Page 3 of The Tribrid Princess and the Taste of Chaos (The Rossi Legacies #7)

Sienna

H ouseful is an understatement. The entire place is buzzing with people.

I’m dressed in an off-shoulder knit dress, with over-the-knee stockings and heels.

My curly, auburn hair is pinned back and adorned with a white bow.

I’m wearing gold moon earrings and the charm bracelet Dad got me for my sixteenth birthday.

I always wear it. My makeup is light, with a touch of sparkle on my eyes, mascara, eyeliner and gloss.

Allie is in a pair of shimmering black pants, a black turtleneck, and black boots. Her straight black hair is open, and her eyeliner is dark as usual.

Heaven is wearing a shimmering red dress that is cinched at the waist and has a few tulle layers in the skirt with butterfly sleeves. Her curls are pulled into a gorgeous bun, and her gold jewellery glitters under the lights that decorate the halls.

“So many guests…” I murmur, and Allie crinkles her nose.

“Yeah, let’s eat and then get out of there. I just saw-”

“Hello ladies, my, my, my, aren’t you all looking gorgeous? Aside from you, Allie, I didn’t know this was Christmas at the Addams House,” Theo Westwood drawls.

Ah, the devil himself. Theo Westwood is the second-born of the Westwood Quints and, by the gods, is he annoying. Not that I’ll say that out loud, ever.

His hair is dyed blue, long on top and short on the back and sides, the blue only bringing out the mesmerising colour of his eyes. He’s smirking, something that seems to be permanently plastered on his face.

“Go die,” Allie says, clearly bored. Theo’s dad is Uncle Liam, and he is Allie’s mom’s twin brother.

“One day, one day. Speaking of, you will love my new tat.”

“We’re not interested,” Heaven declares haughtily, and Theo shields his eyes.

“Scratch that, you and Zombilesandra both look crazy. What’s with all the red? Are you playing Santa tonight?”

“Theo, piss off,” Allie snarls, shoving past him. I arch my brow at him, but don’t say anything. The Westwoods aren’t someone I want to mess with, and if he’s here, his terrifying brother, who hates me, is going to be nearby, too.

My heart races as we make our way to the grand hall where the main party is set up. There’s an area with games for the kids, and snack, dessert and drink tables with a second Christmas tree that is larger than the one in the lounge.

“Hello there, girls,” Grandad Elijah says as he smiles at us.

Technically, he isn’t my grandad, he’s Allie’s grandad, but he’s practically family, and the grandfather of the Westwood Quints.

Another thing Jayce Westwood hates about me.

I remember many years ago, he came over to me and said he’s my grandfather, not yours.

And the last time I called him that in his presence, he gave me a contemptuous glare and scoffed.

“Hello,” I reply politely. My gaze flickers to Enrique, and I hate it, but my heart squeezes painfully.

I won’t ever say it out loud, but whenever I see him, I just remember that Dad had gone to his island…

Allie stops in her tracks, and I glance at her, wondering what she’s staring at with narrowed eyes that are fixed on the dessert table where Azura, Kataleya and Skyla are laughing as they eat sweet goodies. Azura’s carrying Kai, who is huffing in annoyance, and Allie shivers.

“Guys! Why are you talking near the dessert table? Your spit’s going to fly everywhere!” she snarls, sounding feral, making Sky and Azura scoff as Kataleya instantly stops talking.

“Alessandra, don’t worry. I made sure to have a portion of all the desserts put into a container for you. They’re covered and in the kitchen,” Mama says quickly.

“Girls,” Corrado adds, rolling his eyes. Allie throws him a death glare before looking at Mama and gives her what is a good attempt at a smile.

“Thanks.”

I skim the room, wanting to hide away as I feel several pairs of eyes on us.

Grandad Al is smirking as he winks at me.

He’s in conversation with Uncle Liam. I met him earlier when he arrived.

Aunty Raven is sitting with Jaddati and Grandma Red.

Aunty Kiara is talking to Aunty Ri. Uncle Leo is talking to Royce.

Tatum is leaning against the far wall, eyes fixed on his phone, his face set in his usual broody expression. Dante isn’t here, neither is Ahren.

“Where’s Kaden?” Heaven asks, twirling around.

“Probably being naughty somewhere,” I answer. “Should we go grab a spot in the corner before-”

“That’s bloody mental, init?” Theo’s voice comes.

“I already told you that.” That’s Ares.

The sound of talking and several pairs of footsteps make me stop in my tracks, and I decide to forget the other two and quickly make my way over to the sofa in the corner. They’ll follow! I’m not standing in the middle of the room where they can see me.

I’m halfway across the room when I feel it, that intense sensation of being watched, and I feel the hair at the nape of my neck rise.

It’s him.

Remain calm. It’s not like this is school. He can’t judge me here. This is my home. I don’t turn to look at him, feeling the sensation ebb away just as Heaven and Allie catch up to me.

“Where are you running to?” Allie asks sceptically.

I shake my head, not speaking as Kaden runs over to me. “Senna!”

I’m not happy about the attention, but I can’t ignore my baby brother. He never got to meet Dad…

I open my arms and he runs straight into them, and I spin him around once before kissing his cheek.

“Where have you been?”

“Ahwen!” He points, and I look over my shoulder to see Ahren step into the room. His hair is pulled back messily, and some strands are already escaping. He’s filled out a lot, and he’s grown taller than he was two years ago. Ever since he shifted, he’s changed a lot.

I smile at Ahren; he made it on time. I watch as he meets everyone, and my eyes flicker to the Westwood Quints.

Renji is the youngest, with blue eyes and black hair.

He’s the nicest of the bunch and the only one I am not afraid of.

Then the one older than him is Carter. Carter has the softest features, with sandy brown hair and green eyes, but don’t let that deceive you, he’s almost as cruel as his eldest quint.

Then the middle one is Ares. He’s quiet with dirty blond hair and hazel eyes, and somehow you can’t ever really make out what he’s thinking. Then, of course, the second eldest, Theo, whom we’ve met.

And then there’s Jayce.

I dare myself to look at him, hating how my throat feels dry. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with messy, black hair and sharp, green eyes. He’s muscular, just like his brothers, with a dusting of hair across his jaw and chin. He’s wearing black jeans, a leather jacket and a pair of grey Timberlands.

He and Ahren clasp each other’s hands as they lean in and exchange a manly hug. Ahren is taller, but then again, the only person I know taller than Ahren is Dante.

Jayce tilts his head slightly, turning towards me, and I quickly look away.

“Hungry anyone?” Jaddati calls, and I let out a little breath of relief.

I’m starved.

Dinner wasn’t too bad. I managed to find a spot far away from the boys. Some of them are playing charades, and I excuse myself. I still have a few presents I never finished wrapping up. I’m always so last-minute!

I look at my silver wrapping paper with white stars, thinking it’s really going to ruin Mama’s wrapping aesthetic.

I’ll put mine behind them.

I wrap the white organza sash around Allie’s present and pick up all five of the parcels before exiting my room and hurrying downstairs. I’ve long since abandoned my heels, and I stop, looking at the large frames that hang on the wall opposite the twin staircases.

Great Grandfather Ricardo, Grandfather Rafael, Dad and Uncle Chris.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, looking at Dad and Uncle Chris. I turn away, the familiar wave of sadness hitting me.

Not now. Humming a song, I head to the lounge.

Looking at the Christmas tree as I walk over to it, I drop to my knees and begin moving the presents Mama placed there.

I put the larger boxes down first and balance the smaller ones on top.

I usually get Heaven and Allie different things because their tastes are so different.

“You’ll never see me, even though you’re all I see.

No matter how crowded the room is. I’ll find you.

When will you see that I need you? That I want you?

” I continue humming as I place the final little one on top, satisfied, and pick up a few of Mama’s boxes, only for my hand to knock my smallest one and send it tumbling down behind the tree. “Oh no!”

Sighing softly, I crouch down, trying to find it, pushing aside a few stray branches of the tree.

There are too many presents. I move back and instead crawl around the tree. I’ll grab it from behind. I see a glint of silver and smile. There it is!

I reach out when suddenly I see grey boots.

Timberlands…

My breath catches, and my eyes travel up the boots that are crossed at the ankles, dark jeans, broad thighs, a muscular chest that strains against the T-shirt, barely moving.

Jayce…

My heart hammers as my gaze flicks up to the man whose head is leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, and he’s watching me through hooded eyes. Still sharp and terrifying.

The soft glow of the Christmas lights cast a shadow across his sharp jaw, the shadows of his cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass.

He’s even more gorgeous up close…

My heart pounds.

“I just…” Gods help me!

“Can you do anything right?” His voice is cold, deep, and cutting, and I glance down, realising how inappropriate this is, and quickly sit back, trying to discreetly tug my top over my breasts.

The scent of cedarwood, leather, and dark spice clings to the air around us, wrapping around me like a dangerous claw.

My breath hitches.

Why is he in here?

I can hear the sounds and laughter of everyone else. I’m not alone. I swallow.

“I just dropped a present. May I get it?” I ask, avoiding looking into those piercing eyes. All I can feel is him. His presence is strong, his aura intense and dark, overpowering me.

I see the slight flex of his hand against his knee, and my gaze flitters to the small present. I reach for it bravely.

“Careful.” His cold tone makes me freeze. I hear it then, the small scoff of contempt. “What’s the matter? Too scared to look at me?”

I press my lips together. I’ll get the present later.

“No,” I reply, looking him in the eyes, but if that was supposed to impress him, it doesn’t. His eyes just trail over me as if I’m something the cat dragged in. “Excuse me.”

Turning, I flee from the room, not able to be alone in his presence for another second longer.

And I hate how my heart hammers every time he’s near me.

I hate the effect Jayce Westwood has on me.

He terrifies me and yet... he consumes me.