Chapter 28: Home
The sleek black limo glided to a stop on the crushed shell driveway, the engine sighing into silence. Frangipani hung heavy and sweet in the thick, warm air, a stark, intoxicating contrast to the sterile chill of the plane. The villa sprawled before them, low-slung and elegant, white walls glowing against a riot of green foliage, the distant rumble of the ocean a constant heartbeat.
Ketut practically vibrated beside Lena, her face pressed to the window. "Home!" she breathed, a sigh of pure relief. Lena grinned, stretching. "Bath. Now. Followed by the biggest cocktail known to man."
Jasmine, however, didn’t move. Her sharp green eyes, scanning the perimeter, had locked onto two figures standing with practiced stillness near the ornate teak gate. Their posture was relaxed but alert, their eyes constantly sweeping the approach. And holstered pistols were clearly visible at their hips.
"Uh, guys?" Jasmine’s voice was low, cutting through the arrival buzz. She didn’t turn from the window. "We not safe here? What’s with the soldiers?"
Bruce, who had been leaning forward to open the door, paused. He followed her gaze, his expression hardening almost imperceptibly. "Ah. Them." He pushed the door open, the Balinese heat rushing in like a warm blanket. "Not soldiers. Private security. We... had a situation."
"A situation?" Jasmine stepped out, her movements fluid but tense. She kept her eyes on the guards who gave respectful, minimal nods in Bruce's direction. Lena tumbled out after her, grabbing her bag, her earlier smile fading into a frown. Ketut looked suddenly worried, clutching her own small suitcase.
Bruce waited for Camille, who slid out gracefully, her expression calm but watchful. He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "After Switzerland," he began, his voice tight, "after that... guest... we decided precautions were necessary."
Lena snorted, a harsh, abrupt sound. "Precautions? Bruce knocked his disrespectful ass out cold in the lounge. Like, boom." She mimed a swift punch. "Then dragged him outside by his collar and left him in the driveway for his driver to find. Dude was drooling." There was a fierce satisfaction in her tone.
Bruce’s hazel gaze, usually warm with shifting blues and greens, had turned flinty. He looked directly at Jasmine, then included Ketut and Lena in his stare. "He made Camille uncomfortable. Said things. Leered. Wouldn't take a fucking hint." His arm tightened around Camille. "I won't tolerate disrespect. Not to any of you. Not ever." The intensity in his voice vibrated in the humid air. "I’ll die before I let that happen under my roof. These guys," he jerked his chin towards the guards, "are a precaution. They screen everyone at the gate. They patrol. They’re here so we don’t have to think about it."
Camille leaned into him, her hand resting on his chest. "He was persistent," she said quietly. "Aggressive, in that slimy way. Bruce handled it."
"And we decided," Bruce continued, the heat in his eyes cooling slightly but the resolve absolute, "no more strangers in our sanctuary. Not here. This place... this world we're building?" He gestured around them, at the lush gardens, the glimpse of turquoise pool beyond, the villa promising peace. "It's just ours. The five of us. Our family." He looked at each of them, the weight of the platinum rings on their fingers suddenly feeling heavier, more significant. "If we ever... explore things... outside again," he said, choosing his words carefully, a flicker of his old, unspoken fantasy momentarily shadowing his gaze before he banished it, "we rent a space. Somewhere else. This is sacred ground."
The tension that had gripped Jasmine eased. Not completely, but the rigid set of her shoulders softened. She looked from the guards back to Bruce. The fierce protectiveness, the raw edge in his voice when he spoke of defending them... it resonated deep within her own fiercely loyal core. He meant it. Every word. The guards weren't a threat; they were a shield forged from his uncompromising love. She touched the cool platinum band on her finger. Home. Protection. Ours.
"So, no surprise visitors bearing giant... fruit baskets?" Jasmine asked, a wry twist to her lips, testing the waters.
Bruce managed a small, tight smile. "Definitely no surprise visitors. Fruit baskets go through security screening."
Lena laughed, the sound bright against the tension. "Good! Last thing I need is some creep gawking at my tan lines by the pool."
Ketut let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "It is good," she said softly, her dark eyes serious. "Safe. For the Melaspas. For our beginning here. The energy must be pure." She glanced towards the villa entrance. "The pemangku will come tomorrow. We must be ready to cleanse, to invite the good spirits."
"Then let's get ready," Camille said, her voice warm and steady, breaking the last of the unease. She squeezed Bruce’s side. "Starting with that bath Lena mentioned. And maybe that cocktail."
Bruce nodded, the protective fire in his eyes banked but still glowing, an ember ready to flare. "Okay," he said, his voice returning to its normal timbre, though the undercurrent of steel remained. He picked up the heavier bags. "Welcome home. Properly." He turned towards the villa’s open doorway, a dark, cool space promising sanctuary beyond. "All of you."
Jasmine took one last look at the guard nearest the gate. The man gave another respectful nod, his gaze scanning the road beyond. Not a soldier. A sentinel. Guarding their fragile, beautiful, fiercely protected new world. She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder, the platinum ring cool against her skin, and followed her family inside. The heavy teak door closed behind them with a soft, final thud, sealing them into their scented, private paradise.