Don't Fall For The Mob Boss Son

Chapter two - Justin Smith

Resting the mobile phone against my ear with a huge smile on my face, I lean back on the face, I lean back on the exclusive chair in my newly coverted study. This is my favourite place in the three bedrooms flat I have rented for entire year.

the gorgeous view of the city below was a big selling point. that and the fact that the dark grey walls and the total lack of clutter provides the perfect ambience for me to be productive. A quiet place where I can write... and think.

"Mum, I'm fine, I mutter, shaking my head as though she can see me. "I'm a grown man quite capable of looking after myself."

My mother's constant fussing drives me crazy. And pulls at my heartstrings. I love her for always showing me how much she cares. Sometimes, even going overboard, calling me almost daily or sending me positive affirmations every morning.

From the age of ten, when I was rescued from a biological mother whose severe d**g addiction left her unable to look after me, and then, got adopted by my new family, my mother's loving care has cocooned me in her eternal positively.

Mr and Mrs Duncan... They came to meet me, and that was that, Originally from northwest England, the pair took me into their home, showered me with love and support and did their best to help me forget the harrowing early years of my life.

Yet, all the love I've received from my adoptive parents and three siblings hasn't done much to eradicate my bleak and pessimistic outlook on life

Blank soul. Hardened heart. Incapable of loving anyone.

Just a few of the ways women have described me. Mostly exes. Including my most recent ... an unfaithful former girlfriend trying to explain why she's strayed.

"I couldn't get to your heart. You're made to be alone."

I tap my fingers on the decks. Unpleasant as the memory is, it's my main reason for being here. To sort through my past. And if at all possible, heal some festering wounds.

"So, have you found him yet?"

My mum's question pulls me from my roving thought. I let out a low chuckle.

"In the less than two weeks I've been here, I'm an actor, mum, not a magician," I reply, crossing my legs at the ankles. "Besides, I'm still settling and getting the lay of the land before I go searching for him."

Her soft laugh warms my heart. " Okay, love. I hope you fine whatever it is you are looking for and that it brings you peace ... " She hesitates, and my stomach clenches.

"What is it, Mum?" I ask, although I already have my suspicions.

"Well ... I just don't really understand why you'd travel half a world away looking for a man who may not want to be found. Or why you'd want to dig up disturbing memories."

Her scouse accent, which fifteen years of living in London hasn't dampened, rises in my ear. Hearing her voice always soothes me. Remind me of our life in Liverpool, when I was just a young black boy living with an all-white family, carefree and without the constant scrutiny from folks asking why I was so different from the rest of the family.

People in my neighborhood knew exactly why, and were relieved that I'd finally been removed from a harmful environment and placed in a safe, loving home.

Moving to London changed all that. A new city meant new neighbours, ones who asked loads of questions, sometimes curiously and other times rudely.

My early years in Croyden were marked by misery. People glared at me whenever they saw me with my family. Things at school were worse. If I had a nickel for the many times that I was called the real black sheep of the family, I'd own a castle made from the silvery metal.

Without my wonderful mother who always found a way to shield me from the pain, I would have imploded. I push back the memories.

"Nigeria is not worlds away, Mum," I say with a wry twist of my mouth. " It's only a six hour flight."

"I know, but ... are you sure you really want to ..."

" Oh, mum." I suppress a sigh. It isn't fair to be flippant about my mother's concern. I know she loves me unconditionally, perhaps even more than my biological mother Nancy.

"We've talked about this. I need to find him. Look him in the eye and tell him what he did to Nancy and to me ..."

My tone is more passionate than I intended, but the thought of seeing the man whose evil blood runs through my veins angers me. And yet, I am eager to meet him.

"I need some closure. And maybe if I get it, I can finally heal ... finally manage a healthy relationship."

" Oh, Justin, I wish you'd realise how wonderful you already are. Rochelle... She's the fool, the one that cheated and .."

" It's not just Rochelle, mum. Three women have cheated on me. Three, "I say, humiliating as the truth is.

" They are not the problem, I am."

My outburst seems to have rendered her speechless, because Mrs Duncan, who is never at a loss for words, has no response.

"And their excuses are scarily similar," I continue. "I'm the reason they've strayed."

I brush my palm across my face, tightening my jaw at the recollection of opening the w******p message Rochelle intended for her sidepiece, but erroneously sent to me. If she hadn't deleted it immediately, I may have even believed the lie she first told me.

My disbelief and persistence eventually wrung the truth from her that about six months into our eighteen months relationship, she'd started seeing an up and coming musician named Raul. According to her, my lack of emotional availability had left her no choice but to seek her happiness elsewhere.

Having replayed that fateful evening and her candid assessment of me in my head countless times, I can still remember everything Rochelle said as if it were a recording.

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