| 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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I roused to clattering serving plates and my wife's murmuring sotto voce. Peeling one eye open, I watched Alexa convey a concoction of exotic fruits into the master bedroom: warm pastries and black coffee. Balancing the tray on the bedside table, she tweaked the colourful presentation and stood back, tapping her chin to conclude missing items, it seems. Her slender, mile-long legs beckoned my touch. I reached out languidly and smoothed my palm upwards until her lace-clad derrière fell into my palm, and I squeezed, ever so softly, which prompted her hazel-coloured hues to narrow in feigned disapproval.
Repositioning onto my back, I stretched my legs, tucked my crossed arms underneath my head and awaited her nearness. The neckline of her T-shirt draped from one shoulder, and she corrected it before sitting cross-legged beside me. Plucking purple grapes from the contorted stem, she leaned in and popped one in my mouth. Sweet flavours coated my tongue. I chewed until watermelon chunks replaced the grapes and torn pastry layers traded the melons.
Satisfied by my compliance, Alexa ditched breakfast to lower the satin bedspread. Then, briefly inspecting the bandages around my abdomen, ensuring fresh blood hadn't surfaced, she folded her hands on her lap and stared deep into my eyes.
What's bothering you, baby?
Wearing her affection on her sleeve, she closed the meagre gap between us to run her fingers through my hair. I caught her wrist, pulled her arm towards the tray and, with her hand caged beneath mine, coaxed two strawberries into her palm. Her hesitant fingers curled around them. Her cheeks redder than the fruit, she brought one to her mouth, nibbled small bites and tongued sweet-tasting juices from her bottom lip.
Softly, I tugged on her necklace, and she snuggled closer to rest her head on my arm. I set the bowl of blueberries between us and forced her to eat with me. "Ladies first," I rasped, inhaling the rose-scented shampoo from her damp, unruly hair.
Alexa kissed my chin. "Are you in any pain?"
I ached everywhere. I'll survive, though.
Lifting blueberries to her mouth, I waited for her lips to part and then asked, "Any updates on Vincent?"
"He's stable," she said over a mouthful, absentmindedly tucking into the bowl for extra portions. "Your men text every hour to keep us informed."
Unable to ignore the throbbing in my head, I rubbed the grogginess from my eyes and kissed my wife's shoulder. "Where's the boy?"
"In his room." Her face looked pained. "I thought we had a breakthrough the night he tried to leave. We cried together. Held each other. But he hates me, Liam."
"Logan doesn't hate you." My thumb circled her jutted out hipbone. "He's testing my patience, though. I'll give him that." Throwing the duvet aside, I dragged my legs out of bed and stood on unbalanced feet. Allowing the blood to flow downward, I disregarded the soreness in my side and headed for the door. "Let me handle the insolent fucker."
