38. Alessandro
Chapter thirty-eight
Alessandro
I drift into consciousness wrapped in a cloud of heavy wool. My mouth crackles, drier than a desert, and my head aches something fierce. What happened? Adrenaline spikes through my body as I blink at the unfamiliar space. Where am I?
The room, with its long, draping curtains in a tan hue, thick cream carpets, and gold accents, belongs to a world far removed from me.
Likewise, the sheets feel so smooth I can’t be sure this is a bed at all.
Warmth seeps into my waist from a single line draped over me, and when I squirm, I discover a woman’s arm wrapped around my hips.
I flinch.
Miranda. The water bottle. Getting shot at.
I throw the blanket off me, trying to escape the smothering sensation.
“Easy there.”
The warm male voice comes from close by and I freeze.
The familiar alpha sitting in a chair nearby leans over and rests a hand on my shivering shoulder. “You’re safe. Looks like you were drugged, but we brought you to Willow’s house.” He nods toward the arm draped over my hip. “She’s still asleep.”
I glance down again. Willow’s pretty, healthy nails brush the sheets in front of my belly button. I suck in a deep breath as the world’s orientation settles into place. Every lungful of air brings me her sweet floral scent.
My hammering heartbeat settles.
I glance back at the alpha. My lips stick together, semi sealed with dryness and mouth scum, so I scrub one hand over them.
“Jeremy?” I croak.
He sits back with a smile. “That’s me. How are you feeling?”
“Ugh. Like I’ve been drinking rum for two days straight.” I swallow down a groan and ease myself out from under the omega’s hold. Pain throbs through my head as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My skin feels clammy and sticky and when I stand up, the room spins.
“Take it slow,” Jeremy says, rising to steady me while he leans on one crutch.
“Thanks,” I mutter, leaning on him. My limp cock slaps my thighs, and I discover I’m stark naked. “Merda.”
Jeremy follows my glance. “No one washed you, sorry. We weren’t sure if . . . you might have evidence on you, and if you plan to press charges . . . Do you remember what happened?”
I shake my head. “I remember. She didn’t get that far, and it would be her word against mine anyway.”
I press the heel of my hand into my buzzing head, trying to push away the pain.
His grip tightens. “Fucking bitch.”
Well, now that I sort through my fragmented memories, I recall Miranda coming on to me, and her husband shooting at me as I drove away, but nothing after that. “My car?”
“My brother drove it here. It’s parked in the driveway outside.”
A shiver works through me. I slump over the bathroom vanity, the strength leaching out of me. “Grazie. Thank you for helping.”
He nods. “Think you can stand on your own?” His thumb twitches toward the door with uncertainty. “I’ll go find something for your headache.”
I straighten to show I can take my own weight. The man’s still on crutches but I’m leaning on him. “Appreciate it.”
Once he hobbles out, I take care of the piss that’s threatening to explode my bladder and turn the shower on. I pause in the doorway, thinking about Jeremy’s words. Should I press charges?
I scoff and step under the waterflow. As if I can hire lawyers and go up against people like the Warkows, who keep legal counsel on the payroll year-round. The best I can hope for is that they don’t press charges on me.
Jeremy knocks on the door lintel. His hand snakes around with a packet of pain killers, which he drops on the bathroom counter. So respectful.
By the time I’ve scrubbed my skin raw with magnolia-scented shower gel and popped two pills, my head clears enough to function. Just when I’m wondering what to do, I find a set of clothes on the bed. The size and scent tell me they’re Jeremy’s.
Willow sleeps deeply, her soft breaths whispering across the pillow.
I pause, watching. This gorgeous omega, nursing me for God knows how long.
Who would have believed it possible? Even though the situation that led me here was a nightmare, to have Willow worry and care for me feels like I’ve somehow won the lottery.
We’ve moved one step closer to each other, and that makes my heart race.
I fix the bedcovers around her and tiptoe out to let her rest.
Mr Shares waits for me outside the bedroom door, his tail slapping the floor as his tongue lolls out. He waves one paw, not quite touching my leg. Of course I have to stop and give the big baby cuddles and scratches before I can get past.
I find Jeremy in the kitchen cooking eggs. He seems at home here, limping around and using the benchtops to support himself as he collects dishware and helps himself to things in the pantry. The frying scent makes my stomach rumble.
He throws me a wry smile. “Take a seat. I’ll have something for you in a jiffy.” He pops bread in the chrome toaster. “Anything you don’t eat?”
I shake my head.
“That makes cooking simple then.” Jeremy flips one egg and then glances over his shoulder. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy.”
He nods. “Got it. I’m more of a 'cook them ‘til they're rock hard' kinda guy.”
Plenty of innuendos there, but I leave them well alone. I still don’t know anything about this alpha who’s so at home in Willow’s private space.
He serves out delicately fried eggs on buttered toast in less than a minute. Going to the fridge, he gets out a drink and checks the label.
“Chocolate coconut water? Huh! Didn’t know such a thing existed.” He gets two glasses out and pours. “But Willow does have pretty refined tastes.” He slides one across the counter to me, a twinkle in his hazel eyes saying he’s meaning something more than drinks.
He plops down beside me with his own plate, the yolks split and fried right through. “What do you say for 'enjoy the meal' in Italian?”
“Buon appetito.”
He butchers the accent attempting to recite the words, making me chuckle. Sitting beside him like this, all the questions I want to ask flock through my brain. What is he to Willow? Why did she ask him to help with her heat instead of me?
Jeremy beats me to it.
“So, Willow said you’re helping with the fence out the back?” He juts his chin toward the patio door where the blueish dawn lingers on shadowy outdoor furniture.
“Yeah. Mr Shares, the dog, jumped her back fence. I brought him home and offered her to help raise it.”
Jeremy swivels to look out in the garden. “Isn’t that a six-foot fence?”
“Seven,” I correct.
Jeremy shakes his head and whistles. “What a fluffy little troublemaker.”
I point to the crutches propped up on the end of the kitchen bench. “What happened.”
He gets an odd look on his face, like he’s holding in a laugh. “I tripped over Mr Shares.”
I stare at him for a second. “Merda! Here?”
“Yep.” He laughs. “Well, to be more accurate, he bowled Willow over and I dived to catch her.”
Saints above, how dangerous. “Thank you. For catching her.”
“Of course.”
He’s a damn hero. I need to know more. “How do you and Willow know each other?”
Jeremy chews, the silence stretching between us until I’m quivering with the tension.
“I work for a heat service company.”
I straighten. “Oh, so it’s just a contract?”
Jeremy looks me dead in the eye. “No. It’s not.”
What I read there in his focused gaze says all the same things that are in my heart. I drop my head, nodding slowly. He’s big, ruggedly handsome, and clearly capable. A stud, if I ever saw one, and he wouldn’t be a heat helper if he wasn’t skilled in that department as well.
And here I am, being nursed in Willow’s spare bedroom because I got myself drugged and assaulted. “I feel so embarrassed.”
Jeremy gets up, grunting as he uses the kitchen bench to support himself.
“I get it, but a victim’s a victim, no matter how it happens.
” He dumps his dish in the sink and leans on it to look at me.
“Actually, I owe you an apology. At first I thought you might’ve been using and overdosed or something. ”
“Che cazzo?!” I cover my mouth. “I mean, no way. I wouldn’t touch the stuff.” My fork hovers in the air. “Whatever that “stuff” is.”
Jeremy snorts and rinses his plate. “Yeah, I know better now. Plus, your skin’s too clear for that shit.”
He glances over and when he finds me staring, he holds his dripping hands up. “I wasn’t trying to look. I don’t swing that way. No offense.”
“None taken; I’m the same.”
We share a nod, both relieved to have that clarified.
Jeremy lets out a guttural sigh before leaning back against the stove and crossing his arms.
“Look, I’m crazy about Willow, I’ll tell you that right now.” He skims one hand through the air. “Like, bona fide head over heels.” Jeremy winces and points down at his hip. “Literally.”
I chuckle.
He throws me a lop-sided smile. “But I’m not against sharing . . . with the right person who has her interests at heart.”
My heart tingles. “I just want her to be happy.”
He nods. “I can work with that.”
The need to be honest chokes me. “I don’t have much to offer. I mow lawns, and my English isn’t so good. And now . . .” I swivel on the stool to look out through the glass toward the fence. “Now I don’t even have a home.”
“Fuck. That’s rough.”
I nod as I turn back. “But my heart? It’s big and beats fiercely for her. Only her. I wasn’t out drinking or messing around. And I already told the lady no. I swear it by my father’s—”
He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “No need. I believe you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” He winces and shifts his bodyweight. “You didn’t smell of any of that stuff. All I smelled was fear.”
That makes sense.
“And as for not having much going for you? I think we share that trait.”
I scoff. “You? You’re tall, handsome, and cook. And you have a job.”
He lets out a short, sharp laugh. “This happened my first week on the job.” His breath catches and he inches across the galley space, brow furrowed from pain.
“Here.” I rise. “Come sit and tell me where to put things away.”
We switch places like we’ve been sharing this house all our lives. While I tidy up the kitchen, Jeremy tells me about his sprained groin and a string of lost jobs. In a matter of minutes, the alpha stud goes from unapproachable to lovable, his cheery laughter easing my apprehension.
Mr Shares perks up his ears and then gets up, trotting straight toward the spare bedroom.
Jeremy chucks his chin. “The dogs know, man.”
“Yep.” I hang the dish towel on a peg inside the pantry.
“Oh, I should probably tell you . . .” He scratches his hair and throws me a lopsided smile. “Willow scent-matched with my twin yesterday. So, there’s that.”
He leans his elbows on the bench like he’s talking about the daily news.
The air sucks out of me, leaving me wheezing.
“Shit. I probably should've eased you into that one, right? Sorry. It’s still new to me too. Those two haven’t figured themselves out yet either, plus he just got out of a bad relationship. Give them some time to work through things.”
I choke on a laugh and get myself a cup of water, spilling a ton of it across the bench. Drinking gives me a second to calm down. “Um. Any other interested parties I should know about?”
Jeremy considers for a minute, then smirks. “I dunno, but if we come across one, I reckon there might be some solid shovels and black plastic in the shed out back. Should be able to deal with it without her knowing.”
I meet his gaze. He’s half-joking, but the camaraderie is real. Turns out, I’ve never had a truer, more like-minded friend than the one I made today. I lift my water glass to toast him in silence.
“And what’s your twin like?”
“He’s an asshole.” Jeremy shrugs. “But he biked five miles in the blazing sun without complaint after picking up your truck.”
He chuckles and eases himself out of his seat. A door down the corridor clicks open and uneven footsteps patter on the floor.
Me, Jeremy, and his brother, who’s name I don’t even know. Feels like I’ve just made the biggest black-market deal in the history of alphas.
Now we just need to convince the omega at the center of it all.