Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
ANDIE
“We’re here.”
Those two simply stated words feel like point-blank range gunshots. My body involuntarily jerks as they bring me back from the dark place my mind drifted to as we drove. Hours on the road that seem like mere minutes.
Jax puts away his tablet and turns around to look at me in the back seat.
“You okay?”
No. I’m not .
Somehow, he must sense my unease.
I avoid his gaze and stare out the car window as Keane stops at the guardhouse and I hear Paul’s voice. Paul has worked for my father since I was a little girl. He was always nice to me and would keep a jar filled with cherry-flavored lollipops in the guardhouse just for me. Keane rolls his window down and turns the ignition off. My father is paranoid as hell, so anyone coming to the house is thoroughly checked out, even his own men.
Knowing the drill, we get out of the vehicle to be patted down, even though Paul knows the guys will be carrying concealed weapons. This entire thing is stupid. But no one ever said my father was a rational man. It’s a clear power trip on his part. His kingdom. His rules.
As soon as I step out of the back, Paul does a double-take. “Well, I’ll be goddamned. Alexandria in the flesh. You’ve grown up, girl.”
“Hey, Paul.” I give him a small smile in greeting and turn around to put my hands on the hood of the car. How many times had I done this throughout my life?
I glance over my shoulder to see a guy I don’t recognize step out of the gatehouse, his gun holster strapped to his torso and in plain view, a nine-mil nestled inside. He’s short and stocky, with black hair and a crooked septum that gives his face an irregular symmetry, like a Picasso drawing.
As Paul walks around the car using an undercarriage mirror to check for bombs or anything unusual, the new guy comes over and presses up behind me. He trails a slow finger down the curve of my neck, his cigarette-soaked breath on my ear making my stomach turn.
“Well, aren’t you just a sweet thing,” he says as his hands start to roam over me.
He’s supposed to be checking for weapons. Instead, the pervert decides to blatantly feel me up.
I’m keyed up already, and in no mood to deal with this fucktwat.
“I’d suggest you remove your hands, right fucking now,” I warn him.
His hand begins to slink under the hem of my shirt. I’m about to kick back with my heel and nail him in his junk when he’s ripped away from me by Rafe. In an impressive move, Rafe lifts the guy by the back of the neck and slams him face-first into the side of the SUV. I keep forgetting about this side of Rafe. The dark, dangerous side that you never expect because he delivers it with a smile. I saw a little of it in the pantry.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, touching her like that? Do you know who she is?”
Jax and Keane don’t do anything to stop Rafe. In fact, they look amused. Paul continues walking around the car with the mirror as if a violent beat-down isn’t about to take place right in front of him.
The new guy must have a death wish because he answers, “Paid whore like all the others.”
I suck in a breath. No one has ever called me a whore before to my face. I glance down at myself and the clothes I’m wearing. I’m caked in dried blood and look more like a deranged homeless person than a whore. But the fact that this guy said it, makes me wonder how many women Rafe, Jax, and Keane have brought back to the house. How many women have shared their beds and their bodies? The lick of jealousy that runs wild inside of me takes me by surprise.
Keane bursts out laughing. Rafe’s grip on the man tightens. Jax looks bored as usual, the blank, unreadable expression he often wears back in place.
Paul finishes what he’s doing. “He’s new,” he tells us like that will help. “And apparently fucking stupid. Mika, you idiot. That’s the boss’s daughter.”
The guy, Mika, goes white as a sheet under Rafe’s stranglehold. His eyes slide over to me and I give him a finger wave.
“And mine ,” Rafe grits out.
Wait. What?
I open my mouth to tell him I am absolutely not his in any way, shape, or form.
Quick as lightning, Rafe hauls Mika away from the SUV and then smashes the guy’s head against the vehicle. Apparently not satisfied, Rafe uses Mika’s face as a battering ram against the car, again and again, before finally releasing him. Like a rag doll with cotton-stuffed legs that can’t hold him up, his body crumples to the ground, blood pouring out of the large gash on his forehead.
“ El hijo de puta . Paul, get this fucker out of my sight,” Rafe says before turning to me.
His breaths are hard, and his blue eyes are glazed over. I swallow thickly as I wait to see what he’ll do next. Okay, I have to admit, that show of alpha brute strength was hot as hell.
Paul walks over and grabs Mika under the arms, dragging his unconscious body out of the way and depositing it next to the guardhouse.
“Thanks for that. Now I’m going to have to call someone to come get his ass and send a replacement,” Paul grumbles as he finishes with our pat-downs. “You’re good to go,” he tells Keane, then looks at me. “Nice to have you back, Alexandria.”
Yeah, that’s a huge hell no. There is nothing good, or nice, or happy about coming back home.
“Thanks, Paul.”
He presses a collar mic and speaks directly into it, telling the guards at the house to expect us shortly. Paul reaches for something inside the guardhouse and turns around, holding out a lollipop to me. I take it and give him a genuine smile.
“For old time’s sake,” he says.
I pat his arm in thanks.
“I think you’ve earned this,” I tell Rafe, offering him the candy.
The boyish grin I used to love so much makes an appearance as he takes it from me, unwraps it, and pops it into his mouth.
“Tastes like you,” he says in a barely audible husk, and my thighs clench together as heat pools low in my belly.
Rafe used to tell me how I tasted like cherries whenever he kissed me. But those aren’t the thoughts that are thrumming my core and hitting me with a hot flash of desire. He would also say the same thing with his head between my thighs. And from the smirk on his face, he knows where my mind has gone.
“Hey, why didn’t we get a lollie?” Keane says with amusement.
I make a girlie snort. “Yeah, right,” I reply, tearing my gaze from Rafe, so I can roll my eyes at Keane.
Keane fucking winks at me. It’s bizarre having these little slices of playfulness with the guys. Tiny pieces of normal where we act like we used to around one another when we were kids. But then reality rears its ugly head when the massive iron gates creak open, and I’m reminded again of where we are.
The long private drive up to the house is a beautiful one. Trees line both sides of the road and the edges are meticulously landscaped with yaupon and gardenia bushes. Kellan and I used to take long walks around the property. Because of the expanse of land and the surrounding forests, you don’t see the twenty-foot stone wall that runs along the perimeter or the guards that quietly patrol the grounds. I figured out the guard rotation schedule early on when I was younger, as well as where each and every one of the security cameras was located. It was how I was able to sneak off the property at night to meet up with Rafe without being detected. I’ll need to do another perimeter sweep at some point to see if anything has changed in the five years I’ve been away.
Jax makes a call as we round the bend of the circle drive that leads to the house. It looks smaller than I remember. Don’t get me wrong, the place is still huge, the mansion being over twenty-thousand square feet sitting on ten acres of land. Only the best for the head of the Rossi mafia. There should be a small golf course, a huge oasis pool with a lazy river, tennis courts, and a helipad on the back of the property—unless my father did some remodeling since I was last here. The estate is luxury at its finest. Until you look deeper and see all its metaphorical cracks.
Two men, fully armed, of course, greet us as Keane stops and parks the car in front of the fountain. I’m sure that by tonight, the number of men guarding the house will increase tenfold.
The fountain is running, and I watch through the window as the water dances and falls into the collecting pool. An angel statue sits at the top, a waterfall cascading down from around her feet. Her wings are folded into her body, and she has an arm outstretched toward the sky. I used to make wishes in that fountain by tossing pennies into the water. None of my wishes ever came true, but that never stopped me from making them.
A figure moves in front of my line of vision and my door is opened for me by one of the guards. Dark suit, black tie, crisp white shirt. My father’s foot soldiers have always had a dress code. They sort of remind me of the agents from The Matrix .
Once standing, I stare up at the house that used to be my prison. I have to fight the old feelings that rumble up. The early morning sun is bright, and the sky is a pale blue, a few small puffy clouds dotting along the zenith. The Rossi estate really is a sight to behold. The regency style of architecture gives it old-world charm. The metamorphic quartzite stone fa?ade, stucco trim, and large Gothic columns are all neutral colors of beige and cream, and the roof is covered with dark-brown terracotta tile. The drive and pathways are paver stone laid out in intricate geometric designs.
Everything is beautiful, ostentatious, and deceptive. The windows are made with two-inch, bulletproof glass, and they have steel shutters that will slam down in an instant when triggered. There are cameras all over the place watching your every move, as well as patrol guards hiding behind lush foliage and walking the grounds. Beneath the house is the dungeon; well, that’s what I call the place with the secret room and the cage.
The guys are talking around me, but I can’t hear them as we walk up the stone steps leading to the massive, ornately carved wood double doors. I have an image in my mind of what the pearly gates of Heaven look like. Surely, hell must have something similar, and if so, the doors in front of me would be them. Because that’s what it feels like I’m doing—walking straight back into hell.
As if by magic, the right door opens wide for us to enter, and I stop just inside the grand foyer where the double staircase leads up to a long balcony on the second floor. The enormous Swarovski crystal chandelier hangs like an ominous thundercloud over my head, bouncing light off the walls where shadows live. Mom took pride in decorating the house, making sure every detail showcased the family’s wealth and status. There used to be a large portrait of her and my father hanging on the wall on the other side of the foyer. I mentally scoff when I see that it has been replaced with an even bigger one of just my father. Egotistical, narcissistic prick.
It suddenly hits me that I haven’t heard from my mother in over a year. The last time I was able to get a hold of her was before Kellan died. I guess the fact that I haven’t even thought about her in over a year shows how much love I had for the woman. She dropped me like a bag of flaming shit in Switzerland and never looked back.
A third man, also wearing the same dark suit ensemble as the other two, approaches us.
“Please inform Mr. Rossi we’re here,” Keane tells him.
As if his words conjured the devil himself, my father materializes on the balcony, looking down on us like a dictator would his subjugates. His tailored Italian suit showcases his large build and thick muscles. His hair is perfectly groomed and styled, and a wink of red from his ruby cufflinks flashes at me like demon eyes when he straightens to his full, imposing height. My father doesn’t even give the men around me a second glance because his piercing gaze is focused solely on me. I involuntarily shudder from the intense chill I feel soul deep when his eyes travel over my body.
“Welcome home, Alexandria.”