Chapter 61 In Russos
Rose
On the day I'm supposed to move into my future husband's house, he doesn't come to pick me up. Instead, I find myself face-to-face with a blond man with steely gray eyes.
He's handsome, but the scar on his face makes his beauty seem cruel and stern. His arms are crossed, and he's leaning against a sleek blue Jaguar. I look at him curiously.
"Who are you?"
He smirks. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Russo," he says, holding up an imaginary hat. He has a slight British accent. "I'm Jason Reed. Your driver."
"Please don't call me that. And I don't need a driver." I said.
"Oh? Then that's good, because I'm not," he says dryly. "Actually, I'm Enzo's best friend. But don't tell him I said that. He likes to deny the fact that he loves me so much." He said.
I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to understand the man in front of me. Finally, I sigh. Of course, Enzo's best friend's personality is just as strange as his. "He sent you here?"
"Yeah. Asked me to deliver his fiancée in a perfectly wrapped package." His gaze slid to the suitcase I was holding onto. "Are these all your things?"
"I'll be back for the rest later," I tell him.
He shrugs, grabs it, and puts it in the trunk. I turn to look at the house I've lived in since I was born. A feeling of melancholy fills me. I'd already said goodbye at breakfast. The mood was gloomy, a little depressed.
Elena was angry. My brother and the boys tried to be more optimistic, encouraging, but I could tell they weren't too happy to see me go. My mother didn't show up. I talked to her last night, and while she's okay with the wedding, she's not happy that I'll be living with him so soon.
I was so angry at her. Of all the things to be angry about, she didn't care that I was marrying a man I didn't know; she only cared about how it would look to everyone.
I hate leaving while we're arguing, but that doesn't mean I'm going far. If my mom wants to talk to me and maybe apologize, she can pick up the phone and do that. Or have someone bring her to me.
"Need a few more minutes?" Jason asks from behind me, his tone slightly teasing. I roll my eyes.
"No, let's go," I said.
The drive is mostly quiet. Jason strikes me as the type of guy who doesn't say much but notices a lot. I think he might tell me I'm afraid of this. I'm leaving home, moving to a new one. The uncertainty terrifies me. I have no idea what I'm walking into.
Thirty minutes later, thanks to New York traffic, we enter a trendy neighborhood. I'm surprised the Russos live in such a place. The sidewalks are crowded; I notice a grill and a small party on someone's lawn.
Compared to my quieter, more secluded neighborhood, this place seems much more outlandish. Right in the center, densely populated.
I'm not sure that's practical for a mafia family.
"We own most of the houses on this street," Jason says, interrupting my thoughts.
I flinch slightly, turning to face him. "What?"
"The reason this neighborhood is so crowded. I know you were wondering," he says with a slight smile. "The houses are ours. Apparently, Enzo's father enjoyed real estate, so he bought up every house on this street to ensure his family's privacy. But after what happened last year, Enzo decided that might not be the best idea.”
I raise an eyebrow. "What happened last year?"
"Well, your brother burst in and practically kidnapped the Don, then killed him. The men were caught off guard. Most of them were scattered all over the city. The Don decided that he needed to change. Ever since he came to power, loyalty to Russo meant getting a roof over your head." He told.
"It's... ostentatious," I mutter.
"With or on a shield." Jason shrugs.
He pulls up to the huge, shiny black gates, and a few seconds later, they swing open automatically. He drives down the driveway until we park in front of a large mansion. Not much different from my house, except it's somehow colder here.
"Come on, I'll show you," Jason says, pulling out my suitcase and coming toward me.
"Where's Enzo?" I ask sharply. Because, really, he's the only person I know. And he should be here right now.
"I have no idea. He's probably inside," Jason replies.
I let him lead me into the mansion. He's showing me around the living room when someone appears before us. Icy blue eyes, eerily similar to Enzo's narrow ones.
"And you?" she asks, bored.
Next to me, Jason smiles, amused. "You know who she is, Isa."
Isabella Russo. Enzo's cousin. I'm glad Roman didn't let me come here blind. He explained to me what to expect from Enzo's family. He has three cousins, and Isabella is the eldest. Then there are twins.
Two children, about seven years old. The last family member in the house is Enzo's aunt, the wife of the former Don. The one my brother killed. He warned me to stay away from her if I could help it.
"Even if not, it's nice to meet you, Isabella. I'm Rose," I say, trying to fake a warm smile.
Isabella stares back at me. She reminds me of those bratty girls in high school who liked to think they were above everyone and everything.
"Just stay out of my way, and we'll be fine," she says with a snarl before quickly walking away.
"Well, that was nice," I muttered.
"She'll come around in time," Jason offers. "I promise she's not always this bad."
"I'll take your word for it," I mutter. "Could you take me to Enzo? I need to talk to him."
He considers my request and shrugs. "He's probably in the gym. Go up the stairs and turn left. Those are two black double doors; you can't miss them. I'll take this to your room."
I nod. "Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me." Jason leaves, and I reach the place he described. I'm struck by how impersonal this house feels. There are no paintings or photographs on the walls.
The dark paint only adds to it. For a house that's probably been lived in for as long as mine, it's incredibly cold here. It reminds me of Enzo himself.
Luckily, I find the gym without seeing anyone. I push the door open and immediately stop. Enzo stands in the middle of the room, his face intent, lifting two large weights that, if I were to guess, must be twice my body weight. However, that's not what makes me stop.
He's shirtless. Sweat clings to his chest, and his muscles ripple and twist as he lifts the weights. It's inherently sexy. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow. He hasn't noticed me yet, which is good, because it would be humiliating if he saw me caught off guard like this.