REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Raucousness roused me from slumber. Head resting on a pillow, I peeled an eye open, immersed with ever-present dimness. London's kaleidoscopic nightlife patterned through the panoramic windows.

I heard Brad's gregariousness down the hall and smiled. Hell, Nate sounded exasperated by the jokester. Judging by his half-hearted verbal counterattacks, he, too, is susceptible to Brad's eccentricities. He is the only person that can slew inappropriate jokes and escape consequences.

Stretching the limbs, I rolled onto my back, kicked the satin coverlet from my body and studied an unfamiliar face in the ceiling mirror. The woman staring back at me was nauseatingly pallid and unattractively dishevelled. Ashamed by the dire state of my image, I crawled off the bed and made a pitstop to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Once again, I caught sight of the unprepossessing woman in the mirror. I lost the T-shirt, entered the shower cubicle and turned on the water. Ice-cold shards pierced my skin as I washed away gruesome flashbacks and dirty images from my mind, body and soul. Soon, the temperature warmed, and heat cloaked the enclosure. Feeling no better than I did thirty minutes ago, I pressed two palms to the tiled wall and stood under the spray. If nothing else, I was cleaner and less fatigued.

Killing the water, I stepped out of the cubicle onto the plush bathmat and wrapped the fluffy white towel around my body. Wiping condensation off the mirror, I re-assessed my reflection, tousling the dripping locks cascading down my back.

I returned to Liam's master suite, towel-dried and shimmied into lace underwear. I almost went into the walk-in wardrobe to find something decent to wear when the folded women's loungewear on the corner sofa piqued my curiosity. Pretending not to see the expensive price label, I unfolded the pale grey two-piece and held the slouch pants to my waist. It's my size. I might be presumptuous, but Liam must have bought it for me. I slipped into the soft, comfortable set and stepped over the threshold into the all-marble hallway.

Tailored handsomely in a three-piece suit, Nate sat on the U-shaped leather sofa, tucking into a takeaway container. He spotted me and paused with chopsticks near his mouth.

"Alexa." His pierced eyebrow arched. "Are you going to join us?"

Hesitating, I nervously fumbled with my hands. "I was hungry."

Brad appeared from the kitchen. His white unbuttoned shirt revealed his broad-chested pectoral muscles, the white gold military tag coruscating beneath the ceiling lights. He regarded me warily when he asked, "Do you like Thai food, Alexa?"

I nodded. "Sure."

Brad beckoned me closer. I took small steps to the kitchen and thanked him for the container of noodles. Becoming seated opposite Nate, I delved into food hungrily, having not eaten in what felt like weeks. I felt their watchfulness, their concern and worry. "Is Chloe about?"

"She went clubbing with colleagues." Nate jotted down cryptic passages in a leather notepad. "I don't think she will be back any time soon."

Brad poured neat whiskey into a glass.