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I get up and straighten my jacket and let the icy mask I’ve perfected over the years slip into place.
Santino throws me a concerned look. I ignore it.
I stare out of the window as the cars pull up next to the jet.
Home…
No. It’s no longer home.
Ella is home. And she is gone.
The door opens, and a cool gust of wind hits my skin. Winter is coming. Well, it fits the season in my heart.
I stand on top of the stairs, surveilling my stomping ground. It has lost all its appeal.
The usual entourage is waiting on the tarmac. Internally sighing and readying myself for what needs to be done, I take the first step.
Bang.
Sudden pain through my shoulder has me stumbling back.
Chaos breaks loose around me. I watch as my men draw their weapons. Santino is trying to pull me back inside the plane.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Scorching pain through my chest makes all the air disappear from my lungs. My knees buckle.
Everything goes black.
Chapter Forty-Three
Aiden
EllaandIaresitting on the soft leather couch on the Freemont jet, heading back to Atlanta. She’s stretched out, fast asleep, with her head in my lap. She’s exhausted, but is that any surprise after the day we had?
She’s doing well, given the nightmare realities she had to face… the shock of being found by De Marco, fleeing, then walking into the middle of a gunfight. And then to have everything turn on its head when De Marco walked away… all that in the span of a few hours. You couldn’t write a script like that!
I play with her hair. It’s soft and lush, and the scent of her vanilla and apple shampoo drifts into my nostrils. It still reminds me of coming home, just like it did the very first time I smelled it.
Sheismy home.
The thought fills me with such contentment. And now nothing stands in our way to build a beautiful life together. I couldn’t ask for more than the universe gave me today.
Lifting a strand of her hair, I bend and inhale deeply. Now that everything is out in the open, will she stop dying it and grow long blonde locks? I hope so.
The green contact lenses are already gone. I much prefer her blue eyes, even though today they only held sadness.
Her face is relaxed now and at peace. It wasn’t when I entered the room after De Marco left.
She was in a heap on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
I scooped her up and sat down on the bed with her, cradling her against my body, hoping to take away her anguish by just being there for her. She nestled into my embrace, clutching my shirt to pull me closer, and I knew we’d be okay, that she still wantedme.
But it was hard seeing her like this—so raw and exposed.
Neither one of us spoke a single word. There was nothing to say.
I should have been jealous. After all, she’s mine and was crying for the loss of another man. Just that I wasn’t.
