REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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

Yes, Pearl is a dead bitch walking.

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

Alexa Haines and Kathy Pearl.

I see it now.

Alexa resembled her older sister.

It's their eyes.

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

I have been blinkered ever since.

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

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

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

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

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

I felt betrayed, disappointed.

Nate knocked on the office door. "Can we talk?"

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

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

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

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

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

Nathaniel Alzaim.

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

Your soul is irredeemable.

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