Therefore bodyguards are wedding guests. None of them can work during the actual ceremony. Which includes all of SFO. I’ve been in enough meetings before departure, and security is going fucking above and beyond. Plus, the temps have more experience now than they did months ago.
I’m not worried.
“There’ll be drones,” Thatcher warns me.
“Figured.” I wipe Ripley’s tear-streaked cheek with my thumb.
It reminds me of what Maximoff said about wedding footage leaking. If Jack Highland and the rest of the production team film and air our wedding on We Are Calloway, at least less grainy shit will be out there.
Jack also offered to film the ceremony, even if we don’t use the footage for the docuseries. We can keep it for ourselves, and I agreed to that. So he’s working in Anacapri with a camera crew, but I still haven’t decided whether I want the wedding aired on cable.
Outside the villa, we walk up to the umbrella-shaded tables. Specifically the table with Maximoff, his uncles, and dad. He sees me approaching and immediately stands.
“And he can’t wait to see me,” I whisper to Ripley.
Maximoff forces back a smile on purpose and then makes a playful face at Ripley.
Kid you not, the baby immediately stops crying like heaven is cracking open and light is beaming through. As though Maximoff Hale is Zeus, godly enough to rain thunder. And I’m just waiting for our son to realize that I wield the lightning.
I pass Ripley over to my groom.
“Morning.” Maximoff leans in, kissing me lightly. “You’re still doing that thing at breakfast?”
I see Thatcher take a seat at the table in my peripheral. “Yeah, I’ll be a minute.”
Encouragements fill his eyes. “I’ll get you an omelet.”
I walk backwards, my smile expanding. “He knows what I want to eat. It’s like he’s so obsessed with me.”
Maximoff flips me off playfully and Ripley grabs onto his middle finger. We laugh, and I tap into all my strength to rotate and leave for a different table across the courtyard.
Warm air swirls around the stone patio in a pleasant breeze. Maximoff is right about one thing. I do have a Band-Aid method, and I haven’t overthought this part of the wedding.
Not once.
“Lily?” I reach the Calloway sisters’ table, and every woman turns at the exact same time and looks at me.
“No dicks allowed,” Rose says icily and waves me off.
“Rose,” Lily chastises with a mouthful of pastry.
I skate my tongue over my teeth, brows raised. Extremely amused. They actually all know why I’m approaching Lily right now.
“What?” Rose snaps. “He’s not immune just because he’s marrying your son. I’d say the exact same if my own husband tried to worm his way over here.” She cringes at him in the distance. “Ugh, he’s looking at us.”
Daisy wags a donut towards me. “Breakfast?”
“Thanks, but I’m okay.” I smile at Lily who wipes crumbs off her lips. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Somewhere private?”
“Yeah, of course.” Lily springs up and brings a water glass on our journey down a stone path. “Does my hair look greasy?” She runs her fingers through the brown strands, cut short at her collarbones. “I washed it this morning but it has the flat ‘uh-oh’ look.”
I’ve seen her hair greasy, and that’s not close. “It looks good.” I extend an arm over her shoulders, and she hugs me around the waist.
For a second, I remember the years I spent protecting Lily.
Good days.
Better years.
But I can’t lie, here and now with her son is my favorite time I’ve ever lived, and I have a feeling she’d be perfectly happy with that.
We stop inside a secret garden. White rose vines crawl up trellises, and pomegranate trees curve around a bubbling fountain. I haven’t exactly planned out this moment word for word.
I go off the cuff. “I asked your sisters if I should bring this up to you before we left Philly, and they said I should do it here.”
“Okay…” She sips water, eyes widening more. “Should I be nervous?”
“No.” I rest my boot on a wooden bench. Casual, but my pulse cranks a notch. I didn’t expect to be nervous.
At all.
Lily swallows more water. She seems good. Healthy, cheerful. I can’t tell if it’s because we invited Grandmother Calloway or something else, but I’m glad she’s at a better place.
How do I say this?
I comb two hands through my hair. “Okay.” I exhale a breath. “So I never had a chance to really know my mom.”
She nods firmly, listening carefully.
“And I like to think she would’ve loved me like you do. No stipulations, no requirements. Just because I exist.” My eyes burn.
Lily wipes at tears in her watery gaze and nods me on.
“I admire you, and I think you’ve raised strong as hell children, just like you are. They’re extremely lucky to have you as a mom.” I get choked up and clear my throat.
“You’re my son too,” Lily suddenly professes, tears streaming down her round face. “You know that, right, Farrow? You’re a part of this family forever.”
Fuck. I rub the heel of my palm over my cheek, tears slipping out. I swallow an emotional knot, and I just tell her, “I’d really love for you to walk me down the aisle.”
Lily nods rapidly. “Yes.” She wipes at her face. “I’d be honored.”
I smile through a glassy sheen in my eyes and hug Lily. Quietly, I tell her, “Later tonight, Maximoff is asking Lo to walk him down the aisle.”
Lily covers her eyes, overcome. “He’ll love that.”
There are wedding staples that I tossed out. Like the traditional walk-up-the-single-aisle to the groom. We make our own rules.
There are two processions on either side of seated guests. Maximoff and I are both walking.
And we’ll meet in the middle.
35
FARROW KEENE
“Open the terrace doors,” I tell Maximoff, both of us sweating in the furnace-hot bedroom. I was about to put pajamas on Ripley, but he’s a little warm. And his tears might be from the heat. Ditching the onesie, I leave him in a diaper.
Maximoff walks the length of the room, only in drawstring pants. “This isn’t against security protocol?” He unlatches the glass doors, a cool breeze immediately busting through. Drapes on the four-poster bed whoosh and swish with the gusts.
Better.
“Don’t worry about security,” I tell him. “The villas are safe.”
Just as I say the words, we hear noises distantly from outside.
“‘But…soft!” Eliot shouts tipsily and near-laughter. “What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!’”
A wave of laughs come behind him; I’m guessing from other Cobalts as he quotes Romeo and Juliet.
“‘Arise, fair sun—’” He snorts.
They all burst out, snickering.
“Keep going,” Ben laughs.
“Oh God,” Jane wheezes in a laugh. “I have a stitch in my side.”
Surprise = zero
Threat = zero
Me = somewhat amused
Maximoff cracks the glass doors, hushing the outside noise. He stretches out his tense shoulder in a pendulum motion. “I get that the villas are safe,” he says. “But I saw about five hundred drones in the skies—and the last time we thought we were on private property, a drone captured a full-frontal of me.”
Blood simmers just flashing back to that shit storm we blew past in Greece. I’d do anything for that full-frontal to be of me and not him.
I swallow an acidic taste. “That’s not happening again.” I lift my brows at him. “And there were only two drones flying over the villas today, not five-hundred. What’d you score in high school math again?”
His face heats.
I laugh. “You got an F?”
“An A-
plus.”
“A-plus,” I repeat with the shake of my head. “Right in front of our son, teaching him how to lie.”
Maximoff glances from me to Ripley. His features fall, brows scrunch, actually looking hurt.
Shit, he’s too good. Probably too good for me. But he’s all mine.
I smile. “I’m messing with you, Maximoff.”
He exhales an annoyed breath and rolls out his neck. “They’ve all been taken care of? The drones, I mean.”
“Shot out of the sky,” I say easily. “There hasn’t been another one spotted since. But there’ll most likely be drones at the actual ceremony, and we can’t do anything about them.”
“That’s fine.” Maximoff is more concerned about privacy surrounding the villas.
I am too, but it’s been tight so far.
Honestly, I’m also relishing in the fact that Owen Erickson—the dermal-pierced temp who hit on me at the bachelor party—isn’t here. As soon as I told Akara and Thatcher what happened, Akara fired him on the spot. He could’ve given him another chance, especially after all the time and effort they put into training him.
But he didn’t.
I appreciate that more than he’ll know. Having good bosses that I completely respect makes this job infinitely easier.
I pick Ripley up and balance him on my waist. He settles down, no longer teary-eyed, and he smacks my tattooed chest with his little palm. I give him a look. “You break it, you buy it, little man.”
He giggles. In my arms.
And he beams up at me with a toothless, effervescent smile that he reserves solely for Maximoff. It rocks me back, just seeing that smile facing me.
Ripley laughs a high-pitched squeal of delight. “Da-da, da-da!”
Okay, my smile could rip my face apart. I glance at Maximoff, and he already sidles beside me, mouth open in shock.
“Wait, did he just…?” Maximoff quiets as Ripley keeps blabbering.
He smashes his soft cheek to my chest. “Da-da, da-da. Da-da!” He giggles at me.
Breath catches in my throat, stunned.
“That was his first word,” Maximoff says with an uncontrollable, uncontained smile. Not even upset the “da-da” was directed at me and not him.
I’m ascending to another plane of happiness. Somewhere pure where he belongs, and Maximoff took me with him. Our eyes meet, and we laugh into bigger smiles.
“Surprised?” I ask him.
“No.” Maximoff skates an arm over my shoulders. “It’s what you always say.”
“You’re a precious smartass?”
“No.” He cringes.
“Pure—”
“Not that,” he forces.
I think for a millisecond, eyeing his smile. “You can’t be first at everything.”
He nods, his gaze pleading kiss me, love me. “Yeah, that.”
We share this quiet moment, and Ripley falls asleep in my arms. After I rest him in a crib, I clasp Maximoff’s waist and draw him towards the bed.
Our lips crash together, and we push and pull. My blood cranks up another ten degrees. He grips my hair, and I cup his perfect ass, his drawstring pants molding him too well.
Maximoff lets out a rough, wanting noise. And he clutches my ass cheek. Our eyes devour as I try to walk him to the bed, and he tries to bring me to the wall.
“Ryke, slow down!” Loren Hale’s sharp voice is unmistakable.
Our heads whip to the terrace doors, and we rip apart. Moving into action. We push onto the terrace, a café table and potted roses on stone. Overlooking a mossy path to the courtyard. Lo and Ryke disappear in the distance.
“Where the fuck are they going?” Maximoff asks.
My gut is saying this is very bad.
Swiftly, we’re back in the room. I clip my radio on my belt and pull a shirt over my head. Attaching the mic to my collar, I splay the earpiece over my shoulder so Maximoff can hear.
He lifts a fussing Ripley out of the crib.
I swivel a knob. Static breaks the line, and then I hear the Omega boss.
“Akara to Omega, meet in the courtyard. Immediately. There’s an emergency. If you’ve heard this message, respond.”
Shit.
Maximoff is not slowing. Baby in arms, he aims for the door. His forest-greens pulse like he’s about to heave an entire mountain, just so his family can crawl beneath and reach the other side.
I’m next to him. Step for step in sync as we leave our room.
“On my way,” Oscar says.
Thatcher answers, “Copy.”
“Me too,” Donnelly replies.
I click my mic. “Same.”
The line goes quiet, and Akara speaks. “Thatcher, wake up the men who’ve turned off their comms for the night.” Banks and Quinn.
“Roger copy.”
Maximoff and I descend a marble staircase and skip steps on our way out of the villa. Outside, pathways glow from fog lamps dug in the dirt. Not that bright with the dark sky.
“Is it the media?” Maximoff asks me, picking up our pace.
I’m unsure. “No one is giving more intel.” I’m on the same frequency as Epsilon and Alpha too, but they’re not divulging shit.
I fit my earpiece in my ear, and we curve around a pomegranate tree.
Four men come into view, huddled together on the path. The parents. Lo, Ryke, Connor, and Garrison talk animatedly. Flashlights beam in their fists. Well, only three carry them.
Garrison is using his cellphone light.
“Moffy, Farrow!” Lo waves us over, seeing us approach.
We enter the late-night huddle.
Maximoff adjusts our baby on his waist. “What’s going on?”
Lo has a murderous gaze in the dark. “When’s the last time you spoke to Kinney or any of the younger girls?”
The girl squad. These four men are the fathers to those four girls, and they’re all protective of their youngest daughters.
Maximoff shakes his head and turns to me. “Dinner, right?”
“Dinner,” I nod.
“Fucking A,” Ryke curses.
The Epsilon lead suddenly blows out my fucking eardrum. “No one freak the fuck out! Calm your crybaby asses! We’ve got shit to sort out, and we don’t need any of you pussyfooting around!”
Fucking hell. I spin the knob fast, decreasing the volume.
Jon Sinclair took the panic on comms from a one to a twelve. And I don’t need anyone to tell me to calm my ass.
Garrison reaches into his pocket, and Connor delivers the news. “No one has seen the girls since dinner. Rose went to check on them before bed, and they weren’t in their room.”
“What?” Maximoff says in a growl and gestures towards the sea. “They couldn’t have just disappeared.”
“Security is so fucking tight,” I tell them. “No one could’ve come in and taken them.” I hop over the word kidnap because Ryke looks like a freight train about to slam into brick wall.
“We know,” Connor says.
“They snuck out,” Lo declares, his voice edged. “Do you know how long they’ve been begging us to have their own villa here? Oh but I’m fourteen, Dad. You just need to trust me—what the fuck are you doing?” He cuts himself off when he sees a pack of cigarettes in Garrison’s hands.
Garrison blinks. “I’m knitting a sweater.” He puts a cigarette to his lips, and Lo plucks it out and chucks it across the path.
“Smoking’s not helping anything,” Lo snaps.
“My kid is out who-the-hell-knows-where at one a.m. on an island,” Garrison refutes. “Smoking is helping me.”
“Fuck off, both of you,” Ryke swears. “We need to talk to security and start looking for them.” His hard eyes narrow on me and my earpiece. “What are they saying?”
Okay, as hilarious as it’d be, I’m not repeating what Sinclair shrieked. “It’s quiet, so the leads are most likely talking and waiting to tell the team.” I straddle the line between being a part of these families and being a bodyguard.
And I need to join SFO soon.
Connor checks his phone. “The longer they’re in the city without bodyguards, the worse it’ll be. We have to find them as soon as possible.”
Villa doors start opening up, famous ones and more bodyguards spilling onto balconies, some onto the paths.
Everyone is waking.
The stone is wet in the courtyard, sprinklers watering beds of violets and oleanders. Security and the famous families have congregated around tables, most dressed in pajamas or like they just jumped in sweats. Urgency hangs in the air.
A decision is made to split into multiple search parties.
Boot on a chair, forearm on my thigh, I lean over a table where Akara spreads out a map of Capri. SFO listens as Akara says, “Half of Epsilon is searching the town, the other half is staying behind at the villas. Alpha will be with the parents, and Omega is taking the coastline. Guys, remember—we might be looking for the youngest girls, but your first job is to protect your client.”
Thatcher tells us, “Extra security is being spread out in a wide net, so they’ll cover the most ground.”
Akara folds up the map. “Banks, you’ll stay with Farrow in case he’s called for a med-run.”
“Right on,” Banks nods.
“Farrow,” Akara tells me. “Your uncle is staying at the villas, so you’re the only doctor on-site. Stay in touch.”
I nod, confident. My med bag is on my shoulder, and I sincerely hope no one needs me tonight.
Quinn asks, “Which clients are joining the search parties?”
There was no scenario where they’d stay put and just let security search alone. These families are too protective of each other. And it was almost understood that Maximoff would be leading the older crew.
Our heads turn to the nearby table where that discussion is currently happening. We go join our clients.
Maximoff looks around at his siblings and cousins. “I’ll take whoever wants to come with me.”
“I’m in.” Tom raises a hand.
His dad hears from across the courtyard. “No.” Connor shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere. Neither is Ben or Eliot.”
Headstrong Like Us Page 31
