Alexa
I stood by the window and peered at the black Mercedes nestled between incurvated trees across the street. I noticed it before entering the apartment building last night. It was parked in the same spot. I am almost ninety-nine percent sure it's the exact vehicle I saw outside Liam's penthouse Christmas morning.
When the driver's side door opened, I held my breath, hoping to get a glimpse of the motorist. His tanned boot graced the concrete as he soared from tinted windows. He is Amazonian tall, lean and muscular. He wore washed-out denim jeans and an unbuttoned paisley shirt over his white vest. His casual attire contrasted his evident taste for top-of-the-range vehicles for someone who owned such an expensive car. His blond, half-messy ponytail hung tight at the back, and his ungroomed beard covered his jaw.
Tapering down anxiety, I unlocked the phone, zoomed the camera on his license plate and clicked a picture. I uploaded the image online.
Find the car owner by vehicle registration number plate.
I clicked on the link, typing details into the search engine.
Arben Biberi.
A wave of dizziness washed over me.
Albanian.
My gaze returned to the window.
Arben walked across the street. He did it so leisurely as if taking a morning stroll. You'd never suspect him or his motives. Pausing by the apartment's entrance, he looked from left to right, cracked open the multi-mailbox and hunted through residents' letters.
I stopped breathing.
Tossing the phone on the bed, I rushed out of the apartment and descended the stairway two steps at a time. I pushed open the building's front door, expecting to catch him in the act. When I got to the entrance, he had vanished. Even the Mercedes disappeared. I saw no sight of him. Yet, when I assessed the tampered post, I smelt pungent cologne in his wake.
My bare feet touched the cold floor. "What do you want?"
And then, parked on the other side of the street, I saw the black vehicle. He relocated and is watching me now. I can feel it in my gut.
Locking the mailbox, I stumbled indoors.
Double-locking the front door to the apartment, I wiped the mugginess from my palms and stared into the peephole.
"Happy birthday!" Chloe boomed, and I jumped like a teenager caught red-handed in a mischievous act. "I was ready to jump on you..." Her liveliness plummeted. "Hey, is everything okay? You're looking a little pale." Putting a hand to my forehead, she murmured something about temperature. "Alexa?"
"I'm fine." Tucking damp hair behind my ears, I stared at the locked door in trepidation. "I am hungry, that's all."
"Well, I plan to feed you." She slapped an envelope on my palm. "Happy birthday, Hon."
"Aw, Chloe. You didn't have to get me anything," I'm lying. I'd have killed her. "What is it?"
Her smile reached her eyes. "Open it and find out."
I tore through the envelope, unable to contain excitement: private box tickets to The Phantom of the Opera in Her Majesty's Theatre. "Oh, God, Chloe. These tickets must have cost you a fortune." I had never visited the theatre before. It is something Kathy always promised we'd do together. "Thank you." Pulling her in for a hug, I held on tight. "I'd be lost without you. You know that, right?"
"I know." Her inoffensive smugness brought a smile to my lips. "I am the best."
Yes, I am blessed.
"I have an entire day planned."
I followed her into the living room. "I am scared to ask."
She pointed to the pink gift bag on the coffee table. "Tonight, we are going out in style. Who knows? We might even get laid."
I am not ready to fall into bed with another man just yet. "Who said I wanted to get laid?"
"It is non-negotiable. You need to move on, and I think tonight is the perfect opportunity. And don't worry," she added, discerning the panic in my eyes. "We will not step foot inside Club 11. I heard there are some decent competitors nearby so we can check them out."
"Chloe, it's easier said than done."
"Oh, no." Her finger aimed in my direction. "I do not want to hear his name."
"It's not about Liam," I said, and her eyes visited the ceiling. "I am serious, Chloe. Yes, I care about him."
Hell, I am foolishly in love with him.
"Remember how I used to freak out if a guy even looked at me the wrong way? I cringed if they spoke to me. Shit, I fainted on the spot if I felt their hands on me."
Her shoulders drooped. "You let Warren."
"Ironically, he made me feel safe," I explained, and she listened intently. "What are the chances of someone else making me feel that way?"
She expelled a small sigh. "You will never know if you don't find out."
I suppose.
"It's beautiful." She bought me a burgundy long-sleeved dip-hem dress, designed in luxurious satin feel fabric. "Thank you."
She strode to the kitchen. "Let's get the prosecco open."
I frowned. "Isn't it a bit early?"
"It's never too early for faux champers." A bottle of prosecco, two glass flutes and a punnet of raspberries joined our morning celebrations. "To birthdays and sex."
I gave her an eye roll. "You are incorrigible."
Popping the cork, she splashed bubbles into the glasses. "So, are you ready for today's antics?"
Plonking two raspberries in the glass, I sipped champagne. "Yes."
"Firstly, I suggest casual clothes," she began. "We can come home later on this evening to get ready for the opera."
"Casual clothes. Got it."
Her eyes glittered. "Let's hit the spa."
It started with more champagne, a short-lived trip to the sauna and downtime in the jacuzzi. A de-stress back massage ensued. Pan-flute music segued in the background. I fell asleep three times while the expert masseuse worked to unknot coiled-up muscles in my body. The package included facial treatments: steaming and exfoliation. I left the building feeling rejuvenated.
Quintessential afternoon tea experience at Grosvenor House: a selection of freshly prepared crustless sandwiches, warm scones with clotted cream and preserves, homemade cakes and pastries.
"Earl Grey is overrated." Chloe set the china cup aside. "I prefer coffee."
"And hot dogs," I joked, leaving the smoked salmon finger sandwich on the plate. "I like their shortbread, though."
She had a brainwave. "Let's scrap cake decorating."
What, we were cake decorating?
"Pub crawl."
I ran to the nearest bar.
***
The Phantom of the Opera is heart-rending. I was a blubbering mess upon exiting the theatre. Amid the dazzling wind of London, I shivered, wiping tears from my cheeks. "It's the champagne."
Chloe laughed. "You are an emotional mess."
I made a strange noise. "Poor Phantom. Why did we get drunk before eating?"
"I have no idea, but that show was epic. And the complimentary champagne tasted amazeballs."
"Yeah," I sighed in devastation. "Everything was wonderful."
"Just wonderful?"
"Okay, the show was phenomenal," I stroked her ego, and she smiled pompously. "A dream—or a nightmare, depending on how you want to look at it. I'll be reciting that glorious orchestra in my sleep."
With no sense of direction, Chloe dragged us down the street, turning and taking many corners. "It wasn't romantic, though." Pinching a defiant strand of hair, she slipped it behind her ear. "More akin to that of an abusive relationship."
"I need to eat before hitting any more bars." My stomach heard and grumbled for dramatic effect. "See? Starving."
"You are always hungry. What about that place?" Gesturing to the expensive-looking restaurant, she peered through the windows. "Oh, it looks heavenly."
"And extortionate." I read the high-priced menu. "Twenty-three quid for ravioli. I don't even know if I like ravioli."
"Ladies." A tall male in a black tuxedo gathered two leather-bound menus from the stand. "Reservation?"
"Carpenter," Chloe blurted, and I threw her a quizzical glare. "For two."
"Okay." Checking the booking number, he opened the door and offered us inside. "Your table awaits."
"What are you doing?" Gripping the back of her dress, I strode to our stolen reservation. "Who are the Carpenters?"
"It is the first name I saw on his computer system," she mumbled so he didn't overhear. "Just roll with it."
"My name is Will. I am your waiter this evening." He pulled our chairs out a touch, and we became seated with fake elegance and grace. "May I offer suggestions?" Handing over the leather-bound menus, he adjusted his black-framed glasses. "Pinot Noir from Le Musigny vineyard. It is a favourite with our chateaubriand steak. The Veramonte Reserva Chardonnay complements the grilled butter lobster."
"Can you give us a moment, please?" I asked, and he dipped his head. Once he left us unattended, I kicked Chloe's shin beneath the table. "Are you insane? Chateaubriand steak," I mocked. "We cannot afford this bill. Have you seen their starter prices? Fourteen pounds for six scallops."
Chloe emptied her purse on the white silk tablecloth. "We'll be fine." Counting pound coins, she added them to the compartment where she stashed notes. "We only live once, right? And it's your birthday, Alexa."
She will regret this moment when the bills jam our letterbox.
"Are you ready to order, ladies?" Impatient, Will tapped the parker pen against the notepad. "Did you select a wine preference?"
I fixed the upside-down price list. "You know what? I am not overly thirsty. Tap water will suffice."
"Oh, I don't think so." Snatching the leather-bound wine menu from my hand, she studied the soaring price list with twitching eyes. "Yeah, I think I will order water, too."
"San Pellegrino is on offer." He gave us a friendly smile. "We never offer tap water."
I sucked in a breath. "Isn't that illegal?"
He shrugged.
"Fine," I relinquished, dabbing sweat from my brow. "I will have the salt and pepper calamari."
"Roasted fennel." Chloe is on board with my frugal spending. "Thank you, Will."
"Appetisers?" he wondered, and I declined. "Okay. I'll return with beverages."
Chloe watched the waiter slip behind the bar. "Do you even like calamari?"
"I don't know, but it was the cheapest dish. What sane person spends sixty-three pounds on garlic chicken? It's fucking stupid." At my terse statement, the guy dining with his wife to my right paused with seasoned chicken dangling on his fork. "I mean, what insane person doesn't like..."
My friend's eyes squeezed shut. "Alexa, please be quiet."
"Yeah." Twisting in my seat, I put my back to their emitting disapproval and haughty judgements. "I am going to shut up now."
I sat back and admired the room. Floor-length embroidered curtains adorned the mullioned windows. Fine silk sheathed dark walnut tables and polished silverware corticated beneath the crystal chandeliers. Melodious jazz music sounded from the impressive bar and glass balconies, where seated guests dined and overlooked the dinner setting, stealing the restaurant's limelight.
Will reappeared with bottled water. He eliminated our wine glasses to pour non-alcoholic liquid into tall tumblers. "Enjoy."
I sipped in quiet imperturbability.
Chloe guzzled water. "I had to sober up, anyway."
I thanked the chef when he arranged our dishes on the table. Forking colourful garnish across the plate, I chewed moreish calamari.
"Hon, I know it's your birthday, but I had the best birthday ever."
"Well, I'm glad you had the best birthday." Dabbing my lips with the napkin, I washed the final bite down with water. "It's been my favourite, too."
"Hell, yeah," she chimed, leaning over the table to clink our glasses. "To birthdays and dick."
I blushed. "Where is your filter? And what is your obsession with dick?"
"Fuck them, Hon." She scarfed down asparagus sticks. "I don't care what these people think of me. And how could you not fixate on a dick?"
An odd question came to mind. "Chloe?" I set the knife and fork onto the plate's edge. "Can I ask you a personal question?"
Nodding, she picked up the water glass.
"Who have you slept with?"
My friend always talked about sex with hot men, but she has never given any juicy gossip regarding said men.
"I don't mean to pry. It's just odd because you have never mentioned names and stuff."
"What?" Her cheeks speckled pink. "What type of question is that?"
Is it wrong to ask for details?
Chloe wanted to know everything about sex with Liam. How did he kiss? Was he passionate? Was he rough in bed? Was he attentive? How many orgasms did he give me? Did it hurt the first time? Does it hurt every time?
"A serious question," I said warily. "We both know my history, yet you never share your sex life with me."
"Hon, I am a private whore," she fired back, irritated by my meddlesomeness. "Trust me. Dick. Is. Life."
This restaurant is too extravagant to be dealing with her gob.
"Are you still seeing that Harold Stone?"
"No," she huffed, folding her arms. "Nothing's happened since the night I met him at my father's place."
The unfortunate news knotted my stomach. I am so wrapped up in my quandaries that I hadn't considered her dilemmas recently.
"I'm sorry, Chloe." I am the world's worst best friend. "I should have known that."
"Oh, I'm fine. Who cares if Harold isn't interested in more? I am moving on to the next dick." She leaned close to whisper, "Hey, don't look now. But there are two guys by the bar who have been checking us out since we arrived."
I straightened in the seat. "Really?"
Her stare pooled with excitement. "We should go over there."
"No," I said, but she took it as a challenge. "Chloe, I am serious."
She slumped in the chair. "Well, they just got seated."
"Maybe they are on a date."
"Oh, shit." Her head ducked. "Their table seats four."
"How drunk are you?"
"Hon." She peered through her fingers. "The blond dude is inviting us over."
"You are lying," I whispered.
"Nope." Clicking down the passing waiter, she requested the bill. "Alexa, they want us to join them."
"I am not joining them."
"Yes," she insisted, leaving the payment and a generous tip on the table. "Come on, Hon. It'll be fun."
Chloe strutted into sin without a backward glance.
Inhaling a lungful of confidence, I grabbed the clutch purse.
"Ladies." The raven-haired male stood to greet us. "So, who is who?"
"Chloe." My friend introduced herself, then threw a thumb to me. "That's Alexa."
"Hey." I gave him a firm handshake, sliding onto the chair next to the fair-haired gentleman.
"Jack." His silvery eyes glittered. "That's my brother-in-law, Ryan."
Ryan had a wedding band on his finger.
Honestly, I am relieved. His marital status meant I was freed from sexual obligations. I am not ready to jump into bed with the first man I clapped eyes on.
Jack and Chloe delved straight into conversation.
Ryan ordered a bottle of wine from the waitress. "So, what do you do?"
"I serve coffee." It was nothing to brag about. "It pays the bills."
"Nice." He turned in the seat to face me. "I'm a branch manager."
"Impressive."
"It's tedious."
"I can only imagine."
Thanking the waitress for the delivered wine, he poured everyone a round of drinks. "For you."
Red wine rolled down my throat.
Masking distaste, I placed the glass on the table.
His arm slid across the back of my chair, and when his thumb grazed the top of my spine, I stiffened. "So, how long have you been married?"
Ryan glimpsed at his brother-in-law before saying, "Five years." His jaw tightened. "It's been fun," he said sarcastically. "If you know what I mean."
No, I don't know, actually. Not that I cared to understand his relationship problems.
Two hours into the night, I was sober as a judge and bored out of my mind. Chloe and Jack have yet to return from the bar, and Ryan is really laying the cringeworthy compliments on thick. He is inebriated and desperate for attention. I am not a homewrecker. He is married with children, yet he unsubtly hints at an overnight stay in a nearby hotel. "We don't have to do anything," he purred in my ear while I chomped on salted peanuts. "I mean unless you want to do something. I am not opposed to getting dirty with you."
Inwardly, I cringed. "Sounds wonderful."
"You are very, very attractive. I think I like you a lot."
"You barely even know me."
"I know enough." His thumb needed the nape of my neck. "What do you say, Alex?"
My name is Alexa.
What an asshole?
"I would love to spend the night with you," I flirted, and his lopsided grin spread across his face. "I have an idea. There is a hotel across the street. Go and book a room for us. Tell the receptionist I am due to arrive."
"Really?" He was so excited. I almost felt sorry for him. "Okay, then what?"
"I will be over in fifteen minutes."
"Got it." Pressing a chaste kiss on my cheek, he stuffed the wallet in his trouser pocket and stood. "You are in for a wild night, Alex."
I gave him a half-smile. "I can't wait."
Ryan left the building.
Hearing Chloe's laughter from across the room, I typed her a text message.
Me: I am headed home. Do you want me to wait for you?
Chloe: What happened to Ryan?
Me: I sent him packing.
Chloe: Alexa!
Me: He is married. Even If I weren't in love with someone else, I would never tear someone else's family apart.
Chloe: I suppose.
Chloe: I like Jack.
Me: You want to stay, right?
Chloe: Would you mind?
Me: Not at all. It's nice to see you smile.
With that, Chloe peered up from her phone and smiled.
Chloe: Are you sure?"
Me: I am positive.
Chloe: Okay, I am headed to the casino for a few hours, so don't wait up.
Me: Enjoy your night. I will see you in the morning.
Chloe: I love you, Hon.
Me: I love you, too.
I went to the restroom to relieve the bladder.
Washing my hands in the basin, I fixed my appearance, exited the bathroom and crashed straight into someone's chest. "I am so sorry..." Liam held my elbows. "Mr Warren," I whispered as he slowly withdrew his arms. "I apologise. I didn't see you."
"Alexa." His brows furrowed above intense blue eyes. "What are you doing here?"
He looked incredible in his slate-grey two-piece. Not seeing him eased the blow of rejection until now. Everything came flooding back—all the emotions, both good and bad. I hated how much I cared. It hurt to look at him.
"What do people normally do at a restaurant?" Remembering a conversation with Josh, I pressed my back to the wall. "It's yours, isn't it?"
Liam never answered.
"I am not stalking you," I defended myself, and the corner of his mouth cinched. "I swear. It's my birthday. Chloe booked reservations here."
"Birthday celebrations, huh?" His stare toured the expanse of my body. "I like the dress."
It was too difficult to be in his proximity. I had to leave. "Goodbye, Mr Warren." His hand flattened against my middle section. With bated breath, I gave him my eyes, and all-consuming butterflies fluttered in my chest. "Liam."
"You look beautiful." His throat was thick. "Happy birthday, Alexa."
I had the sudden urge to cry. "Thank you."
Liam walked away first, taking my heart with him.
Refusing to shed another tear for the man, I ambled through the restaurant.
Okay, tonight took a strange turn. I was unprepared to see Liam. Josh had mentioned that our boss owned a restaurant, yet I never thought to ask more questions. Hell, I didn't even know the name of the said restaurant. Now, I looked like a psychotic ex-girlfriend incapable of handling dismissal. Liam probably thinks I am stalking his arse, and I could hardly blame him.
I stilled by the main doors. Arben Biberi's Mercedes is parked across the street. He rose from the vehicle, kept an eye on approaching vehicles. Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, he jogged toward the building.
I have had enough.
Jerking the door open, I stepped into the cold night. "Hey, asshole," I shouted, and he slowed his determined pace. "Why are you following me?"
Amused, he sparked a cigarette. "I don't know what you are talking about," he said in a strong Albanian accent. "I have never seen you before in my life."
"No, it's not in my head. You are always there. Everywhere I go, I see your car."
"And you call me the stalker," he said patronisingly. "I am a delivery driver. You will see me a lot in London."
I did not believe him.
Arben blew smoke in my face. "Alexa Haines, right?"
His knowingness derailed me.
I swallowed exasperation. "What do you want?"
"Not much." His tongue clicked. "You ain't seen your sister, have you?"
I masked discomfort. "I didn't know my sister ran around with rats."
"Kathy," he clipped. "Where is she?"
My arrogance radiated. "What's it to you?"
"She never came home." He is close now, too close. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Home, I thought. "Even if I did, you'd be the last person I'd inform."
"Not Bajramovic?" He mused, and I bristled. "Ah, I caught a glimmer of fear, then. He'd be offended by your scorn, especially because he was so good to you."
"So good to me," I regurgitated in utter stupefaction. "I will not venerate such a vile man."
"You should be grateful." Heightened enrage honed his accent. "It could have ended badly for you like the others."
At the mention of other children, I simmered down. It's true, I guess. Had I been more unfortunate, I could have ended up in a ditch somewhere—with them.
"Tell me where she is." His intimidating presence towered above me. "He will come looking for her if you don't."
I am not enslaved to these monsters anymore. "Fuck you."
Arben's wild, delirious eyes drilled into me. His hand shot out, ready to seize my throat when someone snatched his wrist. "Jones."
"Getting a bit touchy-feely there." Brad fisted the man's shirt collar. "Is he bothering you, Alexa?"
Nate's back became a shield. "That's how I see it."
"I did nothing," Arben spat. "I ordered food from the restaurant. Am I allowed to get the order any time soon?"
Brad shoved Arben's shoulders.
Relief crossing the Albanian's features, he endeavoured to escape public humiliation when Liam blocked the restaurant's entryway. "Arben." He snaked a protective arm around my waist. "I wondered when you'd pay a visit."
Smoke rushed through the man's nostrils. "I meant no harm." He glared right through me, and there was a deathly promise in his piercing eyes. "Ain't that right?"
Turning my neck, I whispered in Liam's ear, "I don't trust him." His lips were close to mine. "I see him everywhere. I caught him going through the apartment's mailbox this morning."
Liam's fingers dug into my side. "I request a meeting."
Arben knew better. "I will decline."
"I thought you'd say that." Liam stood with an air of nonchalance. "Bring him in."
Nate's fist slammed into Arben's face. He expected confrontation, but nothing prepared him for Nate's iron fist. His backside cracked against the floor, and I twisted in Liam's arms, unable to watch as the Suits' dragged him to his unpreventable death.
Arben hounded me for one and only one reason: Flamur Bajramovic.
Still, I felt guilty for the man's inescapable despair.
I disconnected from the carnage and unsteadily traipsed down the street. Knowing the pain that he may suffer is bad enough. I will not stick around to watch it unfold.
"Alexa, wait." Liam's footfalls echoed behind me, yet I proceeded toward the nearest taxi rank. "Alexa!" Breathing heavily, he grasped my elbow. "I said, wait."
"What if I am wrong?" My eyes welled up. "What if he had no ill intentions, and I just certified his death? He was just looking for my sister."
He wore an unsympathetic expression. "You owe him nothing."
"Right," I said, short and tight. "Will you torture him?"
"Does it matter?"
I ignored the question.
"You hate me," he said through gritted teeth. "I can see it."
I sucked in a breath. "Why would I hate you?"
He shrugged one shoulder.
"My love was unrequited," I said bravely, and his eyes snapped to me. "That's no one's fault. Yes, leaving hurt, and I would be lying if I said I never thought about you." My throat was too tight to swallow. "But blaming you would be morally indefensible. You were honest from the very beginning."
Dark strands swept over his handsome face.
"Hey, at least, I haven't behaved like a psycho ex-girlfriend," I half-teased, and he flashed a rare smile. "Are you still hunting Flamur?"
His bottom lip rolled between his teeth. "Of course."
Grateful for his protection, I raised a hand, flagging down a passing taxi. "I should go."
The driver decelerated by the curb.
"Get her home safe." Liam chucked cash into the driver's hand and opened the door to the backseat for me. "You good?"
"Let's not be strangers." Lingering by the open door, I held the purse to my chest. "Hey, we can even be friends?" It's a joke, not that he found it funny. "Or not."
He held my waist. "I could never be friends with you."
"Why not?" I breathed.
"You know why." He lowered his forehand to mine. "Safety before endearment, Alexa."
I was beginning to understand.
Liam's lips feathered a kiss along my knuckles. "Goodnight, baby."
My heart slammed into my chest.
I cared not for his permission. I palmed his stubbled cheek, kissed his lips softly and, with great reluctance, ducked into the backseat.
"Where to, love?" the driver asked.
Telling him the directions, I clicked the seat belt in place and peered through the back window.
Liam watched the car drive me away.
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