I can't stop looking at Logan. He slept so peacefully, his legs tangled in the duvet, his dark, messy hair falling over his furrowed brows. His body laid motionless across the bed, the adoption papers resting beneath his palm from where he dozed off reading. Flipping open the old, leather worn journal that he left on the bedside table, I kneeled beside the bed, uncapped the pen with my teeth and scribbled a short message for him to read.
Happy 16th Birthday.
You bring me so much joy and happiness.
My only regret is that I did not find you sooner.
Here is to making memories.
You. Liam. Me. Us.
Our perfect little family.
I love you, Logan.
Your person,
Alexa.
Closing the journal, I tucked it beneath his pillow. Admiring his beautiful profile, his handsome features, the spatter of brown freckles on his cheek and the soft curl of his lips, I slipped a strand of dark hair behind his ear, lifted the blanket to his shoulders to keep him warm and, unable to take my eyes off him, lingered by the bedroom door, feeling whole, complete, the happiest I had felt in a long time.
Logan Warren, the lost boy from the youth centre, had a place to call home. My chosen child belonged here with us now. Who cares what happened in the past or what the future might bring? I get to love this boy for the rest of my life.
Liam learnt to love someone else's baby. I never thought it would be possible, not with him being such a stubborn man. But he proved me wrong. And as I entered the Master bedroom, satin robe sliding down my shoulders, lace thong falling to my feet, I fell in love with him all over again.
I astride his lower back.
"Morning, beautiful," he groaned into the pillow, not a hint of him opening his eyes, though. "Where did you go?"
"I took a quick shower." My lips tickled the spot behind his ear. "I made sure the downstairs was tidy." I massaged the tight, knotted muscles in his shoulders. "Then, I swung by Logan's bedroom just in case last night was a dream."
He respired a tired sigh. "Is he okay?"
"He's asleep." My head rested on his upper back. "I am still in shock. I was trying to build up the courage to ask for more time with Logan, but I was too nervous. You have already provided so much for him. Never, not even my wildest dreams, did I think you'd accept him as ours."
"Logan is in the right place." His voice was thick and throaty. "Home is where the heart is, remember?"
Threading our fingers on either side of his head, I thumbed his wedding band. "How did I get so lucky? I have all these incredible men in my life." He was silent while I spoke. "You were always enough for me. But there are not enough days in the year to thank you for Logan."
He licked his dry lips. "Logan is a good lad. He has a bright future ahead of him."
I smiled into the nape of his neck. "You can speak freely in front of me. I will not consider you soft-hearted."
Liam rolled onto his back, keeping me above him. His blue eyes stared up at me. "I see my reflection when I look in his eyes." His rough palms smoothed my thighs as his heavy-lidded gaze admired my naked chest. "When I was younger, I would often stare at the boy in the mirror, wondering how he got there. Existing felt surreal. The future looked unpromising."
I fixed his tangled chain.
"Logan was afraid. His fear evoked bad memories, forgotten emotions. I truly want to protect him from such tribulations." His steeled jaw relaxed. "What time is it? It's still dark outside."
"Five thirty." My fingers traced the prominent lines of his abdominal muscles. "I could not sleep."
He yawned, his arms stretching above his head. "No?"
My eyelashes fluttered innocently.
His thumbs circled my hipbones. "What's the look in your eyes?"
"Tesco is a twenty-four-hour superstore," I hinted, and he was aghast by the idea of early morning grocery shopping. "I could eat ice cream."
"Ice cream?" he said in disbelief. "Alexa, I will divorce you for avoidable tooth decay."
I slapped his chest playfully. "My teeth are perfectly fine, thank you very much."
"Not if you continue to drink ice cream by the gallon." He tapped my thigh, so I climbed off him. "Let me shower first."
Thirty minutes later, Liam, freshly showered and breathtakingly handsome, descended the stairs in a grey three-piece suit, a spare hoodie thrown over one shoulder. "Leave the Bentley keys." Opening the drawer to the foyer's marble dresser, he plucked out a set of car keys. "We should take the Tesla for a spin."
"Oh?" He seldom utilised the panoply of vehicles underground. "Sure."
"Arms up," he instructed, and I slowly raised my arms. "Pyjamas?" He tugged the spare hoodie over my head. "How will you purchase ice cream when garbed in fleece?"
"Hey, I like this lounge set," I corrected, strolling through the Manor halls. "Plus, I intend on waiting in the car while you hunt aisles in Tesco."
The poor sod could not think of anything worse. "Right," he said tightly, and I had to look away to hide laughter. "What is your least favourite flavour?"
I paused to think. "Rum and raisin."
He held open the door to the stairway leading to the garage. "Then I shall buy exactly that."
My trainers skipped steps. "How considerate?"
Before my foot touched the final step, he wound an arm around my waist. "Close your eyes," he whispered against my cheek. "I have something to show you."
Frowning slightly, I closed my eyes.
"I will smack your arse raw if you peek," he warned, and I grinned impishly. "Give me your hands." I felt his scrutiny as my palms slid onto his waiting hands. "You really are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, Mrs Warren."
My heart rate quickened. Heat travelling to my cheeks, I held his hands tighter. "I believe you, Liam."
"Good." His thumbs grazed my knuckles. "Step down."
I hesitated.
"As if I'd let you fall." His hold went to my waist as he coaxed me down from the final step. "Good girl."
My footsteps echoed throughout the expanse of our concrete garage. "Liam?"
His ring-laden fingers covered my eyes. "Josh claimed you were decent behind the wheel."
His manly scent immersed me. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. I encountered numerous potential casualties."
"But you refrained from killing pedestrians."
I mumbled uncertainties. I mean, there was that one guy who nose-dived into a pile of recycling bags to escape the violent strike of my vehicle. And there was the afternoon jogger who fainted on the spot when I swerved around his momentarily paralysed position on the curbside. I should probably include the postman who nearly suffered death at my hands, too; I had never seen so many airborne letters.
Yeah, I am not Lewis Hamilton. I cannot be trusted to drive anywhere with living humans. Just chuck me in an empty car park to practice parallel parking for the rest of my pathetic existence.
I can only imagine the news headlines.
Alexa Warren, the killer driver.
Off with her head!
"Alexa?" Liam's chin settled on my shoulder. "Give yourself more credit."
His sneaky behaviour dawned on me. "Liam," I said cautiously. "Did you bring me downstairs to drive one of your precious cars? If so, I suggest that you reconsider. I do not trust myself in a Tesla."
"Well, the Tesla is off-limits to the killer driver." The empath dared to ridicule. "You understand."
Rather than die with embarrassment, I chuckled to myself.
"It was delivered yesterday." He placed a key on my palm. "I was waiting for the right opportunity to show you."
Understandably confused, I opened my eyes and stared at my husband. He looked eager, excited, which was a rarity in itself. "What was delivered yesterday?" My gaze drifted over his shoulder to the black Mercedes-Maybach S-Class with a luxurious burgundy leather interior. "That is not for me, is it?" My initials personalised the private number plate. "Oh, shit. You don't actually trust me to drive that, do you?"
"Yes." His hand met the small of my back. "Gratefulness is a prerequisite."
"I'm sorry." Fumbling with the car key, I took a wary step closer to the unique presence of sparkling excellence. "It's magnificent. I am just...stunned." Fingertips outlining the bonnet's chrome trim grille, I peered through the passenger side window to marvel at the individualised car mat. "Thank you, Liam. I have no words."
He gestured for me to get behind the wheel. "Do the honours."
Squealing in ebullience, I ducked into the driver's side and ran my hands over the leather steering wheel. "You big softy."
"Behave." He got comfortable in the passenger seat. "Well, buckle up. Let's take this beauty for a spin."
I adjusted the seat closer to the wheel. "What if I get pulled over? I am not licensed to drive."
He tossed a counterfeit driving licence on my lap.
"Very well." Gingerly, I disengaged the handbrake, started the engine and eased onto the accelerator. "Liam, I am nervous."
"Don't be nervous." He watched the garage's motion sensor door elevate as I drifted up the mounded concrete. "There are men outside, so take your time."
Nodding, I drove the car out of the underground onto the Manor's front asphalt, where suited men grouped together for takeaway coffee and morning cigarettes. "Where would you like to go, Mr Warren?"
"Tesco." His arms crossed. "You wanted ice cream."
Gravel crepitated beneath the tyres. Cruising toward the Manor's exit route, I dropped into neutral while the guard unlocked the wrought iron gates. Once freed from all-encompassing security, I thanked him with a slight wave and drove straight onto the main road.
Liam watched the world pass on by through the window. His hand found its way to my thigh. "Tesco is in the other direction."
"I know." Flicking the indicator to the right, I steered into the next street and drove to the land of nowhere. "I saw the blueprints on your desk."
His fingers drew patterns on my thigh. "Is there a question?"
"I don't know." My lips puckered. "Maybe."
He quirked an eyebrow. "Go there if you must."
After a short-lived drive around the streets of London, I parked the Mercedes in the garage beneath Timothy Andino's Casino. Although Liam had barely discussed renovations with me, he sounded passionate about his new investment. He provided a tour of the central room's spaciousness that once homed tumultuous slot machines, poker tables and high-roller gamblers.
"I had everything ripped out," he explained, taking in the high ceilings, the old chandeliers with gossamer adhered to crystal droplets. "I plan to extend the bar and build a function room down the back. We want somewhere for customers to unwind. Think dim lights, ambient music, calacatta marble and luxurious fabrics." He painted a blank canvas. "Brocade and jacquard."
Studying the impressive marble stairway, I stepped over bestrewn debris and dismantled furniture. "What's upstairs?"
"Office." He followed my line of vision. "It overlooks the entire casino floor."
I took in a breath. "What's downstairs?"
"Working project." He pointed to the outmoded jukebox. "That's going on the skip."
I held his hand while he led me behind the disorganised bar. "Is there any champagne?"
His eyes widened a touch. "Isn't it a little early for celebratory drinks, Mrs Warren?"
"It is never too early for alcohol." Finding an unopened bottle under the countertop, I arranged two plastic cups on the threadbare beet mat. "Besides, you live on a liquid diet, so what's the issue?"
"No issue." Popping open the button of his suit jacket, he slid onto the tattered leather bar stool. "I missed this image." His eyes never left me as I uncorked the bottle to prepare our drinks. "I spent many a night watching you tend to customers."
I remember. "And I spent many a night pretending not to notice."
Liam wore a boyish smile.
Discarding the oversized hoodie, I pulled my hair into a messy bun atop my head and poured bubbles into two tumblers. "This is us," I said with a half-smile. "Do you love me?"
"Yes." Clanking our cups, he knocked champagne back in one gulp. "Always."
My stare explored the papered walls, where Demask remnants threatened to peel from the smooth surface. "I bet this place was beautiful before contractors turned up."
"Perhaps." He cared not for the casino's history. "May I have another?"
Taking the plastic cup from his hand, I poured a generous amount of champagne into the bottom. "That'll be twenty pounds."
He blinked in dismay. "For cheap champagne?"
"For champagne served by the best barmaid within the City of London."
His eyes glittered in assent. "Baby, will you come back?"
I fell silent.
His hand found mine across the countertop. "Rule with me."
"You want me to leave Inseparable Youths for late-night whiskey service."
"No, I want you to co-own the casino with me, or any establishment, for that matter. I am open to the idea of new investments if it'll appease you."
"I don't know." I chewed the corner of my lip. "You broke my heart the last time we mixed business with pleasure."
"It's different now," he argued his case. "I am your man. You married me. There is no confusion between us this time." He waited for a response. "Listen, if this is about other women, I can assure you, there will be no working girls in the casino."
"It's not about other women. You promised fidelity, and I believed you."
Relief softened his gaze.
"We live together. Therefore, we spend a lot of time together. Too much time together might hinder our marriage."
He was displeased. "I disagree."
My brow quirked. "Of course, you do."
"You are it for me," he said throatily. "In ten, twenty, thirty years' time, I will love you just as much as I do right now." A rare blush warmed his cheeks. "You are my soulmate, Alexa. I am a better man with you at my side. And that's where you belong. Here, with me. Diarchies."
I looked away.
"You agreed to attend syndicate meetings, so what's the difference?"
"Well, I have never actually attended closed-door conclaves with you or the men. Plus, I am a woman. No one will take me seriously. And honestly, lording it over the Suits feels wrong. Can you imagine Brad taking orders from me? He will have a hissy fit."
"My men will fall into line because I demand it."
I let his assurance sink in. "What is expected of me?"
"Just be yourself." His finger touched my wedding ring. "I value your input and trust your judgment. I have great faith in you."
I tackled the conversation masterfully. "If I agree—and that is a big if, Liam—will you let me soar or hide me in your shadow?"
His reply died on the tip of his tongue.
"Yes, first and foremost, I am your wife. But you cannot have it both ways, not where the institution is concerned. Phillip Henry is a good example. You asked me to lure him to the hotel and then chastised me for compliance."
"I am unchangeable." His arms outstretched. "Sue me."
I squinted. "Jealousy clouded your judgment."
"Empathy clouded yours." He made a valid point. "Listen, your protection is non-negotiable. I will always have your best interest. However, I will learn to take a step back and trust the process, even it fucking kills me."
Working for the syndicate meant leaving Matthew and the others behind. Most importantly, it meant turning my back on our teens. I am not ready to say goodbye. My job paid scarcely, but it was never about the money. Helping those in need gave me a sense of fulfilment. Guiding the young and impressionable was purposeful.
"I will give your proposal some thought," I said noncommittedly. "Oh, don't look at me like that. I have teenagers to consider."
"Fair enough." Liam plugged in the jukebox, and neon lights began to flicker sporadically. Tapping the keypad, he selected "My Way" by Frank Sinatra. Peeling off his suit jacket, hurling it on the rear of the stool, he rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows and extended a hand. "May I have this dance?"
To Sinatra's light baritone voice, I held onto his hand as he led me to our make-do dancefloor in the middle of the room, where cardboard boxes, overturned furniture covered in dust sheets, and builders equipment surrounded us.
Lowering his lips to my hand, he kissed each knuckle, pulled me close, chest to chest, and turned me in his arms. Each step flowed with synchronisation. Shutting my eyes, I mentally decluttered the room, and when I reopened my lids, regal resplendence clambered the walls. I imagined a majestic ballroom, debonair sommeliers and dashing guests. I saw suited men on the gaming floor and in the players' lounge. Bodacious spenders by the vestibule.
Liam spun me out of his arms, and sequels of laughter made breathing almost impossible. I never feared an embarrassing faceplant to the floor, though. I trusted him not to let go.
Locked in each other's gaze, we moved to melodic instrumentals. I shadowed his predatory grace, his seamless steps along the once carpeted floor, remembering our first dance as possible love interests, our first dance as partners and our first dance as a married couple. Still, I felt butterflies as though I had met him merely seconds ago.
He brought me close, his hand on the bottom of my spine, his lips near my ear. "I faced it all, and I stood tall." His hoarse voice sprouted goosebumps along the bare skin of my arms. "And did it my way."
Protected in his possessiveness, I held onto his shoulders. "Regrets, I have a few."
His lips pressed to the side of my head. "Too few to mention."
I chuckled into his neck, then, caught off guard, gasped at the onslaught of his firm lips. His hands captured my head as his mouth overpowered mine. "Car?" He groaned between kisses. "I want you."
Of course, I was in a mischievous mood. "Last one there gives oral."
He shoved past me.
"Liam!" Breaking into a haste sprint, I dodged delivery boxes, hoping to beat him to the entrance. He was faster than me, so I fabricated an unwanted visitor. "Who's that?" I pointed to the dark alcoves. "I saw a man."
"What?" He was panicked into an immediate defence. "Where?"
Bypassing the exit route, I ran straight past him to clear the stairs leading to the room that'll someday throne his office.
"Alexa!" His heavy footsteps pounded up the marble stairs behind me. "I read a quote once."
"Yeah?" Not looking back, I held onto the gilded handrail. "What's the quote?"
"Thomas Sowell." He was hot on my heels. "Deception is one of the quickest ways to gain little things and lose big things."
"Really?" Out of breath, I reached the double doors, keeling over at the waist. "What is big enough to give me second thoughts?"
Looking ever so smug, he came to my side. "My cock."
I pushed his shoulder. "Caveman."
"Vixen." His mouth snatched the air from my lungs. His raw, bruising kiss was like fire to my skin, burning me up from the inside out. Ripping the vest off my body, freeing my breasts, he lifted me in his arms and backed me up against the office door until it swung open for us to find an improvised bed. The cluttered desk captured our fall. Everything, from old paperweights, heaped folders and replaceable computer monitors, crashed onto the floor. His teeth sank into my neck. "Let's eliminate these hideous pyjama bottoms."
"They are not hideous." Kicking the trainers in opposite directions, I clung to him, helping him rip the fleece bottoms down my legs. Tearing through the buttons of his shirt to reveal his muscle-bound chest, I curled my fingers around the waistband of his trousers. "I happen to like anything that offends you."
His hand cupped the back of my head. "Always one to press buttons."
My tongue lazily caressed his. "Well, what are you waiting for, Mr Warren?" Unthreading his belt buckle, I unzipped his trousers. "I am at your complete mercy."
Liam's engorged cock landed in his hand. He gave it a tight stroke, a firm, painful-looking squeeze, and pre-cum leaked onto his fingers. "I will never fucking tire of you."
My heart palpitated. "Promise?"
His sweat-misted forehead laid on my shoulder. He encouraged me to lock my legs around his waist and used one arm under my backside to elevate me to his liking. His thick, swollen crown pushed through my silken folds, deep enough for me to grapple the collar of his dishevelled shirt. "Shit," I keened, writhing beneath him.
"Give me a moment." Bracing his forearm above my head, he moved his hips once, pulling me down to the base of his shaft, and settled into breath snatching silence. "Fuck, I need to master control when around you."
I was beautifully full and aching. "Since when did you doubt your stamina?"
"Since I forgot how to breathe in your presence." His fingers seared the side of my waistline. "When was the last time you and I fucked?"
"You and I?" My stare burnt into him. "As opposed to you and who else?"
I received an eye roll. "Don't be so foolish." His tongue swept from my throat to my chin until our lips locked. "I blame insufficient sex for risible intemperateness."
If I weren't so aroused, I'd slap him. "Charming." Pushing the shirt emblazoned with Ermenegildo Zegna over his shoulders, down his arms, I tossed it on the plastic-covered wing chair. "If you want a permanent sex ban, keep talking."
His hand travelled south to get a feel of my dripping sex. With his shaft buried to the hilt, his fingers parted my folds, and he taunted the sweet bundle of nerves, slow and steady, increasing the need to combust.
I gripped his wrist. "Not yet."
Understanding passed between us.
Liam's arms slid under my neck, caging me beneath him. His soft lips touching the scar beneath my eye, he settled between my slackened thighs, the slow thrust of his hips, silently demanding space for movement. My legs opened fully, giving him more room to move. I held onto his neck, fingernails digging into his skin as I matched his unhurried thrusts. His hands found mine in the midst of intoxication, and he pinned them above my head, threading our fingers, the wedding bands united. His hips rolled forward, slow yet meaningful, and when he kissed me, the type of all-consuming kiss that set my soul alight, I gave myself to him, falling apart in his arms, knowing he'd catch me. "I love you," I whispered, riding through waves of pure pleasure.
Mumbling words of adulation, he drove into me, in and out, prolonging the intensity of recurrent orgasms. "I'm high for you, baby." He kissed me as though his life depended on it. "Fuck if you don't make me weak."
Our eyes aligned as our tongues stroked, and our hitched breaths heated the meagre gap between us. He worked me, long and deep, at a controlled pace until not letting go became too much to bear. When he groaned, throbbed and emptied inside me, I heard his whispered affections, his undying love. "Give me five minutes." His breathing was strained. "I'll go again."
I tapped his naked arse. "You might want to answer the phone first."
He wiped sweat from his brow and fished the phone out of his trouser pocket. "It's Brad." Calming his erratic breathing, he set the phone to his ear. "This better be good." When Brad spoke, his expression greyed. "What?" He pulled back, and I winced from the sudden emptiness. "When? What did he have to say?"
Picking up our discarded clothes, I began to dress.
"No." His nostrils flared. "I will head over. Meet you there."
He ended the call.
My blood turned ice cold. "What happened?"
"Business." He buttoned up the creased shirt and rezipped his pants. "Go home. Check on Logan."
"No, don't do that." My stare was fierce. "You asked for diarchy. I want to know the nature of Brad's call."
His eyes, brewing a storm, ran over me. "Have you reached a decision?"
Knowing what he meant, I remained unforthcoming.
"Until then, I do whatever necessary." He yanked the vest over my head. "Without you."
"No." Haphazardly dressed, I followed him downstairs. "Liam, I am your wife first. I deserve answers."
Grabbing his suit jacket from the bar, he shoved his arms through the sleeves. "Moretti." Gold Desert Eagle in hand, he slammed in a magazine round. "I'm going to fucking nail the bastard."
I felt sick to my stomach. "Where is Vincent?"
Shrugging, he walked away.
"I forbid such recklessness," I said contemptuously, and his determined strides halted. "I mean it." He said nothing, so I added, "At least, wait for Brad."
Liam stormed toward me. I prepared for a vitriolic attack when his arm suddenly wrapped around my shoulders, and he kissed me, stealing the oxygen that I breathe. I wanted to melt into his embrace. But not under these distressing circumstances. Not when he refused to listen to me.
My hands palmed his cheeks. "I will go with you."
"No." His hands smoothed down my arms. "Go to Logan."
I was on the verge of tears. "Liam..."
"Baby." His forehead rested on mine. "Do you trust me."
Nodding, I got a handle on my breathing.
Liam's lips graced mine once more before he walked away.
In less than three hours, I would learn something.
It was a devastating kiss of atonement.—————————————————————————
I will come back for typos.
Thought on the update?
—Liam?
—Alexa?
—Moretti?
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