REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER EIGHT

The comforting smell of drifting coffee roused me from dreamless slumber. Head buried in the pillow, I groaned groggily, one eye splintering open to see Chloe, perched on the edge of the bed, a steamy mug of coffee in hand, the early morning sun, seeping through the transparently curtained window, shone in her midst.

"Good morning," I croaked, rubbing the tiredness from my eyes. "Please say that's for me."

"Clearly." Her eyebrows danced. "Here you go."

"Oh, God. I feel hungover without alcohol consumption." I sat up, my back to the headboard and accepted the coffee. Noticing the eagerness on her face, I stared narrowly. "Why are you in such a good mood? What did I miss?"

"I'm always in a good mood." She pulled the fleece blanket across her legs. "Now, come on. Tell me everything that happened last night. All the juicy details." Excitement gleamed in her eyes. "I've been dying to wake you up for, like, three hours."

"Nu-uh." My brow arched as I sipped coffee. "You can go first."

"Fine." She folded her arms, preparing for a speech. "So, I visited my dad last night."

"What? And that's the reason behind early morning jubilance." I hadn't meant to sound sarcastic, but Chloe loathed her father, so visiting him, whatever the purpose, was astounding. "Sorry, that was disrespectful."

"No, I understand." Her lips meshed together. "It's not like I have the best relationship with my dad."

I placed the coffee mug on the bedside table. "What happened?"

"Well, I still hate him." Her faux derisiveness was expected. It must be emotionally exhausting and mentally conflicting, loving and hating the person who raised you. "And she-who-shall-not-be-named," she meant his wife, "I am over it, Hon. We will never see eye to eye, but if she makes my dad happy, who am I to cause them inconvenience? It's not like I am important or anything. I'm the reckless daughter, right? The unwanted step-child." Saltiness, sourness and bitterness dripped from each syllable. "I look like her," she whispered, the tightness in her throat scratched her sad voice. "I think he sees her when he looks at me. It's hard for him, I guess. I know he remarried, but he really loved my mom."

My heart squeezed. "Chloe..."

"I am fine." Her hands fanned her face to eliminate tears. "It's okay, Hon. I got it out."

I sighed in vicarious distress. "So, what made you visit?"

Chloe needed an encouraging breath to continue. "Dad left me a voicemail yesterday morning about a fundraiser he organised and wanted me to show face. I don't know what made me attend, but I was curious." She was rather chagrined. "It sucked. I hate pompous socialites, and those are my dad's favourite people. Imagine long, boring speeches, snobbish condescension and overambitious pretentiousness," she joshed in a patronising British accent, and I laughed. "I'm glad I went, though." Heat crept to her cheeks. "I met someone."