Chapter 13
Thirteen
L eone
Sleep evades me tonight, my mind alive with thoughts about the Russians and their next move. The knowledge I have a traitor in my midst gnaws at me; the warehouse was a recent acquisition, its ownership known only to a select few and my family. Someone close to me has been feeding information to them, and I can’t shake off the feeling it’s someone in our inner circle.
As I lay here with Fallon nestled between Milo and myself, her soft whimper pulls me from my thoughts. She kicks in her sleep, stirring restlessly. I roll over to give her space, ready to wake her when she settles again. Her eyes remain closed, oblivious to me facing her. I watch her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her – even in sleep, she’s beautiful.
Milo’s arm wraps around Fallon, pulling her closer to him as she tries to squirm away. Her face is twisted in discomfort, her brow furrowed as she struggles against his grip. I watch Fallon twist and writhe in the grip of something only she can see in her dreams. Milo, oblivious in sleep, has an arm thrown over her waist, holding her to him even as she struggles against the confines of the dream.
The moonlight filters through the window, casting a glow on Fallon’s skin that is beaded with sweat. She squirms restlessly against Milo’s unconscious hold, lost in the throes of a vivid dream. I can’t help but wonder what chases her in her sleep.
Fallon starts to speak - soft whispers at first which flutter into the silence. Her words make no sense. But then her voice grows more distinct, and I lean forward, trying to hear what she is saying.
“Fireflies…so beautiful…” she sighs wistfully, a faint smile on her lips.
I smirk, amused by her words at first, until her tone changes. There’s an urgency now which wasn’t there before. “Wake up… please don’t sleep,” she begs whatever is haunting her dreams.
Milo stirs next to Fallon at this point - her distress seeping into his subconsciousness enough to rouse him slightly. He murmurs soothing words into the quiet room and presses a gentle kiss onto the curve of her shoulder.
“Cara mia… you’re okay,” he mumbles drowsily, sinking back into sleep again.
Her words linger in the air long after she has spoken; it’s unsettling me more than I care to admit.
She awakens with a startle, sitting upright on our bed. Her eyes dart around the room as if searching for something in the darkness before falling upon her sweat-soaked top. A curse slips past her lips as she feels the dampness beneath her. She looks at Milo slipping out from under the sheet, not realizing I am awake and watching her.
Climbing over Milo with a yawn and rubbing at tired eyes, she shuffles off toward the bathroom. I keep my breathing steady, feigning sleep while observing each of her movements intently. She spends a few minutes in the bathroom, coming out with just a towel. My brows pinch as I watch her go to the walk-in robe.
She re-emerges after some time, now clad in one of my shirts and track pants — the sight brings an unexpected smile to my face. But then she heads toward the bathroom and comes back out; she glances at the bed but doesn’t realize I’m awake. I wonder briefly what she is going to do when she moves toward the door with purposeful strides that have me gritting my teeth in frustration.
She tries the handle and curses; I close my eyes, pretending to be asleep when she moves toward Milo. I hear her rummaging through the bedside table, looking for the key. She finds it, and I hear her leave. I should have known better than to trust her. Deciding against waking Milo up for this particular issue, I pull out my phone and flick through camera feeds until I find Fallon making cautious steps toward the lower level.
I don’t wait any longer, I silently follow her; however, instead of heading for an exit like expected, she starts checking doors on the bottom floor, and I hesitate, wondering what she is searching for.
Just as I’m about to reveal myself to stop this game of cat and mouse, she enters the laundry room. My eyes flicker back to my phone’s screen just in time to catch sight of her bloody pants.
She sets a load of washing on and quickly leaves the room, only to head into the kitchen next. That’s when Rocco enters through the front door. His phone would have blared at movement in the house, especially when so many doors started opening.
I signal for him to stay quiet, and he nods in understanding before walking toward me. He climbs the steps silently and glances at my phone screen. “It’s Fallon. Go back to bed, I can handle her,” I tell him, and he yawns, striding back to the door and slipping outside again. Rocco lives in my guest house out the back of the main.
Once alone again, I watch as Fallon gets a drink of water from the kitchen and then walks back out into the hall, where she stubs her toes on the edge of the hall stand, the vase on top rocking back and forth. She barely catches it before it’s about to shatter on the floor, only as she sets it back, she bumps the side and a hidden gun beneath the hall stand falls to her feet. Fuck! I move a step-down, about to snatch it off her as she picks it up. I know it is loaded and worry gnaws at me now that it’s in her hands, wondering if she would try to use it to leave.
She looks panicked, holding it in her hand but manages to stuff it into a drawer and starts making her way back toward the stairs. Seeing her heading back to bed, I quickly make my way back into our room. Only now to realize the blood-stained sheet. With a sigh, I walk into the bathroom, grabbing a towel. I place it over the ruined sheets and climb back into bed, watching on my phone as she rummages for linen in another part of the house.
When she finally re-enters our room with a towel clutched in her hands, she stops short at seeing one already placed on the bed. She rushes toward Milo, waving her hand in front of his face. Recognizing he is still asleep, she visibly stiffens as her eyes dart to me watching her. I stare at her, and she stares back for a moment.
“I ruined your sheets,” she blurts. Her fear of my reaction bothers me more than it should, as I watch her hold up the towel like she is presenting me with evidence she was doing nothing wrong.
“Anything else?” I ask her casually. She chews on her lip nervously.
“I knocked over your vase, but it didn’t break,” she tells me like I would care about her breaking vase. She glances at the bed like she isn’t sure if she is allowed back in it now that she ruined my sheets.
“I also stole your clothes…” she blurts. “Your pants are comfier,” she adds after a moment, gazing up at me with uncertainty.
Chuckling lightly, I pull back the blanket invitingly for her: “I can see that.”
Her gaze flicks to the inviting space made for her, and then back to my eyes. She swallows hard, setting the towel aside and finally climbing back into bed. She tries to keep as much distance between us as possible given the space, but I feel the heat radiating off her, nonetheless. It sends an unexpected jolt through me, stirring up a wave of possessiveness I can’t seem to tamp down as I pat the bed beside me, wanting her closer.
She looks at the space warily, “I’m not going to bite,” I insist with an arched eyebrow, trying to lighten the heavy air in the room.
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes flickering to mine again and she scoots closer. The tension is palpable, but it’s not an uncomfortable one. “You didn’t steal my gun,” I tell her, and she peers up at me.
“I put it in the drawer,” she answers.
“I saw.” Her brows pinch, but she doesn’t question how I know, she just accepts it.
Fallon’s tension eases just a fraction at my casual acceptance of her transgressions. Not that they were transgressions to begin with.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles after a beat, tucking herself in next to me, her body heat radiating through the thin fabric of my shirt.
“Don’t be,” I say finally, my hand finding her waist beneath the covers. Her breath hitches at the contact, and I can feel her pulse thundering beneath my fingers. “You can have what you want.”
It’s silent for a moment, and I wonder if she’s fallen asleep when a small voice breaks the quiet. “As long as it isn’t leaving.”
The words hang in the air between us like an accusation. My heart stutters painfully in my chest. It’s clear she’s not content with being a prisoner in my home. My mind races with the consequences of her question, but I push them aside.
“You’re safe here, Fallon,” I reply calmly, though each word feels like a punch to the gut. She doesn’t respond, and after several long moments, her breathing evens out, indicating she has fallen asleep.
As sleep refuses to claim me, I find myself watching Fallon. Even in sleep, her face betrays how nervous she is in my grip, her hands pressing against my chest, and she doesn’t move, almost as if even in her sleep, she is aware of whose grip she is in. It frustrates me because she isn’t this tense in Milo’s grip.
I hate seeing her this way – scared, vulnerable. But who could blame her? She is forced into her boss’s house for trying to save her sister by playing house with me and Milo.
As I lay there watching her, my mind races to the possibilities. Can I keep her here without breaking her like my father broke my mother? Without turning her into a shell of the strong, determined woman she once was. My grip around her tightens at the thought, the material of my shirt crumpling under my fingers and she whimpers, making me realize I’m crushing her against me when I feel movement on the bed. Milo, not feeling her wakes startled, quickly spotting her, he lets out a breath and scrubs a hand down his face moving closer only to notice the towel. He lifts it before recovering the spot and moving closer.
“I didn’t even feel her move, I was dead to the world,” he mutters.
“You didn’t hear her steal your key either,” I tell him, and he looks at me. I shake my head and press against her back, his hand falling on her hip.
“She won’t run,” he murmurs.
“You seem so sure.”
“I am, I think she panicked the first time,” he admits, and I glance down at her. She buries her face in my chest, and I sweep a stray lock from her face. Despite myself, a small smile forms on my lips as she snuggles closer to me.
“We’ll see,” I tell him, getting comfortable and closing my eyes.