| 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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I embarked on the uncomplicated route of London's most incredible landmarks every day, where the imposing Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey and Big Ben, the iconic clock tower, provided panoramic views of crested calmness and morning at sunrise.
Running required mental toughness and physical endurance, both of which I lacked two months ago. I neither planned nor trained to get anywhere fast or commit to the pace of scenic trails. It became a daily habit, along the way, the willingness to control depression, settle one's nerves and immerse in sweet moments of clarity.
The city is relatively steady on the pavement, a perfect place to lose track of time and be unaware of the world around you, but the heart of London's cultural scene lost its attraction eventually.
It wouldn't be long before I started to travel further afield, to nearby parks with green space, leafy trees and boundless footpaths.
Determined-looking joggers and a portion of cyclists, spread out evenly and exuberantly, bypassed in a ghostlike blur and vanished into the hazy grey fog.
They never looked at me.
I did not exist in their world.
No one existed in mine.
Eyes closing in momentary ecstasy, I inhaled the scent of autumn leaves and earthy aromas through my nose and exhaled slowly through parted lips.
Damp hair irritated my brows. I pushed it back with trembling fingers, the sweat on my forehead trickling down my temples, neck and spine.
With a penetrative sense of motivation, hands cold, bluish and curled into tight fists, I fell into a comfortable jog, the aesthetic backdrop of brownish-orange foliage crunching beneath my feet.
A cool breeze washed over me, teasing the unruly strands of my hair, as I followed the pale light at the end of the trail.
Feet pounding at the dirt path, I exited the park and continued down the street until an early riser opened a convenience store to the public.
Doubling over at the waist, breathing heavily to catch my breath, I gripped my knees and chased oxygen to alleviate the strain in my chest. My muscles hurt more than usual. I might have pushed myself too far this time.
Turning off the music app, I removed the headphones from my ears, left them draped around my neck and headed into the unpleasantly humid corner store. A bell chimed above to announce my arrival. I waded through well-stocked aisles, selected the exact items purchased during every visit and carried everything to the unsmiling man by the cash register.
He gave me the total price.
I paid for the goods and walked away.
The reality of public transport descended on me as I jumped on the bus. I am hot and clammy, undoubtedly unattractive in bizarrely patterned workout leggings, and I am almost certain the waft of perspiration came from me, but I blamed the foul-smelling seats.
