ATONEMENT | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Logan is stretched across his blue-covered king-sized bed with over-ear headphones blaring indistinct music in his ears. He is overindulging in late-night snacks: Pringles, chocolate bars, fizzy drinks and sherbet straws. Immersed in ballpoint biro pens, sketch pencils and paper, he oscillated between noshing junk food and writing inside an old, overused journal.

I smiled at him. "Are you okay?"

Through lip-reading, Logan replied, "Yeah." He tugged the headphones to his neck, closed the journal and proffered irresistible treats. "You can sample the goods."

Tearing into the rustling package, I sat at the end of the bed, abreast faux fur throw blankets and bejewelled scatter cushions, and scarfed down toffee-flavoured popcorn kernels. "Brad can be fairly oppressive. His heart is in the right place, though."

"He's a dickhead," Logan cursed, and I glared. "What? It's true. And Liam's no better." Paying no heed to the wandering Suit, he sat up and fumbled with multi-coloured skittles. "Why did you marry that guy, Alexa? You are, like, such a nice person, but you chose to settle down with a criminal. I still can't wrap my head around it."

How many times do we need to have this conversation?

"I killed someone tonight," I said without a hint of emotion or regret, knowing damn well the pretending-to-listen-to-music stunt is Logan's camouflage tactic to wiretap into conversations. "I know you heard. I saw the uneasiness in your eyes when I returned home. In fact, I think you know a lot more than you admit."

"It was self-defence." He remained unruffled. "You only hurt the guy because he hurt you first."

"In the past, I have murdered unjustifiably." Having lost my appetite, I set the popcorn bag aside. "I do not wish to upset you. In saying that, it's high time you and I addressed some grey areas. Yes, Liam is a career criminal. Yes, his employees commit unspeakable crimes on demand. Yes, The Warren Enterprise is a public front organisation used to conceal illegitimate business. Now, I can sit here all night, rationalising the set of circumstances, but I refuse to do so.

"Since you moved into the Manor, everyone has gone above and beyond to make your time here pleasant, comfortable and safe, which, as sad as it may seem, is more than your mother provided. You quite literally want for nothing.

"I am cash-rich for life." I took his hand in mine. "Am I independent? Yes. Do I contribute financially? Yes. However, if you compare success and prosperity, Liam triumphs. He is the reason for the top-of-the-range vehicles, the magnificent house and inexhaustible resources." My thumb brushed his knuckles. "He is the reason you needn't worry if Cyril's inebriated, angry or violent, or if your mother has paid her debts or if she went grocery shopping to feed you. You can shower, change into clean clothes and attend school without walking for miles in the rain, or looking over your shoulder in constant fear.

"My husband scares you," I whispered, and his head hung low. "Let me tell you something about Liam Warren. When he hates someone, there isn't a force within the city of London that can parry his foray. But when he cares and loves someone unreservedly, he will move mountains to protect them. He put his neck on the line to help you," I added, and he frowned in conceptualisation. "Someday, maybe not today or tomorrow, you will thank the man for your liberation. You might even see beyond the inconceivable and fall in love with him. Just like I did when he saved me."