ATONEMENT | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Ace's Bar provided an exclusive cocktail menu and privatised booths for quieter socialising in between roistering in the niterie's subterranean hotspot. I escaped the sweaty dungeon the second DJ Reese announced spritzed foam. I hate to be the sourpuss, but I am not partying in suds and bubbles, ruining the black with gold embellished Giuseppe Zanotti's on my feet.

Grayson's odd behaviour raised eyebrows tonight. I mean, he's innately an idiosyncratic individual. He has a wild fashion sense and loves to stand out in the crowd. Obstreperous cockiness and foul-mouthed insults, though, that's something else entirely. It's unfathomable that he's dodged one or two backhanders, and if doffing the shirt to dance on tables discouraged the interference of stone-faced bouncers, then surely, insulting the barmaid for the ice cube shortfall held adequate grounds to cut his night short.

No, Grayson's still here, sweating buckets, invading people's tables with his bizarre commentating, making poor Arthur grey-haired and stressed. "I have never witnessed this side of him before," said Arthur. "It's very uncharacteristic."

I sipped vodka through the straw. "How long have you been dating?"

"It's recent." Seeing Gray in a murkier light, Arthur picked imaginary lint off his shirt. "I might flag down a taxi. Grayson won't be leaving anytime soon. I have work in the morning." Flattening a palm down his chest, he stood from the table. "I had a wonderful night, Alexa. Perhaps I will see you again in the near future."

"Goodnight, Arthur." Feeling bad for the guy, I watched him exit Ace's through the designated smokers' area and slumped back against the cold leather. "I guess it's just you and me, Burger."

Mouth wide open, Burger snores in his sleep. His co-workers, Becky and Janette, left an hour ago to line their stomachs with greasy food. They promised to come back, yet their seats remain abandoned.

I glimpsed towards the back of the lounge to where the winding stairway leads underground, hoping to see familiar faces. Upon hunting for the gang, I marked Jared and Shane by the circle bar, perched on metal stools. Besides them, a seat I shall claim. I collected my bag, meandered through crowds and interrupted their conversation. "Hey." Positioning my back to the bar, I became seated, crossing one leg over the opposite knee. "Sorry, but Burger's no company and I won't go downstairs until the foam's gone."

"Ditto." Shane handed me a shot glass. "How's Warren?"

"Liam's recovering," I said as we clinked glasses. "Vincent took five bullets and had distressing episodes of cardiac arrest. He's stable now. Honestly, I can't wait for the hospital to discharge him. Liam won't rest until his brother's home."

"That sucks." Jared tweaked his eyebrow piercing. "Well, if you need anything, you know where to find us."

I changed the subject. "So, Jace and Charlotte?"

Shane's expressionless.

Jared, however, smirked wolfishly. "You don't like her."

I feigned offence. "I said no such thing."