Billionaire's Accidental Wife

Chapter 5

Chapter 5 They made it to Chelsea’s apartment in just under thirty minutes, thanks to clear late-night

roadways and the seven hundred horses at work inside the Ferrari’s massive engine. Even before

Chelsea pointed him in the right direction, Dave turned onto a narrow two-lane and headed to the

beautiful and obviously expensive neighbourhood. Unlike Chelsea, however, he had no family of his

own, just Catherine and her family.

For a long time, he thought he’d found a place to belong when he began hanging out with his sister’s

pals, Jane and Chelsea. He had belonged… until he fell in love with Chelsea. Yes, Catherine had

informed her that, even though Chelsea was her friend, she was known to have numerous

unsuccessful relationships and never took her last relationship seriously. But he never listened, and

even Chelsea’s coworker thought he was unsuitable for her.

Chelsea deserves someone better. Even now, Dave would not argue that. But as he looked over at her

and saw her exquisite face turn ashen with fear as they approached the long paved drive that led to the

homestead at the bottom of the mountain, he felt a wave of possessiveness and protectiveness-that he

couldn’t deny. He, too, felt guilty. For leaving her in the manner he did, for giving her the impression

that he didn’t care. For not being present to assure that she never experienced any sorrow, heartache,

or fear. Everything he could see now was playing across her features, because of him. But he did it to

keep her safe, to keep her away from his own trouble.

Chelsea sucked in a sharp breath when she spotted the ominous-looking, empty three black SUVs

parked halfway up the drive to the rambling neighbourhood. “Oh, no. Dave, we’re too late.”

He clamped his molars tight, holding back the curse that leapt to his tongue. She was right. It didn’t

look good.

A plan formed in his head-a risky one, but the best option he had.

He didn’t dare ditch the car with Chelsea inside it and damned if he was going to let her out of his sight

for as much as a second. “Slide down as far as you can,” he told her. “Don’t move, Chelsea. Not unless

I tell you to.”

“What are your plans?”She shot him an anxious glance but did as he instructed.

He swept off his black knit skullcap and tossed it aside. Instead of keeping his cautious pace up the

meandering drive, Dave gunned the engine, letting the tyres chew up the dirt and dust as he roared all

the way to the homestead.

Up ahead in the dark, a pair of mob thugs in black suits were prowling the perimeter of the building and

surrounding grounds. Shit. They were both carrying semiautomatic pistols and looked short on

patience. Maybe that was a good thing as far as Chelsea’s family members were concerned.

Dave threw the Ferrari into the park but left the engine running. Since his attire could raise questions

he didn’t want to answer, he would have to employ his unique brand of obfuscation to get past the other

males’ suspicion.

He then took a pair of dark tactical gear from his backpack that was almost identical to what the mob

wore, “Dave? What are you doing?” C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

“Don’t move OK?” He turned into a black suit and covered his face with the same dark mask. Then he

pulled his gun and climbed out of the car as if he had every right to be there.

“What the hell,” he muttered loudly as he stalked toward the goateed man out front. “Where the fuck

are the other guys?” The henchman scowled. “What other guys? As far as I know, I and Jay were the

only one called out for this job. Who the hell are you?”

“Backup,” Dave said, giving the man a look of disdain. He called out to the second man, a thick -

necked mountain of a male who was just coming around from the rear of the building. “What the fuck’s

taking you so long, man? You find that bitch and her brat back there?” Luigi shook his head as he

started jogging over to meet them. “Not yet. They must’ve cleared out before we got here.” Dave

grunted. “Good.” He fired a round into each man’s head before they could respond. He jogged back to

the Ferrari, the two would-be killers dead on the ground. Chelsea remained huddled on the floor in front

of the passenger seat, as he had directed.

He pushed open the door. “It’s fine. Christie and your nephew aren’t here, and the two men dispatched

to find them aren’t coming back.”

“Thank God,” she said, raising her head and peering into the darkness, where Hermano’s men lay still

on the grass beside the house. “However, Christie would not have known to flee.” There wouldn’t have

been time to get very far, especially with a small kid in tow.” She looked up at him, worried and hopeful

in her gentle brown eyes. “However, I believe I know where they are.” Dave held out his hand to assist

her from the car. Gathering up the long skirt of her golden dress, she ran past the dead mobs with

Dave at her side. They entered the building, and she headed immediately for the sampling room at the

back of the expansive house. An immense wine cellar was attached to the room, its floor-to-ceiling

wine racks filled with bottles of nearly every vintage the vineyard had ever produced. “Over here,”

Chelsea said, walking to the far wall.

The bottles housed in those racks looked to be the oldest in the collection. Most of them were covered

in a fine layer of dust. She pulled a sliding wooden ladder toward her, climbed up and reached for one

of the highest bottles in the old rack. Instead of pulling the aged bottle of Aglianico out, she twisted it

clockwise. It wasn’t a bottle. It was a lever to a secret chamber. One narrow section of racked wine

popped open soundlessly.

Chelsea swung a glance over her shoulder at him. “I had this panic room installed three months ago.”

She started to duck inside. Dave caught her by the arm. “Stay close to me, Chelsea. If anything

happens to you, I can’t…”

He let the thought run, but his touch lingered a little too long. She gave him a puzzled look before

nodding. They entered the dimly lit, vast room. Large oak barrels, paper supply shelves, and massive,

hand-hewn wooden tables gave the impression that the secret chamber was nothing more than a

workroom. Chelsea reached inside to flip on a light switch. “Christie?” She spoke quietly. “Are you

here? Peter? This is Chelsea.”

A tiny whimper could be heard from behind the barrels. Then, from the shadows, a small, attractive

brunette appeared, holding her dark-haired toddler son protectively in her arms.” Chelsea!”

The two ladies ran to each other, embracing in the midst of Christie’s sobbing and Chelsea’s hushed

assurances that she and Peter were OK now. They were secure.

Dave stepped back from the emotional reunion, all too aware that every minute they waited here was

another minute they risked being detected. They were lucky that only two of Hermano’s thugs had been

sent to the vineyard. That didn’t mean more wouldn’t be deployed to sniff about and make sure the job

was done right. It would be a disaster if there were dead mob males in the yard, but whoever sent them

would be waiting for them to return or report in. He couldn’t risk losing his authority by going after them.

And now that he was thinking about daylight…

It was late, and all too soon it would be dawn. They were too far afield to make the trip back to London,

which meant he needed to find them somewhere secure to settle in for the night.

Grabbing his phone, Dave called the scrambled line at his men in Paris to apprise them of the situation.

He’d already ignored more than one call from base demanding the status of the mission. He’d have hell

to pay when he got back, no doubt. Probably right now too.

Tyler’s dark growl greeted him on the other end. “Having a good time out there?”

Dave grunted. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”

“No shit? Was that before or after you jeopardized the entire mission to chase after some model?”

Okay, so maybe he deserved that. He definitely deserved it. But Tyler didn’t understand, and Dave

didn’t have time to explain it right now. “Her name’s Chelsea. I had to go back in for her and get her out

of there. You’re going to have to trust me on that.”

“Not my trust you need to worry about,” Tyler said. “You are the boss, remember?”

“Yeah, well, I got the job done.”

“Are you sure about that? You verified that Hermano blew up his villa, right?” When Dave let the

question hang a second too long, Tyler hissed a low curse. “You didn’t verify it. Jesus, Dave. I hope to

fuck she’s worth it, man.”

He cast a glance over at Chelsea. Yes, she was well worth it. Her life-the relief and happiness he saw

in her eyes right now—was priceless. “I’ll handle it if I screw up with Hermano. I need to find a safe

place to stay for the day right now. I’m currently in Chelsea’s apartment with two women and a young

son. I need to make sure they’re safe somewhere.”

“Two women and a child? I’m not going to ask,” Tyler grumbled. He remained silent for a minute before

letting out a sour sigh. “How far away from the airport are you?”

Dave knew the town; he had prowled the ancient streets and subterranean caverns of the old

settlement more than a few times in his youth. “It’s not far. An hour, give or take.”

“Come on. I know somewhere you can go,” Tyler said quickly, pointing out locations that would lead

him to where he needed to go once he arrived. His friend didn’t seem to be sending him into the

touristy core of the old town, but rather down into the surrounding town. “GO behind the church and up

the old stone steps. Take the path on the left. Someone will be waiting for you to transport you to

safety.” “Whom am I on the lookout for?”

“Salvatore, an acquaintance with long black hair and raven eyes.” “Salvatore? Sounds like a horrible

guy.”

“You didn’t ask for friendly; you asked for safe, and that’s where I’m taking you.”

“Point taken,” Dave said, remembering Tyler was nothing if not literal, dealing in absolutes whether in

fight or discourse. “What I’m asking is, you’re sure about this dude, this Salvatore?

“Completely.” “Would you like to explain?” After a long silence, Tyler finally said, “He’s my brother.”

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