| 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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Inside the main bedroom, I eyed the huge pile of deliveries on the floor by the window. I had signed for them two weeks ago when the delivery guy pounded on my front door to dump the world's largest order on my doorstep.
It took twenty-five minutes to convey everything inside. I had broken a sweat and lost my breath whilst stacking everything in neat piles.
Big Guy paid for my new wardrobe. I had been excited to unbox shoes and accessories prior to the staggering bombshell Alice Montgomery had dropped on my head.
Great. Now, I have depressing thoughts of them playing happy families together.
That's not the image I wanted.
Don't get me wrong. I adored Little Guy, and the new baby is a blessing, regardless of how sad I felt. I just wish the circumstances were different.
I am sure, in due time, days and months will provide moments of healing and clarity. I will get over this low-spiritedness eating away at me.
Hell, I might even meet the new baby someday, all doe-eyed and broody. But right now, I have no more love to give because my love is reserved for my son, who is out there somewhere, waiting for me to save him.
Big Guy's thoughtful gesture left a bad taste in my mouth. He spent money on someone when a pregnant woman waited for him at home, so I cannot accept his generosity. It would be morally wrong and greatly expectant. I had to return the items and process a refund to his bank account.
Flinging open the wardrobe doors, I yanked an old pair of faded jeans off the hanger and a cable knit jumper. I had only just pulled the T-shirt over my head when something crunched under my foot.
Honestly, I died inside. If I look down and see a series of dismemberments on the floor, I will throw myself out the window.
Taking a generous step back, I braved the sight in front of me. Not a dead, bloodied animal. A torn parcel. I accidentally put my foot through the box.
A sigh of relief whispered through my lips.
Kneeling to assess the damage, I turned the parcel over and felt a soft brush of fabric on the back of my hand.
I should have retaped the box and stored it with the other gifts, but curiosity got the better of me.
Ripping through the damaged seal, I shook the contents until a black suspender set fell onto my lap. An array of lace thongs and crotchless lingerie soon came into my possession.
"God," I whispered, touching the delicate fabrics with the tips of my fingers. It's the opposite of what I normally wear. I opted for comfort, albeit unsightly cotton underwear.
My cheeks heated as I imagined myself in tight-fitted waspies. I nearly tried everything on to see if sexy lingerie was something I could pull off.
"Enjoy your free gift," I read the shop's generic card, then unpacked the silicone pebble massager. It was small, almost the size of my palm, and had a variety of buttons.
