DECEPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Martha's emergence might have rattled me to the core, as it's not every day I get an unexpected visit from the woman responsible for my existence, but I had complete control over my emotions.

My lungs prepared for another round of oxygen deprivation. Apparently, dragging myself out of bed for an early morning jog is nowhere near enough for one day. I had to finish the workout regime with an emotional bang.

"Are you allowed to talk to me without your husband's permission?" I asked, and she looked at me as though I had lifted a palm in the air and struck her across the face. "What do you want, Martha?"

My mother glanced down the hall with necessary vigilance. "May I come in?" Her voice dropped to a soft, sibilant whisper. "I cannot stay outside, just in case..."

I eyed the dry, scabbed-over cut on her lower lip, where she had ineffectively used concealer and lipstick to hide the aftermath of my father's bad temper.

"Please, Emma." Martha gazed at me, teardrops on her lower lashes, and I felt a pang of sympathy in my chest. "I promise not to overstay my welcome."

Although I had better things to do with my free time, I was keen to hear what she had to say after the controversy about our dysfunctional family erupted downstairs last night.

Fortunately, Martin is none the wiser. When I returned to the function room for a formal sit-down meal, he was too preoccupied with the future Mrs Hughes and the mob of in-laws to notice atmospherical unpleasantness.

Benjamin, however, sensed something was wrong and dutifully parked himself on the chair directly opposite me whilst Hugo chased down the waitress for orange juice refills.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell my twin about the dispute with our father, as it was natural for me to do so, but Quinn's jubilant laughter slammed the brakes on divulgence.

My best friend is pregnant, happy and glowing. If I told my brother that Hamish publicly humiliated me, that Martha, yet again, opted for silence and reservedness in place of parental defensiveness and protectiveness, he would lose sight of what's really important—his girlfriend and unborn child—and put our father on his arse, right in the gutter, with flea-ridden vermin, where he belonged.

So, I looked my brother in the eye and lied. I concocted a believable story regarding basilar migraines and overpowering nausea to conceal the truth about our father's unfaltering devotion to immoralism because I refused to be the catalyst of family drama.

In my father's eyes, I had caused enough problems over the years with the underage sex scandal and the pregnant out-of-wedlock fiasco.

Perhaps if Hamish took his own advice and looked in the mirror, he would see that the real reason for the family breakdown is him, but he is too pig-headed to hold himself accountable.

Benjamin is very protective of me. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, he would defy and challenge our father now. He is not a child anymore. He is a grown man now and a strong, muscular one at that.

Hamish will be wheeled out of the venue on a gurney if he so much as breathes the same air as me.

Then what?

My brother has to appear in Her Majesty's Court to face battery charges.

He could wind up in prison for assault and miss the birth of his baby.

Not on my watch.

My twin dedicated his whole life to protecting me. It's only fair that I look after his interest and return the favour.

A notification chimed on my phone.

Terrence: I hate you.

Me: Why?