Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Freedom Mansion
Robyn
“You can’t just swagger onto a stranger’s estate carrying two naked prisoners.” I struggle in Eden’s arms. Panicked embarrassment washes through me. “Although, that does sound like the plot of the smutty hockey romance, which Eden and I read in our book club last month.”
Eden shudders. “Scarred for life.”
“Can’t I?” D’Angelo doesn’t glance around.
D’Angelo is marching ahead through the mansion’s wooded gardens with Shay still swinging over his shoulder. The view of Shay’s tantalizingly tight ass is the only thing that is keeping me calm, apart from Eden’s firm hold around me.
Adrenaline spikes through me. My pulse is loud in my ears.
I remember seeing photographs of this huge, eighteenth century mansion hanging on my high school’s walls. It’s the reason that I recognize the governor’s house, which is the largest in Freedom.
The mansion is white and shuttered with symmetrical columns.
It has an intimidating number of windows. What are the chances that someone hasn’t seen us out of them?
Hot and cold rushes through me. Pink creeps across my chest and then up my neck to color my cheeks.
I truly feel like captured prey.
“It’s a bloody mansion.” Shay squirms to look up from his position over D’Angelo’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen a house this large. It looks like the type of place you carry around caviar and not hockey players with their cocks out. What if they set the dogs on us?”
“How English of you.” D’Angelo doesn’t slow down, skirting a manicured rose flowerbed. He marches up the rolling lawn, as if he owns it. “Here a homeowner would be more likely to shoot you.”
“My mistake,” Shay mutters.
“Or call the cops.” I flail in panic, looping my arms more tightly around Eden’s neck. “ Or take photos and sell them to the press, which is worse.”
I can imagine the headlines now: If You Go into the Woods Today, You’re in for a Big Surprise…Rebels Naked Protest at the Governor’s.
“Don’t worry,” D’Angelo says, coolly. “I happen to know that no one is home.”
“What is this? A naked home invasion? Sexy squatting?” I demand.
D’Angelo looks over his shoulder, exchanging a glance with Eden.
Whatever this is, Eden is in on it.
The tension in me bleeds out.
My shoulders relax. My racing heartbeat slows.
I trust both these men. Whatever they have planned, I know that they’ll keep all of us safe.
When D’Angelo veers away from the rose garden and onto a neat driveway instead, excitement for the first time joins the panic that is sheeting through me.
D’Angelo’s plans may be wicked but they’re also the most fun that I’ve experienced in my life.
He leads the way up steps to a high white door.
The windows are dark. There is no light behind the archway of glass above the door.
My breathing sounds too loud in the silence.
What if someone is in?
D’Angelo finally swings Shay off his shoulder so fast that Shay lets out a startled yelp. “Stay.”
D’Angelo pins him with a stare.
Shay leans his back against the wall beside the door; he’s trembling with anticipation. “I’m kinky but not this kinky. What type of rich bastard even lives somewhere decadent like this?”
D’Angelo gives a slow, dangerous smile. “Good question.”
He reaches into his waistcoat pocket and pulls out a key, which swings from an official Bay Rebels keychain with the puck logo trailing arctic blue flames. “This type of rich bastard. And now, all of you.”
He slides the key into the door’s lock.
My eyes widen in shock.
The door swings open elegantly.
It actually fucking opens.
Shay gasps, turning his head to stare through the yawning open door as if he’s peering into Aladdin’s cavern.
“This is Freedom Mansion…? The house you own that you’ve been all secretive about?
Shit, I was drugged, trapped inside a car with Robyn, and parked outside the front gates last time we were here.
I had no idea that the place looked like this. ”
I raise my eyebrow. “And you kept it quiet that this was the governor’s old residence.”
“It’s the house that I always planned to share with you. Now, it’s your new home.” D’Angelo swiftly turns to Shay and wraps his arm beneath his back and knees to heft him into a bridal carry like Eden is holding me. “Oh yes, and will you move in with me?”
Shay stiffens, holding himself very still, as if he never expected to be held gently like this. The look in his eyes is fragile. D’Angelo could shatter him with a single wrong word.
“Yeah,” Shay whispers. “If you’ll have me, darlin’.”
“Yes.” Joy surges through me. “Yes, yes.”
D’Angelo rests his forehead against Shay’s.
“I’ve dreamed of carrying you over the threshold of my house since I first saw you skating, a revelation of speed and fire.
My English ice prince. You may have fantasized of me for years, while you were in college and I was a pro.
But I wanted you, even before I knew that I did, and you were—”
“Breaking things, waging prank wars, and being a nightmare mentee?” Shay teases.
“You were never a nightmare.” D’Angelo’s expression becomes serious. “You were simply mine.”
Shay’s eyes widen, but before he can answer, D’Angelo straightens and strides through into the house.
“Bring our Robyn,” D’Angelo calls over his shoulder.
“You knew about this.” I accuse looking up at Eden, even though I can’t hide my smile.
Eden hums his agreement. “It was my idea. A way to have privacy and security for us before the stressful games start next week.”
Well, that’s a surprise.
“Bro, you’re a menace.” But Shay is grinning. “I’m proud of you.”
Eden’s cheeks flush. He looks pleased.
He drops a quick kiss on my upturned lips.
“Shouldn’t I be wearing white and a veil?” My chest is tight.
Eden blinks. “You’re beautiful as you are. You don’t need clothes.”
He sweeps me through into the grand foyer. His boots clatter on the marble floor. Sunlight streams through the arched window above the door over a sweeping staircase.
Dad’s house is imposing, but this is like stepping into a palace.
Wow.
I whistle.
When D’Angelo places Shay down, Shay takes a couple of unsteady steps away from him.
Shay looks lost. “This is incredible. Those vases and shit are antiques, right? What happens if I smash them?”
D’Angelo fixes him with a stern stare. “Guess.”
Eden hesitates, before leaning down to kiss me, slow and lingeringly. “I love you.”
Eden doesn’t speak as much as his twin does. He’s an introvert with social anxiety. Emotions are hard for him.
So, every time that he says those words for me, they’re branded onto my heart.
And this time, there is a depth of sincerity — a weight of new beginnings — that catches me off-guard.
I stroke the soft hair at the base of Eden’s neck, smiling. “I love you too, my phoenix.”
Eden’s eyes hold a type of awe like they always do when I use my nickname for him: My phoenix.
He sets me down, gently. I hiss at the coldness of the marble.
Shay’s eyes twinkle with mischief, as he rushes to his brother and grabs him by the hand.
He pulls Eden toward the stairs. “Come on, let’s go explore. I’m claiming the best bedroom for our Robyn, probably one with a chandelier, walk-in wardrobe the size of our parent’s house in Guildford, and a four-poster bed with golden handcuffs hanging from the headboard.”
“You’re right about there being handcuffs.” D’Angelo’s eyes are frosty. “But we’re all sharing one bedroom.”
Shay hesitates on the bottom step. “We’re going to sleep together every night…?”
D’Angelo adjusts his tie. “I have at least twenty bedrooms. I’ve never counted them.
Why don’t you do that for me? Then you can choose the takeaway that we order in tonight for dinner.
If any of you need space, you can claim one of those spare bedrooms and spend a night there.
It’s your choice. But I have decorated one bedroom for us to share together for the first time.
As I said, this is no longer my house. It belongs to all of us. ”
My heart swells with happiness.
Shay looks uncertain and unconvinced. “Yeah, as if trash like me could ever truly own somewhere like this. I’m just happy that you’re letting my brother and me share this with Robyn and you. You’re the best.”
My heart aches.
Does Shay still believe that Eden and him are outsiders on borrowed time in my perfect relationship with D’Angelo?
Shay tugs Eden after him up the stairs with a whoop.
I throw myself toward D’Angelo, catching him by the tie and yanking him toward me.
He lets out a startled cry.
Our noses touch.
“One bed?” I question.
“It is your favorite romance trope.”
True.
“Didn’t this place belong to the governor?” I ask.
“Historically. I made him an offer that he couldn’t refuse.”
“Now you sound like the hockey mafia.”
“Is that another trope you love?”
Suddenly, I notice the neat stack of suitcases, which are propped against the far wall, including a polka dotted one.
My suitcases.
“You packed for us,” I say in shock.
“Eden did.” D’Angelo smirks. “He’s better at it.”
“Presumptuous.”
“Confident. It’s part of the work that I’ve been doing with the mental skills coach at the arena.”
I tighten my hold on his tie. “How long have you been plotting this?”