danced on my lips. I dragged the blunt, let the smoke roll down my throat. “I quite like this ominous side of you.” Her devious countenance mimicked mine. For the first time in our nearness, I felt something sinister and powerful, an insidious entity looming in our sphere. “Can we forget about Blaire?” My thumb rubbed her throat. “I don’t care enough. It’s our night. You, me and that bed over there.”

Alexa unbuttoned the shirt one button at a time until her magnificent body uncovered. “I’m all yours.”

CHAPTER SIX

Alexa

I awoke in the arms of Liam Warren.

My husband.

I’ll never get used to calling him that.

Capitulated to deep, torpid listlessness, I nuzzled my cheek against Liam’s sculpted chest and listened to his regular heartbeat. He’s dead to the world yet sensed my nearness. Respiring a heavy sigh of contentment, he tightened an arm across the dip of my spine and brushed my hip with dutiful fingertips. His twisted, white-gold chain rested low on his torso. Alexa Haines’ name inscribed one of the polished military tags, which required amendment. If it were a cold morning, I didn’t feel it. Heat radiated off his body, so the skewed sheets, clustered cushions on the floor and our naked bodies can remain a while longer.

In my current state, I lacked vivacity and enthusiasm. I certainly have no interest in leaving the bed, not even for a bathroom break, but muffled conversations in the garden reminded me of early morning breakfast arrangements with friends and family.

“I love you,” I whispered, pressing a kiss on his stubble jaw.

Disconnected from Liam’s almost inescapable limbs, I soared from the bed, grabbed the coverlet from the floor and draped it over his unabashed bareness. He’ll berate me for not awakening him. I hate to disturb a man who seldom sleeps, so it’s worth the pending chastisement.

Previously, whilst I slept between intermittent sex sessions, Liam laid out a slate-grey suit alongside a black cape-sleeved knee-high dress and stiletto heels with gold-tone embellishments to match the Versace waist belt. It’s a glamorous choice. I checked the coat’s inner label with investigatory hands, saw the extortionate price tag and whistled appreciation.

Liam promised me a fairy tale wedding and a magical honeymoon. Thus far, he’s exceeded expectations to honour those promises, not that I expected otherwise. He paid meticulous attention to details to ensure I had essentials for our flight this afternoon. The shoes, for example. I own the exact pair at home in beige, which tells me he scoured the Manor’s wardrobe prior to recent expenditures.

Showered, dressed and primed for the day within forty-five minutes, I trailed the conveyed scent of bacon and ventured downstairs to the castle’s concentric function room, where hired caterers in their all-white uniform served traditional breakfast amongst the scrumptious continental menu of fresh fruit, warm pastries, toasted sandwiches and hot beverages.

Handwoven rugs enriched the oak herringbone floor. Medieval portraits and wall tapestries illustrated several members of the English royal dynasty. Brass light fixtures illuminated the maze of alcoves and baroque ceiling, the wooden tables interspersed by constellated guests who enjoy distributed cuisine and champagne delivered by amiable sommeliers.

I felt the eyes of another before Vincent’s lips skimmed my ear. “Do you plan to move anytime soon?” he asked, and even though I knew someone had been watching me, I bristled. “No need to flinch, Angel. I don’t bite.” Decked in luxurious fibres, expensive silk and eye-catching jewellery, he moved into my peripheral, a mischievous twinkle in his ice blues. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Was Vincent flirting with me?

No, don’t be so ridiculous, Alexa.

“Pondering what to eat,” I lied, pinching a strawberry from the service station. “Have you seen the others?” It’s busy here, but I couldn’t see my friends anywhere. “Tony?”

“Do I look like his personal bodyguard?” His eyebrow curved. “How should I know the whereabouts of your father?”

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine this morning.”

“I try,” he said lightly, rubbing a green apple on the lapel of his grey suit. “Where’s my brother?”

“Do I look like Liam’s personal assistant?” I retorted mockingly. “How should I know?”

His teeth sank into the apple, and juice trickled down his chin. “Did you not warm his bed last night?”

I popped another strawberry in my mouth. “Liam’s asleep.”

Lost in momentary reverie, Vincent hummed. “Will he join us for breakfast?”

“I imagine so,” I answered warily. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He sucked apple juice from his thumb. “Brad.”

I glanced over my shoulder to find the man standing ramrod behind me. “Hey, Brad.”

Brad ignored me. “Fraternising with the boss’ wife, Vinny Boy.” An element of suspiciousness glossed his throaty voice. “I’ll give you some loving guidance because I’m nice like that.” Rudely pushing in front of me, he snagged a china plate. “Irritate your brother? He’ll likely slap you on the wrist. Fuck with Alexa?” He piled seeded toast on his plate. “It’ll result with you in an unmarked grave for homeless chums to piss all over, which, to all intents and purposes, is well underway and what I happen to wish for daily.”

“Brad,” I berated, and the man, unfazed by reprimand, jerked an insouciant shoulder. “Be pleasant.”

Three heaps of sliced avocado abutted Brad’s plated toast. “How’s the hangover?” His question was for the bedraggled Josh whose shaded cheeks and sunken eyes exemplified a fun yet late night. “I heard everything,” Brad punctuated theatrically, forking a cherry tomato in his mouth. “Just putting that out there.”

Josh raked a hand through his unruly brown hair. “I need something to kill this headache.”

Blond Suit snorted. “The consequences of a greedy fanny magnet.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Josh rubbed his temples, irked by Brad’s jovial mood. “Someone put a gag in his mouth.”

“He refused to share,” Brad tells me, licking melted butter from off his fingers. “Such a child.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Josh poured himself an orange juice. “It’s embarrassing.”

“This isn’t homage. You settled for two…” Brad side-eyed me. “Well, they weren’t very wholesome looking.”

“Are you mental?” Josh shook his head in disbelief. “Not every male species has misogynistic tendencies. I can condone unbecoming appearances in exchange for vivaciousness unlike he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

Chowing down strawberries with moreish delight, I eyed Vincent, who paid no heed to their lovers’ spats. With chosen emotionlessness, he watched Alberto Moretti from across the room. Alberto models a fashion line of Italian’s finest as he ushered his small family to a round table whilst relaying breakfast orders to the waiter. I had no idea why Alberto attended the wedding, but I can only assume, based on the strained, heated confrontation between him and Liam and the enigmatically indirect discussion of perfect paragons, his attendance is a prerequisite for something greater than alliance.

“I am not strongly prejudiced against women.” Brad put his back to the counter, his legs crossing at the ankles. “In fact, I quite possibly couldn’t live without them.”

“You fat bastard.” Nate appeared from nowhere to claim the crispy bacon seconds away from entering Josh’s mouth. “You had a cheat meal yesterday. Don’t take liberties in my absence.”

“Nate.” Josh is heartbroken. “I am dying. Please, for one fucking day, cut me some slack. If I don’t consume greasy food and sugar, I will pass out.” His unwanted trainer resisted stubbornly. “I have abs for bastard days. What’s the point in this healthy bullshit?”

Togged up to impress, Blaire stood beside me, fussing with her blow-dried hair.

My jaw clenched.

Her proximity made me want to claw at my skin.

“No,” Nate protested vehemently. “It’s about the gains. Less fat. More carbs. We need to turn these lean arms into muscle.” He squeezed Josh’s forearm and lifted his eyebrows. “See? I could put a dent in that tissue.”

“A little birdy told me that you two caused a ruckus last night.” Brad waved a fork between Nate and Blaire. “Educate me, Blaire.” Her name projected from his mouth like bitter-tasting poison. “How big was the mouse?”

Nate’s nostrils flared. “Don’t start, Brad.”

“What?” With feigned guiltlessness, Brad raised his hands meekly, a plate on one palm, a fork gripped within the fingers of the other. “It’s a simple question.”

Blaire chewed the inside of her cheek. “Big enough for me to lose clear-headedness.”

“An adult then,” Brad mused, not taking his eyes off the plate as he stabbed mixed berries to death. “How did it get on the ceiling?”

“It didn’t climb on the ceiling.” Nate handed Blaire plated deliciousness, buttery toast, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes and Cumberland sausages. “Blaire panicked and misaimed.”

“How does one lose sight of the target, though?” Brad sipped from a steamy mug of coffee. “Under pressure, you’d flinch and chip the wall or a piece of furniture. It’s a likely event. The ceiling? Sounds like a diversionary tactic—”

“Come on, Brad.” Nate’s forlornness fractured my heart. He’s invested in Blaire and wants nothing more than the favourable reception of his brothers. “We talked about this. You swore to me that you’d give her a chance.”

I side-eyed Blaire. Even though the annoying parasite remained demure and silent, her eyes gleamed in triumph.

“More fool you.” Brad set his mug aside. “You should never take a drunk man seriously. Christ, I’d sell my dog when under the influence.”

Josh rubbed his tired eyes. “You don’t have a dog.”

“I know.” Brad’s shit-eating smirk raked a smile to my lips. “So, Mrs Warren. Did you have fun last night? Break any beds, perhaps?”

My smile endured. “No broken beds.”

“Well, that’s unacceptable.” Brad frowned in contemplation. “I broke two.”

Laughter flew out of me. “It’s not a competition, Brad.”

“It’s disappointing, though.” He aimed the fork in my direction. “If you were my newly beloved, I’d make sure you couldn’t walk for a week.”

I delivered a dramatic eye-roll. “How romantic?”

Brad winked, helping himself to a second portion of hash browns.

I accepted a coffee from Vincent. “Thank you.”

He gave me a tepid smile.

“Honestly,” Blaire whispered under her breath, and my ears perked up to listen. “You’d think she’d be grateful with one Warren brother.”

Assured I heard incorrectly, I turned my head in time for us to lock eyes. “What did you just say?”

“What?” Blaire’s eyebrows drew in slightly. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did,” I said in a harsh tone of decisiveness, and her critical eyes sharpened. “Don’t hold back for them.” Disguising ire, I flouted the men and their penetratingly clueless stares. “Go ahead. Finish your accusation.”

“Alexa, I thought we agreed, for Nate’s sake, to be friends.” Offering me a sympathetic smile, she lowered her hypercritical eyes to my waistline. “Aren’t you hungry?” Her knowing smirk unlocked a beast inside me. “You should eat more.”

Demeaned furiousness setting bone-deep, I whacked the plate from her hand, scattering mangled up food and broken china pieces across the floor. It caused a scene. Seated people peered up from their tables to watch our bellicose exchange. “You should eat less.”

Nate stepped forward to intervene. “Alexa—”

“Careful.” Incomprehensibly furious, Vincent gripped Nate’s suit sleeve, and the two phlegmatic men had an intense stand-off. “Alexa is no longer Liam’s bed mate. She’s his wife. Her position takes precedence over yours and any other member of the institution, including the brainless scandalmonger who dared to stigmatise superiors.”

“A false accusation made by a man who wants to fuck his brother’s wife,” Blaire countered, and my spine lengthened at her scandalous accusations. “You are in no position to cause trouble.”

His eyes imploring Blaire to pipe down, Nate ran an inked hand down his face. “Babe—”

“The meretricious woman has a risible reputation of untrustworthiness and slow-wittedness.” Vincent’s lips cracked into a dark, taunting smirk. “In contradiction to your line of falsifications, I speak the truth as I’m not afraid of it. You need to learn a thing or two about aphorism. As I am more than inclined to inculcate, I’ll give you an example.” He studied the second helping of fruit in his clenched hand. “Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones.” His teeth sank into the apple’s waxy green layer. “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Pearce?”

It took everyone ten seconds to realise Miss Pearce was Blaire.

“What?” Inhaling a sharp breath, Nate pinned Blaire with an interrogatory glare. “Is he for real?”

“Well, would you look at that?” With an impish grin, Brad waggled his eyebrows at Blaire, who stands ramrod straight and wide-eyed. “It looks like little miss goody two shoes over here unearthed some skeletons.”

“Technically, Vincent divulged.” Josh caught me in his sights and smiled. “Alexa?”

I shook my head slowly. “I got lost at ‘aphorism.’”

“Same.” Josh barked a laugh. “But I didn’t miss the fact Blaire lied.”

“I never lied,” Blaire snarled, her hands curling into fists. “At what point did any of you care enough to ask about my past?”

“I did.” Fragments of best china disintegrated under Nate’s shoes as he moved in front of her. “Pearce? Is that right, or is Vincent attention-seeking?”

“Attention-seeking?” Vincent laughed bitterly. “Don’t be so foolish, Alzaim. I merely reciprocated Blaire’s antagonism.” Pocketknife flipped open. He pressed the sharpest point to the apple and peeled a layer to his mouth. “It’s only fair. Surely, you can give credence to that, Jessica?”

Vincent’s perturbingly self-satisfied certitude forestalled Blaire’s counterattack. Sanguine yet misty-eyed, she disparaged everyone to address Nate. “Can we do this in private?”

“Jessica Pearce.” Brad’s voice was thick. “I don’t know about you guys, but I feel wholly offended by this revelation.”

Nate looked ready to pounce but propitiated himself. “Shut up, Brad.”

“Nate, get off my fucking dick.” Brad went from the omnipresent comedian to the redoubtable, splenetic man everyone loves yet fears. “I’ll snap her neck without a second thought. Don’t test me.”

“That’s a violation of The Brotherhood, and you know it.” His back to Blaire, Nate shields her from the others. “Quit looking at me like that. I am allowed to argue my case.”

“It’s not your case to dispute.” Hurling the place across the service station, Brad shoved himself in the firing line. Nose-to-nose, the men stood, neither backing down. “You let a woman come between us,” he whispered so quietly, I almost missed it. “I’m your day one.”

A lump shifted in Nate’s throat. “Don’t make this about you.”

“Imprudent decisions can jeopardise the entire syndicate. You are goddamn selfish to expect me or any other brother not to consider possible defencelessness. We don’t know this bitch from fucking Adam—”

Nate punched Brad square in the face, and horrified gasps resounded. On impact, Brad crashed into me and the coffee in my hand scolds our fall. “You motherfucker.” Rolling off my sprawled-out body, he staggered to his feet and wiped trickled blood from his busted lip. I, however, laid on the floor like a starfish, unable to decipher the escalated madness. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Vincent’s hands slipped under my arms. He helped me stand and dusted squashed toast from off my back. Dizziness abolished, I regained vision and saw Brad and Nate exchange blows as their heavy bodies landed on the table, where a congratulatory book laid for guests to sign. Two friends pummelling each other was an extremely upsetting display. “Josh!” I yelled, but the bored man continued to eat pancakes. “Do something—”

“That’s enough.” Liam’s stentorian voice sent a shiver down my spine. “You incompetent idiots.”

Emerging from the castle’s shadows, Liam, provoked by their irrevocable brawl, fisted Brad’s jacket and ripped him away from Nate, whose hellacious emotions spiralled out of control. Inked knuckles swollen, his green eyes shone like beacons, and the gash above his pierced eyebrow exuded a bothersome amount of blood. “Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Both men separate with Liam between them. His angered expression was an impenetrable barrier nobody wanted to overstep, outmanoeuvre or challenge. “Answer me!”

As Liam objurgated his men, an air of uncomfortableness seeped through our hostilities as conversationalists quietened down to listen. Even the catering staff positioned themselves behind the hired bar to watch the nerve-wracking disturbance.

“You dare the road of impertinence.” Liam regarded both men haughtily. “I am due to leave London in two hours. I should be outside, enjoying breakfast with my wife. Instead, I am to babysit a pair of infantile wankers to prevent them from killing one another.”

“Misunderstanding.” Brad glared at Nate as he spoke. “Isn’t that right, brother?”

Nate’s bottom lip wedged within gritted teeth. “Something like that.”

“Something like that,” Liam derided, his hands tucked inside his trouser pockets, probably to stop himself from lashing out. “And my woman was caught in the crossfire.”

“Liam, it’s a dispute amongst men.” Uneasiness slithered through my veins. I will not stand here and let them face public humiliation because he believes I suffered a backlash. “It’s not about me—”

“It’s always about you.” His raised, intolerant voice debilitated my body and mind. “You will not pardon their self-obsessed childishness. Those boys,” he ridiculed them with conceited disparagement, “pathetically allow a woman to defend their honour.”

Brad strived to intercede. “Bossman—”

“No.” Liam scuffed scrambled eggs aside with his shoe. “You will both clean this mess and then pack your shit. I want you at the club before noon. That’s if I can rely on my highest paid yet undeserving men to squash this pitiful segregation bereft of a bloodbath. You,” he pointed at Blaire, “better open that trap of yours before I shove a fist down your fucking throat.”

Blaire’s terrified gaze called upon Nate in sheer desperation, but the man shied away, having lost the courage to boil his boss’ blood further. “I…” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Vincent informed them of my birth name. Brad decided I lied by omission. Nate defended me.”

Liam schooled his features. “Elaborate.”

“I’m not that person anymore,” she whispered, and a small, infinitesimal part of me felt sorry for her. “Please don’t make me go there.”

“On my request, Donny reached out to the NCA and sent recent images of Blaire. They found a match in the national database. Her mother filed a missing person’s report upon finding a suicide note in her daughter’s bedroom.” Vincent elucidated, and Liam’s interest piqued. “You never thought to do a background check?”

“Avenging Alexa outweighed everything.” Liam’s face was impassive. “Blaire wasn’t a priority then, and she’s not a priority now.”

“I have nothing to hide.” Blaire encroached on their deliberation. “So, you uncovered my real name. Did you find any other interesting facts, Vincent? Allow me the chance of interpretation. I hate my mother and my father, so I ran away and fell into the hands of Zamira Bajramovic. You know how that story ends. There is no conspiracy here. When Warren found me, I asked if I could stay because anything, even the blatant dislike from peers, was better than returning home.”

Vincent could decimate a person with one sharp look. “Was bounteous good riches too unsatisfactory for our skittish runaway?”

Rendered into soporiferous boredom, Josh quietly excused himself and meandered across the hall to where Brad and Nate shared a round of whiskey shots at the bar. Nobody noticed Josh’s departure. While half-listening to Vincent’s and Blaire’s altercation, I watched three of my favourite Suits conciliate. It amazed me how two truculent men can beat each other and then laugh together.

It made me smile.

“If Nate’s happy with Blaire, who are we to interlope on their relationship?” Without a glance at Blaire, I looked at Liam and Vincent. “A difference of opinions caused two friends to fight. Nothing is worth the divide between brothers who pledged perpetual alliance to one another. Blaire, some friendly advice.” Even now, I cannot meet her gaze. “Tell Nate everything, so he’s not blind-sided next time. That way, he can inform the syndicate, and everybody can move on. Vincent, something you should consider. Brad is problematic. He purposefully foments trouble to get a rise out of people. In the future, if you feel the need to educate, let’s wait until Liam’s here to rein in his right-hand man. Liam,” I added on a refuelled breath. His sternness faded once our eyes connected. “Can we revisit this morning’s events at a later date? I might sound selfishly demanding but today is about us.”

Liam dipped his head to whisper something undetectable to Vincent. He bid his farewell and reached for my hand.

Moulded to his side, I laced our fingers and led him to the beverage station. He hadn’t requested coffee, but I prepared him an Americano. “I hate her,” I mouthed as he pulled me into his embrace. “She’ll break Nate’s heart.”

Liam’s chin rested on my shoulder. “You look beautiful.”

I lifted our joint hands to my lips, kissed his knuckles. “You always say that.”

“That’s because I always fucking mean it,” he rasped in my ear and goosebumps sprouted across my chest. “Do you want to leave early?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”

Liam waved down a passing Suit. “Bring the car around,” he ordered, handing the man our room key. “And give that to Brad. Tell him to drop our bags at the Manor.”

Young Suit nodded. “Sir.”

“Come.” With one arm draped across my shoulders, Liam strode to the castle’s entryway. “Let’s get this beautiful ass in the sky.”

I made a mental note to swipe some drugs beforehand.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Alexa

We journeyed for twenty minutes to Heathrow’s Terminal Four and boarded the sleek-black private jet, the same personalised wings used to fly Laurent’s family from Albania to London. Fear of the unknown became too overwhelming. I had never been on a plane before, and like every other senseless person who has the compulsive need to use Google and over analyse everything, I researched aviation accidents and incidents online and uncovered a distressing list of mysterious aircraft disappearances.

I almost passed out.

Liam lacked patience for his overemotional madwoman and her querulousness, so he left me unattended—after shackling me to the crème leather recliner, I must add—to sit with unspecifiable Suits. Inwardly, I cried and threatened to kill my new husband for insensitiveness, but on the surface, I concealed emotions and behaved accordingly.

Whilst Liam ingested cognac and smoked cigars with his low-ranking men, I clicked down a Junoesque stewardess and ordered an inexhaustible supply of vodka. By the time the pilot took off, I was too pie-eyed to care if the Bermuda Triangle swallowed our plane.

Presently, I stand on the asphalt of Victoria-Seychelles international airport. I overheard a member of the cabin crew mention Mahé, but honestly, at this point in our tiresome travels, I had an indifferent attitude towards our surprise honeymoon destination.

It’s swelteringly hot. I lost the jacket, knotted my hair atop my head and put a hand to my eyes to shield the sun. Liam, the lucky bastard, wore Cartier aviators and looked oddly calm and composed in a suit. “Do you not feel the heat?” I asked, and a kiss on my cheek was his response. “It’s boiling.”

Liam’s men hoisted their suitcases into the boot of hired transport. Assuming the men will drive us to a nearby hotel, I towed my case to the car.

“No.” Liam’s hand fell to my lower back. “They will stay in Mahé—safety precaution.”

“Oh?” I watched them duck into the vehicle. “I thought…” His men would stay in our hotel. I was unperturbed by their ever-present surveillance as twenty-four-hour security was for our protection, albeit overbearing at times, but I didn’t mind them staying with us. “Well, where’s our car? Are you driving?”

He jerked his chin. “Behind you.”

I glimpsed over my shoulder. “Where?” There wasn’t a car in sight. “Shit, I think I drank too much.”

“Mr Warren.” In casual jeans and a white polo shirt, the man, another unidentifiable person, shook Liam’s hand. “Are you ready?”

“Have your co-pilot load our cases,” Liam ordered as our fingers weaved together. “Come.”

“Co-pilot?” My heels alternately clinked along the runway. “Liam, please don’t tell me that I have to board another plane. I almost died on the first flight.” It’s only then I discern the pending helicopter. “Oh, you can piss off—I will not get on that.”

“Alexa.” His hand squeezed mine. “Trust me.”

The private jet had almost been insurmountable, and fortunately, I survived, but I am far too spineless to test fate. “Is this really necessary? Why can’t we drive like the others?”

“We had this conversation. I will not elucidate further.” He put his shades to his hairline to look at me. “Trust me to do right by you.”

“Liam,” I warned, his crystal blues and boyish smile loosening the strain on my erratically pulsing heart. “You are so calculated. You know, I can’t say no when you look at me like that.”

His knowing smirk broadened. “Where’s the ulterior motive, baby?”

“You use my appeal for you against me.” We reached the helicopter. He helped me climb into the back to sit amongst the three accommodating passenger seats. “Oh, God.” I relaxed against the cool leather and buckled up. “Can we drink on here?”

“It’s only a short trip.” Accepting two headsets from the pilot, Liam sat beside me, the scent of his cologne drifting between us. “Here.” He adjusted the headset over my ears before he secured his own. “Happy?”

When his arm snaked across my shoulders, I melted to his side. “Very.”

The pilot joined his co-pilot in the spacious cockpit and the doors individually sealed. “Seatbelts secured?” one asked, and I scarcely mustered a nod. “Flight controls check.”

To stop me from continuous fidgets, Liam closed a hand over mine. “Are you hungry?” He strived to steal my attention away from the cockpit. “Do you want to eat as soon as we arrive, or would you rather wait until later?”

I nodded.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Which one?”

“Both,” I answered breathlessly, watching the pilot push buttons above his head. Vibrations coursed through me as the helicopter’s blades began to rotate. “I might vomit.”

“You won’t.”

Every minute felt like a second. The thwapping rotor blades increased speed as the air blew through them, but we didn’t take off for what seemed like forever.

Our primary pilot mentioned the cyclic, which rendered me clueless, then the landing skids eased off the ground.

With bated breath, I closed my eyes, and if it weren’t for the seat belt, I’d bury my head on my thighs.

We drifted to the side, and my heart dropped to the depths of my stomach. As Liam insisted the destination remained a surprise, I had no inkling as to why the helicopter coasted the vast blue ocean and scattered archipelagos instead of Mahé until fifteen minutes into our flight, when a small granitic island came into view.

I soon abandoned fears to admire the picturesqueness. In awe, I leaned closer to the window, and unstoppable excitement manifested. I asked question after question. Liam never answered one.

Our pilot approached the island, and soon, the helicopter throned the helipad. My cheeks warmed with eagerness. I waited for the pilot’s instructions, for the blades to desist, returned the headset and slid out the open door. Powder white sand graced my shoes as I scoured the small, maritime cove. Two men in floriated shorts and white cotton shirts expected our arrival. The largest male sat behind the wheel of a golf buggy whilst the other greeted and organised additional transfers for the suitcases. I undid the dainty straps of my shoes and held them by the heels to feel pillow-soft grains between my toes. Towering greenery flanked the beach, and the luxuriant forest seemed to be our only field of vision. If the hotel’s near, I couldn’t see it.

Liam compelled the pilot to accept a munificent tip before the helicopter prepared for departure.

“Can I hound you with questions now?” I followed his footsteps. “Where’s the hotel?”

“Soon.” Liam spoke to the driver, a dark-skinned man with a beautiful white smile. “How long until the other guy brings our cases?” He assisted me in the buggy. “I need to change.”

“You think?” I slid onto the backseat. “I’ll shower the moment we get to the hotel. I probably stink.”

The two men conversed whilst I marvelled at the scenery. Peregrinating on uneven grounds, the guy navigated through open grassland until incurved vegetation and outcrops sheltered us from the scorching sun. Precariously limp areca palms brushed my shoulder as the buggy slowed near a long-stretched wooden pathway. Still, with extensive foliage, I saw nothing. “Is the hotel down there?”

Liam dismissed our driver. “It’s over the bridge.”

Encased by tropical magnificence, I felt out of place in such a striking dress, whereas Liam walked the bridge in a suit as though formalwear was normal, even in biosphere domains. Well, I guess for him, it was normal. He’s always suave and besuited.

In the juxtaposition of monochromatic green leaves, I held the hand-crafted guardrails to avoid any mishaps and shadowed Liam down the upraised bridge. The precipitously vertiginous slopes beneath are the least of my worries. Courtesy of the relentless man ahead, I executed two flights today.

“Liam, I have never been this confused. I mean, I don’t know what I expected, but trekking through a jungle?”

We roamed across wooden decking to the obscure buildings external glass doors, entered an open-air lounge on instant arrival, and curiosity died on my tongue. Chunky hardwood timber modernised the architectural style villa—not a hotel; our temporary home—the floors, the walls and handcrafted furniture. Someone visited beforehand to fold the all-encompassing glass doors, which unveiled the villa’s high-ceilinged layout and panoramic sights to the ocean. You could hear the steady waves washing up along the shore in the distance and smell the prevalent scent of saltwater.

My jaw dropped along with my shoes.

His suit jacket flung over a chair, Liam unbuttoned his shirt whilst reading the welcome board on the lounge’s table. Exotic fruit, freshly squeezed juices and iced champagne awaited. He popped a melon ball in his mouth and uncorked the bottle. “Drink?”

“Please.” Stunned into momentary wonderment, I studied the straw-like thatched ceiling. “Can I look around first?”

I didn’t wait for Liam’s approval. I roamed past the open kitchenette in search of the master bedroom. It felt surreal, wandering through a place where everything seemed so open, yet concurrently, private. Even if other villas were on the island, the majestic palm trees alongside trees, I had no knowledge of, sequestered our natural accommodation. We had front row seats to a beautiful stretch of white sand and greenish-blue waters, and when I finally located the bedroom, you could still see those calm waves.

“Unbelievable,” I whispered, touching the seashell door curtain in the arched doorway. I separated the hanging threads to enter the room. Knotted rope gathered the off-white scallop-trimmed curtains that bedecked the four-posted double bed. A commodious inground, rectangular bath perched beside it. You can sit near the window from the comfortable-looking armchair to admire the scenery, and there was plenty of ottomans and wardrobe space for luggage. To the bedroom’s right was the outdoor shower, the cubicle constructed of brick and bamboo.

Everything offered a natural and romantic essence, the heart of inclusivity. Not bothered by the villa’s left side, I returned to the lounge and exited onto the back deck. Heat radiated off the sun-stained wood, a hot yet bearable touch to my bare feet. I reached behind my back to unzip my dress and let the material fall to the ground. Multi-tiered leaves cascaded down the walls of the timber-made steps. I see a round-shaped pool that’s small for such an extensive holiday home, but I could relax and wait for our belongings to arrive from the incredible depths. I stepped down into the water and lost myself to a moment of tranquillity.

Fifteen minutes transpired before the heat became too unendurable. I pulled myself out and returned indoors. “Liam?” He wasn’t in the lounge. The untouched champagne flutes remained on the table. “Did they bring our cases yet?” Hearing running water, I trailed the sound back to the master bedroom, saw the unzipped cases on the floor and towels strewn on the fabric crème sofa. “Liam?”

“Quick shower,” he responded from the open-air ultraluxe shower.

Opening the wardrobe, I folded towels inside and began to sort through clothes. Personalised covers protected his suits and labelled dresses I most likely shouldn’t examine…Jesus, he bought me an Alexander McQueen satin red dress. I had to stop myself from trying it on. Pretending I hadn’t seen it, I rezipped the bag, hung the hangers on the rail and organised casualwear across shelves. Selecting a dark green bikini, I tossed it on the bed, ready for a trip to the beach and headed outside.

Liam’s naked backside forestalled mobility. Suds rivulet down his muscular back. He stood beneath the low-pressured water, one hand to the stone-walled oasis as he smoothed shower gel down his chest. Not wanting him to see me, I unclasped my bra, stepped out of the thong and left both in my wake to creep up behind him.

My chest pressed against his back, and he stood taller. “Alexa,” he said throatily, his chin elevating when my arms enveloped his waist. “What do you think?”

“I love it here,” I whispered, pushing off my tiptoes to nibble his ear. “And I love you.”

He pulled me in front of him and backed me up against the rutted wall. His hands positioned on either side of my head, warm water falling between us, he stared at me, long and intense, dipped his head and captured my lips for a firm, bruising kiss.

Tilting my head, I swept my tongue through his insatiable lips, my arms circling his neck. His mouth never lifted. He savoured every second, kissing me hungrily. Rough palms cupped my breasts as he used coconut-infused gel to wash the heat from my skin. Hot, quick and deep, his tongue took over, caressing mine. He sank his teeth along my jawline, the soft column of my neck and the valley of my breasts until his knee landed on the floor, and then I felt him down there, devouring me with velvet lashes. My knees threatened to give out. I grappled a fistful of his hair and forced myself upright, unable to resist his carnal desire. He suckled me into his mouth, nibbled my tender flesh and unexpectedly yanked my legs over his shoulders. I caught onto the wooden handrail in time to evade collapse, rested my back to the wall and needily rocked my hips. I was too turned on to hold back. I hit my pinnacle and came undone, crying his name.

Liam saved my fall, stood to his full height, wrapped my legs around his waist and shoved into me with one hard thrust. My fingernails piercing the nape of his neck, I caught my breath.

His cock coated in my arousal, he dragged himself in and out at a punishing pace, making me take every inch of him. Caged in his arms, I clung to him, ground against him.

Holding the weight of me in his hands, he blanched my backside, and desirable pain, the type of soreness that curled my toes, sent shivers down my spine.

Our gazes locked, he trapped my bottom lips between his teeth, and I deliberately tightened around his cock with each delivered stroke.

When the water ran cold, Liam pushed us away from the wall, carried me inside, laid me on the bed and kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe.

My thighs widened to make space for his moving hips, and he growled, “Fuck.” He fisted my hair, shoving himself deep. “Fuck if you don’t make me weak.”

Liam’s words were like music to my ears. His hand tightened around my throat, and my eyes rolled back.

Listening to the continual sound of his body slapping against mine, I matched his overpowering thrusts with pathetic effort. He was far too dominating in the bedroom department, but I still tried to keep up with him.

Moving onto his haunches, he smoothed the apex of my thighs, gripped my waist and fucked me with fervid mercilessness. Sweat dews gathered on his broad chest, trickling down his washboard of abs.

I didn’t want to lie here like a pointless object. I wanted to blow his mind. Using his forearms for support, I sat up, straddled his bunched-up thighs and rode his thick shaft.

His frown firmly in place, he held the back of my shoulders and let me work him.

Our bodies slid together seamlessly. With my hair wrapped around his fist, he pinned me to the base of him and began to throb. “I’m close,” he growled, and I picked up the pace. “Slow down.”

My lips twitched into a devious smile. I refuse to let him wait for me. We had the rest of the afternoon to share orgasms.

Plus, the generous man delivered once already. I rode him hard and fast, loving the sound of his guttural pleas and satisfaction.

His hands guiding my hips along his length, he sucked my throat, and goosebumps raked across my skin.

With very few husked words, the man had the power to turn me into mush. I was nowhere near ready to climax, yet the feel of his warm breath on my cheek and the sound of his throaty moans drove me over the edge of all-consuming euphoria.

My backside slapped against his thighs and stayed there as mind-numbing waves of pleasure rocked me to the core—asshole. “Liam,” I keened, my spine bowed in his arms. “You did that on purpose.”

The arrogant man tilted his neck to give me a low, smug smirk. “I did it because I could.” His length swelled inside me and emptied. “Fucking hell.”

My forehead fell to his shoulder. “Would you eat me out after you came?”

Liam’s eyebrow curved. “Is that what you want?”

I don’t even know why I asked. “Is it on the table?”

With a baffled expression, he eased his hips back and stretched out on the bed. “I’ve done it before.”

“What?” Red clouded my eyes. “With whom?”

“You.” His forehead creased. “It’s not something I thought we had to discuss,” he added in bewilderment. “Is there another question here? Do you need to know if tasting myself is a problem?” I simply stared at him. “No, Alexa. It doesn’t bother me.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to.”

I leaned over him to grab the bikini.

Through hooded-eyes, Liam watched me stand on the bed to put it on. “I like that,” he rasped, openly checking me out. “Actually, if we see anyone on the beach, you can come back and change. It’s too revealing.”

Grasping my bikini-clad breasts, I planted two feet to the mattress on either side of his waist. “Are you worried newly married men will look at these bad boys?” I teased, knowing full well I lacked in the tit department. “I mean, heaven forbid those men might be too busy ogling their new wives.”

Liam slid his hands up my calves. “Have you seen yourself?” The seriousness in his rough voice interrupted light flirting. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch, baby.”

“Your opinions of me are highly subjective.” Knees replacing my feet, I astride his waist and comb my fingers through his dark hair. “You put me on a pedestal.”

He kissed my inner wrist. “It’s where you belong.”

My heart could not take much more. “You do realise I was nothing until you.”

“We don’t talk like that.” His fingertips swept coils of hair from off my shoulder. “You are my wife. I expect dangerous confidence from you.”

“Liam—”

“Let me finish,” he said calmly, his thumb circling my hip bone. “You are a force to be reckoned with. Remember that before we return to London.”

There was a slither of worry in his captivating eyes. Existing beside this man was dangerous before, but times have changed. We are married now. Husband and wife. “I’m stronger than I’ve ever been.” He waited for me to finish. “But I struggle to be someone I am not.”

“Loving yourself is hardly a struggle. It’s a choice. Believe it enough, and it’ll materialise.”

“Fine.” I climbed off the bed. “Well, I am going to love myself all the way down to the beach. Let’s hope this egotistical woman doesn’t flash her magnetising backside—” Liam swept me off my feet, and laughter rippled out of me. “You are so predictable!” I wrapped my arms and legs around him as he walked us through the villa. “Caveman.”

“You love it.” His hands cradled my ass. “I should feed you first.”

I wish he’d stop shoving food down my throat. “I’m not hungry—”

“Don’t start.” At the lounge’s table, he polished off a glass of room-temperature champagne and then wedged kiwi into my mouth. “Eat.”

“Fine.” Chewing unpalatable fruit, I dropped to my feet. “I just decided that I don’t like kiwi.” It barely made it down my throat. “I’ll stick to strawberries.” Before I could grab a handful, Liam scooped a mixture of berries, melon slices and yoghurt into a bowl and handed it to me. “If I eat all that, I’ll be stuffed.”

“No, you won’t.” His expression unreadable, he refills our champagne flutes. “Go ahead. We can go to the beach once you finish.”

“Sorry, Dad,” I muttered sarcastically, stabbing the banana with a fork. “Well, stuff your face, too.”

“I ate as soon as we arrived.” He still took a bite of the almond croissant to satisfy me. “Hurry up.”

He watched me eat every mouthful, and realisation dawned on me.

Expelling a miffed sigh, I forked and chewed, washing each bite down with orange juice. I cleared the bowl, set it aside and stormed ahead.

“Alexa.” He spat a slew of expletives and chased behind me. “Wait.”

“How can I value and respect your opinion if you say one thing but mean another?” Exiting the villa, I descended the wooden steps towards the pool. “Well?”

“What are you talking about?” He snagged my elbow. “Alexa?”

I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed until now. “You force me to eat.” Guilt etched across his tight features. “Really, Liam? How can you paint me in a beautiful light if you don’t mean it?”

“I do mean it,” he barked, primed for an argument. “Don’t confuse concern for lies.” Noting the sadness in my eyes, he cupped my cheeks. “I love you so fucking much, but baby, I worry about you. You go all day without sustenance. If your weight wasn’t such an issue, I could overlook it.”

Upbraided, I simpered. “You think that I’m underweight.”

“Yes,” he said honestly, and I withered on the spot. “You have lost too much weight. You didn’t bounce back after that shit with Jace.” Knowing he felt this way about me was a harsh slap to the face. “Listen, hampering our honeymoon is not an option. You will have the best time because I’ll make damn sure of it. We can talk about this when back in London.”

“No.” I’m not sure I wanted this conversation twice. “You might be right.” His concerns were moderately fair but ostensible. “I do forget to eat on occasion, so I’ll make an effort from now. I promise.” Even acknowledging that I sometimes forgo food was sickening and humiliating. “In fact, I’ll grab more coconut or something and eat it by the pool.”

Liam’s hand landed on my stomach, preventing me from walking past. “Baby?” Refusing to cry over this, I pucker my lips. “Look at me.”

I rubbed my eyes, eradicating moisture. “What?”

“Show me that beautiful smile,” he teased lightly, and I hid my head on his chest. “Don’t make me beg.” His fingers traced my back, unintentionally tickling my hip, and I flinched from the invasion, suppressing laughter. “Almost.”

“Stop.” I obtained his hand, my amusement escalating. “Liam—” His lips slanted over mine, and protests evaporated. Worries became an afterthought. I was back in his arms, and this time, the fabric couch inside the Sala welcomed us instead of the bed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alexa

North Island Seychelles was a tropical paradise and luxurious escape set at the far north of an Indian Ocean archipelago. I Googled the website, absorbed information and possible leisure pursuits in the minutes before I slipped under the cool sheets of our snug bed to give Liam an early morning wake up call to remember.

We had yet to travel beyond our villa as raw, passionate sex prevailed exploration.

If Liam’s head wasn’t between my thighs, I buried my head between his, and fervent lovemaking ensued straight after. Hell, at this stage in our honeymoon, I espoused a newfound proclivity for ceaseless nudity.

I walk around naked morning, noon and night.

Today, I made an effort to put some clothes on. Liam wanted to explore. I never thought it possible, but I exhausted the man’s stamina. I threw on a blue see-through kimono to match the bikini and left my hair down in natural waves. Liam’s uncustomary appearance surmounted my red, skin-peeled nose and haphazard appearance, though. He had sun-kissed skin, beautifully flawless, and strode barefoot down the beach in a white slim-fit shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons popped open, and beige chino shorts.

I died and went to heaven.

Vegetation obscured ten other villas. You could barely see the wooden accommodations through the greenery, but akin to us, the guests had grandstand views of the azure ocean. At the end of the sandy strip, the island’s focal point, the piazza, the activity and dive centre, library, boutique and guest relations. If we foot walked ahead, we’d find the gym, pool and spa. We had options but settled for destination dining as the hot-tempered man kvetched until I fed him. With the afternoon sun as the backdrop, the piazza prepared us a picnic basket on the beach, laid out cotton throws and cushions and left us to enjoy a romantic lunch. I sampled various exotic fruits and charcuterie boards: acai berries, mangosteen, persimmon, guava, papaya, cold meat, smoked salmon, segmented cheese and fizzy champagne.

I could live on this island for the rest of my life.

“Can we go cycling?” I asked one evening.

“You will never see my ass on a bike,” Liam rebuffed.

“Never?”

“Never.”

The following day, I raced past Liam on a hired bike, meandering through the takamaka forest in search of Brutus, the Island’s oldest tortoise. According to the helpful gent at the piazza, Seychelles is the hawksbill and green turtle nesting ground, and I had to meet the bales grandpa. Only the downwards curve of a sunbird, frightened kestrel and green-backed heron graced us with their reluctant presence.

I will uncover Brutus.

Somewhere along the fact-finding bike ride, Liam had removed his shirt and tucked it into the waistband of his shorts. Feet planted to the floor, he eased back on the bike and guzzled water thirstily—and I found myself outlandishly ensnared by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed and how misted sweat glazed his bronze, sculpted physique and high-cheeked handsomeness. “I want you,” I said, and he flung me a double-take. “Right there,” I gestured to the closest palm tree, “against that tree.”

“What?” With a rare, meek smile, he flattened a hand down his chest. “You had me this morning—twice.”

I waggled my eyebrows playfully. “Would you rather a frigid who’s less hypersexual?” When he didn’t answer me, I snatched my water bottle and sprayed him, tactfully immodest. “You make me wet!”

Dodging the strike, Liam stumbled off the sinking bike and almost reduced to his ass. “Alexa!” he objurgated, mopping moisture from off his face. “Behave—” I doused him again. “Oh, my wife wants to play dirty.”

“Don’t you dare,” I warned as he prowled towards me with feral strides. “Liam—no.” Flinging my bike to the side, staggering ahead for an advantage, I blindly chucked the bottle behind me and broke into a fast sprint, aborting the designated bike trail to zigzag amid dense trees. Fallen leaves, delicate sprigs, and fresh verdure crepitate under my trainers. The harsh sound startled wildlife, causing them to squawk and ruffle feathers. Beckoned by the nearly visible beach, I strain my eyes to see beyond the blazing sun, escaped the exotic wilderness and Liam’s approaching counterattack, kicked the trainers off in opposite directions and belted to the ocean, the competitive man, hot on my heels

Normally, I wouldn’t dream of wading into the sea, but here, unlike the dark, misty waters of London, low crystalline tides abetted fearless confidence. I ran across the leeward shoreline, kicking up wet sand, peeling the loose, sodden vest from off my body to expose delicate lace-clad breasts.

Seconds later, without a degree of breath-holding preparation, I am under the water as a result of Liam’s onslaught. Panic-stricken nervousness clogged my throat. I resurfaced, flung my head back on a choked inhalation and primed myself for another head-dunk. “You are an asshole,” I spat, using the back of my hand to wipe the taste of salt from my lips. “Too far, Liam.”

“Not far enough.” He slapped the water’s surface, spraying me in the process. “Did it cool you down?”

No, I still wanted the man to fuck me six ways to Sunday. “Yes,” I lied, and he saw right through my bullshit. His knowing smirk cinched a fraction; I gave him a theatrical eye-roll. “Get over yourself, Liam. You are not that irresistible.”

Presumably, Liam had a point to prove. With heavy, lust-filled eyes, his shoulders squared as if to say, “challenge accepted”, and he stood from the shallow waves, the doused shorts hanging low on his chiselled hips, a thin line of dark hair leading south to where his magnificently tasting cock awaited.

Instinctively, I licked my lips and then clenched my teeth to hide the coquettish act.

“We should swim out,” he said huskily, pretending to scour the vast ocean—when I know he felt the perverted gawking from his wife. “Find you some shells.”

“You don’t care about the shells,” I said pointedly.

For the first time since conquering the sea, I was grateful for the enshrouded waters for screening the tremble in my thighs. To stop my depraved self from saying something imbecilic, I swam amongst the placid waves, ready to climb out, when Liam’s hand snatched my ankle. He brought me to his chest and, right before he kissed me, said, “I care about you.” The able-bodied man lifted me off the ground, his mouth devouring mine, his fingers marking the soft mounds of my ass. With unsubtle finesse, he tore off my bikini top and let it drift out to sea. My back crashed to the sand as he braced himself above me, his lips drinking the moans from my lips. He always proclaims the extensiveness of how much I mean to him, but this kiss seemed different. I felt his adoration with each soul-consuming lash of the tongue, and butterflies like never before fluttered alongside the painful thud of my heart.

I am devastatingly in love with this man.

Five days into our honeymoon and I am blistered like an unfortunate burn victim.

I am Freddy Kruger reincarnated.

Clothes irritated my flesh.

Showers were excruciatingly painful.

Uninterrupted sleep was a thing of the past.

And sex was off the menu.

I hated life.

“Alexa?” Liam called, the lounge’s front door crashing behind him. “I spoke to the head nurse.” His footsteps advanced to the master bedroom, where I sat completely naked on the fabric armchair beside the open windows, the cool breeze soothing my sore skin. “Hey.” He appeared in the arched doorway, a look of sympathy on his face. “How are you feeling?”

My lips jutted into a pout. “Like a boiled lobster.”

Suppressing his frustration, Liam took a seat beside me. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

Knots formed in my stomach. “The bad news.”

Placing a bottle of aftercare cream on the wooden table, he threaded his fingers together. “It’s crucial you avoid the sun and stay indoors for at least a week.”

“What?” My eyes glazed over in devastation. “But the honeymoon…Screw the burns. We can’t stay cooped up in the villa for a week. I never get you to myself, Liam, so do not argue with me on this. I will make the most of it, or so help me, God.” I grabbed the aftercare cream, squirted a dollop onto my palm and applied layers to my shoulder. “Shit. It hurts. I’m a walking fucking disaster.”

Cursing under his breath, Liam squeezed cream onto his hands and put us nose-to-nose. “I spoke to Brad.” Gingerly, he spread comforting cream on my neck and chest. “Told him we want to extend our stay.” His eyes on me, he thumbed emollient across my nose. “How do another three weeks sound?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Are you serious?”

His lips teased the corner of my mouth. “Deadly.”

“I want to hug the shit out of you,” I whimpered, clearing dampness from my eyes. “Thank you, Liam.”

“Don’t ever thank me for doing right by you.” He tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear. “If truth be told, I am not quite ready to return to London, either.” His loving eyes held mine. “I could get used to this lifestyle.”

I had a light-bulb moment. “Shall we buy an island?”

“Don’t give me any ideas.” His mouth broke into a slow smirk. “Besides, I can’t leave London permanently. It’s where I belong.”

Liam’s habituated to London, to the syndicate. He had an army of loyal, indispensable men who relied on him, looked up to him. For a man in his powerful position, existing without crime is no life at all. It’s all he’s ever truly known. And, as much as I’d love to dwell in our protective bubble forever, his happiness and livelihood outweighed relocation concepts.

He relaxed in the chair, his arms perched on the armrests. “Are you hungry?”

Encouraging me to eat has become routinely exasperating. I’ll be larger than a whistling beach whale by the time we leave this island. “Yes,” I fibbed, walking my naked backside to the other side of the room. “I’ll eat whatever.” Inside the wardrobe, I sift through clothes, pondering an attempt of coverage. I sampled a T-shirt, but the fine cotton was too heavy for my skin to bear. “Can I eat naked?”

His lips were on the nape of my neck in a heartbeat. “I have zero complaints.”

Liam utilised the villa’s butler service. We sampled sweet and sour line fish and fried soba noodles, which I rated contemptible, but the trio of island fruit sorbets, I ranked heavenly toothsome.

Leaving the villa was unadvisable, especially when the sun reached its highest point, so we’d wait until nightfall, for when the stars crested the skies and cool, crispness alleviated tender-touching skin.

“I’m three weeks late,” I informed Liam.

“Don’t overthink it,” he’d replied.

“It’s different this time,” I said confidently. “I’ll give alcohol amiss until we know for certain.”

Brutus was impossible to locate. For a straightforward task, I considered it laboriously unachievable.

“Why does Brutus hide from me?”

“Why do you care so much?”

If I don’t stumble across grandpa soon, I’ll ask someone from the piazza to assist the search. Liam’s not the best tour guide, and he gripes at every corner. He had no interest in wildlife, nor the one-hundred-and-sixty-year-old turtle’s guesstimated lifespan.

Liam imbibes whiskey inspired cocktails every night. It’s never occurred, the possibility of alcoholism. He can drink like a fish yet and prevail unaltered. Whilst he savoured every drop, I nursed freshly squeezed juice, bottled water or warm beverages. I didn’t miss vodka, not yet. Probable pregnancy heightened optimistic rambunctiousness. I had never wanted something to come to fruition so much in my life. Perhaps if I hadn’t lost one, I’d feel differently. I’d be content or indifferent.

“Three weeks and two days,” I shouted upon entering the master bedroom. “Stating the obvious. Just in case.”

Sprawled out across the bed, Liam watched me roam the room, an amused smile on his face. “Then, you should eat more,” he hinted, his face nuzzled to the pillow. “Get some nourishment down you.” His eyebrow arched. “Just in case.”

Liam’s sarcastic method of coercion almost unleashed a defensive response, as I had made a considerable effort lately, but he made a valid point. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, I am expecting, then the baby will need all the vital nutrients I can stomach.

Inside the kitchenette, I ferret cupboards and pour myself a bowl of brim-full granola. I arranged yoghurt, wholewheat toast, chopped fruit and milk on a tray and relocated to the outdoor Sala. I feasted produce with the thatched roof and bamboo partition blocking out the sun until I fell into a food coma.

Eating for two became second nature, despite the fact each mandatory mouthful excoriated the lining of my stomach. Not literally. I was bloated and started to model a distended potbelly, though.

“You look no different,” Liam said resolutely.

“What?” I gesticulated to myself. “Can you not see the slight paunch?”

He gave me a scathing look. “No.”

“No,” I repeated in disbelief. “Well, I can see a difference.”

“Here.” He hurled an apple at me, and I caught it deftly. “Eat. We can talk about progress when I perceive weight gain. Then I’ll be impressed.”

The son of a bitch mocked me.

Adding three rounds of buttery toast to this morning’s breakfast, I sat on the pool ledge, kicking legs submerged in water, and noted a pleased yet restrained smile on Liam’s face as he feigned to read messages on his phone.

We met honeymooners from villa eight, a middle-aged couple by the names of Zack and Julia. Environmentally motivated gregariousness characterised Zach. The environmentalist talks of eliminating plastic waste, converting to hybrid cars, and advocating veganism, whereas Julie, the unsociable wallflower, requires liquid courage to breach most conversation topics.

Liam tolerated Julie yet had zero patience for cordial Zack. He disregarded lectures on plant-based diets and ate double the amount of line fish to prove a point.

“It’s unethical,” said Zack. “Fish are loveable creatures. We care for them as pets.”

Sucking lemon butter sauce from his thumb, Liam forked kabeljou to his mouth and chewed. “You have a warped outlook on life,” he retorted, dabbing hip lips with a paper napkin. “If you continue to pester me about your fishes, I will bury you with them.”

I laughed in awkward discomfort.

“Scuba diving is a favourite pastime.” Oblivious to the potentiality of Liam’s threat, Zack placed a hand on his wife’s knee. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Demurely mute, Julia nodded.

“Hey, maybe you guys could join us?” Zack mused, and Liam muffled an exasperated sigh. “We plan to snorkel in the reef tomorrow. It’s only a short boat trip just off the island.”

Before Liam could decline Zack’s offer, I straightened in the chair and snapped up the opportunity with both hands. “Absolutely,” I said keenly, feeling the intensity of Liam’s expostulating glare piercing the side of my head. “I’ve been dying to get on one of those boats—”

“No.” Liam lights a cigarette. “Appreciate the offer,” he lied, respiring smoke rings, “but my wife has endured enough sun exposure.”

Julia spoke for the first time since she and her husband interrupted our dinner date this evening. “Then, why are you outside of the villa?”

Liam stared at the woman. A look of genuine confusion marred his tight, peeved countenance. “I presume the hours of darkness isn’t evidently understood.”

“Oh?” Her almond-shaped eyes flickered from him to me. “Do you only come out at night?”

“It doesn’t look too bad.” Zack leaned forward to examine the dry skin and reddish rash on my bare shoulders. “It’s healed lovely. Rub some sunscreen on the skin to prevent acute sunburn, and you’ll be on your merry way.”

I felt optimistic. “I can buy a straw hat from the island’s boutique.” When Liam remained iron-willed and uncompromising, I adopted sullen disenchantment, knowing the churlish pout broke through his act of obstinate stubbornness. “Thank you for the invite, Zack. But Liam’s right. I should confine myself to four walls. It is, after all, for my benefit.”

Wearing a regretful frown, Liam expelled a veil of smoke. “No.” He rubbed the crease from his furrowed brows, and I held my breath, cautious yet hopeful. “We should go. It’ll do you good.”

Tapering down excitement, I scuttled off the chair and onto his lap, smothering his rugged cheek with thankful kisses. “I promise to use sunscreen,” I read him the assurance act before he delivered castigation. “I will wear the hat unless underwater and, in the event too much radiation backfires on me, I only have myself to blame.”

Mollified by the sensation of my fingers massaging his scalp, Liam craned his neck to look up at me. “I love you,” he whispered so that our new friends didn’t hear. “Always.”

I never slept much that night. I spent hours packing, unpacking and rearranging our bags whilst Liam dreamt until sunrise.

Liam rolled onto his back, the sheets tangled between his legs. “I thought I’d have to wake you,” he said, his arms extended above his head as he yawned. “What time did you get up?”

I shrugged, scarfing down a handful of granola cereal. “Hurry up and shower.” Sunglasses and straw hat fixed in place, I stomped into a pair of white pumps. “Zack and Julia will be here in their buggy,” I gripped his arm to check the time on his wristwatch, “in less than twenty minutes.”

“I could eat you out and make you cum in less than five,” he said hoarsely, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. “You earned it, baby.”

Since I bear a resemblance to a combustible lemon, he’s barely touched me. “What if I take longer?” I wondered aloud, and his blue eyes sparkled with conceited confidence. “It’s worth the risk.”

I rode my husband’s face and came in exactly six minutes.

That extra minute infuriated him.

Indescribable exhilaration rushed through me as we boarded the island’s boat, and the captain sailed us out to sea. Shaded by the large statement hat, I sat beside Julia on the deck, and we shared a tub of chopped strawberries. Unable to tolerate Zack’s disquisition, Liam accepted the role of a social outcast. Rather than indulge in vegetable-based cuisine with me and the others, he stole the champagne bottle, eliminated his T-shirt and watched the island fade into the distance from the furthest end of the boat.

Upon reaching the reef, the captain lowered the boarding ladder into the water, and the divemaster provided everyone with state-of-the-art scuba equipment. I looked ridiculous in a wetsuit but appreciated the soft fibres on my tender skin. Full-foot scuba fins on my feet, tank on my back and a regulator on my face, the instructor assisted me into the incredible depths, demonstrated underwater breathing and swore, even though it’s not a guarantee that I won’t see them, the whitetip reef sharks were harmless to humans.

I didn’t believe a word he said.

Virtually glued to Liam’s side, I swam beneath the sun-topped waves and explored the coral mounds. Water waded around our moving limbs and thrust our fins. We drifted along the gentle currents of breath-taking sceneries as the schools of diversified fish caressed vibrant corals and shoaled the seabed.

I spotted enough shark activity to retreat.

Liam never resurfaced, which rioted anxieties. I climbed the boarding ladder, removed the scuba equipment, leaving the wetsuit folded at my waist, and, as promised, pulled the hat onto my head. “Liam stayed,” I said, inhaling a stuttered breath. “There are sharks down there.”

“He’s fine,” the captain assured, handing me bottled water. “You were only down there for ten minutes.”

It seemed so much longer. “Well, those fishes might be beautiful, and your convinced divemaster insists the sharks are harmless, but I know better. If we get too close, they’ll sink their razor-sharp gnashers into my backside just to piss me off.”

Our captain flashed me a toothy grin. “I’m sure you won’t let us hear the end of it.”

“Nope.” I sat cross-legged on the floor. “And if they kill me, I’ll come back to the island and haunt you.” Julia and Zack emerged from the waters, snapping off their goggles. “Cap, what are those yellow things strapped to your boat?”

He followed my line of vision. “Kayaks. It’s the ocean’s version of a tandem bicycle. You can rent them,” he suggested, and my scowl hardened. “You can paddle the island’s perimeters where it is safe. Not out here, obviously.”

It wasn’t apparent if you didn’t know any better. “Sure.” I laid on my back and slipped shades over my eyes. “I might just take you up on that offer.”

On Saturday morning, Liam threatened to disown me.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he complained, the tight-fitted buoyancy restricting his arms as he rotated the paddle blades through the waters. “This is fucking madness.”

My feet rested on the footpegs. “You promised not to complain.”

“How is kayaking deemed fun and adventurous, Alexa?” He glanced at me from over his shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I blinked behind gold-rimmed sunglasses. “Admiring the view.”

“No,” he scolded, and I jumped out of my skin. “Where is your paddle?”

“Oh, I dropped it,” I waved a flippant hand over my head, “back there somewhere. I mean, the water’s unpredictable, Liam. Plus, I am not the strongest female on the block—”

“This is why it’s taken us ten hours to get from one cove to the next.”

“You are so dramatic. We only left the beach an hour ago.”

“Wrong. We sailed off East Beach almost three hours ago. The head nurse said it’d only be a two-hour trip.”

“Our head nurse is quite the intellectualist,” I muttered, a touch bitter. “What’s her job role exactly? I thought it was the activity managers duty to appoint excursions. You know? The guy at the piazza.”

Liam’s hands tightened on the paddle. “Is that an accusation?”

“What does she look like?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Jealousy heated my blood. “Then, I shall hunt her down tonight to see why she’s so enthusiastic about accommodating my husband.”

Resting the paddle on his thighs, Liam clasped the back of his head. “That sounds like a threat.”

“Take it how you will.” Stealing his paddle, I dipped the blade into the water and rowed us ahead. “She better be old, Liam.”

Dry laughter rippled from him. “What does age have to do with it?”

I had to stop myself from clouting him over the head. “Would you entertain a woman who sports more wrinkles than my grandma?”

“Who is this grandmother you speak of?” he asked, stifling humoured laughter. “This is a ridiculous interrogation. I only have eyes for my wife.”

I made a mental note to find the island’s nurse regardless. “Are we going to meet Zack and Julia tomorrow?” They invited us to their villa for a butler-serviced three-course meal. “It might be fun.”

“Alexa, I cannot handle another conversation with that fucking eco-nut.” He speared a hand through his wet hair. “If he attempts to ram a forkful of hummus in my mouth, one more time, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

“Do not threaten the man with a fork, Liam,” I warned, evoked by gruesome flashbacks of him and cutlery. “You should cut him some slack. I know his passion for the environment can be tiresome, but he means well. Give him a chance.”

Liam made a noncommittal noise.

“And Julia’s coming out of her shell,” I continued, pedalling through shallow waters. “Can’t we pretend to be normal, caring people? Just for the duration of our honeymoon?”

By the end of our kayaking voyage, Liam’s tetchiness morphed into full-fledged incandescence. He overturned the villa’s kitchenette for strong liquor and smoked overmuch cigarettes. Highly strung, disagreeable and out of sorts, he stomped from room to room as though in search of something, yet he came unstuck at every unconquerable angle. His shortage of narcotics dawned on me. He hasn’t absorbed any form of illegal drugs since we flew from London and lack of intoxicants began to take its toll.

“Where’s my phone?” he asked angrily, rummaging through leaflets on the coffee table. “I need to check in on Brad.” Downing whiskey from the bottle, he licked trickled liquid from his lips and wiped his brow. “Alexa?”

“You left it in the kitchen,” I said warily. “Liam—”

“I need five minutes,” he barked, shouldering past me. “Quit fucking with my head all the time.”

I had barely spoken to the man since we got back. “Okay.” Instead of arguing with him, I will taper down annoyance, take a cold shower and barricade myself inside the master bedroom until he’s calmed down. It’s not submissiveness. It’s choosing your battles. I won’t poke and prod for a reaction. I’ll wait until he’s got a hold of himself and hope for a positive outcome. In his current state, though, I anticipate an unavoidable barney—that’s if the slamming doors and unrepressed blasphemy is anything to go by.

Combining the conditioner through the ends of my hair, I stood under the cold water and let the soft sprays ease skin discomfort. Satisfied that I no longer smell like a sweltering pig, I wrapped a towel around my body and teetered into the bedroom. Before I could robe, painful sharpness lanced my side. My palms fell to the bed as I doubled over at the waist. Respiring a choppy breath, I ran to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and wiped between my legs. I knew what to expect before checking for blood. Dark red stained the folded tissue. Broken heartedness increased with each wipe and ticking second.

I thought it was different this time.

Liam knocked on the door. “Alexa,” he said tamely. “Look, about earlier…” He hesitated, and I covered my eyes to stop myself from crying. “I think I got a bit of sunstroke or something…”

No, Liam. Your body craves drugs, but if lying to yourself makes it less severe, then who am I to piss on your parade. “It’s fine.” I dropped the tissue down the toilet. “Can you fetch me some underwear and a T-shirt, please? I forgot to bring some in with me.”

There was an infinitesimal pause. “Why not waltz around naked?” he joshed, but I was in no mood for banter. “It’s a pleasant sight.”

I dabbed my nose to smother snivels. “Please.”

Liam’s shadow remained for a long, harrowing minute, and then he retreated only to return moments later to slide belongings under the wooden door. I thanked him, pulled on the lace thong and hunted the villa’s essentials basket for feminine products. I opted for a tampon, closed the toilet seat so that I didn’t see the evidence of yet another failed pregnancy, flushed and then washed my hands in the stonework basin.

Yanking the T-shirt over my head, I checked my reflection in the mirror, exited the cubicle and gravitated outdoors to the Sala opposite the pool. It’s cosy in there, with pastel-coloured cushions, beaded tapestries, glass lanterns and handmade wooden ornaments. I collapsed on the corner sofa, nestled on a fluffy pillow and watched the burnt orange sun descend upon our horizon.

I heard Liam’s footsteps before the cushions skewed as he tucked himself behind me. His chest to my side, he outstretched his legs, propped onto one elbow and kissed the spot beneath my ear. “Alexa,” he whispered, inhaling the scent of coconuts from my wet hair. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, Liam.” My eyes closed. “I’m just tired, I guess. It’s been an eventful week.”

Liam’s hand smoothed down my back to grope the swell of my ass. “Do you need anything from me?”

His sexual innuendo warmed my cheeks. I turned to face him, rested my head on his arm and kissed his throat. “I’m sexed out,” I lied, not having the courage to tell him the real reason for denying him. “Let’s order room service and eat instead.”

His arm coiled around my shoulders, tugging me closer. “I found a book at the library.” A paperback appeared between us. “Did you know North Island used to home plantation houses and that the ancient anchor dates back to the 1800s?”

The large anchor resides in the library. “I didn’t.”

He turned the page and read in silence. “I spoke to the nurse again,” he said, attempting to get a rise out of me. “Asked her about Brutus.”

My interest piqued. “I think that turtle hates me.”

“They store baby tortoises in a safe pen near the environmental centre.”

I bet if we journey there, we’ll locate Zack and Julie. “That’s nice.”

He tucked the book behind the pillow. “Because of the golf buggies, Brutus has reflective strips on his shell.”

I blew a strand of hair out of my hair. “Did your nurse friend tell you that?”

“Yes,” he said calmly, his fingers massaging my thigh. “She said we could find him on the sandy tracks at night.” He dipped his head and savoured a kiss on my neck. “Fancy taking that buggy for a spin?”

“Really?” Happiness lowered my defences. “You want to help me find him?”

He looked me in the eye and nodded. “That’s if it puts a smile on your beautiful face.”

I gave him a genuine smile. “When do we leave?”

Liam grabbed something from the rear of the sofa. “Here.” Tugging a pair of his grey slacks up my legs, he rolled socks to my ankles and shoved my feet into trainers. “Come.” He stood, bringing me with him. “I’ll even allow you to drive.”

He walked ahead. I pushed off my feet, scaled his back and wrapped myself around him. “I love you.” My arms locking across his shoulders for support, I pressed lingering kisses to his cheek, the weight of my body elevated by his hands. “Please don’t drop me.”

“As if I’d let you fall.”

CHAPTER NINE

Liam

Boasting a red satin dress that hugged her figure flawlessly, Alexa walked alongside me with a demeanour of sophisticated queenliness. Much like every other imperfection, scar and blemish, she cared not for the skin desquamates on her chest and shoulders or the redness of her nose. Since landing on North Island, she’s embraced the fresh look, scarce makeup and unruly hair, an irresistibly prepossessing image I favour most.

Just one look from my wife, and I fall in love all over again. It’s all-consuming, the way she laughs, the twinkle in her eyes each time she smiles. I never knew how much I craved love until she happened. I consider life before us and see emptiness, loneliness and darkness, a place I never want to revisit.

She talks of Brutus again and, although I paid scarce attention to her repetitive jawing, I pretend to care because her thought process mattered.

“Perhaps Brutus prefers isolation.” Alexa’s murmurous carping commenced. “I can’t say I blame him. I’d hate if someone poked and prodded me all the time, so there’s that.”

In the hope that Brutus, the island’s oldest tortoise, may come out from hiding, I took my woman for a spin on the buggy last night. We uncovered numerous coves and romantic locations, various birds and reptiles, but Brutus’ whereabouts remain a mystery.

I fixed white gold cufflinks to the sleeves of my suit jacket. “Don’t give up.” Intoxicated by the scent of her sweet perfume, I enveloped my arms around her, chin resting on her shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll make an appearance soon.”

“Yeah,” she said with a defeated sigh. “Maybe.”

Zack’s villa came into view and depressing dread settled in the abysmal depths of my stomach. “Must we entertain the eccentric newlyweds? The definition of ‘honeymoon’? Amatory togetherness. I cannot rationalise an environmental conference.”

“It’s a dinner date, Liam.” Her head lolled on my chest. “Go in open-minded, and who knows? If you lower the defensive walls, you might enjoy their company.”

“Can I not tempt you to a private dinner at our villa?” My lips ravished the column of her neck. I ache for her, but she’s denied me twice today. “I’ll do all the feasting, of course.”

Disconnecting us, Alexa giggled. “I might take you up on that offer later,” she said, her nose wrinkling. “Well, that’s if I’m not too tired.”

My eyebrow raised. “Was that yet another precipitous dismissal?”

Ignoring the question, she brushed dark hair out of her face and over one shoulder. “How do I look?”

Like a divine gift from God. “Is your goal to impress others?”

“I dress nicely for my benefit.” Her eyes slithered into slits. “It’s not about making a good impression.”

“Your unparalleled attractiveness invites the uninvited scrutiny of others.”

Alexa resembled a deer in the headlight. “Where are we going with this?”

If Zack so much as glimpses in her direction tonight, I will bury him beneath the very floors I stand upon. “You look fucking beautiful.”

“Then, why has it taken a farcical conversation for you to compliment?”

I thrust my hands into my trouser pockets. “I have ambivalent feelings towards my wife’s penchant for glamour.”

Her arms folded. “You bought the dress.”

“Hence the ambivalence.” I rocked back on the heels of my leather shoes. “I see something. I visualise you wearing it, imagine myself tearing through it, so I buy it and then regret it when you force me to eat with a bunch of idiosyncratic personalities.”

Alexa’s lips twisted as she refrained from laughter. “We have an audience.”

I slid a glance over one shoulder to see Zack in the doorway of his villa. He’s plaited his long brown hair and wears a floriated shirt over a white T-shirt. “I thought this was a dinner date?” I whispered, returning my attention to a smiling Alexa. “The man wears flip flops and beaded bracelets.” Brad would have a field day with that otherworldly couple. “I can’t do this.”

“Liam,” Alexa chided. “I cannot tolerate this peevish spitefulness any longer. Stop judging people based on appearance. It’s superficial and downright ignorant. Who cares what he eats or wears? It’s his kind, loving and friendly personality that counts.” Her breath caught. “Plus, you model bracelets from time to time, so quit complaining.”

Dumbfounded, I glared at her. “There’s a huge difference between Atolyestone and the gift shop.”

Alexa gave me a disgusted look. “So, the man can’t afford any designer,” she argued, keeping her voice down. “Are riches that important to you? Will you value and respect people with deep pockets only? And for what purpose? Some of the most immoral, pig-headed and corrupt individuals derive from prestigiousness, and you dare to approve of them.”

I gritted my teeth. “I don’t care for anyone beyond the syndicate, and you know it,” I whisper-shout. “Besides, I have no interest in Zack’s bank balance. What I cannot fathom, though, is the man’s relentless need to ram plant-based fodder down my fucking throat.”

“I ordered apple tartlets,” Zack yelled from the door. “Still piping hot if we eat them now.”

Rage simmered in my veins. “You see what I have to put up with?” I gave Alexa a sharp, pointed look. “Fucking tartlets.”

Her shoulders sagged despondently. “What’s wrong with tartlets?”

“What’s right with them?”

“Oh, now you’re just being difficult.” She stormed past me, deliberately shoving her shoulder into mine. “Come inside and behave yourself or return to villa and mope. Either way, with or without you, I am to enjoy myself tonight.”

My eyes visited the sky. I hear Alexa’s heels fade into the distance as she strolled toward the couple’s villa. I had a million and one other things I’d rather do. All scenarios involved my wife—alone time. Innate stubbornness almost got the better of me. I had a minibar at home with my name on it but leaving her alone with jejune Zack discouraged selfish departure, and abandoning our date, no matter the unfavourable circumstance, is uncaringly unjust.

Resigned to an evening of outlandishness, I mentally equipped myself for a long, tedious chore and gravitated to Zack, who waited patiently with a plate of unpalatable food elevated on his palm. “Zack,” I clipped, offering a quick, reluctant handshake. “Appreciate the invite.”

He flashed me a toothy grin. “Please, come in.” He stood aside for me to enter the all-wooden lounge. “Would you like me to take your jacket—”

“No,” I said shortly, shirking away from his mid-advanced hand. Behind him, standing next to the timid Julia, Alexa glared at me, wide-eyed and threatening. “I mean, I’d rather keep it on.”

Zack seemed mildly offended. “If you insist.” He shoved the plate in my face. “Apple tartlet?”

I grudgingly accepted one. “I’ll take an old-fashioned.”

“An old-fashioned?” Julia asked, sharing a puzzled look with her husband. “What’s that?”

I am out of my depth here. “A drink?”

Zack’s eyes grew progressively wider. “You won’t find any of that garbage in here,” he informed, setting the plate onto the wooden table. “We are proud teetotallers. Isn’t that right, darling?”

Julia nodded submissively. “Alcohol causes cancer.”

“And heart disease,” the idiot joined in. “Strokes and liver failure. Too much alcohol can also lead to anaemia. You don’t want to be anaemic, do you?”

I scowled at them.

“Don’t be silly.” Julia laughed under her breath. “People abuse their bodies unwittingly. I bet he’ll think differently once you show him last year’s national health study for intoxicant consumption.”

“Teetotalism is a fantastic cause.” Zack handed me a glass of soda water. “More and more people are sober curious. Hey, if you give me your email, I can send additional information. I know England tends to host monthly campaigns—”

“I decline,” I said harshly, the glass gripped between rigid fingers. “And I smell burning. Perhaps you should check your kitchen.”

“Jesus,” he cursed, dashing past me to scour the kitchenette. “I’ll be right back.”

My eyes revisited Alexa. “May I be excused?”

Before she could respond, Julia asked, “Is everything alright?”

Placing the tartlet back on the plate, I uprooted a pack of cigarettes. “I need a smoke.”

“It’s a non-smoking villa,” Julia educated. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

My mind raced to nefarious grounds. “Actually, I am headed outside.”

“But smoking is bad for you,” she continued, and I had a vivid vision of snatching her throat, snapping it within the cage of inescapable fingers. “Nicotine is highly addictive, and it’s the source of lung disease.”

“Thanks to border control, smuggling hemp—it’s a plant, so don’t shoot me—onto the island was unachievable, which leaves me with no other choice. Now, unless you want me to be agitated throughout this remarkable date for four, I suggest you let me go outside to clog my fucking arteries.”

Alexa’s lips pinched into a tight line.

“Hemp?” Julia asked quietly, looking at Alexa for guidance. “As in cannabis?”

Chewing her inner cheek, Alexa nodded curtly.

“Oh, marijuana has great health benefits,” Julia said, and I stopped mid-step. “Especially if it’s homegrown.”

Why am entertaining this bullshit?

“As aforementioned, I cannot get my hands on hemp or liquor, so I’ll settle with nicotine.”

“Where are you going?” Zack carried a tray of fragment rice and steamed vegetables to the table. “Please do not tell me you smoke killer cigarettes.”

If Alexa doesn’t intervene soon, I’ll blow a fucking gasket. “Baby?” I rasped, in need of some level of leniency. “You are uncharacteristically quiet.”

A rope of silence stretched between us. Belatedly recognising my failing forbearance, Alexa faked a smile and addressed both Julia and Zack. “Listen, I think your passion for health and wellness is wonderful, but Liam’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions. If smoking a cigarette or sipping whiskey is his idea of an enjoyable evening, then who are we to lay down the law and cast judgments?”

Zack was noticeably horrified. With a slack jaw, he set the tray down and cleared irritation from his throat. “Could you take it down to the beach?” he asked, and I thanked my lucky stars for a more extended break. “I don’t mean to be rude, but that stuff stinks, and, well, it’ll blow indoors and ruin dinner.”

I forced a tight smirk. “No problem.”

***

After an hour of deliberation regarding social drinking, Alexa convinced Julia and Zack to unlock the minibar. We started with a round of diluted cocktails, one shot of harsh liquor per fruit-topped glass, and then, slowly but surely, those measures upsized. It’s one night, my wife inveigled them with premeditated demureness. It’ll hardly damage your cause. Plus, have you ever had sex while under the influence? Mind-blowing. Phenomenal. I am talking mind-shattering orgasms and sensitive areas for days, she exaggerated, and It took all my willpower not to chuckle at her fabricated recontouring.

I witnessed first-hand how manipulative Victoria operated. It’s the bogus innocence, the fluttering eyelashes, and subtle head cocks as she beguiled her targets to the darker side of life. It’s also the first time I truly appreciated her ensnaring skillset.

Contrasting characteristics differentiate us. I am renowned for being ruthless and unprincipled, whereas Alexa’s trustworthy, well-mannered, polite and gracious. She wears her heart on her sleeve and loves to see the good in everybody. But there’s something far more dangerous about a person with two personalities. When I enter a room, people expect the worst. When Alexa strolls in behind me, they see beauty yet diffidence, not the unpredictability of a deceptive siren.

“I prefer neat vodka,” Alexa tells them, nursing a glass of vodka-orange. “I find people tend to drink more if they dilute alcohol as it goes down like water.”

My woman’s immune to vodka. In fact, she’d drink most men under the table.

“Yes, you can sip and savour.” Julie speared a hand through tendrils of blonde hair. “I hope I don’t regret this in the morning.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Alexa cocked her head again, a slight movement alongside her warm, tender smile. “We only get one life. It would be insanely boring not to live it.”

When Alexa leaned forward to refill my glass, I had an urge to ask why she decided to drink. Perhaps it was for my benefit, which I endeavoured to compartmentalise since she swore to boycott alcohol in case of pregnancy.

I was neither mad nor disappointed. If truth be told, I don’t believe she is pregnant. I’d like to think it’ll happen someday as I know how much she craves to be a mother, but the odds are not in our favour.

Every month, we discuss Alexa’s fluctuating cycle. Sometimes, a few days transpire before she has a show. Other times, she can go weeks without a period. Against her knowledge, I contacted a doctor for peace of mind. Some women recovering from unilateral salpingo-oophorectomy brook depression and anxiety—disorders my wife’s all-too-familiar with—which can lead to, although uncommon, irregular menstruation. In addition to her condition, with the removal of one ovary and one fallopian tube, she has an increased risk of infertility.

My wife may never get pregnant naturally.

We have options: fertility medication, in vitro fertilisation, sperm injections, assisted hatching, intrafallopian and the two least favourable options, surrogacy and adoption.

Knowing Alexa, she’s already researched possibilities, and it won’t be long before she brings them to my attention. What bothers me most is our impending difference of opinions. If all methods fail, she’ll snap at the chance of adoption or scour for a surrogate mother. I will refuse both.

Having a child is not the be-all or end-all of existence. We can survive without offspring.

Moreover, the thought of raising a kid that, genetically speaking, doesn’t belong to her leaves me in a state of sourness.

It’s our blood together—end of. I won’t agree to another woman carrying on Alexa’s behalf. Her imploring tears be damned.

“Liam?” Alexa’s voice shrilled through mental prattling, and I triple blinked. “Are you with us?”

I glimpsed from her to the others. “Yes,” I lied, and she perked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Zack was telling us about his phobias,” she said, her jaw as tight as granite. “You might have a better understanding if you listened.”

I never thought I’d say this, but I missed Brad. “Phobias?”

“Yes, I have a fear of hurting someone,” Zack elucidated, seeking his wife’s support. “It gives me nightmares.”

Julia passed him a tissue. “His night terrors are horrifying and gruesome.”

He nodded vehemently. “I suffer from acute hemophobia, severe thanatophobia and dire foniasophobia—”

“Don’t forget arachnophobia,” Julia added, patting his back in an almost motherly gesture. “That’s the reason we had to cover the toilet.”

Sat elegantly on the edge of the chair, Alexa did that head tilt again, only this time her etiquette wasn’t an act. “I heard big words with no meanings.”

I love it when an unprofessional self-diagnosis. “Sesquipedalian terminology for a man who is petrified of spiders, bloodshed, death and serial killers.” Fuck their rules for no smoking. If I had to suffer another half an hour of their craziness, I needed something to take the edge of exasperation. I popped a cigarette on my bottom lip, lit the end respired smoke straight across the vegetable inspired dinner setting. “You basically fear life.”

“How can we not worry about the gruesomeness of our world?” Zack stared at the smouldering cigarette in my hand. “I really do hate the stench of smoke.”

“Is that another one of your ridiculous phobias?”

“Liam,” Alexa warned.

Zack’s nostrils flared. “How can you deride another’s trepidations?”

“Fearfulness is equivalent to spinelessness. Fearlessness is a panacea. You’ll do well to remember that.”

The legs of his chair shrieked as he stood. “I prefer the term self-preservation.”

Calmly matching his stance, I soared to my full height. “Synonymous for cowardice.”

“Liam!” Alexa scolded, and I jerked an unbothered shoulder. “You promised.”

“This man insults me,” I rowed, and her cheeks burnt red in humiliated furiousness. “I can’t eat what I like to eat or drink whiskey without fucking oranges. He tells me I can’t smoke. Who the fuck elected this toffee-nosed cunt as tonight’s host, huh?”

Her mouth popping open, Alexa turned ashen white.

“You need professional help.” Zack pasted a hand to his mouth. “How can you be so hurtful? So spiteful? There is something mentally wrong with you—”

“Hey,” Alexa cautioned, prepared to defend my honour. “Can we not question my husband’s rationality?”

“He’s a very, very rude man,” Julia spat, her eyes brimmed red with unshed tears. “And I’m only telling you this because I like you, Alexa. You can do better. He’s spent the majority of the night ogling my breasts.”

“Fucking hell.” Loud, dry laughter expelled from my mouth. When Alexa doubted me, even for a second, I could only look at her in disbelief. “You don’t believe that nonsense.”

“No.” Her emotionless mask slipped in place, but I caught it, the edge of suspicion in her eyes. “Julia’s had too much to drink.”

“Fuck this.” Snatching my phone from off the table, I stalked towards the front door, swung it open and let it slam on the hinges behind me.

I paced myself, knowing Alexa will catch up once she finishes her line of apologies. I had not, however, anticipated a heeled shoe smacking me in the back. Forcing myself to stay calm, I turned slowly and faced the livid woman. “Did that actually happen?” I asked, my voice low, angry. “You threw a fucking shoe at me.”

“Did you do it?” Alexa hopped closer, bent down to collect her heel from vegetation and slipped it over her foot. “Is there any credence to Julia’s rant?”

I glared unblinkingly. “If it’s imperative you require an answer to that, then we have problems.”

She swallowed hard. “Just answer the question, Liam.”

“Julia’s eccentrically mendacious,” I fired back, dragging a frustrated hand through my hair. “Alexa, I see no one but you.”

A quiet moment settled among us. Pondering tonight’s unexpected turn of events, Alexa’s eyes toured the tropical forest, her bottom lip rolling between her teeth. “Why can’t you answer a direct question?”

“No,” I said truthfully, and she side-eyed me. “No, I did not ogle Julia’s tits. I couldn’t even tell you what the fuck she wore to dinner. Now can we get back to our honeymoon?”

Alexa bit the corner of her lip to smother the need to smirk. “Julia has pretty big boobs.”

I don’t care what that woman possessed. She’s not my wife. “Good for her.” Snaking an arm around Alexa’s waist, I dipped my head and grazed her jawline with the tip of my nose. “So, mind-blowing, shattering orgasms, huh?” My hand cleaved to her backside. “I might need you to elaborate on those sensitive aches, baby.”

“Your ego will be the death of me,” she said with a half-smile. “More to the point. I over-dramatized in exchange for alcohol. I figured if I fooled them into having combustive, drunken sex, they’d ease up on the intoxicant ban.”

“Wounded,” I joked, placing her hand on my chest. “And here I thought I was passionately generous.”

“Well,” she hummed, pushing off her tiptoes to whisper a kiss to my chin, “Does feeling you down there hours later count for anything?”

“Keep talking,” I growled, backing her up against a tree. “Fuck, I want you.” Positioning a forearm on the bark above her head, I smoothed a hand down her thigh, cupped the back of her knee and tugged her leg around me. “Is outdoor sex still on the table?” My trouser-clad cock, achingly hard, rubbed her needy sex. “I want to fuck you.”

Alexa looked around. “What if someone sees us?”

I stopped sucking her neck to raise my head. “It’s late.”

“It might be dark, but what if people come out for a stroll?”

“You begged me to fuck you in this exact spot with the afternoon sun glaring at us, so how is tonight any less enticing,” I reminded her, and her brows cinched slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She made a painful effort to laugh. “Nothing.”

I scanned her face for deceit. “Alexa?”

“I got my period,” she word vomited, seemingly relieved to share it with me. “I never mentioned it because, well, you tell me not to get overexcited or not to overthink it, yet I can’t help myself. That’s what Alexa does, right? She wants something so much, and it then becomes a fascination, an obsession.”

My hand squeezed her thigh. “Alexa—”

“I convince myself it’s our time, but it’s never our time. And I hate the look on your face when I tell you it’s not happening for us. It makes me feel like a failure,” Alexa whispered the last part, her eyes casting to the floor to avoid whatever reaction she believes I’ll muster. “Do you know what scares me the most? Acceptance. I am too scared to accept that I might never bear your child. Not again. And I know your response to that, Liam. As long as we have each other, nothing else matters, right? You say that now, but you don’t know how you’ll feel in five, ten years’ time. What happens when the Suits begin to settle down? When they start having children, do you honestly believe you won’t be bitter? Envious? You will see their wives and their big pregnant bellies and you—”

I snatched her jaw. “Don’t tell me how I will or will not react,” I snarled, my fingers denting her hollowed cheek. “How can you say this shit to me? Do you think that little of me? What, I’d discard my wife because of infertility? If it weren’t for Raymond’s psychotic stepdaughters, this wouldn’t even be a conversation.”

“That sounds like empathetic responsibility.”

My heart thrashed against my ribcage. “Loving you is not an obligation.”

“Liam.” Her wide, captivating eyes held mine. “Promise me.”

I knew what she needed. “Having a child will not define our marriage,” I assured, and her shoulders visibly untensed. “Alexa, you know how I feel about children. If it were up to me, I would never entertain it. I’m trying for you. I will continue to try for you but don’t let unproductiveness come between us. Not now. Not ever.” Out the corner of my eye, a slight movement from rustling greenery stole alertness, and relief flooded me. “Do you think we can pin this conversation for a later date?” Unlocking my phone, I selected the torch app and shone it behind her. “There is a spy among us.”

Understandably nonplussed, Alexa twisted at the waist to examine the highlighted footpath. “Oh, my God,” she whisper-yelled, fisting my shirt for a quick tug. “Liam, don’t move a muscle, or he’ll run.”

“Tortoises can’t run, Alexa,” I said warily, not wanting her to bite my head off. “Turtle’s pace, remember?”

“Let’s not scare him.” Tucking hair behind her ears, she dodged foliage, and when a twig snapped under her shoe, she channelled her excitable vexation to me. “Careful!”

I haven’t taken a step yet. “I love how I’m blameworthy for your mishap.”

Extending her arm, Alexa laced our fingers together and wordlessly ordered me to follow. Keeping the torch on the tortoise, I allowed her to lead the way, shadowing her careful footsteps.

“Brutus.” Alexa crouched beside him, a genuine smile dancing on her lips. “Liam, he’s so big.”

I squatted beside her. “Is he as magnificent as you thought he’d be?”

“He’s incredible.” Touching his shell, his armour, she traced the vibrantly painted lines, the rough edges and ocean wounds. She picked leafy greens from the ground and tempted him to eat from her hand.

“Careful,” I advised as the turtle’s mouth slowly parted to eat. “Don’t underestimate the strength of his jaw.” My hand closed around hers, acting as a barrier as she watched him snatch leaves. “I hate it when we fight.”

Alexa gave Brutus another leaf, which he scarfed down rapidly. “Likewise.”

Kissing her cheek, I murmured, “I am in love with you.” I stood up, loaded the camera on my phone and snapped a picture of them.

Alexa forced a smile for the shot, brushed Brutus’ shell once more and then dusted off her hands. “Don’t be a stranger,” she told him, holding my forearm to step across overgrowth. “In fact, I’ll leave my door open for you to visit.”

Not on my watch.

We returned to the villa in one piece. Whilst Alexa showered, I stripped into my boxers and ventured outside to the Sala, a glass of whiskey in hand. It was late yet warm, and you could hear the calm waves washing up on the shoreline. By the time I sat down, Brad had sent numerous text messages.

Brad: How’s the honeymoon?

Brad: It’s been a breeze without you—just tossing that out there.

Brad: No offence.

Brad: I lied. I fucking hate it. Hurry up and come back.

Brad: And I should probably mention that the son of a cunt you call brother is dead to me.

Me: Vincent?

Three dots spiralled on the screen.

Brad: Nate.

Fuck’s sake.

Parking the half-smoked cigarette on my lower lip, I tapped furiously at the screen.

Me: I can’t trust you to keep shit together for five fucking minutes. Do I need to appoint a new second-in-command?

Brad: One, do I need to get technical with time frames?

Brad: Two, have a bastard day off. You wouldn’t replace me.

A gif of a dancing man appeared on my screen.

Me: Brad…

Brad: I won’t apologise. The prick had it coming, anyway. He put a bitch before The Brotherhood. I’m telling you, Bossman. We can’t trust her. I got this nagging feeling. And lately, I don’t trust him, either.

Alexa called me from inside. “I’m out here,” I shouted back, typing a response.

Me: What caused the fight?

Brad: Mutley’s face.

Me: What?

Brad: Blaire.

Brad: The She-Bitch.

Me: That’s not good enough.

Brad: He flunked two drop-offs this week. And he forgot to meet Joshy Boy at Gateway. The lad had to do transfers without any ranks.

Brad: I lost my shit at that one.

Me: Nate left Josh without backup?

Brad: The wanker was a complete no-show. His excuse? He’d got the dates wrong. Either way, he overlooked the safety of one of ours for third-class pussy. I’m done with him.

Me: Where is he?

Brad: No idea. He never came to work.

Me: Keep a lid on it until I get back to London.

Me: And Brad?

Brad: Bossman?

Me: This conversation stays between us. I’ll deal with Nate personally.

Brad: No worries.

I chucked my phone on the sofa and relaxed against the fabric cushions.

“Is everything okay?” Alexa denies me sex yet saunters around in lace underwear and a top that exposes her middle section. “You look tense.”

I blinked rapidly. “What the fuck is that?”

Her hands roamed her hips. “You don’t like the socks?”

I love those knee-high socks. “I hate the socks, but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” She stood between my slacked thighs and descended to her knees, mischievousness in her dilated eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Well, just because we can’t have sex,” she said, peeling the flimsy T-shirt off her body, revealing her perfect breasts. “it doesn’t mean I can’t please you.”

One look at her taut nipples, and my cock throbbed to life. “Put your hair up,” I ordered in a throaty voice, watching her take the bobble from her wrist. “I want to see that mouth as you take me.”

Hair messy atop her head, Alexa dipped her fingers under the waistband of my boxer briefs and slowly dragged them down my thighs. Eager and leaking with pre-cum, my cock fell into her soft palm and, with her eyes on my face, she stroked me from base to tip.

When Alexa’s mouth closed around the swollen head, I fisted her hair by the nape, dropped my head back and let her fucking own me.

CHAPTER TEN

Alexa

I dragged my tired, naked body from bed to the ultraluxe outdoor shower to wash last night’s humidity from sun-peeled skin. It’s painless now, the rough, dry patches fading and less itchy. Tepid water streamed from the wooden chute, rinsing orchid-scented shampoo through unmanageable sweat-slicked hair. I lathered the ends with a conditioning treatment, hoping Liam thought to pack straightening irons. It’s not often I straighten natural curls, but those disruptive coils necessitated thorough treatment after weeks of neglect.

Towel snagged from the rack and swathed around my body. I revisited the master bedroom, half-heartedly made the bed, laid essentials across the white comforter and performed a forgotten ritual of tender loving care. I had a box of island purchased emollient and moisturiser on standby, ready to luxuriate.

I sat on the edge of the bed, checked the time on my phone and blew out a forced sigh. Premature holiday blues manifested. We leave North Island tomorrow to return to London, and a semblance of poignant distress precipitated immobilisation. I had no desire to bid farewell to the one place, the only place that’s ever provided perpetual safety and secluded romanticism. To live here, twenty-four-hour rotational security, round-the-clock defensiveness and silent but deadly adversaries were non-existent. We breathed freely, uncaringly, without the constant inclination to check over our shoulders to see if someone watched or followed us.

Tossing the phone onto the piled-high pillow arrangement, I fell onto my back and stared at the thatched ceiling. Yes, I am sad and somewhat grieving a life we may never experience, not long-term, but could I genuinely never step foot inside the Manor again? I’d miss the Suits, Jace and Grayson. And Tony and I still had a relationship to build. I get the feeling Heather’s a newly adopted family member. What of Chloe? She hates me. I doubt there’s any salvageable friendship there, which, given our background, is heart-breaking.

Rolling onto my stomach, I buried my head on the duvet and smothered a wearied groan. It’s the reality I fear most. When Liam’s back in a suit, armed and ready for the world ahead, we will be all but two passing ships in the night. I dread those sleepless nights without him.

What if assumed relationship complications is a misinterpretation for habitual uncommunicativeness?

Periodic companionship is healthy, right?

I mean, I love Liam. He’s quite literally the most important person in my life, but if we spent every waking moment together, can a lifelong, loving marriage survive? Deprivation of occupation, leisure, breathing space, friendships and social circles are causes for severe marital problems. If we lived in each other’s pockets, love could turn into dislike and resentment, which then becomes a focal point for brewing hate and possible extramarital relations.

Pushing myself into a seated position, I held the towel tight to my chest and inwardly chided myself for lack of sureness. No, I’d never let our marriage spiral out of control. Liam and I don’t talk, so scant communication is an issue for us. We fight and abuse the power of intimacy until one or the other breaks. Rather than dread normalcy, we should talk, clear the air, colour the grey areas and conform to a set of principles. It mightn’t work. I am sure no marriage is that straightforward. But our reality differs from conventionality, and possible toxicity necessitates consideration for us to beat the odds.

Skin towel-dried and tropically scented, I delved through Liam’s freshly steamed clothes, stole his T-shirt and boxer briefs, garbed, and then blow-dried the biff. Hot irons ensued. I uncreased the waves and appraised the waist-length completion. I knew I had long hair, but it’s hard to determine the longness precision with defiant, unrelaxed curls. Maybe I should level the mane more often.

I opened the all-encompassing windows and the early morning wind and sea air drifted into the bedroom. Usually, I forgo the beautiful burnt-orange sunrise, but today, I hung around to witness the warm hues kiss our horizon. And then I felt him, Liam. I am not sure if he’s aware of inaudible, advanced tendencies. I perceived his noiseless movements from the very beginning, right when I had worked in Club 11, and the man took pleasure in another’s fear. It’s almost as though he wants opponents to lower their guards, believe they are safe whilst he stands back and waits for a prime opportunity to pounce. Nowadays, the gravity between us meets for love, not trepidation. “Baby,” he whispered, his lips falling to the back of my neck. “Happy birthday.”

I smiled to myself. “You remembered.”

“As if I’d forget.” He caged my waist in his arms. “Although, I should warn you. Our unplanned stay prevented acceptable gifts. I had to scour the boutique for an alternative.”

I had everything and more. “Even if we were in London, what could you possibly buy me, Liam?”

He pondered the question. “For you, shoes are a winner.”

“You have provided me with bountiful shoes.” If it’s not self-bought designer heels hoarding the shelves, it’s Liam’s monthly deliveries of new lines. “Continue to do so, and I’ll require a wardrobe extension.”

His hand cupped mine, and he thumbed the white gold rings on my fourth finger. “Diamonds then.”

Courtesy of this generous man, I am the proud owner of an impressive diamond collection. “The diamonds I possess give the Queen’s jewel vault a run for its money.” He’s heavily involved, if not the main attribute, in illegal trade. Nothing is out of reach or unattainable for us, and for that reason alone, I benefit greatly. “In addition to what I stated, I want for nothing. Do not trouble yourself over inessential remittance.” Turning in his arms, I peered up at him and admired him for a moment. “As long as I have you, what more could I possibly want?”

“Visionary,” he said under his breath, his eyes briefly drifting over my shoulder. “It was never about money for you.”

My eyebrows cinched. “Did you ever doubt me?”

“Never.” Liam’s unfaltering gaze settled on the rising sun. “Your persistent conscientiousness was one of many reasons why I fell for you.” His expression morphed into frowned assuredness, as if only just comprehending how we fell in love. “It was deeper, wasn’t it? It was neither wealth nor attraction.” Blue eyes seared into mine. “You understood the darkest part of me.”

I was concerned by his earnest cogitation. “Even if I didn’t, I loved you far too much to walk away.” When he dropped his arms from my waist, I palmed his jaw, keeping him with me. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m obsessed with you.” He grasped my wrist. “For that reason alone, I forget how young you are.” When he perceived the worry in my eyes, he added, “I merely granted myself a second to admire the strength of a young woman.”

“Trials and tribulations will do that to a person.” Although his approbation filled me with pride, I sensed he felt unperturbed by birthday celebrations. Our age gap has never been an issue. It’s not something discussed. We ignored it from the beginning, and without annual reminders, we can continue to disregard it intentionally. “It’s just another day.” I missed many birthdays growing up. “And you know what? I don’t even care for celebrations.”

He toyed with an object in his hand. “Does it not bother you that I’ll be thirty-one in less than a month?”

“No,” I said, unhesitant and unarguable. “Besides, it’s a bit late to reconsider our future, Liam. You married me. So, give me the gift shop present, let me express gratitude and then throw me over that sofa and fuck your name right out of my mouth. Jamboree or not, I deserve to be eaten out on Born Day.”

“Born day.” He stared at me with an element of bemusement. “Is that what we call it now?”

“Yes.” I offered an upward-facing palm. “Numbers are boring, anyway.” A multi-layered beaded bracelet falls into my hand—I laughed once at the absurdity. “You buy me the very souvenir that caused you to gripe. Am I right to assume Zack’s fashion taste isn’t horrendous?”

“Based on the unflattering style of our hippy neighbour…” His head tilted as he examined the scintillating rosary wrapped around my wrist. “Where did you get this?”

“Really, Liam?” I tried to withdraw my arm, but his hold tightened. “I wore it on our wedding day. How can you not remember?”

“And you have worn it every day since?” he asked, and I nodded. “Baby, I don’t like repeating myself.”

“It was a gift from Vincent,” I said cautiously, flexing the numbness from the tips of my fingers. “I don’t understand—” He began to unravel the beads. “Liam, what the hell is wrong with you?” We struggled against each other. “I swear—”

“Stop talking,” he admonished, and I had to stop myself from walloping him. “Alexa!”

My shoulders sagging, I reined in the claws. “I should disown you for ruining Born day.”

With the rosary wading through his fingers, Liam counted the beads. “Why?”

I recoiled. “Why, what?”

“Why did he give this to you?”

How the hell should I know?

“Well, I was due to marry his brother. Perhaps he wished for future allowances?” Lightening the mood was necessary. “Hey, I am the crazy sister-in-law now. For you two to get along, maybe he figured it wouldn’t hurt to earn brownie points—from me.” Even as I spoke, I knew the words made zero sense. “Ignore everything I just said.”

Liam held it higher and watched the large beads slide seamlessly down the chain. “Stretch fabric.”

“Really?” It reminded me of white leather. “That’s nice, I guess.”

“What do you see?” Draped from his fingers, the carved crucifix. “Alexa?”

My spirits were suddenly low. “A silver cross?”

“No, it’s white gold.” He thumbed the intricate set of what must be diamonds. “What do you know of the catholic faith?”

“Not much,” I answered honestly. “Besides the fact that God lives above and Jesus rose from the dead.”

“Mostly in confession booths and with a priest present, believers use rosaries to recite specific prayers, to repent, to ask their God for forgiveness and to wash away their sins. In addition to their declaration of guilt, they’ll mantra the Hail Mary or the Our Father.” His jaw locked. “Priests use fifteen-decade varieties whilst Catholics use something of a smaller scale—a five-decade version, perhaps. Symbolic representations,” he added, showing me the death-on-the-cross. “Ten white beads for decades. Do you see those? Four larger beads to separate said decades and five smaller beads in between, correct?”

I nodded in agreement.

“Alexa?” he growled. “Pay attention.”

“I am,” I said, albeit miffed. “Four large beads separate decades of ten…” No, only five beads amid decades. “Initially, you said ten.”

“Exactly,” he grated out, and I began to deteriorate mentally. “A catholic rosary has ten beads per mystery decade. Vincent gifted worthless artefact. Why?” I shook my head. “What, he said nothing? He didn’t explain the reasoning behind such a pointless sentiment. He decided to visit his brother’s bride for future allowances.“

Okay, that sounded like an accusation. “No,” I said a bit too defensively. “And you say I over analyse everything. What is the purpose of this conversation?”

“It means something,” he spat, slumping onto the edge of the bed.

“If it bothers you so much, why not call Vincent to ask these questions?” My hand to his shoulder, I sat beside him. “Liam?”

“My brother’s an atheist.” He’s unable to look away from the beads threading through his fingers. “You don’t kill and then seek vindication from your God.” Sarcasm dripped from each syllable. “Not unless you fear death.”

I doubt Vincent feared anything except his brother. “Vincent always has a cross in his ear, so it’s plausible, right?” My fingers kneaded Liam’s shoulders to alleviate tension. “And he wears an onyx rosary on his wrist, too.”

“Bonding gifts?” He scoffed. “How touching?”

I halted his massage. “Please tell me, that’s not jealousy.” His shoulder jerked under my palm. “Liam, seriously?”

Shirking away from my touch, he stood and paced. “How else does one comprehend the encounter?”

I eased back onto propped elbows. “Is it hard to believe someone can be thoughtful or nice?”

“In our world? Yes,” he retorted, lunging the rosary across the room. It smashed into a wooden beam, and one of the pristine beads rebounded, spinning on the hardwood floor.

“That’s unpardonable.” My eyebrows lifted. “You better replace it.”

The not-so-holy bead rolled to a stop at Liam’s bare feet. With an unreadable expression, he crouched down and pinched the bead between his thumb and forefinger. “Oil,” he said aloud, though it’s apparent a private conversation transpired. “Rust prevention.” In four strides, he reclaimed the rosary and assessed it thoroughly. His thumb paused on the holy centrepiece. “There aren’t any antiphon beads.”

A tired breath blew from my mouth. “Liam, can we get back to Born Day sex now?”

“See?” Only a white leather look line from the centrepiece and the crucifix. “It’s missing all five beads.”

“Who cares?” My patience hung on by a thread. “As you said, it’s just pointless sentiment.”

In a warped like motion, Liam pulled the crucifix upwards by the chain until it met the face of Mary, and, in doing so, every bead clicked together to expose a slither of obscured cord. “Garrotte wire.” His fisted hands were white-knuckled. “Why the fuck did he give you this?”

I had to pick my chin up from off the floor. Yes, at first, the rosary had felt weighty, but I never suspected a hidden weapon. Hell, I wouldn’t even know how to use it. “I…” I was speechless. “Does Vincent actually think I have the balls to strangle somebody with that?”

With a mixture of anger and astonishment, Liam tested the wire’s strength and durableness. It rounded his fist and cut a perfectly symmetrical line. A rush of blood seeped from the gash, tricked down his fingers and splotched against the floor. The second he released the contraband, the wire retreated, beads magnetised to their rightful place. On the ground, it stayed, and we both watched as if waiting for something preternatural to occur.

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Liam said, and I believed him. “How dare he give you this? And without consulting with me first? Who the fuck does he think he is?” He patted down his shorts in search of his phone. “The problem with brothers?” he snarled, setting the phone to his ear. “They get complacent—too goddamn comfortable. If Vincent wants to fuck with me? I can take it. But not you. Never. You.”

I almost rose to my feet. “Liam—”

“No,” he snapped. “Don’t defend him, baby. I don’t want to hear it.”

Sprawling across the bed, I draped an arm over my eyes and peered under my elbow to furtively watch him. “We should talk.”

“No answer.” Liam hurled the phone onto the sofa. “He’s avoiding me.”

“It’s improbable Vincent’s telepathic abilities reached Seychelles.” The man’s smart, but he’s not a mind reader. He can’t know that his brother is on the warpath. “He works. Maybe he’ll call back in a few hours.”

“No.” Liam lights a cigarette by the open window. “That shit with the twins,” he said randomly, and I dropped my arm to meet his gaze. “They lied to us. Raymond never distributed funds to beneficiaries. Molly’s erroneous ‘will stipulation’ was yet another rapacious tactic. In her small, docile mind, she thought, whether it be her or one of the other deranged siblings, that mothering my child guaranteed steadfast maintenance. And this motherfucker right here?” He motioned to himself. “Fell for their bullshit—hook, line and sinker. I, Liam Warren, foolishly believed there was a slight possibility Raymond reformed. He visited the solicitor’s office to write his will and thought, I am a fucking disgrace. I abandoned my sons and never looked back. But you know what? I can do something right. I got money in abundance, so why don’t I secure their future? I’ll be a fucking man and own up to responsibilities. No,” he snarled, blowing out smoke halos. “Not him. He didn’t leave us a fucking dime. The prick left me a myriad of unwanted half-breed siblings instead.”

Although Liam’s rant came from nowhere, I sat straight and listened.

“Vincent,” he said contemplatively. “Him and me, we are cut from the same cloth. He infuriates me, but I feel something indescribable when he’s nearby. When I look in his eyes, I see myself. When he regards me, I have this strong, powerful urge to watch over him, yet I barely know him. I am not even sure that I trust him. I got this droning voice at the back of my head, telling me he’s dishonourably questionable.” Flicking the cigarette outside, he slumped onto the sofa and weaved his fingers together. “He’s privy to something I am not, and what bothers me most? He proceeds to hide it from me. Why? What is he protecting? Or rather, who is he protecting?”

I considered carefully before asking, “How can you be sure that he’s not upfront with you?”

“When we raided Raymond’s estate, Vincent found our fathers will. After scanning the details, he fled. Whatever he read that night? It was revolutionary. He didn’t want me to see it.”

Yes, Vincent’s a mystery, but much like his brother, money is of no importance, so how damaging can a will possibly be? “I don’t understand why he’d do that.”

His gaze re-examined the rosary on the floor. “No more than I can comprehend why he gifted garotte to my wife.” He rubbed the scruff of his jaw. “What is it you wished to discuss with me?”

I waved a flippant hand. “It can wait.”

Liam relocated to the bed. He sat beside me, brushed his knuckles down my cheek and planted a kiss to crease between my brows. “Talk.”

My tongue, heavy and cumbersome, stuck to the roof of my mouth. “I worry when back in London life might alienate us.”

His regal nod suggested he had concerns alike. “Let’s avoid such tragedies,” he half-joked, his finger curling hair behind my ear. “Date nights?”

“At least once a month?” I hinted, and he agreed. “And I don’t care how long you stay at the office but come home before sunrise.”

“Done.” He exhaled slowly. “Can we lose Jace?”

I blinked at the disrespect. “Can we lose Blaire?”

“Blaire is Nate’s burden. Not mine.”

“It’s all an act.” My arms folded. “This crap with Nate? She’s not interested in him. It’s you she wants.”

“What?” My straightforwardness took him aback. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious, Liam. That woman despises me. When I enter a room, she looks at me like I’m the enemy. If you are at my side, she can’t see anything beyond our joint hands.” His mouth parted to speak, and I raised a hand to silence him. “You are a sharp-sighted man. You miss very little, but akin to every other male on the planet, in spite of your astute perceptiveness, you will never truly understand how a woman operates.” I point to myself. “That, my dear husband, is where I come in handy.”

“If Blaire betrays her bondsman, I will allow you to handle her whichever way you deem fit.” His amused eyes studied my mouth. “How’s that for a bargain?”

I snorted. “Well, if I knew it was that easy, I’d have bartered months ago when she ‘betrayed’ Nate to make a pass on you.”

He’d been inches away from kissing me. “Come again?”

“The text?” I made a face. “All that flirtatious care providing?” His glare sharpened. “Liam, I am not speaking Spanish. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What text?” he asked in a tone suddenly low and serious.

“You spoke to her…” His rising anger had me questioning whether or not I dreamt the occurrence. “You told her we had relationship issues, so she texted, offered to be a shoulder for you again or whatever.” I wish I’d saved screenshots. “Will you say something?”

His eyes blackened. “I allegedly sent flirtatious text messages to a woman who, at a prior date, I entrusted to discuss our quandaries. Is that right?”

I am definitely speaking Spanish. “No, she flirted, and I responded on your behalf—”

“Alexa,” he berated.

“What?” I acted innocent. “I’m only human, Liam. Be fair, with your track record, how could I note presume the worst?”

He simpered. “My track record?”

Okay, we’re doing this. “With women.”

He’d taken my words like a slap to the face. “What were you hoping to achieve? An unfaithful partner?” His lips grimaced. “I have never cheated on you.”

“I know,” I whispered, rubbing the strain from my eyes. “In between our separations, you womanised compulsively. Naturally, I was worried. At that point, I didn’t know the dynamics between you two. All I saw—rephrase—all I ever see is a woman who resembles me uncannily. What’s worse? We both share an obsession with the same man. And don’t tell me otherwise. If she and I could switch places, Blaire would be on this bed with you right now. Not me.”

Anticipating Liam’s lambasting, I held my breath. He regulated his breathing, pulled my legs across his thighs and clasped the bracelet around my ankle. “It is an Anklet. I had considered the beads but knew you’d never let me hear the end of it.” His head lolling back idly, he zoned out to the tropical scenery, listening to the far-flung waves. “If I require any form of counselling, I present the issue to Brad. On occasion, I may offload to Nate. It seems the quieter of two gossiped behind my back.” He squeezed my knee absentmindedly, and I swallowed a wince. “I will not make that mistake twice.”

Guiltiness fractured my heart. “No, Liam. It’s okay. You can talk to your men. Even if it Is to bad-mouth me from time to time. I mean, I can’t recall exact instances, but I bitch about you,” I said lightly. “I think it’s normal for couples to rant. It’s a cure for resentment, right?”

“Alexa, you confuse back-stabbing for exposure. I am not bothered by your knowingness. Anything I say to my most trusted is nothing I wouldn’t say to you directly; however, what I find most unfathomable is how Nate betrayed our trust for fucking pillow-talk and with a woman who threatens his alliances, no doubt. I know nothing of these text messages. I can assure you, I will get to the bottom of it, but for now, I wish to enjoy our last night on the island.” He yanked me close and helped me to astride his thighs. “What’s your idea of the perfect Born Day?” I smiled against his lips. “It starts with oral.”