Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ANDIE
“What?” I snap at Liam.
I feel his eyes on me as we take the elevator up one floor to where Declan’s suite is located. I hate being confined in small spaces, which makes elevators one of my nemeses. I didn’t have time to think about it before when we rode it down from the rooftop because I was majorly distracted. However, now, it’s just me and Liam, and my guilt for being almost caught dry humping my ex who I mostly detest has me on edge and feeling a bit bitchy.
“I don’t trust him,” Liam states, his demeanor cold and rigid.
“Well, neither do I.” Not yet , I silently add.
Rafe has given me a lot to consider. At least I have some closure as to what happened and why he left me. Declan promised Rafe that he would help wipe his scum of a father and brother off the face of the earth. He and I are in complete agreement on that. Which makes Rafe an ally, of sorts.
“I also don’t trust you,” I state when we arrive, and the doors open.
Liam places himself directly in my path, preventing me from exiting the lift. He’s dressed in distressed jeans and a black Randy’s Custom Auto graphic tee that does wonderful things for his chest.
“Other than Mr. Levine, I’m probably the only one you can trust.”
I pop a hand to my hip, a classic diva-girl move. “Says the man who held a gun on me, kidnapped me, and left me in the hands of two of the three stooges who strapped me to a fucking chair and had way too much fun beating the shit out of me.”
Liam’s face morphs into a mask of deadly rage. I’m sure if those two men were still alive, he would be bathing in their blood right now.
I make an unladylike grunt when Liam’s hand wraps around my throat and he forces me back inside the elevator. He reaches out and hits a button that keeps the doors open and the elevator stationary.
“If you think that one night in Geneva was the end between us, you couldn’t be more wrong, bella .” His body heat scorches me as he presses in closer.
This is the man I met who ravaged me in his hotel room. Not the gentle, tender one who took care of me and soothed me at the cabin. And God help me, this is the side of him I desire most as evidenced by how wet my panties are right now. The danger I feel as he grips my throat only amps up my arousal and reminds me too much of Jax and Keane. If ever there was a big-ass epiphany, I just had it. I’m attracted to violent, psychotic men.
“Let go.”
Liam complies, slowly removing his hand and moving it across the curve of my shoulder and down my arm. He curls his fingers around my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of my wrist. Controlled violence to sudden tenderness. It’s a confusing whiplash of emotion to experience.
“Enjoy your dinner,” he tells me, gray eyes churning like thunderclouds. He steps to the side, giving me barely enough room to pass.
I don’t look back as I walk fully into Declan’s domain. Like the man, his living quarters are not what I expected. It’s like opening the door into an old English manor. Beautiful dark wood wainscoting on the walls and stone flooring under my feet. Low lights hang from above, giving the space a quiet ambiance. Oil paintings and portraits take up most of the upper walls. Of course, I notice the inset bookshelves adjacent to the wall of windows, and I think I start drooling. Books are my escape; a quiet, calm peace that I seldom get to experience between the pages of a good story. I’ll most definitely be checking out Declan’s collection later.
Turning around, I notice the entire space is open like mine, but there is a clear distinction between the living area and the den. And unlike my modern fireplace, Declan’s is a fire-side French ch?teau stone hearth. I can picture him sitting next to the wood fire on cold, winter nights, reading glasses perched on his nose and a book in his hand. Kind of like how he was at the cottage.
Curious to learn more about him, I walk over to inspect the framed photographs on his mantle. Several of them are black and white, tinged slightly yellow with age. A man in plain garb is standing next to a woman who is holding a baby. He has his arm wrapped around her and she is smiling up at him. I stroke the glass. It’s a picture of love and family. Simple, yet pure.
“That’s my ma and da. Your grandparents,” Declan says, coming up beside me.
“Are they?—”
He answers before I can finish. “They passed many years ago.”
“This is you?” I touch the image of the baby in the picture, and he nods. “No brothers or sisters?” I put the frame back in its place on the mantel.
“One older brother, but he died when I was five.”
I don’t ask him how he died. If he wants to tell me, he will.
“Any other family?” I ask.
“My da and ma each came from very large families. Lots of brothers and sisters. A slew of cousins. All Irish or Irish American.”
Something Liam said about Irish families being related one way or another comes back to me. “But isn’t Levine a Jewish surname?”
“The Levins are from County Louth in the northeast of Ireland. When my great-grandfather immigrated to America, the change was caused by a spelling error by some clerk.”
Which means that I’m Irish, not Italian-Irish. No wonder I looked so different from everyone in the Rossi family. They were all dark-haired, dark-eyed, tanned skin, and I was the standout with blonde hair, violet eyes, and pale skin.
Maximillian Rossi must have known that I wasn’t his daughter. Is that why he raped, abused, and degraded me? To punish me for being another man’s child? The child of his enemy? I remember the dinner benefit he took me to when I was younger and how he freaked out when Declan unexpectantly arrived. The bastard must have already known back then. And knowing what he was doing, my mother still turned a blind eye and let it happen. If she gave a damn about me, or loved me, she would have taken me to Declan. She would have told him about me to get me away from her sadistic, rapist husband.
“Andie.” A warm hand cups my cheek, and I immediately disconnect from the downward spiral of my thoughts. My breaths are coming out ragged and harsh, and it takes me a second to calm down. I stare up at Declan, into those light indigo eyes so much like mine, my real father, and take solace in the fact that he killed my bitch of a mother.
“Come. Dinner is ready,” he says, taking my arm through his in a gentlemanly manner. “I hope you like corned beef.”
Feeling off kilter, I answer, “I’ve actually never had it. That must be what smells so good.”
He sits me on a barstool at the counter island and walks over to a slow cooker. Lifting the lid, a billow of steam rises and the kitchen fills with the delicious aroma of cooked beef.
I pop my elbows up on the countertop, completely entranced at Declan doing anything domestic. He really is a conundrum.
“Doesn’t it take all day to cook something in one of those things?”
Giving me a genuine smile, he replies, “Pearson got things going this morning when I told him we’d be returning.”
He had mentioned Pearson before, but I haven’t met him yet. “Your assistant, right?”
“Something like that. Would you like anything to drink?”
“Sparkling water if you have any,” I reply.
He hands me a green glass bottle and then carries two plates loaded with corned beef, cooked carrots, steamed cabbage, and parsley potatoes, placing one in front of me. I stand up, ready to follow him into the formal dining room but stop when he sits on the barstool next to mine.
I must look like a deer in headlights because he seems confused by my reaction. “Did you want to take our food out onto the balcony?”
Flustered and unsure of myself, I ramble, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to act or what to say. So much has been ingrained in me from him . Dinner was always at the formal dining table at seven sharp. I was to dress a certain way, sit a certain way, and wear my hair a certain way.”
Declan takes my plate and drink and puts them down, as he casually pushes the barstool out for me with his foot.
“I will never control you like that, Andie. I will never lay a hand on you or raise my voice to you. If you want to dance around the living room singing to Cardi B, then do so. If you want to throw your clothes on the floor, eat in bed, and leave your toothpaste tube uncapped, then do that too. You’re free to do what you want, when you want, however you want. You can come and go as you please, as long as Liam or another guard accompanies you. The only thing I ask is for you to never hide yourself from me. I want to know my daughter, the real you.”
My mouth gapes open. “You know who Cardi B is?”
He smirks with such smugness, it makes me giggle. I fucking giggle . Then I do a complete turnabout and pendulum to the other end of the emotional spectrum when tears fill my eyes as what he says truly hits me. I’m free. I’m finally free. It’s overwhelming and completely devastating at the same time.
Declan’s expression softens when he sees my struggle. “Sit and eat.”
I do, taking a bite of the warmed beef. “This is really good.”
Another smile. “I’ll let Pearson know you approved.” He takes a sip of the red wine he poured for himself. “One more thing.”
I stop with my fork midway to my mouth and look over at him when he doesn’t continue.
“I found your niece.”
Holy fucking shit! He found Sarah. My fork clatters onto the countertop when I drop it. I launch at him, throwing myself into his arms, not caring one damn bit if I’m overstepping personal boundaries or making him slosh his wine everywhere.
“Thank you.”
Declan hugs me back. “You’re welcome.”
I quickly let go, feeling awkward, and retake my seat. “I don’t want Sarah anywhere near here. She needs to be somewhere safe. I can’t allow Julio or the other families to use her against me.”
As much as I want Sarah with me, I need to get her as far away as possible from this city and from the mayhem I know is coming. I won’t allow my niece to be forced into this life of mafia mentality like I was. She deserves to live a normal childhood. I don’t know whether Kellan would approve, seeing as he had her living in that house with that monster, but my brother isn’t here. And I’m damn sure not going to allow Keane or Rafe to decide Sarah’s fate.
Declan scratches his short, blond beard, mulling something over. “I know a family in Ireland that can look after her.”
“The McCarthys?” I ask him, folding my hands together on top of the center island, no longer hungry.
“No, but they’re relations,” he answers.
I smile at that. Of course they are.
“Is Sarah here?”
He shakes his head no. “I promise she’s safe and being well-cared for. I’ll set up a video call later so you can speak with her. Unfortunately, there’s the issue of what to do with the nanny.”
I couldn’t give a shit about Meribella. Sarah is the only person who matters. “I don’t care about her.”
Declan nods again, bringing his glass of wine up to his lips, but keeping his eyes on me. “Now, tell me everything you know about Keane Agosti and Jaxson West.”
I go stock-still. My heart hammers and the delicious food I just ate turns sour in my stomach. “Why?”
“Because they’ll be arriving in about an hour.”