| 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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Nate presented himself with practised standoffishness. He knew, deep down, that tonight was not the right time to make introductions. It was about Alexa and the baby. And he is delusional to believe an audience would forestall judgement or controversy.
"Hey, I would like to introduce everyone to a friend of mine." Nate's hand stayed on the woman's back. "Celine, this is Alexa."
"Hello." Alexa shook Celine's hand. "It's lovely to meet you."
"Likewise," Celine said with a nervous smile. "And you must be Bradley—"
"Brad," Nate corrected as I reluctantly clasped her hand for a quick squeeze. "This is Josh, the baby of the family."
"I am all man," Josh flirted innocently. "It's great to put a name on the face."
"Vincent Warren," Vincent said, without extending an invitation to symbolise greeting. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance."
Alexa's eyebrows incurved.
"Vincent is our boss's brother," I said, and the bubble of tension expanded. "Did you like the cake?"
Celine cast a sidelong glance to Nate for support. "Yes," she answered when realising he had nothing to say. "The macarons win, though. I am a sucker for vanilla buttercream."
"Plain by extension," Vincent hummed, and I had to look away to stifle amusement. "I am a red velvet fan myself."
"Red velvet is too rich for my tastebuds," she said conversationally, and my eyes closed in vicarious embarrassment. "And I tend to avoid artificial colourings."
"Anyhow." Nate's wide, furious eyes centred on the younger Warren brother. "Glad to see you finally showed up. How long do you plan to hang around this time?"
"Long enough to leave an impression." Vincent looked bored. "How did you two meet?"
"Nathaniel is my gym instructor." Celine was genuinely smitten, tapping her lover's chest with loving hands. Then, almost inaudibly, she purred in his ear, "Isn't that right, Monsieur."
Josh squealed out a laugh. "Monsieur."
"Shut up, Sailor," Nate chastised ineffectively. "You are in no position to judge anyone, you toe-licking freak."
"I do not have a foot fetish. Why does everyone keep saying that?" Josh looked disparagingly at me. "Nice one, Brad."
"Hey, why the fuck am I in the firing line?" My chest expanded on a deep inhalation. "I never called you a toe licker."
"You told them about that night." He shook his head morosely. "You promised not to breathe a word, but you let one slip the moment I turned my back."
Alexa sipped fake alcohol. "I am so lost."
"No, I never said shit to anyone," I argued my case, but when perceiving Josh's discomfort, I decided to back down. "Listen, it's an inside joke. I call him Sailor because he had two female friends over, and that's what they moaned whilst rolling in the hay. He was busy throwing up in the sink. And I almost puked with him. The joys of being a sympathetic puker. He does not have a sexual interest in feet. Nate is just grasping at straws to make himself look better."
