Dahlia Aldridge
I thought I knew every single corner of Wildberry Lane. I had been mistaken.
I hadn’t been given the memo on the secret door in the Ross family office that led to… well, whatever in the lord’s name this was. It appeared to be a mix between a weapons vault, a command center, and an information storage center. Except really large, and rather comfortable and cozy.
I knew that was probably an odd way of viewing it, but everything from the dark wood floors to the navy walls brought a sense of warmth that greatly contrasted the contents of the actual room. My gaze tracked across the space, starting with the large seating area of leather couches in front of me, seemingly set up for conversation, to the large oval conference table behind that, followed by a dark, imposing desk. At the far end of the massive rectangular room was a large glass-enclosed area that seemed to be split, consisting on one side of enough weapons to militarize our entire town and the other showcasing so many screens that I was convinced they had to be monitoring every street in the freakin’ place.Was that possible?
Somehow I was gathering I may be closer to the truth than one would assume.
I looked up at King, his expression one of curiosity regarding my reaction, no doubt, along with a vulnerability that I didn’t see very often. Of course, growing up together, I’d seen it before, but in the past few years King had grown to have a harder edge, so it was a bit jarring. It also made me nervous, because if he was worried about what he had to tell me, it probably meant I should be worried.
Unfortunately, I was still having difficulty trying to figure out what exactly he was concerned about. Was it that this room existed? That they had a ridiculous amount of weapons? That their family crest seemed to be embroidered or branded on everything in this room? Something that I loved, because it was actually a very cool crest. I just wasn’t seeing it clearly… well, except for the fact that I now knew King was cool with the concept of putting secret doors and passageways in a future house.
I nearly smiled at that thought, loving the concept of living with any of my guys… or maybe all of them.
“So, your family likes secret passageways and weapons? And you have really good security? I’m having issues seeing the problem, King,” I admitted as he offered me a small smile, motioning for me to follow him across the room towards the desk. Before I could take his hand, I came to a stop, the photographs hanging on the walls catching my eye.
“Holy moly,” I mumbled, “is this…”
“Yes,” King mused.
I walked down the line of photographs, the consistent figure of a Ross family member in each. First a man I had to assume was his great grandfather, then his grandfather, followed by his father. Each and every one was accented, though, by a political figure, from US Presidents to foreign royalty. Underneath each picture was the date and event, making me realize that King’s father had been very busy the past few years considering the amount of pictures that he had. I knew my parents had met some really interesting and important figures while traveling, but this was something else. In almost all of them, it felt like the important figurehead was eager to meet Mr. Ross and not the other way around, at least from what I could read from their body language.
“So the international shipping business makes you popular. Noted,” I mumbled.
King chuckled softly, the sound making my skin break out into shivers as I turned towards him, finding him leaning against the edge of the desk, his arms crossed over his muscular chest distracting me momentarily. Honestly though, I was thankful I trusted and loved this man so much, because sometimes he looked very intimidating. I mean, right now, despite the chuckle, there was no humor in his features and his energy felt dark, almost in response to the room. I didn’t know what to make of it as I walked over.
“Why?” I asked softly. Both in reference to the enemies question and, more importantly, the reason we were here.
“Because the Ross family has had political ties internationally for generations.” He grabbed my wrist and gently tugged me towards him.
“Because of the family business?”
“No,” King leveled. “Well, in a way, yes, but not for shipping. Not really.”
“King, you are making me nervous.” I wrapped my arms around his neck as his fingers slid over my waist. “I need you to just tell me why we are here. I mean, it’s fascinating, but I can tell you aren’t saying something.”
“It’s notwhatI have to tell you as much as your reaction to it that concerns me,” he grunted, looking down at my expression thoughtfully. “I’m also worried you’re going to be upset that I didn’t tell you before this.”
“I’m getting far more upset with the vague responses,” I leveled. “Have a little faith in me, I can handle it.”
“I have no doubt of that,” he amended. “I just don’t want to change how you view me. I’ve never had an issue explaining this, and now I find myself legitimately worried it could cause you to walk away.”
“Hey,” I reared back, “don’t say that.”
The man seemed to consider something for a moment before letting out an exhale and explaining exactly what was on his mind, blowing mine in the process. I was almost positive that this was what the kids referred to as a ‘mind fuck.’
See? Who said that I was severely lacking in my ability to connect with my own generation because I was sheltered and surrounded by mostly adults? Clearly that wasn’t the case.
“The international shipping business is our legal cover for what we actually do. For generations now, nearly two hundred years and counting, our family has led the top crime syndicate in the United Kingdom, especially in Ireland. We have an empire of resources that stretches into almost every legal and illegal avenue of international government and trade.”
Oh.
“Crime syndicate like the mafia? The mob? LikeThe Godfather?”
Did I really just relate this man’s serious wording to a movie?Christ.
His lip twitched. “Not extremely accurate for comparison, but essentially, yes.”