REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I assessed the two spoons.

Once more, Liam passed me the correct tool to eat.

"I love bread and butter with soup," another man drawled, lathering a bread roll in thick butter. "You cannot beat it."

"I wouldn't know." The red-haired woman's upper lip curled at the corner. "I avoid carbs."

My eyebrows knitted. "But there are potatoes in the soup."

She paused with the spoon by her lips. "Well, I avoid bread, then."

I spooned liquid in the small bowl. It smelt unappetising, but I managed three mouthfuls before the waiters swiped the dinnerware again.

An older male with shoulder-length scraggly blonde hair sat directly opposite me. Zamira's husband, I think. Two-day stubble peppered his angular jaw. Broad shoulders filled out his timeless suit jacket, and classic textured suspender pairings fell in straight lines down his white shirt. He listened to his wife talk about sun holidays while his deep-set brown eyes stared into space. I glimpsed over my shoulder to find the source of his piqued interest. I suppose the pretty waitress was eye-catching.

Sautéed chicken dressed in lean dry-cured ham accompanied the boiled basmati rice and mixed green vegetables.

My stomach grumbled in gusto.

I poured a very moreish sweet-and-sour sauce over the main dish. Liam furtively placed the meat cutlery in my hands before his arm slid across the chair behind my back.

"Are you not hungry?" I asked, cutting into long-stemmed broccoli.

"I am saving myself for dessert," he whispered suggestively in my ear.

I blushed at his sexual innuendo. "White chocolate truffle, right?"

"No." He laid a kiss on my shoulder. "It is something far more salivating."

Zamira's husband cleared his throat. "Warren," he said with a heavy accent. "I did not see your name on the guest list."

"Bajramovic," Liam said in that rough dictatorial voice that dusted my skin in all-responsive goosebumps. "I am on every guest list." He exuded imperiousness. "Besides, I'd never miss such a great event."

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your date?" Bajramovic tucked into the chicken. "Although, I must admit. She is unlike the women I usually see on your arm."

Liam's finger strokes to my neck still. "It seems I have an admirer."

Bajramovic snickered into the wine glass. "I am observant."

The pads of Liam's dutiful fingers kneaded the skin at my nape. "Alexa," he said, "Flamur Bajramovic."

I wiped my hands with the silk napkin and extended an arm across the table. "It's lovely to meet you."

Flamur sat taller, which gave prominence to his height. His hand curled around mine, firm and meaningful. Faded tattoos inked his knuckles. Ice-gold rings laddered his fingers. "She is extraordinary." He spoke as though I weren't in attendance. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Alexa," I said with a friendly smile. "Alexa Haines."

His thumb swept over my knuckles.

I coughed to dislodge the itch in my throat.

Flamur released his vice-like grip to my fingers, and for some bizarre reason, when my arm withdrew, I settled a hand on Liam's knee under the table. His thigh tensed under my innocent touch. I almost pulled back when he weaved our fingers together.