COMMAND | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER FIVE

Helga lurked in the shadows. I side-eyed the conservatory for movement, but she knew every nook, cranny and alcove in the house and did well to hide.

"I'm starving." Opening the file onto the table, he penned notes onto the page. "I need to eat. It can be a sushi restaurant or a juice bar. I am easy."

We can eat later. Besides, if we plan to indulge, I will need more than blended fruit or vinegared rice to satisfy hunger. "I have to swing by Josh's place first."

Nate's gaze lifted. "Are you concerned?"

"Yes, actually." It's unlike Josh to take a leave of absence, not short-term or long-term. I have known him to come to work irrespective of family commitments, headaches and hangovers, medical appointments and inconvenient sickness bugs. The lad could be puking one minute and shitting the next, but his arse is always on time, always behind the steering wheel and always on the gun. "How long does he need to grieve?"

He pondered the question. "Josh loved Nanna."

Nanna Fitzpatrick was a delightful old mare. I met her once when collecting Josh for an early morning gym session. He told me to wait outside while he ran around at the last minute to pack workout gear.

Of course, I did the exact opposite. I left the Bentley on his drive, walked through the front door and enjoyed warm cocoa with whipped cream, edible stars and grated chocolate, courtesy of Nanna. Not that I like anything remotely sweet. I hate sugar-infused indulgences. I only drank it to be polite.

Nanna told entertaining tales and fabricated stories of Josh's uncomplicated childhood. His love for football and how he was the captain of the team. Christ, she even brought out the photo album and vaunted said football trophies. Man of the Match. Team Captain. Player of the Year.

Teacher's pet.

Grade A student.

Fucking boffin.

When Josh decided to grace us, he was enraged. I am the last person he wanted privy to his personal life—his past. I could use those chunky baby photos against him or tease him in front of the brothers when his unruly tongue got carried away.

He scolded Nanna for letting strangers in the house, then warned her to never converse with me again. If I weren't so entertained by the ordeal, I'd have slapped him. I am not a stranger. I am unquestionably the best friend he never knew he needed. Pillock.

Josh's humiliation soon diminished, though. Nanna only had to raise one eyebrow, and he had enough respect to pipe down and apologise for raising his voice. He even hugged her before we left, which was wholesome—that's if you are into the ideology of lovey-dovey stuff.

Yeah, Nanna Fitzpatrick's death must be tough for the lad. With the exception of the brothers, she was the only family he had. His parents died way before I came along. Suppose there were any estranged siblings (anything is possible. Have you met Vincent?) he sure as hell didn't know about them. I guess it's lonely, depressing, waking up in a big old house to memories of the dead.

I trapped my bottom lip between my teeth. "Wallowing in self-pity never helped anybody."

Nate looked conflicted. "He'll come around."

"I will drag him out by the ear." A toothpick rolled between my fingers. "It pisses him off."

He half-smiled. "You bully him."

Josh was always self-assured, cockily confident, but his innate kindness and compassion towards others necessitated serious refinement. He'd cry if a dead bird fell from the sky and mourn fictional characters in movies and harp on about their death for months.