| 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...
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Driving forward to re-adjust, I double-checked the mirrors to be sure no one crept up from nowhere, straightened the steering wheel and reversed. Leaving no room for doubt, I cracked open the door to verify success and saw that I parked within the white lines.
"See?" I flashed a triumphant grin. "I am Stirling Moss reincarnated."
Josh wore his trademark deadpan. "I wouldn't go that far."
"Oh, come on." My hands smoothed the steering wheel's leather finish. "Give me some credit, Josh. I reverse parked."
His expression was that of a condescending gobshite. He checked the mirrors from left to right. "With no cars parked on either side."
"Do not devalue one's achievements, Josh. I will lamp you over the head with my shoe." Pulling up the handbrake, I turned off the engine. "Would it kill you to praise or commend every once and a while?" He spurned the faded ink on his knuckles. "Josh!"
"What?" he groaned, rubbing both palms up and down his face in irritation. "Fine. You parked a car without killing someone. Can we go now?"
"Soon," I said, grabbing my handbag off the backseat. "I need to do some shopping first."
"No," he groused, pulling an ugly face. "Alexa, spare me the torture. I hate shopping." His petulant growl had me in a fit of giggles. "Why the fuck are you laughing? This is a mug's game. Do you see any other guys waltzing around London to buy stilettos?" He sees a tall, handsome, crisply suited male, without a female companion, enter Larizia. "They sell men's footwear in there, right?"
"No." Flipping open a compact mirror, I reapplied fierce red to my lips. "They do, however, stock exquisite Alexander McQueen shoulder bags."
"Insanity." He shuddered. "I'll wait in the car—"
"No, I need you to help me with something."
"I will decline your ungenerous offer." Shoving sunglasses over his eyes, he folded his arms and reclined the chair to steal a nap. "Call me if someone tries to rob your purse."
"Josh, please," I begged, jutting out my bottom lip. "I need your opinion on lingerie."
Josh lifted the shades to his forehead and stared at me beneath close-set brows. "Say what?"
"It's Liam's birthday, so I need something that has the wow factor."
"The wow factor?" He snorted. "Buy yourself a G-string. He'll love it."
When Josh snuggled against the reclined leather for comfort, I knew what I had to do. "It sucks not having female friends," I whispered in despondent disheartenment. "I have nobody to talk to when I'm down. When It's that time of the month, and only romantic movies and popcorn can manipulate impossible hormones, I have no girlfriends knocking at the manor for slumber nights on the sofa to take my mind off suffering." Faking a snivel, I dabbed my nose. "Nobody wants to shop with me, not willingly. I am surrounded by so many people, yet I feel..." I blinked three times for theatrical effect. "I feel so lonely."
