Page 43 of Twins for the Mafia Heir

I had no idea how much I missed Achilles’s scent and warmth until I’m enveloped in it again. Achilles pulls me into a fierce hug, his hand cradling the back of my head, his fingers weaving into my hair like they belong there. The three of us breathe into each other, our heartbeats melding and mellowing now that we’re together.

“You did very well,” Achilles murmurs, his breath tickling across my forehead. “Both of you.”

“Are the scary men gone, daddy?” Sidony whispers, so small I can barely hear her.

I feel Achilles shudder, and a spear of grief goes through my chest too. No little girl should have boogeymen that exist outside her dreams, and especially not ones that have reared their heads more than once.

“Don’t worry, little princess,” Achilles tells his daughter. “They’re gone. And we’re going home.”

Sidony blinks up with teary eyes. “Really?”

Achilles kisses her forehead once, twice, three times. “Yes. We’re leaving Wesley Hall. Today.”

It’s strange to think that I’ve been scheming to escape Wesley Hall since I arrived, but now that Achilles is removing me from it, I don’t want to go. There are cracks all through the foundations of this family, but they’re not big enough for me to slip my fingers through yet. If I just had a little more time…

But no, I won’t stop Achilles from making a decision for the sake of Sidony’s safety. I also can’t deny that there’s relief in my bones that I won’t be living under Fantasia’s fugue and the threat of the brutes wandering around her house.

I’m also curious about where we’re going. Where is ‘home’ to Sidony and Achilles, and why isn’t it Wesley Hall? They must have left it at the behest of Fantasia, but the further away from the Hall that we drive, the more confused I feel. It’s strange that the Warwicks wouldn’t remain more centralized.

The estate we eventually reach is nearly an hour away from the heart of the city, hidden from the more suburban neighborhood around it by a small grove of evergreen trees and a tall brick wall. Our limo rolls through opening gates, and through the branches and lush landscaping, I see glimpses of a huge white house. Sidney presses her hands and face to thewindow to see it better, turned around in her seat while Achilles holds a hand to her back.

I wonder if either of them know how much more alive they look right now.

When we stop at the end of the gravel drive, I finally get to admire the front of the house. I don’t know much about architecture, but even I can appreciate its huge bay windows and the flowers growing on every balcony. This place looks like a home instead of a museum. If I lived here, I wouldn’t want to trade it for Wesley Hall either.

Achilles and I have to arrange ourselves around Sidony so we can each hold one of her hands and one of our bags, but we all manage to make it up the front steps without tripping. A harried-looking butler waits by the double front doors, which have been propped open for us.

“Apologies, Mr. Ashwood,” he says. “We’re not quite done freshening up the rooms-”

“No need to stand on ceremony, Barkley,” Achilles says. “I gave you very short notice. Don’t worry about the rooms for now. Could we have some lunch brought up to Sidony’s room, if it’s not too much trouble?”

“Certainly, Mr. Ashwood,” Barkley says, giving a little bow and following us inside.

I’m struck immediately by the richness of the color inside the house, starkly contrasting its white exterior. The tile floor in the foyer is a lavish blue and white pattern, the walls a cheery yellow and packed with ornate picture frames. The sitting room is upholstered in burgundy and pale green florals, with plants crowded into every corner and light flooding the room through huge windows.

Achilles motions for me to leave the bag I’m carrying in the foyer, and Barkley, who disappeared suddenly and reappearedjust as quickly, takes them in hand for us and goes straight up the stairs.

“Shall we give Raleigh a tour?” Achilles asks Sidony. She smiles, for the first time since Fantasia’s generals cornered us on the terrace, and my heart melts to the floor.

“My grandfather built this house,” Achilles says, as we walk past the front room and down the first hall. It’s lined with windows letting in every ray of light available. “He wanted a place for my grandmother that was outside the hustle of London, but not too far that they couldn’t have a night on the town every now and then. He took a great deal of inspiration from the Edwardian architectural style when building the house, but he let my grandmother do the bulk of the interior design because he loved her eye for color and texture so much.”

What a labor of love, I think, to build a home together. I’m surprised such a tender relationship existed in a mafia family.

Or… did it?

We pass through a bright dining room, an even brighter sun room, a small ballroom lined with gilded mirrors, and a huge kitchen bustling with staff. They all stop in their tracks so they can rush toward us and greet Achilles and Sidony with ecstatic smiles. The sentiments all pile on top of each other.

“Mr. Ashwood!”

“Little Miss Ashwood!”

“Welcome home, both of you!”

“Miss Ashwood, you’ve gotten so big!”

“You should have told us you were on your way home, we would have made you a better lunch than sandwiches!”

“It’s good to see you all,” Achilles says, wearing a rare warm smile. “I apologize for giving so little warning. This was a- last minute decision.”

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