46. Alessandro
Chapter forty-six
Alessandro
My arms ache as I stab the spade into the turf and set my foot on top. Mr Monstead sounded panicked about his reticulation leak, so I came out, but it’s not his gardening system that’s a problem. While a plumber is on the way, he asked me to start digging to get to the problem area.
Already in a hole up to my thighs, the sudden storm break turns the yard into a bog.
I shouldn’t have left Willow and come out alone.
My phone rings, but it’s my mammina. I haven’t had a chance to call her since the drugging incident, so she’s probably getting worried.
Not that I can answer with the rain soaking everything.
Lucky it is raining, because the beautiful diamond-cut lawns carry a sad brown tinge.
I bet Mr Monstead never bothered to get the extra water on them like I suggested.
Which will end up being my fault.
A plumber's van idles up the paved driveway and pulls up beside me. The driver seems in no hurry to get out while the rain’s pelting down, so I pull myself up out of the hole, slipping in the mud as I get clear. I’m covered in the mess.
I knock on the car window, and it rolls down an inch. “Hi. I’ve reached the pipe but haven’t quite isolated the spot yet.”
“Okay. Can you keep going?”
A faint irritation flares in my belly. “Not really. I was in the middle of something when the owner called.”
“Geez, and of all days.” The window zips back up again.
I shrug and collect my spade, stowing it in my trailer before trudging through the sleet to the house. I knock on the side door and spend a minute squeezing water out of my sopping plaid shirt.
Mr Monstead comes to the door. “Raining cats out, huh? What did you find?”
“I dug down to the pipe, but the plumber’s here now, so I’ll let him take over.” I shift to the side so he can see over my shoulder. “I need to get going.”
“All right. Let’s hope this clears up fast.” He glares at the sky. “I’m supposed to play golf tomorrow.”
I flash him a polite smile. “Good luck with that. I’ll see—”
“Dad? Where are the—?” His middle-aged daughter comes down the stairs behind him. She catches sight of me and her eyes widen. “Is that the wog fucker who was leeching off the Warkows?”
Her voice rises to a shriek, and she clops down in her heels at double speed. “Dad! I told you not to bring him around here! Don’t you know he harassed Miranda?”
A rock lodges in my chest. So some twisted part of the story has spread.
She shoves past her father and raises a rolled-up magazine. “Get the fuck off our property, you scummy son of a bitch!”
Wham. The roll descends right on my head. Granted, it doesn’t hurt a lot, but the shock rockets through me with laser force. I’ve been a gentleman all my life; both my parents drilled it into me to never touch a lady without her consent. So being labeled as the opposite hurts.
“Jupiter, it was an emergency,” Mr Monstead whines, capitulating to his child. His gaze slides away from mine like something made of grease.
I shoot my hand up, catching the rolled paper. “Ms Monstead, I’m not sure what you heard, but I assure you I’ve never laid a hand on Miranda Warkow.”
“Lies!” the woman hisses, body rigid as she tries to tug her weapon free. “You’re a disgusting mother-fucker, and you’ll never work in this town again. I’ve called all my friends already.”
A bubble of something hot and shivery pops inside me. What did I do to deserve this? All I wanted was peace and quiet, and some lawns to mow.
“I never assaulted her,” I growl. “She the one who drugged me and tried to harass me.”
Jupiter draws her lips into a flat line. “Now you’re slandering her as well? Try saying that in a court of law.”
I step forward, clenching my hands. The magazine crunches in my grip.
“Then why hasn’t she taken me to court already?
Called the cops on me? Ask yourself that!
I welcome the chance to defend myself in court.
I’ve got the bottle she spiked to prove my innocence, and even though I was half out of it, I still refused her! ”
A growl rips through me and both of them fall back.
“Do you have an answer?” I demand. “Why hasn’t Mrs Warkow had me arrested? Because she knows the truth will come out. Because I’ll have all her other lovers subpoenaed. That’s why!”
“Wait, other lovers?” Mr Monstead asks, face paling.
When I turn to meet his gaze, I read fear there.
He steps forward, extending his arm in front of his daughter.
“I’ll handle this, sweetheart,” he snaps.
She throws me a look of absolute disgust and whirls about.
The moment she’s out of sight, he gets in my face. “You ought to be real careful, speaking about your betters that way, Alex. You won’t survive long in this world with that attitude.”
I clench my teeth together, trying to get a lid on my boiling anger. This is how they operate, closing ranks to protect their peers, and, I’d bet my left hand on it, his own reputation. He's as slimy as his wife. I also know there’s no way to defend myself.
The injustice cuts like a physical blade.
“I’ll get going now,” I say, turning away.
Flinging the crushed magazine to the deck, I stride out into the rain, shaking with suppressed anger.
My hands turn white from gripping the steering wheel as I drive back to Willow’s house.
I gave up an afternoon with my omega for this shit?
My jaw clunks from squeezing my teeth so tightly together.
Pulling up in Willow’s front yard, I suck in deep breaths to get myself under control.
I can’t go in with my thoughts a mess like this.
I’ve faced racism in my life, and injustice.
I need to let it roll off my back as usual.
But the thought of my former landlady spreading lies about me all through the city’s elite class gets my hackles up. I only ever did right by them.
My father’s words drift in through my clouded thoughts. Don’t stoop to their level, he’d always say. But that was kids being idiots. This is different. This is my career and reputation.
And now I have an omega to think about. And maybe a pack as well, which is so weird and sudden.
I sit in the car for a long moment, steaming as the heating blows over my dripping skin. A momentary pause in the downpour reveals the beautiful house.
And a gaping hole in one front window. Beyond it hunkers an unfamiliar service van.
I throw myself out of the car in a blind panic.
“Willow?” I shout, running to the window. What happened while I was away? I never should've left her. Thunder booms overhead, and that’s when I recall the scars on her thigh.
I’m such an idiot!
I peel my wet shirt off and throw it over the broken window glass before vaulting in. Glass pricks my hand through the fabric, but I charge in regardless. Someone thought the rain was a good cover to break into her house.
“Willow?” I roar, skidding as I reach the hallway.
Her scent floods the house, bitter with fear. At least four separate scents mingle with it, but I can’t sense a single living person in the house.
“Willow? Mr Shares?” I shout again, running from room to room and slamming doors open.
Tiny drips of blood run from Willow’s bedroom to the kitchen, but then the trail disappears. I claw at my throat, gasping for breath. My omega’s gone.
I grab for my phone, dropping it once in my haste. Cursing, I pick it up and dial her number. The line rings.
“Hello?”
I bite back a sob. “Willow! Dio mio! Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“Slow down, Alessandro! I can’t understand you.”
“I’m at your house but you’re not here. There’s blood—”
Her breath catches. “Oh, shit. Joel, open the door!”
My omega’s scent blooms through the kitchen and I spin. Mr Shares leaps out from the pantry, yipping and dancing with delight.
“Hello, sweet boy,” I croon, patting his head as I brush past.
A shadowed passage opens in the pantry, and I throw myself through the gap in case it closes again.
Willow sits in a beanbag, surrounded by strange scents.
Her chest rises and falls gently with her regular breaths, and the panic’s gone from her body scent.
A brown dog I’ve never seen before jumps up, bouncing on his toes as he sidewinds toward me, quivering with excitement.
I blow past the dog and reach for Willow.
“You’re here,” I rasp out, throwing myself to my knees and winding my arms around her waist. “And you’re okay!”
Willow squeaks and flinches as my wet clothes touch her skin. “You’re soaked. What happened?”
I cling tighter and bury my head in her stomach. “Nothing. Nothing happened. You’re safe so nothing happened. I saw the broken window and the blood and thought the worst.”
Willow squeezes my head. “Yeah. It’s been a bit crazy, but I’m okay.”
A deep male voice follows hers. “So, this is what he sounds like conscious.”
I flinch and swivel without releasing my omega.
A stranger leans against the wall by the open doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. The backlighting from the pantry beyond shades his facial features.
His baked-earth scent swirling through the room reminds me a little of home, but right now, with my omega in my arms, it’s not a pleasant reminder.
“Who’s he?” I ask, vibrating with a growl.
Willow chuckles. “He’s—"
“Her alpha,” the stranger supplies.
The omega’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t deny the claim.
Who is this bastard?
My spirit riles up, but before I do something stupid, he moves closer and the dimmed glow in the room illuminates his face. Tall, blocky build, familiar eyes, short cut brown hair. And bold enough to claim Willow to my face. Ah.
But I thought Jeremy said they hadn’t figured out their relationship yet? Clearly something developed between them today.
I partially release Willow, switching my grip to her hand, and rock back on my heels. “You must be Joel.”
“And you must be Alessandro.”
A sudden flash of panic runs through me, and I wish Jeremy were here. This brother seems far less easy going. I glance at Willow. She’s relaxed in his presence.
Sucking in a breath I rise and extend my hand. “Nice to meet you properly. I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other going forward.”
His narrowed gaze drops to my hand. “Will we?”