Page 24 of Brutal Heir (Ruthless Heirs #3)

MANGLED WRECKAGE

R ory

“Where in the blazes is that feckin’ eejit?” I blurt aloud as my frustration gets the best of me. I’ve searched the entire damned penthouse, and Alessandro is nowhere to be found, despite Mrs. Jenkins swearing up and down that she saw him this morning.

A tiny twinge of guilt quickens my agitated steps as I spin back when the hallway dead ends into his empty office.

I know very well I was an arse to him yesterday when all he was trying to do was help.

But the idea of admitting the truth of what happened at the halfway house had every nerve in my body rioting.

No one knows.

And I vowed no one ever would.

Until yesterday, I was certain the bastard was dead.

Darting around the corner, I march straight for the door. I should have gone right to Johnny in the first place. As the guard on door duty, he would know if his boss had left the building.

Fingers closing around the knob, I whip it open with all the grace of a bat out of hell, nerves fraying and temper already lit like a fuse.

Johnny startles as I practically leap out into the foyer. “Where is Alessandro?” For some reason, I can’t seem to catch my breath, my chest tight. Just the idea that he’s upset with me, and he’s stormed out by himself has my insides in a desperate knot.

“Good morning to you, too, Miss.” He grins, adjusting the earpiece, a constant accessory. “Mr. Rossi had some business to attend to at Gemini Tower.”

I eye the guard suspiciously. Not once has Alessandro been anywhere near that place since I arrived. On the contrary, it seems to be his mission in life to ignore his role as heir to the Gemini throne as much as possible. “For what?”

“I’m not sure.”

“When did he leave?”

“A little over an hour ago, I’d say.”

“When will he be back?”

He shrugs. “Soon, I imagine.”

Why don’t I believe him?

If Gemini headquarters wasn’t all the way in midtown, I’d take a little walk down there myself just to confirm. Because something in my gut is telling me that Johnny is lying to me and Alessandro put him up to it.

But where would he go at this time of the morning and why lie about it?

The Velvet Vault is still closed, most of the staff likely recovering from the night before. I suppose he could have gone to visit one of his cousins, but then why the secrecy?

More questions spiral around in my mind, and I fully realize how crazy I’m being. Alessandro is an adult and completely capable of an outing on his own. Maybe he just needed to blow off some steam. Maybe that’s exactly what I need.

I take a step past the guard, and a thick arm collides with my torso.

“Excuse me,” I squeal.

“Sorry, Miss Delaney, but the boss made it clear that you were not to leave the penthouse in his absence.”

“What?” I shriek, the sound ricocheting off the marble like a warning shot. I try to pry his arm off, but it’s like a steel band across my middle.

“Please don’t make me force you back inside,” Johnny grumbles.

“I’d like to see you try.” I struggle against his arm, trying to wiggle around his enormous frame, but the man is a beast. “You can’t seriously keep me prisoner here.”

“I’m not,” he rasps. “It’s the boss’s orders. Please, Miss, just go back inside.”

Johnny drags me against his barrel chest, but I lift my knee up and slam my heel down on his foot. He lets out a muffled groan, and his hold finally loosens enough for me to squirm free.

I race toward the elevator, then jam my finger into the call button.

Johnny’s heavy footfalls echo just behind me.

“Come on, come on.”

The elevator doors glide open just as Johnny reaches me, his hand encircling my upper arm. He jerks me back, and a lethal growl echoes over the pounding of my heart.

“Let go of her. Now.”

I catch my breath at the familiar timbre, heart stalling before it races again.

Alessandro stalks out of the elevator, smoldering glare fixed on the thick fingers digging into my skin.

Then those piercing orbs glide up my arm, over my shoulder and lance into his guard.

That one look, aimed in my direction, would have me pissing in my pants, and I’ve grown up with terrifying men.

“Yes, of course, sorry boss.” Johnny’s hand falls away as he staggers back. “She was trying to leave, and you told me to keep her inside the penthouse?—”

Alessandro lifts a hand, and the blubbering comes to an instant stop.

“I never said you could touch her.” He erases the distance between him and his guard, nearly barreling over me in the process.

Then he looms over the big man, despite standing an inch or two below him.

“No one touches her. Ever again. Do you understand?” His voice is low and deadly, and Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it does something illegal to my insides.

There is no logical explanation as to why I’m so turned on right now. And yet, here we are. I stand there, frozen in place, watching him, much like I did the other night at the club, fully entranced by his commanding presence.

“Yes, boss,” Johnny finally murmurs dipping his head, and a part of me actually feels bad for the guy. “Sorry, Miss Rory.”

I nod, embarrassment coating my cheeks in warmth.

Just when I’m sure I’m home free, Alessandro turns that feral gaze on me.

“And you…” He closes the distance between us in one long stride, and the nurse part of me is thrilled by the strength of his gait.

The other part of me is a tangle of nerves and excitement as he looms dangerously.

“When one of my men tells you to do something, you do as you’re told.

” He clasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing my eyes to his stormy ones. “It is for your own safety.”

Instead of focusing on the genuine concern in his gaze, I concentrate on the building irritation because the former is much too hard to swallow.

“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, McFecker.

” Wrapping my hand around his, I peel his fingers off my chin.

“And the next time you leave the penthouse without telling me where you’re going, I’ll be putting a leash on ya. ”

The hint of a smile teases at the corners of his lips.

“I’ve seen what you do to rules, Rossi. Might be the only way to keep you in check.”

“Were you worried about me, Red?”

“No, I just didn’t want to find you crumpled in a ditch somewhere and all my hard work will have been for nothing.”

He grins again, and the mad flutter that smile ignites is completely unfair.

And dangerous.

Alessandro motions to the door, and Johnny rushes to hold it open for us, eyes cast down to the floor.

“Sorry,” I murmur as I pass the guard. I never had any intention of getting the poor gobshite in trouble.

He says nothing, only further dropping his chin.

Alessandro sidles in next to me once we’re back inside the confines of his apartment. “You know, it’s okay for you to admit that you care about me,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing the shell of my ear.

I do care, too much. But I won’t let the traitorous words slip out.

“So what were you doing at Gemini Tower?” I blurt, anything to change the subject.

“Just had to sign some papers for Papà. ” The answer comes too quickly and I’m still pretty sure he’s lying.

When he backs away, his dark gaze drifts past me, catching on the wheelchair by the door. The one he hasn’t used in days, despite my worried hovering. The one that’s become a silent shadow in the corner, a constant reminder of the pain, the fear, the helplessness that nearly swallowed him whole.

His jaw flexes. “It’s time.”

“Time for what?”

Alessandro steps forward with purpose, crossing the room with powerful strides. He grips the wheelchair, fingers curling around the cold metal handles, knuckles whitening. For a moment, he just stands there, head bowed, shoulders heaving as he breathes.

“Ale…” I whisper, moving toward him, “What are you?—”

He surges through the penthouse, hoisting the wheelchair over his head like it weighs nothing, like it’s just air and metal, not the prison it became for him.

“Be careful!” I cry, chasing after him as he storms toward the balcony. The whites of the living room blur, my pulse thunderous in my ears as I catch up to him. He’s poised at the railing, that damned wheelchair suspended above the Manhattan skyline.

“What are you doing?” I screech, panic and disbelief tangling in my throat.

He doesn’t look at me, just stares down at the street far below. His voice is calm, but it crackles with something raw, something on the edge of breaking. “I don’t need this anymore,” he says quietly. “And I want to give it the end it deserves.”

My mouth opens, ready to tell him to stop, to think, but the words die when I see his eyes clear and resolute. Before I can say anything, he lets out a breath, and with a guttural roar, he hurls it over the edge.

I rush to the railing, gripping the cold metal just in time to see the wheelchair tumble. It’s nothing but a silver blur against the sky, before it crashes onto the asphalt below. It explodes into twisted metal and shattered plastic. The sound echoes, sharp and violent, even this high up.

We stand there for a long moment, the cold wind tearing at our hair, the brilliant sunlight streaming down.

The mangled wreckage of the wheelchair lies scattered on the street.

A few pedestrians stare at the debris, then glance skyward, but we’re too high up.

Thank God he didn’t hit anyone with the fragments of the prison that held him.

That chair was the fear that bound him, the weakness he thought defined him.

Ale’s breath is ragged beside me, his chest rising and falling as he stares down. His hand moves over mine on the railing.

“It was never who I was,” he rasps, voice hoarse. “I refuse to let it define me. Not anymore.” His head bows, shoulders trembling, and for a moment I think he might break.