Chapter 22
22
A s Alex and Leslie stepped into the house, the air-conditioned coolness was a welcome respite from the humid island air. An older woman with gray hair and wearing a livery uniform greeted them. Her smile was warm and welcoming.
"Welcome, Mr. Alex, Ms. Leslie," she greeted. "My name is Rosa. I’m the housekeeper and will be looking after you during your stay."
Rosa. It was the same name as the woman who Alex brought as his date to the Duke Foundation’s Masquerade Ball so many months ago. A twinge of the hurt she’d felt that night at seeing Alex with the other woman called to Leslie, but she quickly dismissed it. Now wasn’t the time for petty jealousy. Besides, that memory had been replaced with so many others, each a reassuring testament to how intensely Alex felt about her.
“Hello, Rosa,” Leslie said. “Thank you so much for having us.”
“Yes, Rosa, thank you,” Alex added.
“Of course. My pleasure. Let me show you to your room.”
Rosa led them through grand hallways lined with artwork and tasteful decor, all designed to accentuate the house's modern architecture. They climbed stairs to the second level and eventually, they reached a suite that was as grand as it was comforting. Soft lighting cast a warm glow over the spacious room with its couches, king-sized bed draped in plush linens and a panoramic view of the island's picturesque beauty from the balcony.
Despite the obvious quality of the linens and architecture, the place was far from cold. Rather, it radiated a warm elegance that felt welcoming and personal.
"We started preparing soon after Mr. Luca called," Rosa explained, gesturing around the suite. "We've made sure the room has full amenities. Is everything to your satisfaction?"
Alex looked at her and Leslie quickly nodded and smiled. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” She was being polite, but her mind had latched onto the name Rosa had spoken.
Luca.
It wasn’t much information, but it was enough to humanize the compound’s owner, and that helped Leslie feel more settled.
"I’m glad,” Rosa said. “You may wish to freshen up before we serve dinner," she suggested.
As she turned to leave, Rosa paused, "At the moment, it's just Luca's men, myself, Renee, our chef, and her two granddaughters whom she’s raising here on the island. You will be welcomed by all. Oh, let me turn down the bed.”
As Leslie and Alex stood awkwardly, Rosa folded down the sheets and duvet on the bed. The action brought one thought to Leslie’s head.
Was there any chance that she and Alex would—
She immediately shut down the thought.
After all that had happened, all the death she’d seen…after the long journey here and after walking past all those arms guards, Leslie was thinking about that ? It seemed obscene, somehow, and for the first time ever, she felt shame with respect to her sexual thoughts about Alex.
With a final smile, Rosa left the room.
Immediately, Alex took her by the arms, pulling her gently towards him. His dark eyes studied her, concern etched deeply in their depths. "How are you doing?" he asked yet again, his voice a low rumble that resonated through her.
She sighed, letting herself lean into his broad chest. The past hours had been nothing short of a whirlwind, a mix of fear, excitement, and uncertainty. Yet, Alex was here. Even if they never touched each other sexually again, they were together, and for now, that was enough.
"I'm okay," she admitted, lifting her eyes to meet his. His strong arms tightened around her, offering silent reassurance. "It's been... scary, but I'm okay."
"Good," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
Her heart expanded at his gentle care and affection. “So,” she said. “We’ll be safe here.”
“We’ll be safe,” Alex said.
Was it just her imagination, or had he hesitated before answering?
Alex watched the play of emotions on Leslie's face, the underlying worry despite her efforts to hide it. It gnawed at him, that worry. It was a stark reminder of the danger that chased them, a reminder that even as he’d brought her here to protect her, it could be his past, a past that included this place, that endangered her.
He was certain now, given the Bratva was involved, that the attack on Leslie must be connected to Alex. It had to be given the connection Alex had to the criminal underworld. The attack had been too calculated, too precise to be a random incident. But why the Bratva would target Alex or Leslie was still unclear. He had no direct dealings with them, no known enemies among their ranks. And Leslie, she had nothing to do with that world; she was an innocent caught up in a game she knew nothing about.
Despite the guilt gnawing at him, Alex kept his expression calm, his grip on Leslie steady. She needed reassurance, stability, not his worries. And he would do everything in his power to provide her with just that.
"Leslie," he said softly, "I promise you’ll be safe here."
He held her gaze, willing her to believe him, to trust him. He knew he had a long road ahead of him, that he had many demons to face. But for Leslie, he would face them all. Because she mattered more to him than he ever thought possible.
"To make sure of it, I need to do my own evaluation of the security here," Alex continued.
Leslie nodded, biting her lower lip nervously. It pained Alex to see her like this, her usual vivacious spirit dampened by fear.
"I'd do it myself but I'm not comfortable leaving you alone right now. And besides, it wouldn't hurt for you to know the layout of the place.”
Just in case. The words went unspoken but the implication was clear.
"Is it okay if we do that after we eat?" Alex asked.
"We can do it now," she offered, a hint of determination flashing in her eyes.
But Alex shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "We need to take care of you first."
Even amidst the uncertainty and fear, her well-being remained his top priority. She had been through enough already, and he couldn't bear the thought of her going hungry or tired on his account.
Soon, they made their way downstairs. The dining table was beautifully set, every detail meticulously taken care of. A multitude of scents wafted from the kitchen, filling the air with a familiar aroma that tugged at Alex's memory.
Risotto ai Funghi.
Braciola di Maiale.
Frittata con Asparagi.
Some of his favorite Italian dishes.
He paused, his steps faltering as memories assaulted him of a beautiful woman with a contagious smile, laughter echoing in the air, and delicious meals shared under the open sky.
Just as the sweet memories flowed in, they were abruptly replaced with images of a far grimmer nature. Alex saw blood, so much blood. The vivid brutality of the memory made his stomach churn.
His mind was still reeling when the kitchen door swung open. Out bustled an older woman. Her face lit up as her eyes landed on Alex, a bright smile spreading across her features.
"Alex!" she exclaimed, rushing towards him with arms wide open. Before he could react, she had enveloped him in a tight, motherly hug.
Alex stiffened at the contact, his mind still trapped in the horrific scene he had conjured up moments before. The warmth of the hug, the affection radiating from the woman, it felt jarring with the memory of Mia’s face and broken body still in his mind.
He stood there, his hand still holding onto Leslie's, his body rigid under the woman's embrace. His heart hammered, a deafening echo in his ears, as he struggled to regain his composure and pull himself back to the present.
Leslie watched in silence as the older woman hugged Alex. His initial reaction was stiff, the look on his face bordering on painful. His muscles tensed under his shirt, his fingers clenching tightly around hers. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, he relaxed. He let go of her hand and returned the woman's hug, and his posture lost its rigidity. His lips moved, speaking what Leslie vaguely recognized as Italian. Surprised, she watched them converse. She hadn't known that Alex was bilingual.
The woman's emotions seemed to bubble over as they spoke, her hands fluttering around Alex, touching his arms, his face, as if to convince herself he was real. Alex, for his part, responded with gentleness and a quiet affection.
She remembered what he had told her on the plane; that he knew this family, but that the trouble they’d experienced wasn’t Alex’s story to tell. Seeing the interaction now, Leslie wondered if Alex had lied to her, just like he’d lied to her when he’d told her in Montana that all he wanted from her was sex.
Whatever connection Alex had with this woman, it was deep, and it was personal. Which meant that at least some part of how he knew them was his story to tell.
But she knew better than to pry. She trusted Alex, but there were things about himself he kept behind heavily guarded walls that she’d never get over.
Given where they were, the image was beyond ironic.
Turning her attention to Leslie, the older woman studied her for a moment, her gaze flickering with unspoken thoughts. After a long moment, she gave Leslie a small smile that warmed her eyes. It was a simple gesture, but something in it hinted at a deeper sentiment, one that Leslie couldn't decipher. “Welcome, Leslie. I’m Renee.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you, Renee.” Leslie asked Renee a few polite, surface-level questions, hoping to foster some rapport. Renee remained courteous but vague in her responses, giving little away about her personal life. Maybe it’s a skill she’d taught Alex.
A few minutes later, Alex and Leslie were seated at the table with a feast of Italian dishes in front of them. Leslie focused on enjoying the meal, letting the aromatic smells and delicious flavors provide a momentary reprieve from the chaos that had brought them to this island.
As the meal wound down, Renee came in to gather dishes. "Thank you, the food was amazing," Leslie said sincerely.
Renee gave her a modest nod then replied with something in Italian, her voice soft yet carrying a weight to it. She looked from Leslie to Alex, her gaze settling on him as she finished speaking. The room fell into a brief silence, the meaning of her words lost on Leslie.
"What did she say?" Leslie asked.
Alex’s eyes met Renee’s for a moment before turning back to Leslie. "She said you seem to be a good woman and she's happy to have you here."
Leslie smiled at the kind sentiment.
As dinner concluded, Alex said, "It's getting late." He cast a glance towards the windows where the sun was starting its descent. "We should meet with the head of security while there's still light."
After thanking Renee, Alex guided her down some hallways until they came to an office at the back corner of the house. There they were met by the same stern-faced man who had greeted them upon their arrival, Damien’s posture stiff and professional as he offered them a formal nod before leading the way outside.
Damien pointed out the guards positioned at strategic points around the property, their alert gazes scanning the perimeter with hawk-like precision. He called their attention to the high, formidable fence that encircled the compound, its surface lined with barbed wire, though Leslie wasn’t sure why, since no one would miss it. He explained there were CCTV cameras perched at every corner, their all-seeing eyes capturing every inch of the compound.
“The buildings are fortified,” Damien said, “with bulletproof windows and reinforced doors, designed to withstand any form of attack.”
Alex listened as Damien rattled off the various security protocols, his face a mask of concentration. He asked pointed questions about response times, backup support, and evacuation procedures, the answers seeming to satisfy him.
Leslie sensed the tension easing from his shoulders until they passed by a group of men, and one of them stepped away from the rest. He was lithe and athletic, his youthful features contrasting with the serious, focused look on his face. "Alex," he said, his voice cracking.
Alex froze, his expression going blank. The atmosphere around them grew tense, the sudden silence feeling heavy. Finally, Alex nodded his head. “Nico.”
“Welcome to the island,” Nico said.
“Thank you.”
The interaction was strained, their conversation stilted. It was clear to Leslie that there was a shared history between them, one that was laden with a mix of emotions.
Nico glanced at Leslie, his gaze assessing before offering her a polite nod. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Duke," he said, the awkwardness of his greeting making her smile politely.
Nico took a step back before he retraced that step and walked up to Alex. He extended his hand to Alex, and after a moment's hesitation, Alex grasped it in return. The handshake was firm, and then to Leslie’s surprise, Nico pulled Alex into a brief, manly embrace. He slapped Alex's back, holding onto him just a fraction longer than necessary.
As Nico leaned in, he whispered something in Alex's ear, the words in Italian too low for Leslie to catch, not that she would have understood them anyway. She was almost fluent in French but not Italian. The closeness of the interaction, the emotional charge in Nico's voice, only added to Leslie's curiosity.
Pulling back, Nico gave Alex a firm pat on the shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips. It was a fleeting moment of camaraderie that quickly dissipated as Nico excused himself, once again joining the group of men who looked at them curiously.
Who was Nico to Alex? And how was Alex connected to these people? She had known that Alex's past was complicated, but she was only now beginning to understand just how complex it was. The difference in the Alex she knew and this Alex was palpable. He was simultaneously softer, like with Renee, and harder, uncomfortable even though he seemed to know these people well, guarding her like a trained attack dog, ready to strike at anyone or anything that might so much as look at her wrong.