Page 50 of Filthy Dirty Dom
“Probably,” he said. “But Luke and the others will be there. And they’ll make sure his fiancée is taken care of. I will, as well.”
She took in a shaky breath and nodded. She knew she had to sit up but she wanted to burrow deeper into him. For the first time in her life, she’d seen death in its most gruesome form and no matter how hard he tried to shield her, the memory would always be with her. Finally, she raised her head. “I know, Alex. I trust you. You’re the only thing I trust in right now.”
Why his expression seemed to harden, she didn’t know, not until she realized how hollow her voice had sounded.
Turning her face back toward the window, fresh tears sprung to her eyes as she suddenly struggled to breathe despite Alex’s reassurance. As the plane began its descent, she caught sight of a distant island, its lights gleaming like a string of diamonds strewn across the vast ocean. The lights seemed to mock the darkness they’d just escaped. As the wheels of the plane met the island tarmac, Leslie tightened her grip on Alex's hand. Slowly, her tears dried and she straightened her spine.
Whatever awaited them on this unknown island, they would face it together. She was not just an heiress or a fashion designer—she was a complex woman with layers but most of all strength, and she would use every drop of it to stand by Alex’s side through all of this. Instinctively, she knew that as strong as he was, he needed that from her.
The moment the plane's doors opened and they stood at the top of the stairs, Leslie was greeted by the tropical scent of the island—the earthy fragrance of flora, the salty sea air, and the sweetness of exotic fruits. The sun was sinking as the golden hour approached, leaving them a couple of hours of light before evening fell. The beauty of the scenery outside was starkly juxtaposed by the sight of a fleet of sleek, black Suburbans awaiting them on the tarmac, an ominous welcome party in paradise.
Men in tailored suits mingled with those in military-style cargo gear, their bodies bulky and formidable with the weight of the weaponry they carried. This paradise was seemingly fortified like a fortress, its beauty concealed behind a veil of imminent danger. Instead of scaring her, the sight of the weaponry and the precision with which the men carried them was reassuring because down to the last man, she was reminded of Alex. Like him, these men weren’t just trained to kill but to protect—be it the island, their boss, or now, Alex and Leslie.
Leslie turned to Alex and for the first time asked, “Alex, who owns this island?”
Alex kept his eyes on the cavalcade in front of them. “A man I knew almost a decade ago,” he explained, his tone still tight. “He and his family had some trouble many years ago, but it isn’t my story tell. Just know he doesn’t take any chances, which works in our favor.”
That was certainly vague. She wanted to ask more, the curiosity burning in her chest, but she bit her tongue. They were there for safety, not social calls. Yet the question remained—when would they know why those men had attacked her in New York?
“Those men in New York. They spoke a foreign language.”
“Russian,” Alex confirmed.
“All three spoke Russian. What could they want with me? With us?”
His dark eyes glinted with frustration, his jaw tense. “I’m sorry I don’t have answers yet, Leslie,” he admitted. “And I can’t say how or when I’ll get them.”
His candid admission hung in the air between them, a sharp reminder of the gravity of their situation. But despite her frustration at the cloak-and-dagger games, she knew Alex’s frustration had to be far worse. This was a man who sought out answers on the regular and instead of rarely coming up empty, usually found the answers in record time. She knew that in the background, Luke and maybe even Lee were doing all they could to track those answers down. They’d find them quicker with Alex helping, but he was obviously expending his energy watching over Leslie, and for that she was grateful.
“Watch your step,” Alex said softly before they descended the stairs. Once they reached the ground, they approached the armed men. A man dressed in a dark suit approached them first, his bulky body and hardened features hinting at what physical power he was capable of.
He stopped three feet away from them. For a full minute, he and Alex stared at each other as if deciding whether they were going to come to blows. Again, it confused her, the suspicion on both their faces. The way they were sizing then up.
Almost imperceptibly, the other man relaxed slightly, followed quickly by Alex having the same reaction.
“Alex,” the man announced in a gruff voice, before gesturing them toward a waiting Suburban. The vehicle sat imposingly amongst the others, its glossy black exterior blending into the backdrop of the night. Alex held a back door open for her then climbed in after her.
As the vehicle trundled down the tarmac, Alex's hand sought hers, their fingers entwining in a familiar hold, his grip once again a comforting anchor.
The island unfolded around them with winding roads leading them through dense forests and sloping hills. The further they drove, the more remote the scenery became, with populated villages replaced by vast swathes of untouched wilderness.
Eventually, the vehicle passed through a massive, wrought-iron armed gate that stood like a sentinel in the middle of the wilderness. Leslie's breath caught as the sight of a vast walled compound unfolded before them, a striking contrast to the wild, natural beauty they’d just driven through. She spotted two watch towers and barbed wire fencing reminiscent of prisons she’d seen on television.
She'd become accustomed to constant security around her brother and the rest of her family, but this was an entirely different league—it was a fortress, a secluded kingdom safeguarded by an army of vigilant soldiers. Maybe Branden should build a similar compound in New York. When the ridiculous image of this compound sitting smack down in the middle of downtown Manhattan entered her mind, Leslie bit her lip hard to curtail a burst of hysterical laughter from exploding out of her.
They passed through another armed gate and drove down a winding road before the main house came into view. It was a sprawling wonder of architectural beauty, its modern design a fusion of glass, steel, and stone. It sat majestically amid several outbuildings—cottages, perhaps, or guest houses—all ensconced within meticulously manicured landscapes.
Among the structures were more armed guards. Some stood still, their gazes scanning the surrounding area, their hands occasionally reaching for the weapons strapped to their sides.
The sheer magnitude of the security was mind blowing. Who owned this place? A politician? Actor? War mongrel? Her mind was whirling again, but when Alex squeezed her hand again, Leslie settled. They were here. They were doing this. And she couldn’t imagine anything or anyone being able to infiltrate these walls.
The vehicle rolled to a stop. As the driver opened Leslie’s door, another man approached them. Unbelievably, he was more intimidating than the others. He was broad-shouldered and stood ramrod straight, his suit barely concealing the sinewy muscles underneath. His eyes were sharp and calculating, taking in their arrival with a professional detachment that belied the welcoming smile on his lips.
"Mr. Samuels. Ms. Duke," he greeted, his voice deep and resonant. "I'm Damien, the head of security here.”
Alex stood by Leslie, his tall figure casting a protective shadow over her. The hand that held hers tightened slightly.
Damien's gaze flicked between them. "If you'd like, I can give you a tour of the security systems we have in place."