7 - Frankie
7
Frankie
—
Monty’s bedroom is the last stop on Leo’s security patrol. He and Kody wait at the doorway, refusing to enter before me, as if it’s a restricted crime scene.
It’s just a room.
No longer my room.
“You guys go ahead.” I wave them on.
They don’t move, don’t speak. I might’ve heard a growl.
Their battle-ready postures suggest they’re prepared for any reaction I might have. As if I’ll be triggered into violence.
I don’t have triggers, do I?
Jesus, I hope not.
I can’t even look at the man standing beside me. I feel Monty everywhere, in my space, under my skin, breathing, watching, analyzing.
My hesitation only makes this a bigger deal than it is.
“Fine.” Heart pounding, I push past them and step inside.
The large bed that Monty and I once shared sits in the center, immaculately made, as if it hasn’t been touched since that night.
The table on his side holds a clock, a bottle of sleeping pills, and chargers for his devices. The table on my side has the one thing I left on it.
The glass of bourbon I never drank, the liquid partially evaporated, leaving behind decomposed cherries.
What the fuck?
“Where have you been sleeping?” Unnerved, I keep my back to him.
“When I’m home, I sleep in our bed. But I already told you. I haven’t been home in months.”
He also said there were no other women after Aubrey.
Do I believe him?
A man with his insatiable sex drive and stamina wouldn’t abstain. Especially not with the way women throw themselves at him.
Do I care?
Nine months ago, I did.
I turn to the window with the view of the dock, the scene of that terrifying night reflecting back at me. The burn of rope against my skin. The scent of latex gloves. The rumble of Denver’s raspy voice.
Don’t struggle. This will only hurt a little.
“I was standing here, waiting for you to come home.” The memory chokes me, tightening like Denver’s restraints. “I thought when I heard movement behind me…” I spin, startled to find Monty right there, too close. I step back. “I thought it was you.”
“It should’ve been me.” His face tightens, remorse rolling off him in waves. “I made an unforgivable decision that night, one I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I’m sorry.”
Leo barrels toward us, his bearing rigid. I shake my head, and he huffs, his anger directed at Monty. But he stays back.
I glance at the fire detector above the bed. “Denver removed a camera from there.”
Monty follows my gaze. “I’ve had the entire estate swept for bugs and recording devices. It’s clean.” He looks at Leo. “Go ahead. Check this room, too.”
Leo bares his teeth at him and returns his attention to me, waiting to jump in if I need him.
“Everything is just as you left it.” Monty watches me wander through the room, his presence evoking nostalgia for the whispered dreams, tender cuddles, and wild sex we shared here.
Until I’m hit with the memory of our last fight. As I circle the bed, I stare at the spot on the floor where he crushed the pregnancy test beneath his cruel shoe, the echo of the crunch splintering in my ears.
As if reading my thoughts, he stiffens, struggling between his desire to draw closer and the knowledge that he lost the right to reach out.
Swallowing hard, I make my way to the walk-in closet and push open the door.
Inside, everything is disturbingly familiar. My clothes hang exactly how I left them, untouched and organized by seasons. My running shoes lie on the floor, one flopped on its side, where I kicked them off nine months ago.
“I don’t understand.” I trace the rows of hangers holding my garments, my fingers coming away with dust.
But Monty’s clothes hang freshly cleaned.
Aurora, the housekeeper, must have been given orders not to touch my things.
Charging out of the closet, I head to the en suite bathroom.
Seeing my personal items still lined up on the counter is even more unsettling. My favorite perfume sits beside my cleansers. My hair products and body wash still hog the single shelf in the shower.
In the drawers, I find my collection of soaps, lipsticks, and razors organized by my own hands. Even my hairbrush, with a few strands of red hair tangled in it, lies next to the sink.
Why keep these reminders of me as if waiting for my return? It’s both touching and troubling, smearing the lines of his feelings and intentions.
Returning to the bedroom, I make a beeline to the dresser and pull open the drawers one by one. Each is filled with my folded clothes. Leggings, bras, underwear, camisoles—everything is here, arranged with my go-to pieces on top.
These things weren’t put back in anticipation of my return today.
They’ve been here the whole fucking time.
Everything is just as you left it.
Except…there, on the surface of the dresser, I spot the items I wondered about the most.
My phone, plugged in and fully charged, sits beside my wedding rings on a crystal tray.
Like a goddamn shrine.
“Why?” Turning sharply, I find Monty’s watchful gaze, my voice tight with anger. “Why would you keep all this? It’s like walking into a time capsule of the worst day of my life!”
He steps forward, his timbre low, filled with an emotion I can’t decipher. “I thought—”
“You thought what? That I’d slip back into our marriage like nothing happened?”
Kody’s hand appears on my lower back, grounding me, while Leo’s presence looms close.
Monty looks between them, his composure airtight. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?” I lean forward and level a searing glare at him. “It’s fucking creepy, Monty. Like I was just here yesterday. Like I never left. The glass of bourbon? The hairbrush? My phone on the fucking charger? Explain it to me.”
He lowers to the edge of the bed and stares at the floor between his feet.
“I couldn’t let you go.” He lifts his head, his eyes pained. “I couldn’t remove your things and accept you were gone.”
“Didn’t stop you from fucking someone else.”
A dark, thunderous fury breaks over his expression. “Judge not, lest ye be judged for the same.”
His response stuns me into silence, but anger quickly wells up again.
He strayed first. He rejected his child. He gave up on us.
He broke my fucking heart.
If he felt a fraction of my pain, he would understand my reaction.
Before I can say something I’ll regret, Kody’s firm grip on my chin forces my eyes to him.
“Woman.” He puts his face right into mine. “Time to call it a night.”
Leo’s tense posture by the door signals his readiness to haul me out of the room.
I pull away from Kody and storm to the bedside table, snatching the stale bourbon.
“This isn’t reassuring, Monty.” I shove the glass into his hand and walk to the door. “You kept my life on pause here, but I wasn’t paused. I was living a nightmare.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “I was living one, too.”
His words turn my stomach to ice. My feet stop moving. My breath strangles, and oh, hell, here come the tears, the hurt.
And the rage.
I whirl, my voice rising with the surge of my pulse. “It was hard for you, was it? Was it hard to cast off our baby? Was it hard to go to work and leave me here after you broke my heart?” I thrust a hand out behind me, warding off the protective shadows at my back. “You should’ve been here. You should’ve come home that night. You should’ve told me your real fucking name!”
He stares at me, his eyes stark and glassy. Mute.
I won’t cry. He’s taken enough from me. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. Again.
“You want me to believe you’re not the unhinged admirer in Denver’s riddle? That you’re not the silent ache, the shadow that lingers, the present from my past, the knife in my heart?” I shiver and motion around the chilling, carefully preserved room. “This doesn’t help build your case.”
His jaw sets, the muscle ticking in irritation.
The only response he gives me.
I turn on my heel and walk out, just as he did the day everything changed.
But I’m not alone. With the warmth of Kody’s hand on my back and Leo’s vigilant gaze flanking me, I feel the strength that comes not just from surviving but from being truly seen and understood.
We descend the stairs and move through the house.
No one speaks.
Silence between us once meant a storm of survival thoughts—how to stay warm, what to eat, whether we’d see another sunrise. But those fears are gone, and in this new quiet, I don’t know what they’re thinking.
Are they concerned about my mental state? Disappointed by my crazy behavior? Troubled about the tension between Monty and me?
I let my memories and emotions get to me.
I overreacted.
That’s all. They have nothing to worry about.
We slip outside through the back door, the rain tapping against the covered walkway that connects the main house to the guest house.
Paths branch off through the dense woods, leading to the infinity pool, helicopter pad, gear shed, boathouse, and docks. It’s beautiful here, secluded, the darkness thick and impervious beneath the tree cover.
I can’t shake the chill that settles over me, nor the sense that every corner we turn might reveal something that tries to break us apart.
Leo and Kody flank me, forming an armor of muscle against the oppressive night.
Halfway there, the snap of a twig shatters the silence.
We freeze. Our eyes dart to the shadows, hearts pounding in unison.
Something’s out there.
The press of menacing eyes rakes against my skin and penetrates my bones.
I stop breathing, frantically searching the inky blackness. The steady patter of rain smothers all sound. Whatever it is, I won’t hear it coming.
Then a shape takes form. A tall, dark figure among the silhouettes of the trees.
“Do you see that?” I whisper, trembling.
“See what?” Leo scans the darkness.
“There, in the trees.” I point a shaky finger at the shadowy figure, trying to adjust my vision to the murky gloom.
It’s there, then it’s not, fading in and out like an apparition.
Fear tightens its grip on my throat, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
Kody steps into the rain, his posture predatory and intent. He charges in the direction I pointed, moving with the lethality of a predator.
I swallow my gasps, every muscle tense as he disappears into the shadows.
The rain intensifies, drumming against the leaves and the roof of the walkway. Leo and I stand together, waiting, the minutes threading into eternity.
I strain my ears, listening, my pulse thudding in my stomach.
“Kody?” Leo calls, his voice a low rumble.
No answer. Terror plucks at my nerves, whispering unbearable possibilities.
At last, Kody emerges from the shadows, his black eyes unreadable.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, droplets of rain flying from his hair. “There’s nothing out there.”
“I saw something.” My shoulders creep up, and I force them down. “I know I did.”
“Probably a security guard.” Leo places a kiss on my brow. “You’re safe.”
It’s been a long day. We only left the hospital this morning. Then there were the revelations at the lawyer’s office, the flight from Anchorage, the stressful interactions with Monty…
No wonder I’m seeing things. I’m not thinking straight.
When we reach the entrance of our temporary housing, I realize too late that I should’ve grabbed my phone and a change of clothes.
I enter my code in the keypad, surprised it still works.
Inside, I give them the code and flick on the lights.
“Kitchen and sitting room.” I gesture, indicating the open floor plan. “There are two bedrooms upstairs. I’m going to take a shower.”
Maybe it will relieve the ache in my chest. I’m wound so tightly I can’t breathe.
As I veer toward the stairs, Leo moves quickly, transforming from a calm breeze to a raging gale in three powerful strides.
His hands capture my hips and sweep me off my feet. Turning, he sets me on the nearby kitchen table and dips his head to clamp his teeth on my neck. He pins me there, his eyes closing as he inhales deeply.
I tangle my fingers in his braided Viking knots and pull him closer. Over his shoulder, I share a look with Kody, who regards me with questions in his liquid black eyes.
“I’m okay.” I kiss Leo’s temple, breathing in his smoky cedar and mechanic scent. “I’m just…emotional.”
Leo inches back to see my face. “You’re human.”
“I’m a mess.”
“Messy like a river crashing through the mountains. Like a bonfire, flickering wildly, sparking into the night. Like the rain—”
“Stop.” My eyes burn and start to leak as I melt in his arms. “You’re making me cry.”
“Every tear is a sign of your infinite worth.” He runs his thumb across my wet cheek. “In you, my universe lies.”
“And you, my poetic savage, are a dark vine reaching.”
“Better to wrap around the soul that mirrors mine.”
“Cute.” Kody grunts.
“To think…” I sigh, smiling. “You had me at human .”
“I’d rather have you in the shower.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“Got my eyes fixed on eternity with you. There’s no rush.”
When I start to argue, he shoves three fingers into my mouth and pumps them, gently at first. Then his touch becomes rougher until I’m sucking, gagging, and gasping for more.
He replaces his hand with his lips and, with forever on his breath, he slowly, passionately seduces me with his mouth.
Stroking that sinful tongue against mine, he licks and savors with a reverence that owns me. His deep, inveigling kiss fills me with an ache so raw I forget where I am and why I needed this so badly.
Outside, the rain ceases to fall, leaving a serene hush when he finally pulls away.
Kody is there, arms reaching, as Leo plucks me from the table and hands me over.
Like the whole thing was orchestrated.
“Nice and docile.” Leo brushes a wayward curl from my face and meets Kody’s eyes. “I’ll be right behind you.”
As Kody carries me up the stairs, I hug his corded neck and watch Leo stalk through the sitting room, checking windows and doors and searching for cameras. As if he didn’t just kiss me into a boneless puddle.
Nice and docile.
He catches my gaze and winks.
Motherfucker.
All those sensual words and toe-curling kisses were just a ploy to get me out of my head?
I bite down on my smile.
Well played, Leonid Strakh.