“Did you get all your shopping done?” Serena asks an hour later when I show up at her house to collect Rowan.
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” I hate lying to my sister, but it’s safer if she doesn’t know.
“The kids are in the movie room,” she says as I enter the ornate lobby of her expansive home. “But I warned Rowan you were on your way.”
Under the harsh glare of the bright hallway, the swelling on Serena’s cheek is more obvious. The silk scarf tied around her neck has slipped a little, and the edge of the bruising is evident. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I quietly ask as we pad down the corridor.
“I’m fine.” She dismisses my concern like she has the couple other times I’ve noticed injuries on her face and body.
“You’re not fine.” Gently, I take her elbow, forcing her to stop. “I know Alfred is doing this. You don’t have to say it for me to know the truth. You should leave him, Serena. I know you’re not happy.”
She wrenches her arm from my grip, snorting. “What the hell has happiness got to do with anything?”
“Happiness is a basic human right. You deserve to be happy.”
“I am happy,” she lies. “I adore my kids, and I get to be a stay-at-home mom. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” If it’s all she’s ever wanted, I would like to know why she wasted years in college earning a business degree she clearly hated and why she worked for the accounting department of Lawson Pharma for eighteen months even though it clearly tore strips off her sanity.
Serena and I have grown super close since I got pregnant, but some days I still feel like I don’t know her. Don’t get me wrong. She’s been a godsend. Mom, Serena, Pen, and Esme got me through my pregnancy and those tough first few months, and I’m very grateful. I love that Rowan is close to his cousins, and I enjoy our weekly meetups as much as he does.
But I don’t get it. I don’t get why Serena chose Alfred in the first place or why she stays with him when he treats her like dirt. The only positive is he is away a lot. “You are wealthy in your own right, and you could still be all those things without him.”
“Sierra, I know you mean well, but just drop it.” She stalks off, and I hurry after her.
“Why do you put up with it? Damn it, Serena.” I tug on her arm, stopping her before she opens the door to the movie room. “You are worth more than this. You deserve more than this!”
“I don’t have a choice!” she cries. Pain swims in her tired eyes. “You don’t understand, Sierra.”
“So, enlighten me.”
Her mouth opens and closes before she pulls me into a hug. “He’s my husband. I promised to love, honor, and obey him until the day I die, and that is what I will do.”
I pull back, frustrated and pissed off on her behalf, but I know when to let an argument go. This is not one I can win, and I can’t force her to make a decision just because I believe it’s the right one. She has to reach that point herself. “I love you, and I’m always here for you, Serena. No matter what. If you ever want to tell me the truth or you ever need me, I’m here.”
Tears prick her eyes as she folds her arms over her chest. “I know, Sierra, and it means a lot to me.”
“Who is that?” Serena asks a few minutes later, pointing behind my head. I’m wrestling Rowan out the front door, trying to get him into the car before he totally goes crazy. Predictably, he doesn’t want to leave yet, and he’s currently putting up one hell of a fight.
“That’s my new bodyguard,” I confirm as Alessandro gets out of the car.
“Damn. Why couldn’t our bodyguards have looked like that when we were horny teenagers?” she jokes.
“Because we were horny teenagers,” I deadpan.
She looks at Alessandro, and their eyes meet. He nods respectfully in her direction but makes no move to come any closer. A faint blush stains her cheeks before she looks away.
Rowan quiets in my arms, turning his head to watch as Alessandro opens the back door for him.
“Is he one of Dad’s guys?” Serena asks. “I don’t recall seeing him before.”
“No. He’s someone I hired myself from a private security firm,” I blurt, thinking up an excuse on the spot.
A fresh wave of tension tightens her shoulders. “Why? Has something happened?”
I set Rowan down on his feet, satisfied he has stopped fighting. He’s too busy giving Alessandro the once-over to care that we’re going anymore. “Nothing has happened. I guess I understand now why Father is so anal about protection. I have a child of my own, and I’d do anything to protect him. I just felt it was time we both had a bodyguard again, so I did something about it myself.”
“I have my own bodyguard?” Rowan asks, his eyes popping wide.
“Yes.” I tweak his nose, smiling as his eyes light up. “His name is Frank, and you will meet him back at our house.”
“This is so cool!” He jumps up and down. “I have a bodyguard just like Romeo now!”
Serena and I trade smiles. “If I had known that’s all it’d take, I’d have told him in the movie room and saved myself an ordeal.” I had to practically drag Rowan away from his best friend.
“He’s so cute.” Serena stares adorably at her godson, and I pull her in for one last hug.
“I think so, but I’m probably biased.”
Rowan is babbling away to an amused-looking Alessandro when I climb behind the wheel. Alessandro tried to drive, at first, until I set him straight. He’s my bodyguard, not my driver. He can protect me from the passenger seat while I retain some independence.
“Do you know Frank?” Rowan asks, as I wave to Serena before she closes the door.
“I do,” Alessandro replies.
“Does he have drawings on his arms too?” Rowan inquires.
Alessandro’s brow puckers, and I smile. “He means your tattoos.”
“Eh, no. Frank doesn’t have any ink on his arms.”
“I have ink!” Rowan says, excitement bubbling in his tone. He strains against the straps of his car seat as he leans forward. “My mommy and me have lots and lots of ink and paints and clay and playdough in our art studio. You wanna see my art studio, Alesso?”
“His name is Alessandro,” I explain, grinning.
“I know, Mom.” Rowan rolls his eyes before eyeballing Alessandro. “But I like Alesso better. I’m gonna call you Alesso, Alesso.”
I glance sideways at Alessandro, watching him fight a smile. I peer at my son in the mirror, smiling. “Alesso it is.”
“Let me get this straight,” Esme says later that night from her sprawled position on my couch. She gulps a mouthful of her red wine. “In less than twenty-four hours, Bennett Carver—”
“Mazzone,” I correct, topping up Pen’s nearly-empty glass.
“Whatever.” Esme flaps her hands around. “In less than a day, he has managed to completely turn your world upside down. Bodyguards. Security cameras. Child support, new car on the way, and he’s even got his men shacked up in the house across the street. He’s an asshole, but I’ve got to hand it to him—he’s a fucking fast worker. It’s impressive.”