Chapter 23
23
T hey continued walking, leaving Nico behind, and Alex struggled to contain his emotions. This place, these people, they were all fragments of a past he had left behind. Yet, here he was, standing on the familiar grounds, surrounded by familiar faces. The irony was not lost on him that he had returned to this place to protect one woman when he’d spectacularly failed at protecting another one for whom this island had meant a great deal.
Every corner of the compound, every face he came across, was a reminder of a time he had tried to forget. Even in the moments that seemed benign, pleasant even, there was a constant undercurrent of unease. Grief.
His gaze slid to Leslie, walking by his side, her trusting eyes seeking his. By being here, he was not only confronting his past but also weaving Leslie into its complex tapestry.
Throughout the tour, he had watched her from the corner of his eye, noticing the way her gaze lingered on interactions a second too long, the slight furrow of her brow as she pieced together fragments of unspoken history. Leslie was intelligent, observant, and despite the fact she was navigating a dangerous and unfamiliar situation, she was aware that there was more to things than appeared on the surface.
The whispers of the past were just too loud, the shared histories too apparent. Even though everyone had been instructed not to reveal anything, it felt like a countdown had begun, one he had no control over.
He was acutely aware of the precariousness of the situation—not the immediate threat from the Bratva, but the potential fallout from his own secrets. Every greeting from an old friend, every knowing smile sent their way, had him on edge. How long could he keep up the charade?
How long before Leslie began to ask questions he wasn't prepared to answer?
As they neared the edge of the compound, a darkened opening nestled into the side of the hill caught Leslie's eye. Intrigued, she pointed towards the cave, the late afternoon sun casting her figure in an almost ethereal glow.
"Can we go inside?" she asked.
“Go into a cave where someone could be hiding, waiting for us to walk right in?”
He watched as her excitement dimmed slightly, replaced by understanding. “Right. That was silly of me.”
A sudden wave of guilt washed over Alex as he realized how he must have sounded. “No. Not when the whole point of this tour is to show us that we’re safe here.”
Alex turned to Damien. "Is the cave secure?" Alex asked, his gaze scanning the rocky outcrop and the darkened maw beyond.
"Yes, it's locked down tight. It's been fitted with motion sensors and infrared cameras," he assured, pointing towards a barely noticeable device camouflaged against the rocky surface. "We have a live feed streaming directly to the security room. Anyone who tries to enter or even gets close would trigger an alarm. It's inaccessible from the outside, and we've got men stationed at key points. No one could get in without us knowing. That said, Renee’s kids sometimes hang out in the cave, as do others on their time off."
Alex nodded then turned back to Leslie. “Then if you really want to—”
She quickly shook her head. “No. You were right. We shouldn’t take any unnecessary chances.”
It was better that way, so he didn’t disagree, but he still sensed Leslie’s sudden downturn in mood.
As night fell, Leslie felt an undeniable exhaustion seeping into her bones. The grand tour of the compound had been fascinating and daunting. It was a stark contrast to her life in New York and her exhaustion was as much emotional as it was physical.
Having returned to their suite, Leslie’s mind buzzed with thoughts and questions, most notably about the man standing across the room: Alex, who was a mystery and an enigma wrapped up in the physique of a man who could easily be a Greek god. Alex, who leaned against a towering bookcase, his back resting casually against the aged wood. He’d changed into a form-fitting black T-shirt and gray sweatpants that clung to his powerful, muscular frame in a way that made it impossible for her not to notice.
His hair, military short on the sides but slightly longer on top, framed his face as he focused on a book in his hands. His lips were set in a contemplative line, their softness a stark contrast to his chiseled jawline.
She watched him as he idly flipped through the pages of the book, his strong, dexterous fingers lightly brushing over the pages. She knew from all their years together that he had a love of reading, just like Leslie did. The sight of him so deep in thought, so unguarded and in a sense, so normal, sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach. He looked less like the controlled, powerful, composed man she normally saw, the one who had been on duty for most of the day. and more like the relaxed man she sometimes caught glimpses of—someone who was wholly human, with his share of sorrows, joys, and histories.
It was the side of him she found most attractive but also the most terrifying because she knew he had heavily guarded secrets, ones she doubted he’d ever show her…and maybe, ones she never actually wanted to uncover.
Shaking her head, she tried to focus on something else, anything else. But her eyes, as if drawn by some magnetic force, kept finding their way back to him. And every time they did, the arousal that always simmered within her when Alex was near only grew stronger.
Just friends, she reminded herself, strongly aware he’d never accepted her offer to be more for even a month.
Suddenly, Alex looked up at her. Meeting his gaze from across the room, Leslie felt the world shrink, narrowing down to this single, intense point of contact. His eyes held a raw, naked desire that mirrored her own, an all-consuming fire, simmering with a quiet intensity that sent a hot, sharp thrill darting through her veins. The heat of his stare was a palpable thing, reaching across the distance between them to sear into her skin. It elicited a visceral reaction from her, a deep, resounding echo within her that resonated with the primal rhythm of attraction. It was an energy that vibrated in the air around them, humming with an almost tangible tension.
And within his gaze, there was also a silent question. An invitation, whether he meant to offer it or not. His eyes, darkened by an emotion that was as clear as it was compelling, beckoned her closer.
Her pulse quickened and an overwhelming sense of anticipation tightened her nerves.
She wanted him, and no amount of danger or mystery could overshadow that truth.
But she’d been burned by him far too many times.
She’d made her offer.
It was up to him to accept or reject it. And until he said anything, she’d assume he was rejecting it.
Deliberately breaking eye contact with him, she walked into the bedroom, then the pristine bathroom. The countertops were cleared of any clutter, a fresh set of towels neatly arranged by the sink. She noticed a toiletries bag sitting next to it, its contents carefully arranged.
"Someone's unpacked for us."
There was a moment's pause before Alex’s voice filtered in from the living area. "The housekeeper, I believe.” Suddenly he was leaning against the side of the bathroom doorway. “Do you mind? I could have a word if you'd like."
"No, no need. It was thoughtful. I’m going to get ready for bed,” she said.
After a brief hesitation, he nodded and walked away.
Leslie closed the door and quickly did her thing, washing up and putting on a modest nightdress that the housekeeper had also laid out. When she walked into the bedroom, Alex smiled then grabbed his bag only to disappear into the bathroom next.
Leslie climbed into bed, still not certain whether they were sharing it.
When Alex stepped out of the bathroom, the sight of him made her heart skip a beat. He was bare-chested, the bedroom light highlighting the chiseled definition of his abdomen and the sinewy strength of his chest. The smattering of hair that trailed from his navel and disappeared beneath his sweats was tantalizingly inviting. Each muscle was perfectly defined, every plane and contour a testament to the physical strength he wielded with such casual ease.
He was the epitome of male beauty, raw and unfiltered.
His expression was unreadable, his gaze trained on her with an intensity that made her heart pound in her chest. Silently, he strode toward the other side of the bed, then climbed in. They both turned off the bedside lights, then silently lay there. As minutes ticked by, Leslie was acutely aware of the sounds of her breathing. This was awkward. So awkward. Not nearly as comfortable as how they’d been when she’d spent the night after his injury, even though she shouldn’t have even been there. Maybe this stiffness, this silence, was his way of telling her without telling her that nothing was ever going to happen between them again. Maybe—
"Come here, Leslie," he commanded gently.
A shiver of excitement ran down her spine at his words. The bed dipped under her weight as she turned toward him. He drew her into his arms, his touch firm yet gentle, pulling her flush against his firm torso.
The heat of him was like a living entity, a warm and comforting presence that contrasted sharply with the coolness of the sheets. It was a warmth that she could bask in, a heat that beckoned her closer, urging her to melt into him.
As he enveloped her in his arms, a sigh escaped her. She closed her eyes as his scent surrounded her, a blend of masculinity and something crisp, almost fruity.
Every one of Leslie’s senses was heightened, every nerve ending alert. The sound of his steady breathing, the feel of his heartbeat against her cheek, all of it conspired to create an atmosphere charged with a heady mix of comfort and desire. The outside world, with its secrets and dangers, seemed to fade away, replaced by the all-encompassing warmth and strength of Alex.
She leaned a little heavier into him. His response was immediate, his hold, a silent testament to his own need for closeness. Alex's hand in her hair was a comforting weight, his fingers gently sifting through the strands. The tension from earlier seemed to ebb away, replaced by a sense of calm.
"You like the island?" His voice broke the silence, low and quiet. The vibration of his words rumbled through his chest, a pleasant sensation that tickled her ear.
"Mmm," Leslie hummed, her fingers absently tracing the tattoos on his chest, lingering on the tree over his heart and the cute little monkey that peeked out from behind it. "It's beautiful."
There was a pause, and she could almost hear the gears turning in his mind. "You're dying to ask questions, aren't you?" he probed, a note of teasing lacing his voice.
She let out a soft chuckle, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "Is it that obvious?" she admitted sheepishly, her fingers stilling.
“Just a little.” He paused, as if trying to decide how much to say. "I met the family after college," he began, choosing his words carefully, "in the time before I worked for Branden. I was in the military then."
"Was it... difficult. Your time in the military?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to pry but unable to resist the curiosity tugging at her.
"It was," Alex admitted. He didn't say more, but he didn't have to. The shadow that crossed his face said enough.
As silence enveloped them once again, Leslie wondered whether it was his military past, his connection with this family, or something else that was the cause of the pain that occasionally surfaced in his eyes.
Maybe it was all three.
He was a mystery, a beautifully complex enigma that she yearned to unravel.
But for now, as the soft lullaby of the ocean drifted through the open window and the steady rhythm of Alex's heart lulled her to sleep, Leslie was content to let the questions rest.
She must have slept, because one second she was loving being in Alex’s arms, and the next she was no longer there. No longer safe. Instead, the cave they had seen during their tour took center stage.
From its depths emerged a figure. The disorienting boom of a gunshot echoed around her, and she watched, horror-stricken, as Alex crumpled to the ground. The figure then swung the gun towards her. The deafening blast of the gun going off shattered the silence and...
Leslie woke with a start, a scream dying in her throat. Her heart raced like a locomotive, and she clutched at the sheets, struggling to shake off the lingering horror of her nightmare.
"You’re okay, baby," Alex said, his voice thick with sleep and worry, his gaze boring into her as he registered her panic-stricken state.
Tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks unchecked, her breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. “I dreamed that you were shot. That someone killed you and wanted to kill me.”
Alex's arm tightened around her, pulling her close against his chest. She buried her face in his shoulder as sobs wracked her body. He didn't press her for answers, simply held her, his hand stroking soothing circles on her back.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm here," Alex murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble in the silent room. He kept repeating those words like a mantra, his warm breath brushing against her hair. His presence was a rock amidst the churning sea of her terror, his strength something she could lean on, something she desperately needed.
Slowly, Leslie's sobs began to subside, her breath gradually evening out. She sagged against him, exhaustion creeping in.
"I've got you," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I promise, I'll protect you."
His words echoed in the dimly lit room, resonating with a sincerity that tugged at her heart. He continued to hold her and she wanted to stay awake forever, but soon fatigue tugged at her once more. Lulled by his steady heartbeat and warmed by his body heat, Leslie fell back asleep, safe and secure in his arms.