Under the Same Roof
highlight_author
Niobia Bryant
highlight_reads
18,9K
highlight_chapters
12
One
The doorbell rang.
Alisha Winters paused in crossing the hardwood floor of her spacious home to eye the double front doors. She wasn’t expecting any visitors, but being from a large family with four siblings, a random pop-up was not impossible. She skipped checking the app on her phone that was linked to the new security system she’d recently installed in the original Winters family estate she’d inherited from their grandmother Gloria. As she moved to the side windows that flanked the doorway, the four heart-shaped lockets of her vintage charm bracelet hit against each other.
A tall and well-built man with skin the color of smooth chocolate, low-cut ebony hair and a hint of a beard stood on the stone porch beneath the metal canopy. “My, my,” she whispered, her heart pounding a bit harder as she took in his chiseled profile and the way his dark jeans and leather jacket emphasized his lean and muscled frame.
He was a stranger. A sexy one.
When he turned to look over and caught sight of her, his eyes widened a bit in surprise.
Alisha gasped in awareness.
His profile had been only a hint at his good looks. His features were sharp and defined with strong, high cheeks, a straight jaw and an aquiline nose, but his eyes were deep, intense and bright, surrounded by lush lashes. And his mouth was...
So suckable.
She took a brief lick of her own.
The man—this seeming warrior among men—gave her a brief wave and a smile.
She sighed, feeling suddenly breathless.
It was the first time in years that a man had affected her so swiftly. And deeply.
Alisha stepped away from the window and gripped one of the refurbished antique colonial door handles in forged black iron. She smoothed back her naturally curly black hair with her free hand before opening the door. The fall wind breezed inside, carrying with it a whiff of his warm and spicy cologne.
He just keeps getting better and better.
“Hello, Alisha,” he said, his voice deep and delicious as he extended his hand.
She wanted to take it and see if he felt as good as he looked, but she paused before doing so. “Do we know each other?” she asked, after realizing that he’d addressed her by name.
At that moment, she set aside her awareness of him and accepted that he was a stranger to whom she was going to let into her home. She stiffened her back and clutched the door pull tighter, wondering if she was going to have to mar his perfect face with a black eye and busted lip. She was more than capable of doing just that.
His eyes widened as if he’d read her thoughts or seen some emotion cross her face. He held up both his hands. “I’m Tremaine Knowles of Knowles Threat Solutions,” he said, giving her another smile—this time it was meant to reassure.
It failed.
“Well, Tremaine Knowles of Knowles Threat Solutions,” she said, arching a shaped eyebrow as she locked eyes with him and took note that the connection caused a shiver to race up her spine. “Why are you on my porch and how do you know my name?”
He looked down at his booted feet and then back up at her. “I’m a private investigator and personal security expert hired to look into the discovery of the jewelry found on this property.”
Alisha’s gut clenched and she shifted her eyes past him to land on the bright red GMC Sierra pickup parked next to her silver 1955 Porsche 356 Speedster. She assumed the truck belonged to him.
The Del Rio family’s heirloom necklace.
She winced. Her youngest brother, Marcus, and the woman who was now his fiancée, Jessica Drummond, had stumbled onto a shocking family secret—the priceless diamond, ruby and emerald necklace. It was found downstairs in a hidden room in the cellar of the 1920s family estate. But Marcus, Jessica and Alisha had all lied about the discovery location because of the letter they’d also found.
All families had secrets. The letter was theirs.
Alisha released a heavy breath.
“Can I ask you some questions? Like is there something you would like to share about the necklace, Alisha?” Tremaine asked.
Her body went stiff. With indignation. Annoyance. And a slight tinge of guilt. “Who hired you?” she asked as she settled her eyes back on him.
“The Del Rios,” he admitted.
She frowned.
A foe. Sexy as hell. But a foe.
“Is there a reason you believe I am required to share any information with you?” she asked, well aware of the coldness of her tone. “And it’s Ms. Winters.”
He smiled. It was forced but still captivating. “I would assume you would want to clear your name in ‘Diamond Gate,’ Ms. Winters,” he said.
Alisha disdained the moniker given to the whole fiasco by the press. She stood a bit taller. “Clear my name?” she asked, fighting the urge to ease the door closed in his face.
Tremaine nodded before looking pointedly down at the mail slot on the open section of the double doors. “It was supposedly delivered here to your home,” he reminded her. “Can I come in?”
Alisha shook her head, denying his request.
He nodded in understanding. “Your brother Marcus found the envelope after it was put through the mail slot. Right?”
Yes. That’s the story and I’m stuck with it.
All because of a letter written by her great-grandmother Eliza Winters, née Boudreaux, in which she’d confessed with so much remorse to secretly stealing the Del Rio family necklace when it was on loan to a Paris museum. This was back before she’d married Teddy Winters, after leaving his rival, Fernando Del Rio I, stranded at the altar. The broken engagement sparked the bitter century-old feud between the Del Rio and Winters families.
Alisha’s guilt resurfaced and seemed to tug at her to reveal the letter to him, but she bit down on her bottom lip instead. The discovery that Eliza was the international jewel thief was more embarrassment than the Winters family needed to bear.
And so Eliza’s secret is ours, known only to Marcus, Jessica and me.
She wished with every bone in her body that Marcus and Jessica hadn’t found the hidden room. Some things were better left as secrets.
The discovery of the Del Rio necklace at the former Winters family estate had taken over the news and social media both in the US and abroad. Their plan seemed simple enough. Return the jewelry, but lie about how they found it, and keep the letter secret to maintain the reputation of the Winters family’s late matriarch.
Alisha had insisted on the latter.
“There’s nothing more to know, Mr. Knowles,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned in the doorway with more ease than she felt. “The necklace was given to the proper authorities until it could be sorted out.”
He eyed her with far more warmth than the November chill in the air, taking her in like a delicious drink he was savoring.
If only...
The man was pure temptation. Even as a foe. Even with his affiliation with the Del Rios. Even with him on her doorstep implying that she knew more than she revealed.
Sexy. As. F—
“Ms. Winters,” he said, unknowingly interrupting her thoughts as he rubbed a large hand over his mouth and beard with agile fingers.
Fingers built to please.
Her pulse raced and throbbed. Everywhere.
He is trouble. So much damn trouble.
Alisha cleared her throat and wished it was just as easy to rid herself of her desire. “I am happy for the Del Rio family that one of their heirlooms has been found. That is my official statement. I have nothing else to say,” she said, stepping back to close the door.
His hand pressed against it, stopping her retreat.
Wow. He’s strong.
She could visualize the muscles of his arm tensing with the move...just as they would if he was lifting her body up against his own. To hold. Tightly. As he pressed his face to her neck and kissed her with his delicious mouth, as she—
“If you have nothing to hide, why be so abrupt?” Tremaine asked.
She yanked the door open and he stumbled inside, bringing him and his scent so very close.
Too close.
Tremaine Knowles used every muscle of his body to keep from falling forward, into Alisha. She sidestepped as if to avoid that very thing happening. “Sorry,” he said, even though their bodies didn’t touch.
Still, he had been close enough to pick up her sweet scent and get lost in her unique vibrations. She was electric. At first sight of the beauty peeking at him out of one of the side windows that flanked the door, he had instantly felt a jolt of pure awareness. He’d come seeking answers to the discovery of the stolen necklace, but he’d found something far more beautiful.
Foolishly, he had not expected an antique dealer to be so...sultry. Not once did he envision this petite beauty with large doe brown eyes that now glared at him in reproach. Her arms were crossed over her chest and the move unintentionally emphasized her soft curves. He towered over her by nearly a foot and felt the urge to protect her, even if she was eyeing him as if he was the one from whom she needed protection.
“Listen,” he began after clearing his throat. “This could be an opportunity for me to bridge the gap between the Del Rio and Winters families...and to take the glare of suspicion off of you.”
“Off of me?” Alisha asked. “I thought the latest rumor was this was a publicity stunt to monetize the truce between the families with the upcoming one hundredth anniversary of the theft?”
“Surely you understand that the weight of the suspicion could lie at your doorstep—excuse the pun,” he said.
“Excuse it? It wasn’t clever enough to acknowledge it,” she retorted before sucking air between her teeth and waving her hand in dismissal.
Tremaine bit back a smile. The woman had so much spunk. A fire that was seductive.
If it hadn’t been for his best friend, Preston, recommending him to his father, Fernando Del Rio III, to look into the suspicious sudden discovery of his family’s necklace, Tremaine would have asked her out on a date. Begged to be heated by her fire.
The thing was, as much as he could recognize her beauty, Tremaine had far too much experience as a former cop for the Austin Police Department to ignore what his gut told him. Alisha Winters was indeed hiding something.
He looked up at the towering cathedral ceiling of the foyer. “This truly is a beautiful home, Ms. Winters,” he said, then gazed at her just in time to catch that his compliment caught her off guard.
“Th-thank you,” she said with a bit of a stutter. “My grandmother Gloria left it to me. We always shared a love of the architecture and the history attached to it. I’m enjoying restoring it—just the way she would like. I believe it’s why she left it to me.”
She looked around as she touched her fingertips to her throat.
His eyes dropped down to watch the way she lightly stroked the skin there. It appeared soft. The caramel hue of her skin made him hunger for a sweet treat. “My father was a home builder for many years,” he admitted to her.
Her eyes shifted back to lock with his.
His heart swelled and warmth filled his belly.
Damn.
Alisha’s face filled with what appeared to be a sense of discovery. It lasted just a moment, but he saw it and wondered what it was about it. Feeling uncomfortable with the strong and instant effect this woman was having on him, Tremaine shifted his gaze away. Had he revealed his interest? Had she picked up on his instant desire?
Stay focused on why you’re here.
But that was hard. Beautiful women were of no shortage in his life, but this particular one—this mix of brains and beauty—had an inner glow that was magnetic. It certainly was pulling him.
“You should leave, Mr. Knowles,” she said.
“Tremaine,” he offered.
She shook her head a little, denying the familiarity he’d put forward. “You don’t know me, but I don’t play games, nor do I steal,” she continued, reaching again for the door handle. “I wouldn’t participate in a publicity stunt.”
As she spoke, she slowly pulled open one of the double doors, making her own invitation—for him to leave.
He chuckled as he stepped out onto the porch again. He stopped and turned. “I have more questions, Ms. Winters. Can I make an appointment to come back?” he asked.
“Perhaps an appointment with Special Agent Whitlock at the Texas Department of Public Safety is what you need,” she offered. “Sheriff Battle transferred the case to him.”
Tremaine allowed himself to look down at her—not even the cold wind blowing around them could dim the light and warmth she seemed to radiate. He studied her face, taking note of how she notched her small chin a bit higher. Her eyes were so bright. So clever. So knowing.
And revealing.
There in the depths of her deep brown eyes was the same thing he felt. Awareness.
His heart felt as if it was being gripped inside a fist and excitement burst inside him.
“Have a good day, Mr. Knowles,” she said softly, stepping back and closing the door.
Leaving him speechless and staring at the wood.
Damn.
Admitting to an attraction for someone was one thing, but knowing they felt the same allure was next level.
He raised his hand to knock again. To ask her out. To give her the Tremaine charm that had never failed him and gained him the nickname of “Lady-killer” in college. To step back into her warmth and energy.
Instead, he lightly rested the side of his fist against the wood and dropped his chin to his chest in regret.
The war between the Del Rio and Winters families was well-known. It was as big as the state of Texas. Having Preston as his best friend had made him privy—sometimes more than he wanted to be—to the conflict between two of the richest families in Royal, Texas. The whole fiasco with the dating app k!smet, which had matched up Preston’s sister, Maggie, to Alisha’s brother Jericho at a huge tech fair in August, had sent the Del Rio men into a tailspin at first. So much so that the next day, a meeting of both families, along with their respective attorneys, had been held at the Texas Cattleman’s Club with Jack Chowdhry moderating a deal to place the feud on hold for the benefit of both families’ combined multibillion-dollar ventures. In time, everyone accepted that what had begun as a technical glitch had turned into a true love match and thawed the arctic chill between the two families and business rivals.
Until the reappearance of the famous Del Rio necklace.
Tremaine stepped back from the door and turned to jog down the stone semicircle steps. Once he crossed the diamond-shaped grass-lined concrete to reach his pickup truck, he paused to look around at the gardens that flanked the long and winding driveway that led to the front gate. The property was beautiful and serene. And the house? The former estate of the Winters family was obviously in need of continuing repairs after more than a century in existence, but its former beauty could not be denied even if it was fading. The three-story European structure was a rarity in the Texas area, particularly during the time it was built, with its millwork, stone facing, metal canopies and wrought-iron details.
Tremaine released a heavy breath.
Inside the walls of the mansion was the secret of just what had happened between the time of the necklace being stolen from a museum in Paris to it being delivered nearly a century later to the once glorious family estate of the Winters family. And he wanted to be—needed to be—the one to provide the answers. Such a high-profile case would secure the success of Knowles Threat Solutions.
And for Tremaine Knowles, failure was not an option.
He’d graduated college with honors, earning his degree in computer science, with a minor in criminal law. With a plan in mind, he’d joined the police academy, and within nine years had moved up the ranks to lieutenant in the cybercrimes division. During his off-duty hours, he’d developed a reverse encryption technology that he’d sold to a leading cryptography firm two years ago. He left the police force, and in exchange for the millions he was offered, he signed a noncompete clause. Surprisingly, the break from coding made him realize that he had been close to total burnout.
But that left him with a need for a new challenge. A new quest. Sort of.
Obtaining his private investigation license and forming Knowles Threat Solutions had been a return to his roots as a highly decorated police officer. Over the last year, he offered cybersecurity, personal security and private investigation services. Things were going well enough, but this case would help him grow exponentially. More cases. More staff. More success.
It was his fuel.
With one last look back over his shoulder at the sprawling home, he spotted Alisha standing in the now-open doorway again. She surprised him. He tilted his chin, then eased his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket he was wearing as he leaned back against the side of his truck and continued to watch her. A bit of sunlight broke through the trees and landed directly across her face.
Simply radiant.
With a shake of her head, as if doubting herself, she stepped back and offered him entry into her home with a wave of her hand. And then she gave him just a hint of a smile that was enough to beguile him.
With a nod of his head to acknowledge her offer, Tremaine pushed his body off of the vehicle. He walked back to the home, climbed the stairs and entered the foyer, offering her a brief look.
He had two weeks to get to the bottom of the case, and nothing—not even a pretty distraction—would get in his way.
