| BOOK FOUR | THE LONDON CRIME KING | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE NOVEL |
This book contains adult language and subject matter, including graphic violence, drugs and explicit sex that may be disturbing to some readers.
This series is NOT a typical romance...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It was a scorcher of a day, the sun crested the blue, cloudless sky and the hot, humid outdoor air provided a summerlike ambience, which, at Inseparable Youths, enticed the young female assemblage to wear skimpy clothing and half framed sunglasses. In their low-hung football shorts and rearward facing snapbacks, the rumbustious lads boasted topless. Even team members wore loose-fitted clothing to bask in the afternoon rays. The males sported denim jeans and white polo shirts, and Trudy, much like the rest of us, flouted in vintage style summer dresses and flat sandals. Well, they trudged in flats. I no longer felt comfortable in what most deemed sensible footwear, so black ruffled stilettos heightened the spring in my step.
Mamma Mia launched concurrently with the fair. Much to Christie's dismay, she didn't get the leading role. Ashely performs as Sophie, her surprisingly good vocals impressing the audience. As I am not a huge fan of theatrical productions, I nominated myself as the outdoor stall manager. Hell, I am not even sure if that's a thing, but I snagged a clipboard regardless.
Sun-faded buntings weaved hired stands: Hook a Duck, Hoopla, Tin Can Alley, Cross Bow Shootout, Coconut Shy and Ball in a Bucket. Lovingly restored old-fashioned fairground rides clustered the green field. Mobile food trucks and fixed price beer dispensers (for the visiting adults) lined the temporarily non-functioning basketball court. Paid operators managed the amusements, and dependable volunteers helped staff at the bric-a-brac tables.
Watching the teens come together was a rivetingly wistful sight. Younger Alexa often imagined innocent moments like these, living a life of perfect insouciance and confident foolhardiness. An independent daredevil with not a care in the world. Wild yet harmless. Sleepovers with girlfriends. First high-school crush, the uppermost of her mind, sneaking out of her bedroom window at night. Stealing alcohol from her father's liquor cabinet to meet with friends at neighbourhood house parties, or, akin to today, visit summer carnivals to immerse herself in thrill-seeking rides, ingurgitate candy floss and cause a ruckus with her girls in tow.
Youthful throngs part for me to pass. I listened to their publicised tales and unabashed habit to speak reprehensibly inappropriate vulgar. Inexcusable explicitness was something, under normal circumstances, I hoped the younger Alexa would not have entertained. It's entirely unnecessary, repulsively crass...and as I conceptually jargon, I can't help but wonder how someone as easily squirmed as myself aligned with foul-mouthed Suits.
Come on, Alexa. I don't hear any complaints when Liam's whispering crudeness in your ear at night. The man's dominating rawness, dare you to admit, turns you on. You live for those bitemarks, the blemishes he leaves on your skin, the bruises on your hips and the suckles to your neck. When he promises—and delivers—primitive fucking, you become a mentally questionable nymphomaniac who craves the sinful nature of unbridled sex.
"Hey—"
"Shit," I shrieked, lunging the clipboard heavenward.
Jace's eyes, like slits of honed emeralds, narrowed further. "What the fuck was that about?"
