REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER TWENTY

Alexa

Feeling uncomfortably out of place, I stand beside the large mahogany desk in Liam's office and observe the bodacious women dancing on the glass podiums and in elevated cages through the floor-to-ceiling window. Holding the solid gold paperweight to occupy my mind, to destress anxiousness, I mouthed along to the music. Liam's desk is spotless, items arranged in systematic order. In actuality, the entire office is immaculate. It smelt clean and fresh and quite masculine. His cologne lingered, perhaps. I cannot imagine him cleaning or doing something so mundanely normal, like hoovering the floor and polishing the wooden shelving units. I doubt he's authorised cleaners to come in here, though. Nobody entered the office without Liam or Brad present as it's expressly prohibited.

The thought had a pleased smile dancing on my lips. Brad left me unattended, which meant Liam trusted me, or so I foolishly believed for a nanosecond until the camera rotated above the desk. It's how they captured Kathy's betrayal.

What if Liam is testing me?

I almost lobbed the paperweight in dismay. I had no malicious intent or villainous scheme, so this unarguable test on my character is unaccountably indigestible. I am not Kathy. I am not a thieving opportunist.

Suppressing sullen vexation, I placed the paperweight on the desk and marvelled at the Tower Bridge painting to see why it's so unique and sentimental to Liam. I investigated further, contouring the thick paint with the pads of my fingers. Hunkered low on the muddied embankment sat a young boy.

Why hadn't I noticed him before?

The boy listened to the guitarist's melodious music as they studied the constellation of stars above. It's a sad yet picturesque image. I once said the man was lonely, and Liam challenged my conceptualisation. Now, though, it is remarkably coherent. He knew the little boy was there and found it incomprehensible that I did not.

More than ever, I'd love to know the story behind the canvas.

I guess it'll remain a mystery as the man's not the most forthcoming of humans.

Twenty minutes passed, and still no sign of Liam. While waiting for the unpunctual man, I went to the en-suit to freshen up. It is a beautiful bathroom constructed of undulated marble with a spacious glass shower cubicle and twin hand basins.

I stand before the stonework vanity unit and check my reflection in the mirror. Fumbling with the clutch purse, I swept a layer of mascara over my lashes. His cologne collection and watch box laid open on the counter: Rolex, Roger Dubuis, Breguet, Jaeger-Lecoultre and F.P. Journe.

Liam's watch exhibition was another test.

I closed the lid.

Chloe had beautified and glamorised until I looked presentable enough to accompany Liam to the gala this evening. She styled my long hair into a tight ponytail and applied just the right amount of contour to my face. I finally ripped the price tag from the red dress I purchased the day she and I went shopping. It's nothing spectacular—a spaghetti strap bodycon slit dress; however, the satin fabric honed my figure, and the plunge bra gave excellent cleavage, which worked wonders for someone who lacked ample assets.

I paused with the lipstick near my lips and blinked a few times to eliminate the woman staring back at me. I looked like Kathy and had always loved that about us. How parallel we were. Now, our semblance made me feel bilious. I don't want to mirror my sister or for people to associate me with her, not after everything she has done.

I espied movement behind me and lifted my gaze in the mirror. Liam leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. He looked breath-taking, dressed handsomely debonair in his black suit and satin tie. Gold cufflinks complemented his ever-present chains and Cuban link bracelets. He must have visited the barber earlier for the taper fade hairstyle.