| 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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"Chloe." My hand clutched the phone. "Did I do something wrong? You haven't returned any of my calls or text messages, and, well, this is the ninth voicemail I have left today." Closing the fridge door with my heeled foot, I juggled cartons of orange juice to the granite kitchen island, where Brad, besuited in royal blues and Italian leather, tucked into a colourful avocado ranch salad. "Look, I don't want to pester."
He took the cartons and arranged them with the plastic tumblers.
"But I am worried about you. And I would love it if you attended Logan's birthday party tonight..." My tense shoulders sagged. "Okay, maybe I am asking too much from you. I mean, it's still early days, right? You need more time to come to terms with what I did before. I get it."
Brad scooped onion chutney onto rye crispbread.
"So, I can be patient." Balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder, I uncapped the Russian vodka bottle and splashed well-needed alcohol into a glass. "Just let me know that you are okay, though. We might have parted ways for a while, but you will always be my sister from another mister," I half-joked to hide downheartedness. "I love you, Chloe."
Hesitating with the phone, I ended the call and blew unruly curls out of my face.
"Your friend is a nutter."
How can I take Brad seriously when he wears a bright pink headband?
"Like, batshit crazy." He over exaggerated with bouncing eyebrows. "Stop wasting your time on people that make you feel like that."
I frowned. "Like what?"
"Sad," he said without a hint of facetiousness. "Depressed. Fucking suicidal."
"Asshole," I muttered into the vodka glass, and he smiled flatly. "Chloe's indecisiveness drives me crazy. She blows hot and cold. We see each other, and all is right in the world. Then she goes home and forgets I exist—and I am somewhat okay with that. It's only what I deserve." My throat swelled. "Just be straight with me, though. Tell me that you need more time. Tell me that I have to work harder to re-earn your trust. Tell me, even though it's hard to admit, that we will never be the same again. At least, either way, I can accept it and move on. Right now, I am holding onto hope. I keep telling myself not to give up because she will find her way back to me."
Brad had the appearance of one who could hear your innermost thoughts and mock them. "Listen, at this point in our one-way conversation, I don't know if you are talking to me, her, or yourself. I will go with the latter." His hands grasped my shoulders. "Alexa, true friendship is not supposed to be this hard. History be-damned. If Chloe wanted it, you and her, she would be here. She'd answer your calls and reply to your messages."
My fingernails tapped the vodka glass.
"How can she penalise you for someone else's actions, anyway? You did not ask to be abducted. You did not ask to suffer for months in solitary. You are the victim here. Not her. Tell her to get over herself. It's bastard childish."
