| BOOK SIX | 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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Sovereign—the syndicate's new home and base of operations—is only weeks away from completion. Once the interior designer transforms the gambling hall, replacing old-fashioned designs with majestic grandeur, I can open for business.
That's if the boss's wife will accede to the request and grant permission to unlock the doors.
Warren Enterprise's decline in reputation and business performance might be the kick up the backside she needed to prevent long-term financial impact.
Vincent, akin to his older brother, is a smooth operator. His persuasiveness is the perfect solution for stubborn individuals like Alexa. He challenged her with efficiency and grace to make the casino accessible to the general public, whereas I'd have bickered until she acquiesced in the decision of Command.
Let's face it. I am an impatient, problematic soul. I do not have the time or the energy to cajole someone with sustained fawning. I am forthright in my opinions and expect instant results.
Leaving the private office, I trekked downstairs, ready for the unplanned visit from Emma and Terrence.
I felt slightly distorted as I descended to ground level. Urgency is never a good sign. What could be so bad that she couldn't wait until later? And worse, why does the impending get-together intensify gut-wrenching nerves?
I bypassed unopened boxes of crystal chandeliers in the corridor. Alexa exceeded expectations. I knew she'd spare no expense to achieve splendid lavishness because her husband's name was above the door, but I could never have imagined such regality before this monumental moment.
Flanked by Roman pillars and restored Greek sculptures, the bifurcated concrete staircase, with blood-red carpet runners, gold stair rods and ornate spindles, opened into the casino's main room. Private indoor balconies overlooked the entirety of the first floor. I could already see the men stood up there, dressed to the nines, watching spendthrift pleasure-seekers below.
The casino will be a stark contrast to Club 11. Gone are the days of ear-splitting clubland music, semi-naked dancers, glamorised prostitutes and drunken brawls. Say hello to the hotspot of world-class architecture, elaborate entertainment displays, cocktail and black-tie attire and the best champagne money can buy.
I am here for a change in lifestyle, for new beginnings and gateways to lucrative sidelines. Christ, I will never settle for mediocrity, not when money is there for the taking, not when life is so munificently rewarding.
Terrence appeared by the rear end of the stage, a private door for employees. He probably used the casino's back entrance to come indoors after parking underground alongside Bentley vehicles. All of the brothers had coded access to the syndicate's establishments.
"Well?" I sat on a barstool across from the unfinished bar, the liquor shelves empty, the double-door coolers half-stocked. I suppose the random bottle of bourbon will go down a treat. "What have I missed?"
