| BOOK FIVE | 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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Life Before
Mary's plethora of glad rags stockpiled in the double wardrobe. Pondering between clothes, I combed through coat hangers to select the perfect outfit for tonight's party and laid three slinky dresses on the bed.
Having not worn anything revealing or walked in vertiginous footwear before, I chucked strappy stiletto heels into the mix.
I had never put so much thought or effort into my appearance. I wanted to make an impression and infatuate a particular individual.
Perhaps I am overthinking and overanalysing the situation way too much. Tommy has non-stop texted me since the night we slept together, which should be satisfying, but his non-appearance at the diner on Monday and his no-show at the pier on Thursday were most worrisome.
Even Jace swung by the amusement arcade to chill with Killian for three hours, but the older O'Shea brother was nowhere to be seen.
He has ghosted everyone, including me.
Tommy did, however, promise to be at the party later, so I had to pull out all the stops. If he regrets our night together, I will be absolutely devastated.
Ferreting through the drawers, I bagged various cosmetics and sweet-smelling perfume and rammed tonight's essentials into a rucksack.
A knock on the door.
"Just one second." Hiding the bag under the pillow, I sat on the edge of the bed. "Come in."
My mother appeared in the doorway. She looked beautiful this afternoon. Her hair upswept into a quiff with long waves spilling over the shoulders and her strawberry patterned swing dress flaring out at the knees. "Have you seen Benjamin?"
Yes, he left for rugby practice this afternoon. "No."
"Training finished two hours ago. He should be home by now."
If Ben's training ended two hours ago and he hasn't come home, he is down the street in his friend's bed. "I don't know, mum."
"Benjamin tells you everything." Her sceptical eyes sliced. "Who is she?"
Unprepared for the question, I stuttered into dreadful silence.
"Emma." Wiping her hands in the white, lacy apron, she strode across the room, her kitten sinking into the thick carpet, and stared out of the window. "Your father will not tolerate liars in the family."
My father is a pitiful excuse of a man. He is also the most hypocritical person to roam this godforsaken planet. All he had to do was look in the mirror to see everything he abhorred in life: haughtiness, deception, self-centeredness, self-delusion, rapacity, inconsideration, nastiness, violence and infidelity. He dared to objurgate and disparage his children for the very crimes he committed.
