| 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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Mary's youthful appearance had changed drastically since I last saw her. Her straight posture, svelte figure and contagious confidence demanded attention. The long coat, ribbed turtleneck, smart, vertical ironed creased trousers, vibrant, encrusted rhinestone high-heeled shoes, and GG Marmont waist-defining leather belt with a shiny, gold-toned buckle made a bold and powerful statement. Throw black faceted crystal pendant earrings, a polished-looking updo hairstyle and Chanel's vintage maxi flap bag and you have got yourself an accidental fashion icon.
I remembered a girl with lustrous waist-length hair that our mother braided for church on Sundays. Modest clothes with multiple layers: long-sleeved blouses, ankle-length skirts and closed-toe shoes. A cute yet chubby, spotty face and cuddly puppy fat.
Pubescent was unkind. Adulthood is considerate. Mary aged beautifully, with a fresh-faced glow, a great deal of self-assurance, a trace of smugness and an unhealthy dose of vaingloriousness. Even the expensive-smelling perfume exuded vanity, boldness and success.
Aware of my chaotically bedraggled appearance, I fussed with my coarse hair, a tangled mess. The hem of my T-shirt barely covered my legs. I had chipped polished toenails and jewellery-dented wrists.
Why is she here?
How does she know where I live?
I wish someone had given me the heads-up. My flat is a diabolical mess: clothes littered the hallway, dirty dishes mounted the sink, clabbered milk and rotten food took up residence in the fridge.
I had yet to clean the living room. The Christmas tree is still on the floor amidst broken ornaments and disintegrated glass.
Mary's smile faltered.
What is expected of me?
I could invite her inside for a cup of tea. Maybe we can catch up for old times' sake. But honestly, I am not comfortable around her anymore. We don't know each other. We are strangers. Once upon a memory. Plus, judging by her ultra-glamorous appearance, I doubt the bohemian-style flat will fulfil high expectations.
"Nice." Her defined eyebrows incurved with bitter disappointment. "I come all this way to surprise you, and this is the unfriendly welcome I get."
A hard knot formed in the pit of my stomach.
"Regardless." My sister pushed past me to enter the flat without an invitation. "I take two sugars with my coffee. Come on. Close the door."
Although discombobulated, I listened to instructions and locked the door. I turned to the woman togged up in faux fur and designer labels with many questions in mind.
"You look like shit. If you want to sit down with me..." She paused by the kitchen to scrutinise the cluttered counters. "Grab a shower. I can wait."
I stood there agaze at the woman, with homicidal ideations emerging. I could kill her. I could wrap my hands around her throat and shake her to death.
