Chapter Forty-Six
AURELIA
The news that I’m alive breaks before the plane lands in Portland.
And yet, all I can think about when I step off the plane is how different the air smells. I don’t know why it’s the first thing I notice, but I try not to fixate on the differences as I’m quickly ushered into an SUV with tinted windows under the cover of several umbrellas.
It isn’t raining. The umbrellas are to shield me from anyone with a powerful enough telephoto lens to capture me from outside the private airfield.
No one is supposed to know I’m alive yet, but that plan quickly went to shit hours ago once I found myself seated in front of a slack-jawed immigration officer who stared at me like he’d seen a ghost. Valid. When he stumbled to ask for my passport, I remembered that I no longer have one.
But Oni and her assistant were on it, having already filed the necessary paperwork and skipped past the red tape for a limited passport. By the time we landed in Portland an hour and a half later, I’m once again making headline news.
It’s only a matter of time before someone lands a picture of me to confirm, which is the reason for the long line of twenty identical black vehicles as we leave the airport.
Even though I’m staying local, the car ride is a long one since the driver was given explicit instructions to loop around several times to shake any tails. It doesn’t help that I have no idea where I’m going.
Oni hadn’t been too forthcoming with the details, and I hadn’t cared enough to ask, but by the time we finally arrive at wherever I’m going to be hiding out, I’m more than a little curious.
Especially when I look out the window and get an eyeful of the towering spires reaching toward the moon, the elaborate tracery in the arched windows, and the decorative masonry draped with vines.
The Gothic-style abode is more castle than house.
It’s haunting and beautiful.
It’s the small garden of purple lilacs losing their leaves to the fall in the middle of the circular driveway where my gaze lingers though.
I’m still frowning in confusion when the SUV rolls to a stop.
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe with people you can trust,” Oni says ominously next to me in the back seat. The exec never even looks up from her phone. She’s been working nonstop to scramble a team together for me to deal with the fallout of being alive.
Because apparently when you’re famous even living is scandalous.
I start to tell her that I don’t trust anyone that isn’t them, my mountain men, when a shadow falls over the window and the words die unspoken. It doesn’t matter. While nothing has changed for me, I know they will never trust me again. Never…let themselves love me again.
The back door is yanked open before I can tumble down that heartbreak hill.
“Relly!” Before I can get a glimpse of the culprit or even be properly startled, I’m pulled out of the SUV and lifted into a bear hug.
The cologne is rich and smells expensive, and the burgundy silk shirt is smooth against my smashed cheek.
“Holy shit. It’s you. It’s really you. You’re alive. What the fuck?”
I finally get a glimpse of my host when I’m set on my feet and he pushes me to arm’s length to get a good look at me.
I gape at the blond man with black eyes and a magazine-cover smile.
And I do mean his face and smile have literally been plastered on the front cover of several magazines around the globe. “Loren?”
The hands still holding my shoulders give a comforting squeeze in answer. “In the flesh, baby girl.” He goes back to looking me over in that assessing yet platonic way of his. “You look like shit by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Come on,” he says while taking my hand. “Let’s get you inside and settled in.”
“Wait… I’m staying here?”
“Of course,” he answers easily. “Where else are you going to find a better hideout? And with the single most interesting group of people on the planet.”
I can think of one place, but that’s gone now. It’s over. I walked away knowing I could never go back, so I force the cabin that’s no more, the Cold Peaks, and them from my mind as I follow Loren James, the bassist of Bound, around the SUV.
The ornate front doors of the mansion are thrown open, and the space is filled with three other bodies. I take in the grim smiles of Houston Morrow, Jericho Noble, and Braxton Fawn, and I want to weep.
Oni could have stashed me anywhere—some ridiculous villa or penthouse in the sky where I’d be alone with only the paid staff to keep me company, but instead, she was perceptive enough to bring me here.
To make sure the first faces I see on my return home are friendly ones.
And probably the only ones I’d see for a long while.
I send her a grateful smile that she once again waves away like she’s just doing her job and it’s no big deal. Maybe to those accustomed to basic human decency, but for me, it’s a very big deal.
“Just so you know,” Braxton says when her doe eyes land on my trembling smile. “If you cry, these guys will cry, and then I’ll have to spend the rest of the night reinflating their manly egos.”
I start crying, and the broad-shouldered man next to her with brown hair and green eyes that reminds me of a certain horde shifts uncomfortably like he wants to comfort me but doesn’t know how. “Welcome home,” Houston greets.
“We’re so happy you’re alive,” Rich says as he shoves a set of drumsticks in his front pocket.
“For the record,” Loren says. “I never doubted for a second that she was still alive.”
Rich rolls his eyes. “You literally cried for a week when we all got the news, plastered her pictures all over your Insta, called her the second baddest bitch to ever live, and ranted at anyone online who talked shit about her.”
“I was grieving,” Loren defends through gritted teeth.
“We had to call in a PR crisis team after you told a fan he should walk off a cliff for calling her overrated,” Houston reminds him.
Loren cringes at the reminder, and then his cheeks warm when he catches me gaping. I have a feeling I wasn’t supposed to hear all of that. “Don’t look so surprised, Relly. I told you the day we met that I’m a huge fan.”
“But are you sure you want me staying here? If it gets out that I’m here I don’t want to bring that kind of heat on you.”
“Da!”
It’s only then that I notice the infant in Braxton’s arms, who is currently staring at me and trying to eat a fistful of her hair. He has the same red hair, though his is a more muted shade than his mother’s fiery red.
“Oh my God. Is that…?”
All three of Braxton’s husbands slash bandmates start beaming with pride. “Yup,” Loren answers. “This is Coda, our son and prince of the castle. And he says it’s okay, so get your ass inside.”
Loren drops an arm around my shoulders and steers me into the house when the rest of them back away. The moment we’re inside, I crane my neck to gape at the rib vault ceiling that looks like it belongs inside of a church.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Oni announces as she finally looks up from her phone to address the rest of us. She digs inside her green Hermès bag and pulls out a new iPhone still in the box. “I got you a phone. It’s already activated, with my number and a few others saved to your contacts.”
“Wow,” I say as I stare at the device like it’s foreign. I haven’t held a cell phone in nearly a year, and I’m only now realizing how easily I acclimated to life without one when I used to consider it a lifeline. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. I should warn you though.
It’s a real shit show out there, Aurelia, and it’s only going to get worse.
I’m sure you’re curious, but I would caution against making any statements for now.
Of course, you’re a grown woman, so that’s just my advice.
I’ve already started setting up interviews for your new team.
If there’s anyone you trust enough and would like to retain from your old one, let me know.
When you’re ready, I’d like to talk logistics and start prepping you for your return.
I should be back in a few days. And don’t worry, Aurelia.
” She sheds the efficient exec role long enough to smile warmly and squeeze my arm. “You’re in safe hands.”
“The best hands,” Loren garbles around the mouthful of the burger he’s now clutching. When the hell did he leave?
“Dude,” Rich says like he’s disgusted. “Can you not talk with your mouth full?”
“That’s not what you said last night.” Loren winks.
Um…what? Rich and Lo? I glance at Braxton and then Houston for confirmation, but she’s too busy clutching the baby’s ears dramatically like he can understand, and Houston is pinching the bridge of his nose.
“And on that note.” Oni chucks a deuce and turns on her heels to strut to the door.
She leaves, and the six of us travel away from the front door and down the long hall.
I catch Rich and Loren flirting with their eyes, but all it does is make my own longing worse, so I look down to admire the distressed black and gray harlequin floor tile.
It’s still gleaming from a recent wax and partially covered by a narrow blue rug that looks worn but still plush.
There are even thick stone pillars creating an internal arcade with light from the windows streaming through the natural arches. The walls are all dark, and so is the decor, which fits my current mood and state of mind perfectly. Everything is in tones of black, silver, and dark blues.
When we reach the wide spiral staircase to the second floor, I smile at seeing that it’s barred by a baby gate that looks out of place with the rest of the interior.
Houston unlatches the gate and I follow them upstairs, but at the landing, they all start to go their separate ways. Braxton and Rich disappear down the hall with the baby while Houston swears viciously as he struggles to re-latch the baby gate.