Chapter 17

CLEO

I woke to find the other side of my bed empty.

Instant panic and a flood of fear filled me and shook me so hard that I trembled for minutes.

Where had he gone?

I rose with shaking limbs, going to the living room.

It lay empty.

More dread ensued.

I peered through the windows to the outhouse.

There was no light visible.

Searching the room, I found his boots missing, as was his gun, which I’d placed on the sideboard for him the night he’d arrived.

It’s like he’d vanished.

I had a sudden thought and rushed in my socks to the parking shed.

With relief, I tagged his ride, which was still parked by my 4X4.

Wherever he’d disappeared to, it must have been close by.

The two sides of me battled with opposing facts.

That he was a man who radiated menace and ruthlessness beyond my understanding.

Yet also the one person I’d come to depend on for my peace of mind.

After years of isolation and not letting anyone in, his dark, broody sensuality had slipped under my skin, pushed away my barriers, and turned into my safe anchor.

I shivered, hoping he’d not gone far and would return. Soon.

The alternative was nothing I wanted to consider.

Minutes passed.

I restarted the fire and thought about putting on coffee when the scrape of boots sounded on the front steps, followed by the silent easing in my door.

I spun as he pushed in, mane wild, eyes hard, gun in hand.

‘What in the hell?’ I whispered to myself.

We locked eyes across the room, and then, on impulse, I moved to him, and he to me.

His arms encircled me in seconds, holding me tight and close, murmuring Italian words into my hair.

His hands slid up and down my back and gave in to the stroke, welcoming the heat, warmth, and relief he offered.

In time, I stepped away, eyes flicking to his shirt, my hand reaching for him.

‘You’re bleeding.’

‘It’s not mine,’ he growled.

That’s when I tagged the fire in his eyes.

This was a whole new, different Alessio.

He was a vengeful god, a fearsome force of divine execution, the fuckin’ punisher and lethal enforcer.

I did not doubt that whatever he’d witnessed outside, he was willing and ready to mete out swift justice and relentless vengeance without mercy.

‘What the hell happened?’ I searched his face, my gaze wary. ‘Where were you?’ I asked, voice hoarse with worry.

I caught his hesitation.

Finally, he took my hand and drew me to the couch, where the fire crackled. He jerked his chin at the sofa and urged me to sit.

He pulled the armchair close so he’d be eye-to-eye with me.

‘I heard a noise and went outside to check on it,’ he began, his deep timbre rolling over me.

‘I found a man on your property, trying to cut through the fence,’ he went on, eyes narrowed on me with close intent. ‘I nabbed him before he could do any damage. Did a little questioning, then dragged him down the valley and left him trussed naked on your neighbor’s land.’

My breath hitched, fingers tightening around the pillow I was clutching. ‘Let me guess. One of the Conti brothers?’

‘Si. Fabio.’

‘Fucker,’ I breathed.

‘You’re not surprised?’

I shook my head, plucking at the surface of the seat. ‘It’s not the first attempt. What was it this time? A fire, cutting down my trees, or a fence pulled down?’

His eyes flashed with anger, not at me, thank fuck.

‘A rudimentary bomb, but enough to down your security system and fences. He was about to rig it up when I swung by. Before he had a chance at -.’

‘At kidnapping me.’

My voice was forlorn and weary.

Damn, I was so tired of this shit.

I closed my eyes to the pain of it all, only to fling them open at the warmth of a hand tracing my jaw, tilting my head up.

‘He said his father ordered him to, so you’d become his queen when he exited prison. Is this true, Cleo?’

I swallowed as my throat dried.

That’s when I took note of his tone.

Not hard-edged nor judgmental.

It was soft, kind, and burred, and I cherished its consideration despite the menacing light in his eyes.

Not aimed at me but at the man who’d tormented me.

Unable to handle Alessio’s righteous wrath, I canted my face from his.

He waited, the heat from his brawling muscle enveloping me, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

In time, my fight-or-flight response calmed, and I found the courage to speak, keeping my voice to a murmur.

‘I was brought up in a cult called the Outback Order, a bizarre quasi-religious sect active across Goulburn and Sydney. Franco was the local mayor once but was also its founder. A shitty, manipulative, opportunistic, cynical self-professed leader who groomed young girls in their early teens to become his wives and queens in his twisted harem. He’d pick one each year from the clan members’ children and send them letters, court them, before marrying them. In a secret wedding on his farm and making her his concubine queen.’

‘Fuck. A harem?’

‘In essence. When I was twelve, I was selected to be one of them. I was told what I was supposed to do, what I was expected to be, the ‘shoulds and the should nots’. Life’s little instructions were scaffolded around me until all that advice and good intentions became oppressive, like a cage. I was thirteen when Franco chose me to be his queen.’

The pain and anger in my depths spilled out. ‘He wanted to own me, body and soul. To control every aspect of my life. And he would have if I hadn’t escaped.’

‘When?’

‘At fifteen, I was commanded to prepare for a wedding ceremony. Knowing I’d never be free, I ran away one night. I went to the cops, got him charged, and was arrested with child endangerment. A few months later, I testified against him in court. He was imprisoned, and the entire cult turned on me. I was hated, still am, more so by his sons who’ve taken every chance to come after me.’

‘How did you survive them?’ Alessio growled.

‘I lived on the farm with only my grandparents for company. My granddad would hide me away when the Contis came raging, angry at the fact I’d gotten their family head jailed. When I was 18, Franco was freed. Seeing no other option, my grandfather sent me to Italy to stay with his sister in Naples. But Franco found me, and you know the rest of the story. After you rescued me, I used the money I’d stolen from Franco that night and booked a ticket back to Sydney. I returned to find my grandfather was ill and my Nonna too weak to help much. So I nursed him until he died, put Guilia in care when it became impossible for her to live here, and took over the farm myself.’

Alessio reached out, taking my hand in his, stroking my cold skin and fingers. ‘Scusa, mia sola. I can’t even imagine what you went through. ’

I shook my head, a bitter smile twisting my lips. ‘No one can unless they’ve lived it. The fear, the shame, the constant feeling of being judged and controlled. It was a nightmare that kept going for years.’

‘How about your parents?’ he growled.

I huffed. ‘They were lost to the cult too. My mother is a distant cousin of Franco’s and married one of his capos after my dad died. She and her husband lit out for Victoria and haven’t been seen or heard from her in years. Not that I care. ’

Alessio’s eyes darkened with rage. ‘Did they do anything about how you were treated?’

I scoffed. ‘Nope, they fucking encouraged it. They were caught up in the madness, raving lunatics for it.’

‘How did you deal?’

I took a shaky breath. ‘What d’you think? I was so bitter at a world that was cruel and mercilessly unfair. What had happened to me and women like me wasn’t moral, fair, or something to be glossed over. I wasn’t supposed to be angry or reject the control and manipulation. I was meant to play along. Until I didn’t. Instead, I became furious. I still am.’

‘You’ve every right to be,’ Alessio agreed with a chin jerk. ‘How have you stayed here, so close to all that pain, mia sola? Why haven’t you left this place?’

I met his gaze and flicked an eye over his concerned brow, furrowed in genuine indignation and wonder. ‘It’s all I had. It was the only thing I owned because my grandfather entrusted it to me. Don’t get me wrong, I tried living in Sydney but couldn’t handle the noise, stress, and loneliness. When I almost became homeless one year, I returned to the farm. When Granddad died and Nonna went into care, I stayed on. At least here, I could practice my gun skills to protect myself. Still, self-preservation is a full-time job,’ I whispered.

Alessio held both my hands together as silence fell between us.

I met his leonine eyes after a beat. ‘Does my story surprise or shock you?’

‘No. It’s made me fuckin’ angry, cara, wanting to tear the whole valley down, find those Conti brothers and Franco, and slit their throats for you.’

I jolted at his impassioned growl. ‘They’ve got a small army at the farm, one funded by the Caputos.’

He shrugged one shoulder, a curl to his mouth. ‘They don’t know who I am and what I can do.’

I eyed him, taking in the sheer menace on his face.

‘I’m going to end it all for you, mia tesoro.’

I huffed. ‘I’m no one’s treasure; stop calling me that.’

‘You’re my treasure now,’ he rasped, a new possessiveness creeping into his tone. ‘And going through what you’ve endured would anger any human being.

‘Anger’s just the start of it. My experiences have often made me loathe people and even hate every waking moment of my life for how punishing it is.’

His arms reach for me, work around me, and pull me to his hard chest, murmuring words in Italian that I didn’t understand.

I tried pulling back, rejecting the comfort he was offering, hating how it penetrated, incising the pain. I didn’t get anywhere.

He held on.

I gave up fighting him.

I didn’t cry, for my tears had long dried out. Instead, I sunk my nose in his nape, under his golden beard, and breathed him in.

We stayed that way for a long time.

He knelt on the floor, arms around me; I fell into his chest, head on his tee.

The fire kept crackling as my breath slowed from short, jagged inhales to a steady quietening.

The heat from his torso radiated through me, my limbs soft against his hard, muscled length.

For some strange reason, I chuckled.

He shifted and tipped my head up to him. ‘I’d have liked to see Fabio trussed up like a hog.’

‘He was a sight to see. Mewling like a cat.’

I laughed, shoulders shaking with mirth and the release of the strain I’d carried for so many years.

Alessio gifted me with a rare, dimpled, crooked smile. ‘If you’ve had this much shit in life, carissima, anger is normal. It’s happiness that’s the real surprise. I look forward to seeing it on your face always.’