The Don & His Cheesecake (A mafia romance novel)

Chapter 4

trust (tr•^•st):

firm belief in the reliability, truth, or ability of someone or something.

***

Ajax Hudson

My eyes opened on their accord, before the hands of the clock could strike to show that it was 7A.M.

My routine for the last 7 days had changed the internal clock of my body, automatically waking me up when it was time.

Today marked the 7th day of tracing... her.

The frustration that I felt at waking up so early just to trace a woman was at its highest on Day1. Now, however... it felt different.

I shook off the weird feeling and got out of bed, heading to my bathroom to get ready for the day.

My palm felt rough as I ran it down my face, trying to get rid of the sleep.

The fairly grown stubble pricking at the callouses on my palm, leaving a tingling sensation behind. The bed hair seemed shabby, but I could fix that after my shower. Even though I was still sleepy, my eyes didn't show it.

No, the blueish-grey eyes looking back at me in the mirror showed... excitement?

Excitement? Whatever for?

Maybe at the prospect of seeing the woman again. Chimed the annoying voice inside my head.

I rubbished the voice and got to brushing my teeth and got into the shower.

The warm water helped to relax my muscles and calm my nerves, which for some reason were on guard. My hand unconsciously moved over to my chest, right below the diaphragm. The two indents on the skin had me wincing, thinking back to the time when I had let my guard down and trusted someone. Damien Reed.

That vile slimeball's name had my blood boiling, and suddenly the hot water seemed too hot and it felt like the walls were on fire.

I shut the water and got out to get dressed.

What a great fucking start to the morning.

***

Movies and shows make tracing and tracking someone look like the coolest job ever with all of the over-the-top cameras and binoculars, when in reality it's just you sitting in your vehicle for hours on end.

I looked at my watch, wondering where she had disappeared off to. 8.30am was usually her time to step out from the park where she goes for her morning walk/jog.

It was as if the universe heard my call. Just as I finished my thought- she stepped out, her top sticking to her like a second skin, hair on her forehead and overall looking like a drowning cat.

I snickered in my head over the mental image.

As she started to make her way back to her apartment, I made sure to follow closely in my car, but not too close so as to arouse suspicion.

I didn't even need to pay attention to where she was going, because I had already memorized her entire schedule.

Yes, this woman lived the same life every day.

Over the past 7 days, I'd come to realize that what William said was right.

Alexis Main was of no threat to us.