Page 12 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

I glance at Alexia.Her brow is furrowed like she’s caught in a nightmare.Even now, after everything, I feel it—the pull, the connection between us that refuses to die.And I hate her for it.I hate myself for still wanting her.

We reach the entrance just as the sun peaks in the cloudless sky.The gates stand tall—stark white against the green woods, their lines softened by the golden light filtering through the trees.The stone columns on either side are as solid as the walls I’ve built around my heart and just as cold.The Maserati hums over the cobblestone drive, the soft rumble the only sound apart from the distant rustle of leaves stirred by the warm breeze.The gate creaks open slowly.

Blue and purple morning glories curl around the base of the columns—delicate, almost mocking in their brightness against the shadows creeping into my mind, the usual result of me reliving those painful memories.It’s peaceful here, quiet, but the tension between Alexia and I lingers like the heavy scent of the pine trees swaying along the side of the driveaway ahead of us.Alexia, still asleep, with her face bathed in sunlight.The peace is an illusion.I know it.She will, too, soon enough.

The gates glide shut behind us with a soft click, sealing us off from the rest of the world.As I ease the Maserati down the winding drive, I nod at my soldiers standing guard every couple of hundred yards.The tires crunch against the gravel as we pass through a tunnel of thick trees, their branches twisting overhead like silent sentinels.The mansion looms ahead, its silhouette barely visible through the thick leaves, a fortress sprawled across the land.It’s exactly what I needed—isolated, untouchable.No one would ever guess that the quiet estate tucked away on the edge of Wychmere Harbor belongs to me.I made sure of that.

When I bought the place under an alias, it was more than just a hideout—it was an escape route, a fortress of solitude.Nobody knows that I found it when Alexia and I were still together.I planned to surprise her with this property as a wedding present.Ironically, she left me before I made an offer for the eight acres of private land hidden behind thick walls of greenery and overlooking a calm stretch of the Nantucket Sound.After I was chosen to lead the Syndicate, I decided to buy the place.No money trail.No loose ends.

As we emerge from the thick cover of trees, the main house comes into view, all pristine white clapboard and manicured hedges.It’s massive, understated, the kind of house that whispers old money and respectability.Everything about it is designed to look like a sanctuary, a far cry from the life I lead.I glance at Alexia—still asleep, unaware of the world around her—and pull the car to a stop in front of the house.For a moment, I just sit there, staring at her, wondering how the hell we got here.

“Alexia,” I call, my voice rough from almost two hours of silence.She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, confusion clouding her face before she remembers where she is.

She sits up, blinking.“Where are we?”

“At the safe house,” I reply, shutting off the engine.

The tension between us is thick, almost suffocating.We’ve both changed so much, but everything between us still feels the same.The attraction.The betrayal.The anger.

“This isn’t over,” I say, my voice low and harsh as I wiggle a finger between us.“We need to talk.”

Her lips form a thin line, but she nods.She knows there is too much left unsaid between us.

I get out of the car and walk around to open the door for her.She steps out, her body tense, eyes scanning the surroundings as if she’s expecting Igor to be lurking in the middle of the woods.

“Don’t worry, we’re safe here,” I assure her.

As we walk toward the sprawling main house, the silence stretches between us, heavy with everything we haven’t said.I can feel her presence beside me, as if I needed a reminder of everything we’ve lost, everything that’s still unresolved.

But this is far from over.The real confrontation is still coming.

5

Alexia

The sound of the powerful engine seeps into my consciousness.My body stirs awake as Dave shifts the car into park, and I stir awake.My eyelids flutter as I fight to shake off the remnants of sleep, my mind sluggish as I try to orient myself.For a moment, everything feels too still, too calm.

“Alexia.”Dave’s voice is low, cutting through the haze of my thoughts.

Still dazed, I sit up and ask in a soft tone, “Where are we?”

“At the safe house,” he answers, shutting off the engine.

Reality crashes back in.

Rose.

My heart races as I turn my head to look through the windshield.The sun is already high in the sky, bathing the landscape in warm, golden light.I see the sprawling estate before us.The crisp white clapboard of the mansion gleams against the deep green of the manicured lawns, a striking contrast to the chaos we’ve left behind.

A sanctuary.

That’s what it should feel like.But tension creeps in with every breath I take.I can’t let my guard down.Not when I’m living on borrowed time, not with everything at stake.

“This isn’t over,” Dave’s baritone makes me whip my head around to focus on him again.He gestures, indicating he is talking about us.“We need to talk.”

I hold my tongue and nod.I don’t trust myself to say a word.There’s too much at stake and too many ways I can screw us over.

The door opens with a soft click as Dave steps out first, the gravel crunching under his boots.I watch through the window as he straightens, his sharp eyes sweeping the property like a sentinel.A small part of me appreciates his vigilance, even if I can’t bring myself to admit it out loud.He’s keeping us safe—keeping Rose safe—but at what cost?

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