ATONEMENT | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

"Watch your mouth," I chastised, and his eyes journeyed the ceiling. "If you do not visit Inseparable Youths, I expect you home by eight p.m. Understood?"

"Are you babysitting?" Derision grated his tone of voice. "If Alexa's not home, who will cook my tea?"

"You are cruising for a slap," I scolded him for the babysitting comment, and he stifled amusement. "What does Alexa cook for you?"

He considered the question. "Roast beef dinner."

"Roast beef dinner?" Alexa can barely cook a chicken. "Frozen, I presume."

"From scratch," he said, and I raised an eyebrow. "Proper roast potatoes. Fresh vegetables. And her gravy?" His eyes rolled to the back of his head theatrically. "Best I ever tasted."

I cannot remember the last time I ate a full roast. "Interesting."

His lips thinned. "You like that word."

I overlooked his snark. "I will be home to cook."

"Can I invite Tre?"

"Don't push your luck."

"Fair enough." He ebbed toward the kitchen door. "I guess I'll catch you later."

I anticipated the slam of the Manor's front door on Logan's departure and then sent another text message.

Me: I have to cook tea for the boy. Buy essentials and leave them at the Manor before you drive to the club.

Nate: Anything specific?

Me: Beef roast.

He sent a confused emoji.

Me: I am doing it for Alexa.

Nate: Is she home?

Me: No.

Nate: You are feeding the kid to get in her good book, huh?

Me: Have you located Blaire?

Nate: Not yet.

I deleted Nate's message thread and thumbed a quick question to Jace.

Me: Is she okay?

It was delivered.

He read the text.

Three dots danced on the screen.

Jace: I think she's still asleep.

I sent another message.

Me: Meet me at Live Bar.

Vincent: Did you text the wrong person?

Me: No.

Vincent. Well, in that case, I do not march to your drum, brother. If you wish to see me, request a meeting.

I inhaled. Exhaled.

Me: It's important.

He read the message and responded precisely five minutes later.

Vincent: Enumerate the entirety of the meeting.

I had to count to ten before replying.

Me: I will not beg for your time, Vincent. Meet me at the Live bar, or I will trash the paperwork.

Vincent: What time suits you?

Me: Be there at ten p.m.

Vincent: Very well.