Page 44 of Temptation

“That makes no sense.”

“Sienna, answer me,” I insist, struggling to keep my voice calm and patient despite her unsettling reaction. “Who is he to you?”

“That’s Miriam’s husband. But that—” she stammers, her confusion evident.

“Who’s Miriam?” I press, feeling the pieces of a larger puzzle beginning to fall into place.

“She’s my colleague. And um—the other teacher attending the school’s afternoon care.” She swallows audibly. “She—she loves children. That makes no sense at all.”

I take a deep breath, trying to quell the anger simmering inside me. How had my brother or any of my men missed this connection? Such a blatant oversight would never be tolerated again. Sienna holds out the phone to me, her expression just as pensive as when I first met her.

“What are you going to do now?” she asks, uncertainty lacing her voice. After shoving the phone into my pocket, I lean down and brush my lips across her forehead.

“Don’t worry; everything will be fine,” I murmur, though the words feel hollow. It’s all I can manage to say before leaving the room. I don’t dare to look back at her, knowing I wouldn’t like the way she looks at me—like she’s just remembered she’s dealing with the devil.

Stepping out of the house, the crisp air of the night envelops me, and the scent of salt from the nearby ocean weaves through the air, invigorating my senses with its refreshing chill. I am unsurprised to see Oliver stationed outside.

He is fully dressed and poised for action, his stance rigid and alert. His eyes, sharp and watchful, sweep the surroundings with the vigilance of a seasoned protector, always ready for any potential threat.

“I will be gone for a few days,” I inform him, my voice imbued with a firm resolve that leaves no room for debate. Oliver nods, but the concern etched into his features is unmistakable.

“Let me come with you. I-I don’t like this,” he stammers, his usual air of confidence noticeably shaken. I understand his apprehension; the recent attack at the school has left everyone on edge, and being assigned to what he perceives as a mere babysitting duty grates on him. He is a man of action, not one to stand idle. However, personal preferences hold no sway when it comes to the safety of my family. Oliver and Vance have a clear, non-negotiable mission: they must stay here and protect my family.

“No,” I assert firmly, my tone allowing no argument. “I trust the two of you to keep my family safe while I’m gone.”

“Yes, boss,” he replies, though resignation seeps into his voice as he accepts his role. The weight of responsibility is evident in his eyes, but so is his unwavering loyalty. I slide into the backseat of the sleek black car waiting in the driveway. Its engine hums softly, a purring beast ready to whisk me away. Davis, one of my most dependable men, sits behind the steering wheel. He turns to face me, his expression steady and composed.

“Where to?” he asks, his voice calm and professional.

“Back home to Atlanta,” I instruct, my mind already racing with the myriad tasks that await me. There is no time for hesitation; every moment counts.

“Yes, sir,” he nods, and with a swift, practiced motion, the car glides smoothly away from the idyllic beach house, leaving behind the tranquility of the seaside retreat. As we drive, I take a deep breath; the picturesque scenery outside the window, with its rolling waves and sun-kissed horizon, does little to soothe my frayed nerves. A gnawing sense of unease takes root in my gut, whispering insidiously that something is wrong. Very wrong.

Twenty-Five

Sienna

Caught in that fuzzy space between sleep and wakefulness, I roll over in bed, my hands smacking against the cool, empty sheets. As I groggily open my eyes, the brilliant morning sunlight floods the room, nearly blinding me with its intensity. Fabrizio’s side of the bed is cold, and the rumpled sheets are the only sign he was here, at least for part of the night.

A smile tugs at my lips, and a delicious tingle runs through my body as I reminisce about our date and the electrifying moments that followed. His scent still lingers on the bed, and I take a deep breath, savoring the memory of what felt like a truly perfect night. Well, almost perfect, except for how it ended.

After Fabrizio left last night, I remained in a daze, my mind struggling to process his confusing words. Although I don’t know her husband, I know Miriam well enough to be convinced she would never do anything to harm a child. But the more I think about it, the harder it becomes to ignore the strangecoincidence that someone raided the school on the very day she left early. A shiver runs down my spine, and I pull the sheets up to my chin, refusing to believe that someone I consider a friend could betray me like this.

Once the suspicion forms in my mind, it sticks like glue, refusing to let go. I roll onto my belly and bury my face in the pillow, letting out a loud, frustrated groan.

What a complete and utter mess. How could she do something like this to me? And to the children?

My initial exasperation quickly morphs into white-hot fury as my mind conjures gruesome images of what could have happened if Fabrizio hadn’t been there to intervene.

Before I can lose myself in violent fantasies of what I might do to Miriam if I ever saw her again, the sounds of pots clattering and the twins’ laughter pull me back to reality.

Oh fuck—the kids.

I roll out of bed, my feet landing in a puddle of discarded clothes. Sighing, I gather the clothes from the floor and toss them into the laundry basket before hastily getting dressed and hurrying downstairs.

“What on earth are you doing?” I exclaim as soon as I step into the kitchen, my eyes widening at the sight before me.

Oliver and Vance stand in the middle of the kitchen, their sleeves rolled up and their hands and torsos covered in what appears to be a flour explosion. The counters, floor, and even the ceiling have not been spared. It looks like a bakery war zone.

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