REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Liam requested that I accompany him to a charity event this evening. He's never asked me to attend anything with him outside of work, and I cannot deny my ever-increasing excitement. Earlier, I spent far too long rummaging through wardrobes, searching for something sophisticated yet sexy to wear. I want to make a good impression; I want Liam to look at me and approve.

Leaning the mop against the kitchen door frame, I paced to my bedroom and cleaned before my unofficial date. I stripped the bed, then put on a new cover, rearranged drawers, folded clothes and vacuumed throughout.

I fall back onto the bed with a sigh.

Time doesn't appear to be moving. I'm running out of places to clean.

My thoughts trailed back to Liam. God, that man. The things he does to me. The plan was never to get emotionally attached to him, but how could I not? He is most certainly one of the hottest men I have ever had the pleasure of sharing company with. And his eyes. He makes the workplace an extremely challenging environment.

While I have a sanitise-everything-in-sight gig, I head to Chloe's bedroom to sort through her wardrobes and chest of drawers. I switched the white coverlet for fuchsia pink, plucked up scattered makeup on the floor, arranged them into the container on the dresser, and binned the dead plant.

Pleased with how tidy her room looked, I sat on the edge of the bed and glanced atop the wardrobe, where boxes, filled with Kathy's belongings, collected dust.

I pushed off my tiptoes to grab one of the boxes. I bring it onto the bed, remove the lid and avert my wet eyes, needing a moment. I picked up the framed photograph and swept a thumb across Kathy's face. I sat beside her, wearing a hideous, unflattering dungaree set that she forced me to wear. In the image, her hand rested on my knee, her genuine smile warming my chest.

Missing her, I exchanged the frame for the photo album and cringed at the awful orange paint Kathy previously used to paint our flat with. "I don't miss the orange," I said with a light laugh, lacing her animal print scarf through my fingers. Bringing the chiffon fabric to my nose, I inhaled her sweet perfume from the soft fibres.

Beauty products, CDs and cassette tapes. A few romance novels. I didn't even know Kathy enjoyed reading. I'm about to replace the lid when a black tattered book sparked an interest. I brushed the layer of dust from the worn leather. "The Diary of Kathy." My forehead creased in perplexity. "Odd."

It is almost complete. There must be at least five hundred entries.

Sliding to the floor, I rest my back to the foot of the bed. I found something so personal to my sister, and it overwhelmed me. It's wrong to invade her privacy, but I flipped it open and began reading.

Dear Diary,

It has been too long here, way too long. I do not know how I feel about my life anymore. I miss my family home. Well, not the sperm donor. I mean, why would I miss him? He was not a father. He was the devil—a cruel, worthless man who I loathed more than he who took us.