Chapter 33
Reece
Dante pushes through the thick wooden door, not bothering to knock. “Holy fuck. We haven’t been here in ages, and not a thing has changed.”
“Mind that mouth of yours,” scolds a silver-haired woman in a housekeeper’s uniform. Her hands are on her hips, but the corners of her eyes are crinkled with affection.
“Mrs. Harris!” Des drops his backpack in the entryway and wraps her in a hug. “Don’t tell me Rocco’s still making you run this place. You should be on a beach somewhere, retired.”
She laughs softly. “Not a chance.”
Jackson’s gaze darts around, drinking in every detail. Lucas stays hidden behind Dante—like he used to hide behind me. The sight doesn’t sting the way I thought it would. I’m happy for him.
Instead, my thoughts are on Harper. A tight knot forms beneath my sternum at the prospect of seeing her, knowing what I know now. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t returned any of my texts in the last few hours.
Aurora and Ethan step through the doorway, his hand resting on the small of her back. Mrs. Harris turns from Des, and when her gaze lands on Ethan, she gasps.
“Heavens.” She places her palm on her chest. “A ghost walks among us.”
We all fall silent. Aurora—love her dearly—clings to Ethan, peering over her shoulder with wide, fearful eyes, as if the ghost is right behind her.
Crossing the foyer, Mrs. Harris scans Ethan from head to toe. “You’re the spitting image of your grandfather,” she says, voice thick with emotion. “Except you have your grandmother’s eyes—those Volkov eyes. I’d recognize them anywhere.”
Lucas and I exchange a glance, silent acknowledgment passing between us. Volkov is a Russian surname, and we knew the Rossi family had ties to the Bratva—Lucas knowing far more than I do, since he did the research while I focused on Aurora and Jackson.
Ethan’s face reddens, a flush rising from his neck to his ears. He clears his throat. “Yeah. I’m Ethan—Enzo’s son.”
Jax abandons his inspection of the house to hover protectively while Aurora stays pressed to Ethan’s side.
Mrs. Harris’ gaze softens. “Where are my manners? I’m terribly sorry.” She pats his arm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You caught me off guard, that’s all. Mr. Rossi—Rocco—has told me all about you.”
“It’s alright,” Ethan says, his smile stiff. “These are my partners, Aurora and Jax.” He gestures to them, then to me. “This is Reece, Harper’s brother.”
I give a polite nod, and while they exchange greetings, I scan the place, searching for any sign of my sister.
“Please, leave your bags.” The housekeeper motions toward the floor. “Mr. Rossi is in the back room with Harper and Danny.”
We all drop our bags and take off our boots. Aurora leans against Ethan, and I kneel to pull off her UGGs.
“Danny is such a delight,” Mrs. Harris gushes, leading the way. “So inquisitive. This morning, he helped me make chocolate chip pancakes. Got more chocolate on himself than in the pancakes.” She laughs.
Jackson and I drift to the back of the group—me by instinct, him by choice. His head swivels from side to side as he takes in the soaring ceilings, the arched doorways, the painstakingly detailed moldings.
We come across a tall, vintage safe built into the wall, and, of course, he has to play with it. He opens and closes the heavy door, then does it again, fiddling with the lock.
I want to slap his hand like he’s a child—except I’d never slap a child. “Stop it,” I grit through my teeth and snatch his hoodie to yank him along. “Why do you have to touch everything?”
He knocks my arm away. “Why do you have to be so cantankerous?”
“Cantankerous? That’s a big word for someone who can’t grow chest hair.”
He throws his head back and roars with laughter. “I had chest hair. Still do sometimes. I get it removed—permanently. Started when I was surfing. Less irritation, less friction burn from my equipment.”
Huh. My mind wanders elsewhere. Is that why Aurora is always bare? She had it removed permanently? Makes sense; she was a bikini model. “Really? Did you have your face done also?”
He smiles. “You’re getting better at this, Viking. We’re gonna be best friends soon.”
I scoff. “No, we’re not.” We might become friends someday, but I’m not telling him that. He terrorizes me enough as it is.
We turn a corner into a long hallway, passing what feels like a dozen rooms.
“Ooh!” His eyes light up with an idea. “You know what we should do together?”
“Nothing. We should do absolutely nothing together.”
“Seriously?” He cocks his head and lifts his brows. “You weren’t saying that last night. Or this morning. You wanted to do a lot together.” His voice is deliberately raised.
Des coughs out a laugh, but all I can do is stare at Jax. I don’t even have a comeback because he’s right. I don’t mind him on the other side of Aurora. It feels pretty good—fucking great, actually. I’m open to repeating the encounter anytime.
Encounter?
That encounter is sex, and a profound realization hits me: We’re having sex.
We’re in some sort of relationship and having sex, although he annoys the fuck out of me. What does that mean? Am I using him? Should I be nicer to him?
How long is this hallway? Where’s the back room? I’m having an existential crisis.
His grin splits his entire face. “You’re speechless, aren’t you? I knew it. My dick is magic.”
“I will drive you through a fucking wall.” Not here, in Rocco’s house, in front of Ethan, with the twins standing by—but somewhere.
Jax rolls his eyes with theatrical flair and flicks his wrist. “Anyhow. My contract prohibits me from playing most sports, so we can’t box, but on our next date, we can hit the batting cages. Swing some bats.”
“I’ll go with you,” Des pipes up.
“Hell yeah, man,” Jax replies.
His offer is either a death threat or some weird sexual innuendo. I ignore the date part, since I’m certain he’s trying to provoke me. Then again, maybe we are dating. Fuck if I know.
“You want me to stand in front of a hundred-mile-an-hour pitch and try to swing a bat with an injured shoulder?”
He gives a half-ass shrug, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Or you can watch me. You seem to like that.”
Yup, he’s provoking me, always fucking with me, and I feel forced to defend myself, because if I don’t, it sounds true, and he knows it. “The only thing I’d like to watch is you shutting the fuck up.”
“Reece,” Ethan warns from the front of the pack. “He’s trying to joke with you—ease your tension.”
Ease my tension? How? By directing it at him? By making me rethink my entire existence?
We finally reach the back room, and the first thing that strikes me is the wall of windows at the far end, framing the snowy forest and lake beyond like a living painting.
The second thing I notice is Harper asleep on a plush sectional, Danny tucked against her, both covered with a quilt.
In front of them, a stone fireplace crackles and pops.
Old toy cars and trucks are scattered about the floor.
The scene is cozy and picture-perfect, and the knot in my chest unravels a little.
Rocco reclines with Harper’s legs draped across his lap, his feet propped up on an ottoman, his phone in his hand. He places a finger to his lips, indicating for us to be quiet. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home. Danny fell asleep not too long ago.”
“Hey, old man.” Des clasps Rocco’s shoulder and heads for a worn leather armchair by the windows.
Dante follows and drops into a chair beside his brother, tugging Lucas down onto his lap.
Ethan takes a seat on the other side of the sectional, closest to Rocco, and Aurora settles in alongside him. I hurry to claim the spot next to her before Jax can. He plops down as close as humanly possible to me, and I instantly regret my decision. We’re practically on top of each other.
Mrs. Harris slips out of the room, mumbling about refreshments.
Ethan and Rocco chat about their upcoming visit to the arena, and restlessness crawls under my skin.
I have no idea what to do with myself, no idea how to unwind, especially with Jax glued to my side.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been truly relaxed in my entire life—except for moments with Aurora and in bed—and I shift uncomfortably.
Jackson’s head comes to rest on my shoulder, and I jolt.
“What are you doing? Why are you touching me?” I keep my voice low, trying not to draw attention. "We are not like that."
He doesn’t remove himself, just lets out a long sigh. “I don’t feel well.”
“Knock it off. You’re being really annoying today.”
Ethan has the patience of a fucking saint. Jax is being a brat, and I almost say it out loud.
“I’m not,” he insists. “I’m queasy, and you smell like leather. It helps.”
“Suck on a Jolly Rancher,” I mutter, jaw tight.
“All out. Do you have anything in your millions of pockets?”
“Not candy.”
“You don’t carry snacks? What good are all those pockets if you don’t have snacks?”
“I have snacks in my bag, out by the door. You’re fine.”
Aurora leans over, half lying on me, her head on my chest. “Is it the smell?” she whispers. “I smell it, too.”
“Cigars?” Jax asks. “Like—”
“Is it cherry tobacco?” Rocco cuts in.
“Yes,” they answer together, still stuck to me.
“It’s my father,” he explains. “I thought it was a phantom smell—I’m glad it’s not only me. I’ll see about getting it removed. The house has been closed up. Probably doesn’t help.”
I take a deep inhale. All I smell is the fireplace, a faint hint of woodsmoke, but I remember finding Cuban cigars in Kyle’s den, and my irritation lessens.
“I’ve got nausea meds, Jax. Will that work?”
“Will they, you know, mess me up?”
“No. They’re over-the-counter—chewable. I’ve given them to you before, during your migraines.”
“You have them in one of your many pockets?”
There’s a smile in his tone. Even in the grip of PTSD, he can’t stop joking. I suppose it’s better than him dissociating or having flashbacks.
“Yes, in case Aurora is sick.” Plus, her lip balm she constantly loses, and her ID she always forgets.
“Okay,” he agrees.
I pull out a blister pack of purple pills, punch one through, and hand it to him.
He pops it in his mouth and drops his head back down. “Thank you. Will you be my medic if Doc doesn’t agree to come to New York?”
A strange warmth swells in my chest. I glance down at him. “I can’t be your medic and Aurora’s security, but I’ll be there, in the arena, if you need anything.”