| 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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It was nearing midnight when I tripped onto the balcony to socialise with Ethan. For one night only, I can be a social smoker. I pinched a cigarette from the packet, balanced it on my lower lip and ignited a lighter flame. Or, I should say, I failed to operate the mechanical flint wheel. Whoever invented child-resistant thingamabobs is a dullard.
"Your cig is upside down. Here." Ethan snatched the narrow cylinder out of my mouth and turned it the right way. "You are hammered." His hand shielded my face as he lit the end of the cigarette. "No more wine for you."
Ethan can piss off. I am here for a fun night of carousing. "Sorry, Dad," I said sourly, wafting smoke out of my face. "I didn't mean to disappoint you."
Bon Jovi's "You Give Love a Bad Name" is Wyatt's song for the night. It has belted on repeat since he caned half a bottle of rum. I don't mind, though. It's a romantically despondent rampage—the upbeat feel is easy to dance to—and Jovi is one of the sexiest men alive, especially the young, sizzling-hot version. The big-haired heart-throb can marry me whenever he is ready. I will be waiting.
"Stop." Ethan blew halos of smoke toward the night sky. "You dance like a fish."
My hip sways came to a halt. "Fish can dance?"
"Your roll and flop demonstration proved it." He insulted me without any effort. "And you sing like a deranged cat."
Great. Now, I cannot get the image of Cleo, the grey-haired male/female cat, out of my head. "Yeah, well, you are dressed like a pretty reindeer, so..." I cringed at the pathetic comeback. "You have white pom poms on your jumper!"
Ethan gave me a thin smile. "Excuse me for being festive."
The London skyline twinkled like a thousand stars behind us. I tried to count the lights, but drunkenness had reduced clear-sightedness. I could not see clearly or think sensibly. Still, I homed in on vast skyscrapers in the distance, the windows alight and bespangled with colour for the festive season.
"It's beautiful," I whispered, more to myself, but Ethan listened. "Have you ever wondered how some people are just lucky and born into privilege?"
"No." Ethan's arms leaned on the balustrade's top rail. "A Trust Fund Baby? Where is the respect in that? No one takes a parvenue seriously. New money is where it's at."
I never thought of it like that. "I wish I owned one of those penthouses and lived in the sky with rich folks." I could sit on the balcony every night in satin bedwear with my new buddy Vino. Maybe I can hire a butler for the company. "From this viewpoint, I can see South London and Canary Wharf. Look further afield. That's the Shard."
Ethan expelled smoke. "Yeah, it's something."
"We should visit." Yes, I can save for a night at one of London's most iconic buildings to associate in style and immerse in the diverse cuisines of Southern China with unrivalled views of the city. "I can reserve a table by the window for everyone. Hell, I am even willing to pay."
