Chapter 3
Dean
The wrong woman. A massive storm. What else could go wrong? Oh, and the most important thing, I have no fucking idea where Mia DeWinter is. For all I know, she could already be dead at the hands of Bishop Blackstone.
No, I have to trust that wherever Mia went she has a good enough head on her shoulders to stay out of trouble. At least that’s what I’m hoping for.
I make a call to Jett Hendricks, my right-hand man, tasked with taking one of the four daughters, Gianna DeLaurio, to hide her away.
My eyes meet the alluring eyes of Sophia from across the room. I haven’t had time to actually look at her until now, and she’s beautiful for sure. Her lithe body looks carved by many hours in a gym, or yoga. I’m sure she’s bendable. I push away the direction of my thoughts as Jett answers the phone.
“Jett, status update.”
“I’ve got Gianna, and we’re heading to our secure location.”
“Good news. I’ve had some trouble on my end.”
“Trouble?”
I explain what happened and tell him I need to find Mia to make sure she’s ok before this storm hits. Jett says he’ll make a few calls when my other line beeps through. “Hey, it’s Nico. I have to call you later.” I connect to the other line.
“Dean, everything’s fine here in LA.”
Nico is my man protecting the famous Ava Fairfax in Hollywood. I breathe a sigh of relief when he tells me all is well on their end. It’s great because shit is blowing up on mine. I need to find Mia, and now. The line goes dead before I can call Stefan to check on Bianca down in Miami.
Two daughters are where they’re supposed to be.
And two are unaccounted for.
Fuck.
Now for riding out the storm and handling this little wildcat standing on the other side of the room.
“Sophia,” I say, directing her to come closer. “I have to ask you what you really had planned for Bishop. Did you really think you could slit his throat and get away with it?”
Sophia raises her chin, a look of determination crossing her features. “I wouldn’t care about getting away, as long as Bishop Blackstone was dead.”
“Who are you? Why the vendetta against Bishop?”
She shuts her mouth, like she was about to tell me and thought better of it before speaking. She stares at me with danger in her eyes, but something hides behind that bravado. Her eyes are full of fire, but sorrow fills her soul.
“That’s my business,” she says.
“Tell me.” If I’m to understand why this woman would risk the life of Mia to kill a man who would have her murdered without a care in the world, then I need her to spill it. “I’m not asking here.”
She mumbles something in Italian and marches back down the hallway. I follow her.
“Don’t think you’re going to leave this island without telling me what you know about him.”
She spins around to face me, a hint of an attitude dwelling beneath her olive skin. “I won’t tell you anything. And I will leave this island, I don’t care if I have to kill you in the process.”
I step closer, getting right up in her face. “You’ll do as I say while you’re a guest in my house.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Also, first rule of security is know what your target looks like so you don’t try to kill the wrong guy.”
“First rule of kidnapping, make sure you’ve taken the right girl.” She brings up her hand, slamming my nose, and I shout out in pain. Fuck. This girl’s a handful. “I’m not your guest, and I’m nobody’s prisoner,” she spits out.
We haven’t been on this island a full twenty-four hours and already I can’t wait to leave. Last night, I let Sophia retreat to the room we assigned for Mia and didn’t bother her. It was late. We were all tired. Now, I’m wondering if she’s left that room at all since last night.
It’s daylight now, and storm preparations are well underway.
“Sir, I’m going to run out to the store to get more water,” Leo says.
I nod, striding down the hallway toward Sophia’s room. When she hit me, it stunned me. I wanted to lock her in a dungeon somewhere and throw away the key. I honestly didn’t care what happened to her, and I’m ashamed to admit I even thought about banishing her from my mansion and letting her fend for herself on the island.
However, there’s something there. There’s so much fire hidden behind the curtain of her courage. It intrigues me.
And pulls something inside me.
I want to unveil her secrets.
I want to break down her walls, but first I have shit to get sorted. There’s so much to do. I’m telling myself the primary reason I’m keeping her around is because she knows something about Bishop Blackstone.
She had the intel Bishop was looking to kidnap Mia DeWinter. And I want to know what else she knows.
So, I suck it up, push my pride from being hit by a woman aside and knock on her door. “Sophia, I want to talk to you.”
“Go away.”
Stubborn woman.
“I’m sure by now you’re hungry.” There, survival instinct is a powerful weapon. And I’m using it against her now.
The door cracks and a brown eye stares back at me. “You have food?”
“Yes, follow me to the kitchen and we’ll get you fed.”
Sophia opens the door dressed in the same outfit she had on last night. All soft and cute, that silk pajama set is a deceptive disguise.
She moves past me and I watch her hips sway.
Fuck.
She’s using her weapons too.
I lead her to the kitchen, and together we look through the fridge to find something to eat. This morning when I woke I had breakfast waiting for me, made by my housekeeper, Ines. I was still too angry with Sophia to have someone offer her breakfast, and I figured if she was hungry she could come down to the kitchen herself.
Now I need something from her. So, I have to play nice. After all, her last meal was over twenty-four hours ago.
“When will the storm be hitting?” she asks as I pull out some eggs and bread for toast.
The sky’s gloomy, filled with big gray clouds, announcing the storm looming over the horizon.
“Later tonight. We’ll be fine here. House sits on higher elevation and we have storm proof windows.”
She smiles a little and then raises her hand to touch my face. I pull away, grabbing her hand with mine. “I’m so sorry I punched you.”
Our eyes challenge each other, and I don’t drop her hand until I’m sure she won’t be delivering another blow.
I release her and remove a pan from the cabinet. “Do you like scrambled eggs? It’s my specialty.”
“Yes, ok.” She stares at me and after a minute says, “Again, I’m sorry I hit you.”
I stop cracking the eggs and gaze into her mesmerizing eyes. “It’s fine. Just know this, if you do that again, I’ll make sure you never leave this island.”
She swallows. “Ok.”
I make her breakfast and as she eats I sit next to her, wondering how to broach the subject of Bishop.
“You must loathe him.”
“More than that.” She doesn’t even need to be told who I’m speaking of, she already knows. “I hate him.”
“To give your life to make sure he’s dead. He must have done something pretty bad.”
She stops chewing and assesses me for a moment. “What Bishop did is my story to tell.”
This is more than a woman scorned thing. I don’t believe they were once lovers and he broke her heart. At least, I’m hoping they weren’t lovers, because my chest tightens when I think about them together.
“Hey, I get it.” I lean back in my chair as we sit at the dining room table. “You don’t need to tell me your story. Although, I would like to know how you knew Bishop was coming after Mia.”
She pushes her mostly finished breakfast to the side. “I have people who like to spill the beans.”
I crack a grin. “And what kinds of beans do they spill?”
“The juicy kind.” She shrugs.
I decide to drop it, because this conversation is going nowhere. I need her to trust me just a little more. Who are these people?
I grab her plate, bringing it to the sink and then take a seat back at the table with her. “It would be much easier if we worked together.”
“I’d never work with you.”
“So be it.” I stand. “You should remain on the property because the storm will be here soon and I don’t like your chances out there.” I smile. “But, do whatever you want.”
She stands and moves closer to me. “Dean, I’m sorry. I just have a mission I won’t stop trying to fulfill for anything.”
“You and me both.”
Her eyes widen at my words, but she says nothing more. She leaves the kitchen and I don’t follow her. Instead, I head into my office to figure a few things out before the storm arrives. The winds pick up outside, and I send Ines and a few other workers home to ride the storm out with their own families. After a few hours, the rain falls, and I make my way to Sophia’s room.
I knock, and she opens the door with a flourish.
“Did you see the bag of Mia’s things you can use as your own?”
Sophia glances at the duffel and suitcase near the door of her room. “Yes, I’ve seen them and was just about to take a shower before the storm gets too bad.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.” I turn away and she shuts the door.
I try not to picture a soapy Sophia in the shower washing her body. She’s definitely a beautiful girl, but there is too much at stake to succumb to temptation. I’m not a man fueled by desire. My desires don’t lead the wheel. I’m not some teenage guy who can’t control my urges around a pretty woman. I can, and I will.
I head back to my office to finish up a few more things before the storm hits.
“Dean, anything else you need?” Leo asks.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m heading down to ride the storm out at the airstrip. We want to make sure the plane doesn’t get destroyed.”
“Take Zack with you.”
“Ok.” With a nod, he leaves my office, and I try not to think about how I’ll be hunkering down this hurricane with Sophia, alone.
In the kitchen, I spot the candles and flashlights that were left out by Ines before she left. I grab a small flashlight and stuff it into my pants pocket.
Hurricanes usually happen gradually as it moves over the island. I’m confident the house will withhold, and flooding shouldn’t be a problem. But better safe than sorry.
The wind howls outside my bedroom window as I change into something more comfortable, remembering to transfer my flashlight.
Before I can put my shirt on, the lights go out, and I grab my flashlight to make my way back to the kitchen to light a few candles throughout the house.
“Dean?” I hear Sophia call out. “Are you there? I can’t see a thing.” With no moon casting its light through the windows, the pitch blackness surrounds us.
“Stay where you are. I’ll come to you.” I don’t need her traipsing around in the darkness and hurting herself.
I move up the stairs and down the hallway to her room. I spot her standing in the doorway in nothing but a pair of gray yoga pants and a white tee. Her hair’s still wet and appears even longer as it drips down the front of her shirt.
“Is this normal?” she asks, her eyes appearing worried.
“Have you never been through a hurricane before?”
She shakes her head with wide eyes.
“There’s nothing to worry about. The name’s scarier than the actual storm. The storm is barely a category three and should be over soon.”
“Do you have another flashlight and some food?”
I smile. “Follow me.”
We make our way carefully to the kitchen, and I toss her a flashlight.
“I had Ines make a lasagna and keep it in the oven, hoping it’ll still be hot enough to eat.” I find a lighter next to the candles and light a few and spread them along the marble countertops. “Besides, the generator should kick on soon.”
Sophia moves to the oven, opening it and taking in a deep breath of lasagna before donning two oven mitts to fish it out. “Generator? So once that’s on we’ll be fine?”
A bright flash of lightning lights up the entire house, and the thunder that follows is nearly deafening. Sophia jumps a little.
“Storm’s really kicking up now.”
She moves closer. “I hate thunder and lightning.”
I gaze at her. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who’s afraid of anything.”
She smiles. “I have only two fears, and one of them is storms.”
“What’s the other?”
She doesn’t say anything, just blinks, so I drop it.
“We’ll be fine,” I reassure her.
She sucks in a deep breath and releases it. “I hope so.”
I decide to divert her attention off the storm and work on dishing out lasagna and the salad Ines prepared. “I think there are even some rolls in the microwave staying hot.”
Sophia’s whole face lights up. “You’ve just found my weakness. Most women are weak for cake and cookies, not me, I’m weak for bread and pasta.”
I stare at her, my eyes roaming over her fit body, unashamed about it at all. “I highly doubt that.”
“I work out a lot.”
“Treadmill? Yoga?”
“Maybe I’ve taken a few kickboxing classes.”
“Now that I believe.” I laugh a little, knowing full well this woman can definitely fight to save her life. If her punch last night is anything to go by.
And the way she was able to get a knife to my throat? Few people can accomplish that. And I work out, too. A lot. I also train in the art of Jiu-Jitsu. We set the table together and dine on the meal before us as the storm intensifies. After we eat, I leave Sophia to check why the generator hasn’t kicked on yet. It should have kicked on a few seconds after the power went out. The fact it hasn’t troubles me.
I head into the garage, searching in the dark with my heavy-duty flashlight for the generator. I kick it on, and nothing happens.
Fuck.
The starter button isn’t working, so I look for the recoil. Shit, the cord is broken.
I head back into the house and the wind slams against the windows with a vengeance.
I stalk to the main living room where Sophia has brought a few of the candles in from the kitchen and placed them strategically around the space.
“It almost makes the room look cozy,” she says as she sits on the couch. “Almost romantic.”
I blink, not even touching that comment, and sit on the armchair next to the couch, keeping a good amount of space between us. “So, why do you hate storms so much?” I need her to open up to me, so it’s best to start with something small.
“When I was little, I grew up in Napoli . We were poor and couldn’t afford much.”
I nod my head to let her know I’m hearing every word. I know a little about Italy. Naples is a beautiful city.
“We had a small stone house with a tiled roof. It was so freaking old, we had to put wedges on it to prevent it from falling on us. I swear it was more like living in the Flintstone’s home. And my father would tell us dreams of America. I wanted to get to America so badly to have a new life.”
“Ah, the American dream.”
She smiles. “One night, there was a terrible storm on the island, much like this one.” She gazes out the window. “We didn’t have the means to keep our house steady, and the winds came and broke a window. It was like the window breaking created a wind tunnel that took our roof clear off the house.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Tears fill her eyes. “My father tried to keep us safe, but he ended up losing his life that night when a tree crashed into the house.”
I want to hold her, comfort her, but I stand my ground. “Sophia, I’m so sorry that happened to you. How old were you?”
She stares into my eyes, a single tear tracing down her cheek. “Thirteen.”
“I lost my father when I was around that age too.”
“How?”
I hate dredging up these old memories. I hate it all so much. My father, sick in his bed while my mother tried to care for him, to no avail. “Cancer,” I answer. “My mother tried to take care of us after he died, but she had a rough time of it all. My life was heading nowhere until one day my friend, Xavier, told me to leave town with him. I did it and never looked back.”
Sophia smiles, and it lights up her pretty brown eyes. “I’m happy to hear that.”
“What about you? How did you get to America?”
The smile disappears and I want to rewind to the moment before I asked that question. “That’s a story for another day.”
I don’t urge her to continue because I know she needs to trust me more. I want to broach the subject of Bishop, but before I can, something crashes in the distance.
“Stay here,” I tell her.