6 - Frankie
6
Frankie
—
That night, I step off the yacht in Sitka and tread across the familiar dock. In the rain. In the dark. In the grip of overwhelming memories.
The stone mansion I shared with Monty looms ahead like a beautiful ghost from my past. Every towering tree and winding path on the island bring back flashes of my life.
Before everything changed.
Kody senses the direction of my thoughts and tenses, turning into an impenetrable shield at my side, as if he can fend off the past with sheer will.
“Need a minute?” The look of concern in his eyes cuts through the rain.
I nod because, dammit, the memories are vivid, too vivid, as I’m thrown back to the night I was bound by rope, gagged, and abducted from my bedroom.
Denver carried me to this dock, tripped, lost his grip, and I plunged into the icy water, the darkness enveloping me.
That chill runs through me now, a shiver that’s part dread, part defiance. I thought I knew fear then, but the horrors that awaited were beyond my wildest nightmares.
“The night Denver took me, he dropped me right there.” I point to the churning black water beside the dock. “My arms and legs were tied. I couldn’t swim. I thought I was going to drown.”
“Fuck this.” Leo paces behind me, a caged animal not suited for the confines of the narrow dock. “We don’t have to stay here. It isn’t worth it.”
His instinct to fight often overrides his logical mind. I don’t fault him for it. His instinct saved my life more than once.
“Frankie.” Monty approaches with caution, trying to erase the gap with words that no longer reach me. “If you need—”
“My needs aren’t your concern anymore.” I straighten, meeting his icy blue stare. “You invited us here, and for that, I’m grateful. But I’m doing this at my pace, on my terms.”
His reaction is subtle, a faint tightening of his eyes, a nod of acceptance that doesn’t quite mask the hurt. He steps back, giving me space, respecting the boundary I’ve drawn.
“We’re here with you.” Kody’s hand finds mine, his fingers strong and reassuring. “For whatever you need.”
Leo stops pacing and looks back at the mansion, then at me. “Whatever you decide.”
With a deep breath, I push forward, the rain a curtain parting as we walk through it. I lead the way, toward whatever remains of the past, ready to fight for a future where fear no longer holds dominion over us.
We advance toward the house, the path slick under the downpour. Kody moves with a predator’s agility, scanning the thick brush and shadowed corners of the estate.
He positions himself slightly ahead, his body angled to shield me, every muscle coiled, ready to spring into action at the first hint of danger.
On my other side, Leo matches his vigilance, his eyes darting to the treetops, the hidden alcoves, and back along the path we just traversed.
Then he freezes, his hand moving to his back, a subconscious check for a rifle he no longer carries.
“What is it?” I follow his line of sight, my pulse redoubling.
“We’re not alone.” The ferocity in his gaze burns with bicolored flames as he presses into me, sandwiching me against Kody.
“There’s no need for alarm.” Monty breezes past us, gesturing vaguely into the shadows. “It’s my security team.”
“What security team?” I run a hand down Leo’s stiff spine, trying to relax him.
“After the video…” Monty turns back to face us, raindrops clinging to his black lashes. “Seeing Denver sitting in our house, I took no chances and hired the team before we left the lawyer’s office.” His gaze locks with mine. “To ensure your safety.”
“You didn’t think to mention this before?” Leo squints into the rain, the droplets drumming a relentless beat against the path, echoing my racing heart.
“I wanted to tell you when we arrived, Frankie.” His eyes darken with regret and longing, a silent apology hanging between us. He starts to move forward, an impulse stopped by his better judgment. “One less thing for you to worry about.”
His restraint hits hard, reminding me of everything we’ve lost, of every wound not yet healed.
“Thank you.” I squeeze Kody’s hand.
He squeezes back. “Let’s keep moving then. The sooner we’re inside, the better.”
Monty takes the lead, his back straight despite the tension in his shoulders.
His concern is evident, his actions respectful, yet the distance between us feels awful. Even if I’m the one enforcing that distance.
As we approach the grand doors, the sense of foreboding grows, but so does my resolve.
Leo glances over his shoulder one last time before we maneuver inside, his profile chiseled with sharp lines. His hand shifts to rest on my lower back, guiding me in. Kody’s grip on my fingers never wavers.
Warmth greets us at the threshold, our footsteps loud in the vast foyer, making the space feel empty despite its opulence.
We shed our wet coats, hanging them in the entryway.
“I’ll introduce you to the security team later.” Monty strides ahead toward the kitchen. “For tonight, make yourselves at home. There’s plenty of food. Frankie and I can show you around in the morning.”
“I’ll start now.” Leo takes off, charging through the main sitting room, his untamed physique casting a beastly shadow against the elaborate decor.
His braided hair, wild and drenched, clings to his rugged face as he opens every door he passes—closets, cabinets, even peering behind curtains and framed art.
Veins stand out on Monty’s neck, his jaw clenched. He’s not thrilled with Leo’s invasion of privacy, but when our eyes connect, he says, “Let him explore.”
Oh, Leo’s not exploring. He’s hunting for cameras, secret spy holes, implements of torture, anything to confirm his suspicions about Monty’s true intentions.
We trail behind him, drifting from room to room, water dripping from our clothes and forming a path on the polished floors.
The estate looks exactly how I left it, spotlessly maintained as if a full staff lives here. But Monty is too private for that. The chef, housekeeper, primary chauffeur, and landscaper don’t reside on his island.
He always lived alone.
Until me.
In the dim glow of the hallway, he stands like one of his many sculptures, carved from mystery, old money, and power, his presence as commanding as a tsar in his imperial palace.
“When was the last time you were home?” I watch Kody wander the room, his interest piqued by the Soviet-era statues.
“Months.”
Because he was looking for me.
After he cheated on me.
The agony of his betrayal surges anew, tangled with a grudging gratitude for his search.
It’s hard to look at him. The purplish-black marks left by Leo’s violent beating stand out against his pale skin.
Seeing him like this stirs unwanted things inside me. I hate that he’s in pain, even after he caused me so much. It’s fucked up, this tenderness for a man who hurt me.
As I discreetly examine his swollen cheek, the anger I harbor wars with the instinct to reach out and comfort him.
I wish I could trust his reasons for helping me when I’ve clearly moved on.
But I can’t trust him.
He catches me staring, his eyes shadowed with guilt and something else. I quickly avert my gaze, not wanting him to see the conflict in my expression.
I don’t want him to think I’ve forgiven him, because I haven’t. But I can’t deny the empathy and old feelings that well up at the sight of him bruised and underweight.
“You should get those looked at.” I keep my distance, arms crossed defensively over my chest.
“You’re looking at them. That’s all I need.”
“Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“You know what.”
We stand there in awkward silence, the air oppressive. It’s confusing, frustrating, the lines between love and hate blurring beyond recognition.
Leo’s heavy boots thud against the ornate rugs, his suspicious nature propelling him into the main room with high painted ceilings and intricate moldings. Kody follows closely, pulling me along while observing every luxurious detail with a feral wariness.
They both pause when they recognize the couch.
The one I handpicked when Monty and I married.
The one Denver occupied when he made the video.
“No one will break in here again.” Monty’s eyes, like chips of glacial ice, assess us with unsettling intensity. His carved, clean-shaven jawline gives him a stern, intimidating allure that only heightens the air of authority that clings to him. “No one will step onto this island without me knowing about it.”
I believe him. But that doesn’t protect me if the danger is already here.
He strolls toward the couch, circling it, his body a study in controlled strength. Lean muscles flex beneath a tailored suit that hints at the boardroom and clandestine deals made in quieter, darker corners.
Rich, inky black hair rakes back stylishly from a forehead that’s too smooth for a forty-nine-year-old man.
Wait .
He had a birthday since I saw him last. We both did.
“You turned fifty.” I follow Leo and Kody around the room, watching them snoop through every nook and cranny. “How did you celebrate?”
“I was on my way out of Whittier after…” He straightens the cuffs of his sleeves with jerky movements as if trying to distract himself from a memory. “It was a long weekend of bad news. I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.”
“Because you learned that Denver lived.”
“Yes.” His shoulders hunch, a subtle inward collapse of a man burdened by his own decisions. “That’s when I came to the horrifying realization he’d taken you.”
I’m sorry.
The apology sticks in my throat. I won’t say it because I’m not to blame. None of this is my fault.
“Did you celebrate your thirtieth birthday?” He cocks his head. “It wasn’t mentioned in your journal. You were with him.” His gaze settles on Kody, who releases a low growl.
“I was?”
“I tracked the timeline in your notes. You turned thirty the day after you died in the lake.” Monty’s gaze drills into me with an edge of accusation undercut by a cloud of regret.
I had sex with Kody the day after I drowned. It was our first time together, Kody’s first time ever, and Monty knows it. He read every detail.
In the tense silence, his stare is heavy and aggressive. His hands clench and unclench at his sides as if wrestling with the urge to reach out or pull back.
Every aspect of him oozes refinement and manners, but I’m well-acquainted with the vicious possessiveness simmering beneath the surface. It’s what drew me in and kept me at arm’s length. A constant paradox wrapped in primal, sexual energy.
As he stands there, looking all stoic and arrogant, I don’t miss the subtle quiver in his jaw, a twitch he can’t control. A silent scream against the pain of losing me and the role he played in our unraveling.
My chest tightens, a knot of confusion and hurt that I struggle to ignore.
How do I reconcile the man who sought me across the Arctic with the one who kept family secrets and wandered from our vows?
“Back off, asshole.” Leo, missing nothing, steps between us.
All I see is his broad back, effectively severing my eye contact with Monty. I exhale a held breath.
“Back off?” Monty asks. “We’re having a conversation.”
“You know exactly what you’re doing.” Leo crosses his arms, his posture imposing.
“You missed her birthday.”
“So did you.”
I can’t breathe through the fog of testosterone as they puff their chests and mark their dominance with their potent scents.
Too many alphas in the room.
“That’s enough.” I slip around Leo before he escalates this to another fistfight. “There were no birthdays in Hoss, Monty. No holidays, no celebrations, no joy.” I brace my hands on my hips. “But that’s in the past. We’re moving forward.”
I keep my posture rigid, my shoulders firm, but my eyes flit through the room like a captured bird.
The air presses against me, thick with the aroma of rain and old wood, stained with memories, good and bad.
Monty doesn’t blink, his lips pressed into a thin line, the corners downturned in a frown that holds a world of things unsaid.
“Do you still employ a chef and housekeeper?” I ask, changing the subject. “Oliver and Aurora?”
“Yes.” He inclines his head. “And Kai and Greyson.”
The chauffeur and landscaper.
“Until we get on our feet,” I say, “are there any jobs around here we can do?”
“No.” His fingers tap a silent, impatient rhythm against his thigh, a display of controlled annoyance. “No wife of mine will do domestic work.”
“I’m not your—”
“The answer is no, and that’s final.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll be returning to the hospital sooner than—”
Three snarling objections slam into me.
“You’re not going anywhere alone,” Kody growls. “Not for work or otherwise. Not until your life is no longer threatened.”
“Let’s be clear.” I thrust my chin. “No one tells me what to do.”
Kody releases another growl that has Monty smirking.
“But…” I sigh. “I agree with you on this, which is why I asked about jobs around here.”
“You’ll have plenty to keep you busy.” Monty looks me up and down. Then he gives Kody and Leo a cursory perusal. “You need to rebuild your strength, eat a healthy diet, exercise, get good sleep. We all do.”
“He has a home gym,” I say to Kody and Leo, heating at the thought of their sculpted bodies straining beneath weights. “I can show you how to—”
“I’ll show them.” Monty turns to them. “When you’re ready, we can start training together.”
“Where?” Leo heads toward the hallway that leads to the garage, den, and gym.
“That way.” Monty directs him with a flick of his finger.
The air changes as we enter the exercise room, charged with something different. Curiosity. Fascination. Awe.
Leo and Kody sweep their gazes over the sleek, modern equipment, whose purposes are a mystery to them.
Monty steps in, turning on his charming host demeanor. “This is the treadmill.” He gestures at the machine. “It simulates walking or running. You can adjust the speed here.” He powers on the digital panel.
“Why would anyone run on this,” Leo asks, “when there are running trails on the island?”
Monty chuckles, his too-familiar eyes imprisoning me.
“Exactly.” I cross my arms and lean against the wall of mirrors. “I’ve never used that thing.”
Moving on to the rack of weights, Monty lifts a dumbbell and hands it to Kody. “This is the best way to build strength and endurance.”
Kody thrusts it over his head like it weighs nothing. “Feels lighter than the logs we lifted back home.”
“There are different sizes for different exercises.” Monty offers him a heavier one.
Eyes widening, Kody grunts as he lifts it. “Fuck.” He sets it back on the rack and grabs another. And another.
Monty tests his strength, too, while showing him some curling techniques.
“Great. Maybe I should leave you alone to bond with your new best friends.” I can’t help but smile at their boyish competitiveness. “They seem pretty heavy.”
Leo circles the punching bag, grinning and bouncing on his toes.
“This is where it’s at.” He throws a few experimental punches, the bag swinging wildly.
Monty nods, watching him. “Use any of this whenever you like. It’s here to help you guys get back in shape.”
Kody puts the weights away and steps onto the large mat where I used to spend hours doing Pilates and yoga.
He exchanges a look with Leo, and I know they’re thinking about self-defense training.
“We’ll start this week.” Leo strides toward me, his steps lighter, clearly impressed with the gym. “That includes you, love.”
“I prefer the running trails in the fresh air.” I follow him into the hall and up the stairs to the second floor.
“And the rain?”
“Maybe not the rain.”
Upstairs, he gives all the guest bedrooms the same thorough search. Kody joins him, speeding things along.
“What are they looking for?” Monty lingers in the hall, his hands resting casually in his pockets.
“If you were in their positions…” I lean against the doorframe. “What would you look for?”
His eyebrows climb together, his jaw working. “Sedatives, rope, latex gloves, weapons, incriminating photos, recording devices, basically anything that might point to me as a stalker.”
“If you have any of those things in your possession, I know you’re too smart to leave them where they can be discovered. But they don’t know you. They need to do this so they can sleep tonight.”
“Fair enough.”
Leo ambles out of the final guest bedroom and pushes open another door, revealing Monty’s dimly lit study.
Pausing on the threshold, he sniffs the air like a tracker, his tall, rugged frame contrasting sharply with the delicate antiques and gleaming surfaces of Monty’s world.
It feels unnerving, watching the wild men I’ve come to love prowling the halls of my previous life. A life so meticulously curated by Monty.
“Go ahead.” Monty follows at a safe distance, his hands clasped behind his back. But his voice lacks warmth. “My home is open to you.”
Leo stops before a seascape painting by Ivan Aivazovsky, his head tilted. He has no idea he’s admiring a piece of art worth millions. Nor does he care.
I catch the reflection of our group in the gilded mirror beside Monty’s desk—so out of place yet so irrevocably entwined. My past and present are colliding in the heart of this grand estate, under the watchful eyes of a man I once vowed to love forever.
As evening shadows creep through the windows, I wonder how we can weave these fragmented parts into a new whole.
Will my history with Monty prevent him from building a relationship with Kody and Leo? Does he intend to hurt me worse than he already has?
His eyes flicker away before meeting mine again, a dance of avoidance, necessity, and something else.
“It’s like a museum here.” Kody bends to peer closer at a glass cabinet filled with Fabergé eggs. “How did you ever live in a place like this?”
“It was another life.” I meet Monty’s cool gaze. “One that no longer appeals to the woman I am now.”
I’m not trying to be cruel. It’s the hard truth, and Monty needs to understand.
We’re finished.
Rather than backing down, he stares right back, his lips quirking at the corners.
Goddammit, I know that wry, challenging smirk. It’s the same one he wore when I repeatedly turned down his advances during his year-long pursuit to date me.
He’s still the master of the game.
A man who refuses to be beaten, even by his own mistakes.