Forbidden Temptation My Mafia Fiance's Alpha Father (Brooklyn and Aden) novel Chapter 64

Chapter 64
Brooklyn

The whole way home in the car, as Aden races through the countryside, over hills and around sharp turns, I worry.

I worry about what I said.

I worry about why Aden is so mad.

I worry I’m going to be punished, though I don’t know for what.

And I am way, way too afraid to ask.

We finally pull into the garage, and Aden quickly climbs out of the car and slams his door, not saying a word to me as he storms into the house, past one of the guards that came to the door to greet us and report.

The guard—Lucas, I see—stares after Aden in shock and then turns to me with a curious expression.

I just shrug and shake my head.

As I enter the house, I can see that Aden has left chaos in his wake on the way to his office, people standing in the hallway staring after him with worried expressions.

As I walk slowly into the house, I see Hudson come down the stairs. He catches my eye.

“What happened?” he says, looking concerned.

Before I can answer Aden comes out of his office again, fury in his every line.

“You two,” he demands. “Upstairs.”

“Dad,” Hudson says, taking another step down, putting out a hand to offer to help—

“I said upstairs!” Aden yells, and Hudson and I both jump.

I scurry to where Hudson is standing on the stairs, grabbing his arm and pulling him up with me.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Hudson whispers to me as he follows.

“I don’t know,” I whisper back, pulling him towards my room. He comes in with me, and I shut the door behind us. But even the door can’t block out Aden’s next bellow.

“Jayde! Get down here! Now!”

Hudson stays in my room with me for a while. He won’t admit it as readily as I do, but we’re both scared to leave.

Seeing that it’s well stocked with food, I grab a clean plate from the dish rack and start to fill it up. French bread, cheese, some prosciutto and fruit—I smile at my haul, excited.

As I close the fridge, though, I hear a noise.

It’s a groan—thick with misery, but so quiet that I’d never have heard it if the house itself hadn’t been as silent as the grave.

I go very still, my eyes darting immediately to the small white door that leads down into the basement, waiting to see if it comes again.

I almost leap out of my slippers at the next sound, though—a heady shriek that turns into a horrible, horrible scream.

Reacting on instinct, I run for the door to the kitchen, almost dropping my plate of food as I push through it and dash down the hall.

I press the food against my chest as I run up the steps, not caring if I stain my sweater, heading right for my room.

I’m panting as I slam my door shut, pressing my back against it.

What the hell was that?

And more importantly, who?