I know some of Holden’s history, but a lot of it is still a mystery. He doesn’t talk about his past.
“Yeah,” his smile is sad, “before things went bad.” He lapses into silence, and I know I need to tell him my story, hoping it might prompt him to talk to me.
I pull my feet onto the bench, hugging my knees to my chest. “I want to tell you my story.” He whips his head towards me. “I know you’ve heard bits and pieces, but I want you to have a better understanding of me. I need you to know I understand what you’re going through.” I turn to face him. “I need you to know I would never hurt you like they did.”
“I know,” he says softly.
I look back at the field, trying to figure out where to start. This isn’t easy for me to talk about, but I feel like Holden deserves to know. “As you know, I was born into the Poletti life. Generations after generations have run Abbs Valley and Los Angeles’s underbelly, among other places. My mom and dad were good people, as good as you can be in the Mafia.” I smile at that. No matter how good we are, we’re still criminals. “My mom died in a car accident when I was young. I was old enough to remember her but still too young to have gotten a good life with her. She was beautiful. Long blond hair, tall, the prettiest green eyes, and one of the gentlest souls, and my dad was madly in love with her.”
I still remember the stolen kisses and the dances around the house when they thought I wasn’t watching. I knew if Mom could have had more kids, there would have been a horde of us. But complications from her pregnancy with me took that away from them. They loved me just as fiercely as they did each other, and I missed that so damn much. That was the type of love I had always dreamed of for myself. But I feel like that was robbed from me. Frankie took more than just my innocence that night.
“It broke him when she died, but he still did his best to raise me and run an empire. When I was old enough, he trained me in combat, knives, guns, anything so I could protect myself, along with Micah. With our age difference, he always felt more like a brother than an uncle.”
I take a deep breath. This is where the story turned ugly. I don’t want to gloss over it, but I also can’t drag the story out. “When I wasthirteen, I was out with my guards to meet Ryder and Gage, and someone ran a red light, smashing into the side of our SUV. That someone worked for Frankie Perez.”
Holden’s whole body is turned towards me, taking in every word. “They killed both guards and took me. I was locked up in a smelly old house for days where his men would rape, sodomize, and torture me for hours. All at the order of Frankie because my dad outbid him at a casino he wanted.”
My voice cracks on the last word, and I can feel tears leaking down my cheeks without any recollection of when I started to cry. Holden places his hand on my knee without a word. It’s the first time he’s ever initiated contact. I lay my cheek on his hand, staring into his soulful brown eyes, seeing the pain on the surface. Pain for me and pain for whatever he went through.
“When my dad found me, I was covered in blood and completely shut down. I ran into a place in my mind and hid, trying to block out what was happening. It took a while for me to return from that place, and my mind wasn’t right when I did. No matter how much therapy he put me through, it didn’t help. I felt every man was looking at me like those men did. I jumped at every sound. I cried over everything. I didn’t trust anyone.” I look back at the field, watching a colt run around his mom.
“When I was seventeen, I made my first kill. This guy’s face was plastered all over the TV. Some rich asshole had gotten away with raping a ten-year-old girl. I planned, hunted him down, and murdered him. It was the first time my mind felt clear, and I knew what I needed to do. I started researching every court case where the person got away and took them out. After my fourth kill, Micah busted me.” I laugh at that. He wasn’t even shocked. “He’s the one who built the underground torture chamber, helped dispose of the bodies, and got my gear. All under my dad’s nose.” I hated hiding that from him, but it wasn’t something I ever wanted him to see me as. A murderer. A serial killer. “My dad was diagnosed with cancer soon after, went into remission, then got sick again right after my twenty-first birthday. He died thirteen months later. He had already put everything into place for me to continueto run his empire, even though I wasn’t ready and probably still not.”
I look back at Holden, and he has tears on his cheeks. I reach up and wipe them away with my thumb. “I’m telling you this because I need you to know I trust you. I trust you with the information you find, I trust you with the innermost secrets of this family, and I trust you with my truth. Youarea part of this family, Holden.” He closes his eyes, more tears leaking out. “I'll be here when you’re ready to talk to me. I’ll never push you.”
He nods and crushes me to his chest. It's awkward how I'm sitting, so I drop my knees and bury my face in his chest.
It is the first time he’s ever hugged me, and it’s like a balm to my soul.
He rubs his hands up and down my back, lending me his strength, even though I can feel the rigid set of his body. I’m serious about not pushing him, even though I want to know so I can understand him better. I want to know if there is something I can do so he will look me in the eye.
He pulls back from the hug all too soon. He turns and looks out at the view. “I’m not ready,” he whispers.
I hook my arm through his and lay my head on his shoulder. “That’s okay.”
This is why I think Gage’s plan will never work, and I’m kind of pissed he put it into my head, anyway. I’m not fucking blind. All these guys are sexier than sin. I can appreciate them from a distance when they walk around the house shirtless, in ball shorts or grey sweatpants. But one wrong move and this will blow up in my face, and I’ll lose all of them. I also can’t afford any distractions; that’s how people in my position died.
But would they be a distraction?
Fucking hell.I’m going to think myself into an early grave. I’m Alessa Fucking Poletti. I am not a coward like Gage accused me of earlier today.
“The day you got me out, I laid that trail on purpose,” Holden says after some time. I don’t look up at him, too afraid to scare him back into silence. “I was hoping you would kill me.”
I close my eyes, my heart sinking. “I figured you wanted to get caught. You’re too good, and the trail was too easy.” I finally look at him and nudge his chin to look at me. “But I would never have hurt you. There was something sopureabout you.”
“When I heard the gunshots,” he swallows. “I smiled for the first time in four years because I knew I would finally be free.”
“Oh, Holden,” I choke out, laying my forehead against his. “This place would be so much darker without you in it.” I gently place my lips against his before I realize what I’m doing. I pull back from him before muttering, “Sorry.”
“No,” he croaks. “Please don’t move.”
I lean my forehead against his again. When he looks up and locks those beautiful brown eyes with mine, I almost weep with joy. There is no fear, hesitation, or uncertainty in his gaze, just an openness I’ve never seen in him. This close to him, I notice the light smattering of freckles across his proud nose and a tiny scar below his left eyebrow.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, taking the words from my mouth of what I was thinking about him. “Will you kiss me again?”
I gently lay my lips on his as I did before with a little more pressure. There is a naivety surrounding him I can’t quite put my finger on. He finally slides one hand onto my cheek, laying several pecks on my lips but never deepening it. I follow his lead, not wanting to rush him, and I’m perfectly content to feel his lips on mine.
He lays his forehead back on mine with a sigh. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
