Chapter 11
Harper
Fingers comb through my hair, lips brush my temple, and the prickle of Rocco’s beard grazes my skin. “We’re here, kitten.”
I shift in his lap to peer out the window. In front of me, the SUV’s headlights illuminate an ornate wrought-iron gate, its center adorned with an elegant, scrolling letter R.
Alexei punches a code into the keypad, and the gate clanks and grinds as it swings open. “Need to get that fixed,” he calls back.
Rocco clears his throat. “I’ll talk to the groundskeeper.”
Groundskeeper?
The car creeps forward, its headlights sweeping across an endless expanse of snow-covered lawn.
My first thought is: we can build a snowman.
It has snowed in Charleston, but only a few inches every few years.
Danny would love to play in the snow. It’ll help him burn off some energy.
He seldom has the chance to run and play freely.
As we pull up the winding driveway, I catch glimpses of dormant gardens and skeletal trees, their bare branches reaching into a star-speckled sky. How far did we drive outside the city?
A dark structure emerges from the night. I lean forward, braced on Rocco’s firm thigh, my face nearly pressed to the glass in my curiosity. “This…is not a cabin.”
Before us rises something straight out of a gothic, old-money fantasy: a massive, three-story stone manor.
Tall windows reflect the moonlight like sheets of black ice while withered vines crawl up the corners and coil around the columns.
It’s eerie—I love it. The place feels so detached from reality, it might as well be a dream.
Goosebumps erupt along my arms. In my past life, I believe I was a witch.
I don’t care how old or decrepit the inside might be; I’ll gladly stay here, hide here.
Maybe I can convince Rocco to let me be a live-in caretaker.
A home this big must need a cleaner or ten.
I’d do it—I’d scrub floors and wash windows to live here.
“There are cabins out back,” Rocco says, interrupting my Cinderella-meets-Sabrina-the-Teenage-Witch illusions. “Along the lake. We could sleep in one if you’d prefer.” With an arm around my waist, he draws me into his body. “The estate isn’t as creepy in the daytime, I promise.”
I turn to meet his eyes. “No. It’s perfect. Can we stay in the main house?”
A chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Yes. My mother was the last to live here, and since she died, no one visits anymore. It could use a bit of updating.”
The SUV rolls to a stop at the base of a wide stone staircase. I slide off Rocco’s lap, shrug into my coat, and reach for the car seat straps, eager to get inside.
A large hand closes over mine. “I’ll carry him in. It might be icy.”
Before I can protest, he opens the door and steps out. The biting winter air rushes in, and I shudder. About the only thing I miss from South Carolina is the weather—and my sister, of course.
He unbuckles Danny and gently lifts him. My son stirs and nestles his face into Rocco’s neck, his arms wrapping around him. Rocco raises Danny’s hood to shield him from the falling snow and kisses the top of his head.
I can’t help but stare in awe at how comfortable the two are together. It should freak me out, but it doesn’t. He may not recognize it, but Rocco is a natural caregiver. He’s the leader; everyone seems to fall under Rocco Rossi’s umbrella.
“Come on.” His breath forms clouds in the frigid night. “Alexei will get your bags.”
As if on cue, Alexei appears at my door, opening it and offering me his hand. I climb out, my new boots crunching on the snow-covered bricks, my teeth chattering as I follow Rocco up the stone steps.
A wooden door with wrought-iron details swings open before we reach it, spilling soft light across the portico.
In the doorway stands an older woman, her silver hair pulled back into a neat bun.
She wears a simple black dress, as if she stepped out of another era—or, rather, as if I stepped into one.
“Mr. Rossi.” She greets him with a polite nod, affection in her tone. “It’s been too long.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harris.” He offers her a warm smile as he enters the foyer. “I’m sorry for the short notice—I know it’s Christmas. I apologize.”
I huddle beside Rocco, taking in the unexpected view.
Rather than the cold, sterile interior I imagined, the place is rustic and welcoming.
The entryway opens into a sitting room with a soaring ceiling and a massive stone fireplace, lit and crackling.
The floor is wide-planked oak, worn smooth in spots, and the air smells of woodsmoke and cinnamon.
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Harris pushes back Danny’s hood and leans in to see his face. “I can’t imagine a better Christmas than having family here—and a little one.”
Alexei brings in the last of our bags and closes the door behind him, stomping off his boots.
Danny lifts his head, his eyes fluttering open but still heavy.
I hold my breath, bracing for the meltdown that comes with being in a new place.
Instead, Rocco adjusts him in his arms, cuddling him to his chest, and Danny falls back to sleep—no screaming, no outburst, no pacifier or stuffed animal needed.
I wish I could give him that sense of security.
Rocco turns toward me, his free arm embracing me, his hand settling on my hip.
“This is Harper and her son, Danny.” His voice carries a note of pride that tickles my stomach.
“Harper, this is Mrs. Harris. She and her husband are caretakers of the property. She’s been with the Rossi family since before I was born. ”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” I extend my hand. “Thank you for having us.”
She takes my hand in both of hers. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m so happy you’re here.” Her gaze sweeps over my face, appraising but not unkind. “I’ve prepared a room for you and the little one next to Mr. Rossi’s suite.” She glances at Alexei. “You’re in the boys’ old room.”
“Really, Mrs. Harris?” He gives her a blank expression, his tone playful. “I’m twenty-seven.”
“You’ll always be a kid in my eyes.” She smiles.
He hikes his duffel bag higher on his shoulder and kisses her cheek. “I’m stealing a room downstairs.”