| 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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My steady footsteps faltered when I saw my sister in the protection of Big Guy's arms. I forgot how to breathe, the blood in my veins freezing over like glacier ice.
Why the Hell is Brad Jones in South Yorkshire, wearing a smart three-piece suit and the world's sexiest smile?
I stiffened, visibly and involuntarily, when the conversation about pretend boyfriends came to mind. Mary wanted to fool our father into thinking that she is heterosexual, and of all the eligible bachelors in London to choose from, it had to be him.
"Oh, there you are!" My sister's glamorous entrance did not register. "I have been looking everywhere for you. Come over here, so I can introduce you to everyone."
Brad's relaxed posture did not stand the test of time. The moment our eyes collided, he rose to his full height, with strength, confidence and prestige. He appeared to mute nearby discussions and sensuous music for the consideration of unforeseen circumstances.
I almost laughed.
He must have known that I would be at the venue. Terrence is authorised to keep his boss well-informed on my whereabouts.
However, communication between men is not the reason behind complete incomprehension. I wanted to know how the man I once believed I could love someday had fortuitously bumped into my sister and agreed to accompany her to our brother's wedding.
My mind got pestered by appropriate questions.
When did they meet, and how?
Is the chance encounter a serendipitous coincidence?
Did he accommodate her needs out of the goodness of his heart?
Did he know she was my sister before he decided to grace me with his appearance?
Did he come here knowingly to put my nose out of joint?
I crushed idiotic thoughts before they could grow and fester.
Brad Jones is a heartless, vindictive soul. Laughing at my expense would be a new level of pettiness. He might have questionable personality traits, but he is not completely irredeemable. I very much doubt that he accepted an invitation to be my sister's plus-one to make a mockery out of me.
"Emma." Mary pulled me in for a big bear hug, not that I could lift my arms to hug her back. I was too numb from the impact of the smitten wedding dates. "You did not wear the dress," she whispered in my ear, and I gave her a stiff headshake. "Why? I designed it for you."
I packed many dresses in contemplation of Martin's big day, but I have yet to decide on outfits for the weekend, which I now regret, because the unflattering mien of yours truly does not tick all the boxes. My hair is wavy and air-dried. The denim jeans and puff-sleeved jumper were creased due to the long car journey from London to South Yorkshire. I never bothered to touch up my makeup before leaving the room earlier.
