| BOOK SIX | THE LONDON CRIME KING | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE NOVEL |
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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
On a typical working day, when termination of employment due to poor performance is not awaiting discussion, I kick the covers back and embark on the road of positivity in replacement of negativity.
However, with a string of recent setbacks affecting my mental health, I have developed a case of toxic loneliness.
It worked for me, the belief that I controlled the rules of self-isolation by rationalising depression because severe despondency is only what I deserved for child neglect.
Punishing myself for Carter's enforced disappearance normalised the antisocial personality I adopted. I can live a quiet, somewhat peaceful life without letting anyone else down. It's right to distance myself if and when the people I love suffer.
Everyone is aware that emotional and behavioural issues can affect and impinge on loved ones. Even if I tried to hide the pain, they'd look into my eyes and see the horrible visions trapped in the back of my mind. I never wanted them to worry about me, to stop living their best life because of my temperamental.
Today, nonetheless, when faced with routine darkness, I felt oddly relieved to be in the arms of another, to be the first person to see Big Guy's handsome face in the early dawn of the morning. I had this inexplicable desire to stay in bed forever, with him at my side, taking care of me, as promised—just the two of us. I also knew how much I meant to him, how much he cared about me and how mixed signals with a sign of hope is unfair to the both of us.
A soft, sourceless light glowed through the curtained window into the relatively dark bedroom. I heard indistinct conversations in the garden and figured security guards must be scouring the perimeter.
It's probably time to get out of bed and face the world ahead. All I have to do is untangle our limbs and shift from Big Guy's strong, unbendable arms without startling him. He had a remarkable sixth sense, where his core alerted him of potential danger. If I breathe the wrong way, he might confuse me with someone else.
Twisting onto my back, I brushed the scruffy crown of my hair across the pillow. I can only imagine what I resembled this morning. He will see my blotchy cheeks and puffy eyes and do a backward somersault out of bed. I am a horrific sight, I am sure.
Tapping the inner side of my arm to staunch pins and needles—the weight of his entire body crushed my forearm—I wiggled my numb fingers back to life.
If I do not free myself in the next ten seconds, I will be taking a trip to the emergency room to have broken bones treated. I am still recovering from a wrist fracture.
Funny, the common denominator was present when the skip's massive, heavy lid slammed down on my hand, too. I am starting to notice a pattern.
Big Guy murmured what sounded like a different language in my ear.
I frowned for a moment.
His body was immovable and relaxed, but his flushed, sweat-soaked skin was hot and clammy.
