26. Alexander
Chapter 26
Alexander
I can barely stomach any breakfast. It feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on me with everything that’s going on right now. Not just the mess with my family or what I overheard between Chloe and Giovanni last night, but all the things I still have to sort out before we leave … it’s too much. My to-do list is as long as my fucking arm.
Antonio is staying behind to try to keep the businesses afloat in my absence, though at this point, I don’t even know how long we’ll be gone. I really resent my father for putting me in this position.
Chloe is sitting at the table with Giovanni. I heard her ask Carmella for a pen and paper as I excused myself from the table, bringing my coffee into my office. I assume they’re working on their list, and part of me can’t help but feel a strange satisfaction seeing Chloe step up to give my son something his useless mother never could.
Time is free.
Sophia doesn’t work, she doesn’t have to; I fund their entire lifestyle. So the fact that she can’t give him moments— even small ones—things he’ll likely treasure when he’s older, makes me livid.
I’m done being her keeper. Things are going to change when we get back, or I’m cutting her off. I’ll always provide for my son … that will never change, but it’s time I drew a line in the sand where she is concerned. I’m sick of being taken advantage of.
I glance up from my laptop when there’s a knock on my office door. Despite my inner turmoil, I smile when I see it’s Chloe. “Come,” I say, pushing my chair back from the desk and tapping my opened hand on my upper thigh.
As soon as she is in reach, I drag her down onto my lap. “I know you have a lot to organise before we leave, but do you think it would be possible for one of your men to go out and get some things for Giovanni? I have a comprehensive list.”
“Comprehensive,” I say, chuckling.
“I’m quickly learning that you Mancini men never do anything by halves.”
I almost respond with, “It’s in our genetic makeup,” but catch myself when that sudden realisation hits home once again. We don’t share the same bloodline. It’s like a recurring nightmare I can’t wake up from.
I lean in and nuzzle my face into the crook of her neck. “For you, amore mio , and Giovanni, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.” I pluck the piece of paper from her hand and place it on my desk. “Leave it with me.”
“Thank you. I know this situation isn’t ideal, but I’m actually kind of excited about our extended stay at the cabin.”
I wish I could say the same.
I’ll enjoy my time with them both, but I can’t shake that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that something terrible is about to happen.
Two hours later, and after a tearful goodbye from Carmella, we are ready to take off.
With Christmas only a few weeks away, Carmella is leaving for Italy earlier than originally planned. There is no point in her staying at the house if we won’t be there.
That woman devotes most of her life to caring for me, so I like that I can do this for her each year. She came into my life under tragic circumstances not long after I moved to Sydney.
Her son used to be a bouncer at one of our clubs. He passed suddenly after being cowardly punched from behind while manning the door. He was only twenty-two and just doing his job.
I felt obligated to visit her and pay my respects, and that’s when I found out she’d also lost her husband a few months prior. The poor woman was all alone and struggling to make ends meet.
I offered to financially compensate her for what happened, that is one positive trait I learnt from my father. We look after our own, and her only child had lost his life while working for our company.
Only a heartless bastard would turn their back and do nothing, but self-pride can be a fickle bitch, and she took offence to my offer, seeing it as a handout. So, I took a different approach. I gave her a job and a place to stay instead. We’ve been looking out for each other ever since.
“Are we ready to take off, Mr Mancini?” our pilot, Riccardo, asks through the headphones. I double-check that Chloe and Giovanni are properly strapped in before I give him the thumbs-up.
The extra supplies for Giovanni—and the few things Chloe added to the list—have been purchased and are now en route to the cabin. As a precaution, I decided to send another car with extra men to the Hunter Valley. My whole life will be staying in that cabin with me for the foreseeable future, and I can’t risk anything happening to either of them.
There’s a second cabin on the property where the men can stay in between shifts. I just hope it’s enough protection if trouble comes knocking.
“Oh, we have a Christmas tree?” Giovanni squeals with excitement when Chloe pulls out the box.
“We do,” she replies with a smile. “It’s just a fake one, but I thought it would be fun if we made our own decorations.”
Giovanni’s face falls. “But I don’t know how to make decorations.”
“I do. I can teach you. I used to make them with my mum when I was a little girl.”
“Okay.” Giovanni brightens up again, his mood shifting as he warms to the idea.
We’ve been at the cabin for three days now, and so far, so good. The last time I spoke with my brother was the morning we left Sydney, and we agreed not to contact each other unless something further happened.
No news is good news, I suppose.
“How about we put the tree up first?” she suggests. “Then we can decide what decorations to make.”
I’ve enjoyed watching their bond grow over the past few days and seeing how naturally they’ve connected. It’s been a nice change, and maybe even a little healing for all of us.
The fact that Chloe is willing to relive parts of her childhood with him, even though it’s difficult for her, speaks volumes about the kind of person she is. Sophia could take a leaf out of her book.
We are both lucky to have her here; she’s really brightened our stay. I’m not one for sitting around, and if it wasn’t for these two, I’d be climbing the walls right now.
They’ve been busy ticking things off their activity list, and the way my boy looks at her—like she hung the stars and the moon—warms my heart. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I look at her the same way.
“Let me just grab some scissors from the kitchen to cut these ties,” Chloe says, leaping to her feet. When she exits the room, I’m hot on her heels.
She’s riffling through one of the drawers when I enter. I slide up behind her and capture her around the waist, turning her in my arms. “What are you doing?” she asks, wide-eyed.
“This,” I reply as my mouth bears down on hers. I kiss the ever-loving shit out of her, hoping it conveys the words I can’t bring myself to say.
If my son wasn’t in the next room, I’d bunch that sexy little sundress she’s wearing up around her hips, move her underwear to the side, and fuck her right here on the kitchen bench.
We are both breathless by the time we part. “What was that for?” she asks.
“Do I need a reason to kiss you?”
“No.”
“Thank you for being so good with my son.”
“I adore him.”
“He adores you right back, maybe more than I’m comfortable with.”
“You don’t want him to adore me?” she asks, scrunching up that cute little nose of hers .
“You haven’t noticed those little cartoon eyes he gets every time he looks at you? Because I have.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“True story, amore mio .”
Her plump lips curve up at the corners. “Are you jealous of a five-year-old, Mr Mancini?”
“I don’t like anyone crushing on my woman, even if it’s my son.”
“Your woman?” she asks, raising her perfectly sculpted brows.
I frown, my gaze hardening as I look down at her. “You’re my woman, Chloe,” I growl.
The tree is up, and Chloe and Giovanni spent most of the morning threading popcorn onto long lengths of string, which they have draped through the branches. They are now making paper chains with colourful strips of paper.
“Should we count the links as we staple them together?” Chloe asks.
“No. I hate counting,” Giovanni replies.
“You do?”
“Yeah, numbers suck donkey’s balls.” Her eyes flicker to me, and she winces when he says that.
I raise an eyebrow, my gaze sharp and unspoken, signalling that once again, she’ll face the consequences for teaching my son profanity. A punishment I’m certain that she’ll enjoy, and the faint flush creeping up her neck only confirms what I already suspected.
“I love numbers,” Chloe tells him.
“You do?” he asks, surprised.
“Yes.”
“I can count to a hundred,” he boasts proudly .
“You can?”
“Yes. You can quiz me if you like.”
“Okay, what number comes after twenty-three?”
“Twenty-four,” he replies without missing a beat.
“Fifty-six?”
“Fifty-seven.”
“Seventy-four?”
“Seventy-five.”
“Ninety-eight?”
“Ninety-nine.”
She raises her hand to give him a high five. “I’m impressed,” she says.
Frankly, so am I.
“You are?” he asks as his cheeks pinken.
“When I was a little girl, my dad used to be an accountant … it’s how I found my love for numbers.”
I cringe when she mentions what her father used to do. That job started this whole mess.
“What’s an accountant?” Giovanni asks.
“It’s a job where you work with numbers all day.”
“Yuk,” Giovanni fake gags. “It sounds like an awful job.”
“I’m an accountant,” she answers, her voice steady. “Well, I was ,” she adds, her eyes briefly flicking to me with an accusatory glance.
I’d almost forgotten that’s what she used to do before I stole her away from her old life. I’d replace that fucker Lorenzo with her in a heartbeat, but there’s no way I’m letting her get entangled in the messier side of the business. I would like to get her thoughts on the new accounting program Prescott Enterprises designed, though. I know Spencer is the best in the business, but her input could be invaluable.
“I want to be an accountant when I grow up too,” Giovanni chimes in eagerly. His sudden shift catches me off guard, and I can’t help but bark out a laugh.
Flicking my gaze towards Chloe, I raise an eyebrow and slightly widen my eyes, silently conveying, “See? My son’s got it bad for you.”
“Oh, God, yes,” Chloe moans, leaning her head back to rest on my shoulder. I place my hand over her mouth to muffle her cries as I continue to thrust into her at piston speed. The sound of our skin slapping together echoes through the small space.
I currently have her bent over the bathtub, using her trick of turning on all the taps fully to try and drown out any noises we make.
We’ve been at the cabin for eleven days now, and last night, Giovanni swore he saw shadows moving across his window, sparking a full-blown panic—not just for me, but for the guards too. It turned out to be nothing more than tree branches swaying in the wind, caught in the moonlight, but the damage was done. It left us all a little spooked, so now Giovanni’s sleeping between Chloe and me.
I actually feel better having him close, but it’s totally put a spanner in our sex life. Hence why we are currently locked in the main bathroom—in the middle of the fucking night—going at it like a couple of horny teenagers sneaking around behind their parent’s backs. I’ve been okay sharing her with my son during the day, but I looked forward to having her all to myself once we went to bed.
When I feel my balls draw up, I lean in, sinking my teeth into her shoulder. I know I’m close, but I need to get her over the edge first. I move my hand from her hip to the junction of her thighs and only have to circle her clit for a few seconds before her inner muscles start contracting around my cock. Her climax brings on my own as my movements become jerky.
I’m still fully seated inside her as I rest my forehead between her shoulder blades, trying to catch my breath. When I finally withdraw, I place a soft kiss on her spine and straighten.
I move toward the basin, wetting a washcloth under the streaming water.
My lips find hers as I slide the cloth between her legs, cleaning up the mess I just made.
We are playing with fire having unprotected sex, considering I said I’m not interested in having kids, but after seeing how she’s been with Giovanni over the past week and a half, something has shifted inside me.
I can’t shake the feeling that I want to experience that with Chloe. I want it all. She’s caring, attentive, and so damn sweet. She reminds me so much of my own mother. Any child would be lucky to have her as a parent.
Once we are dressed, I give her one last devastating kiss to get me through till morning. Actually … “I’m setting my alarm for 3 am,” I tell her, slapping her arse as she heads for the door. I’m going to need her again before my son wakes.
She opens it with a yelp, and we both freeze when we find a wide-eyed Giovanni standing there with his teddy bear tucked under his arm. I’m sure the shock on our faces mirrors his own.
“What were you two doing in there together?” he asks, his gaze shifting between us.
Thinking quickly, I reply, “Chloe got up to use the bathroom and saw a spider.”
His eyes go even wider. “You did? Was it a big one, Chlo?” he asks eagerly .
I nod, answering, “Yes,” at the exact moment, Chloe blurts, “No!”
Giovanni frowns, so I quickly add, “It was medium-sized.”
Chloe presses her lips together, trying to hide her smile.
“Can I see it?” he asks, his curiosity piqued.
“I flushed it down the toilet,” I lie smoothly.
“Damn it,” he mutters, looking disappointed. “I wanted to see it.”
“Who taught you how to say ‘damn it’?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He shrugs. “I hear Chloe say it all the time.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah,” he replies.
“Miss Pottymouth strikes again,” I mumble as the three of us make our way back to my bedroom. I discreetly grab a hand full of her arse cheek and squeeze as I whisper into her ear. “3 am, this arse is mine.”
She glances over her shoulder and beams. “I look forward to it.”
This woman.
Chloe climbs into bed first, and I lift Giovanni up next.
Before sliding in behind him, I quickly set the alarm on my phone to 3 am, like I promised.
I still don’t have any missed calls or messages from my brother, which I’m in two minds about. What is glaringly obvious, though, is that I’ve had no word from Sophia either. Not once has she bothered to check in to see how her son is. It’s been almost two weeks. Does she even miss him?
I set my phone on the bedside table and lie down. “Good night, Son,” I murmur, leaning in to place a soft kiss on the back of his head.
“Night, Daddy. Night, Chlo.”
“Night, little man,” she replies .
I reach across him to slide my arm around Chloe’s waist, only to feel his hand already resting on her hip. The little punk is clearly encroaching on my territory.
“I wish you were my mummy,” he whispers.
Fuck.
I wish that too, kid.