Chapter 49 - 53
Alden POV
The iron gates creak open slowly, their wrought arms pulling apart. At the apex, the elegant ’V’ emblem splits in two as the gates yawn wide. The car glides forward, the tires crunching softly over the gravel as we pass beneath a canopy of trees, their branches arching above.
For a moment, the dense copse of trees obscures the view, shrouding the land in shadows. But as we push deeper, the forest falls away, peeling back to reveal the gentle, rolling hills of the vineyard. The sun dips low, casting golden light across the endless rows of grapevines, their neat lines stretching out like the ribs of the earth. Everything in sight that the eye permits is his.
We continue, winding past lush botanical gardens, their vivid colors blurring as the car moves swiftly. Orchards heavy with fruit stand proud under the sun, the rich scent of ripening apples and citrus carried on the breeze. And there, perched on the tallest hill, is the Colten estate, majestic and grand. The car winds its way along the hill’s narrow waist, the road curving upward, while behind us, a sweeping panorama of green unfolds—a landscape of abundance and beauty, every inch of it his. The estate crowns the hill like a monarch on its throne, surveying the vast kingdom of vineyards below.
As the car reaches the crest of the hill, it comes to a gentle stop on a broad plateau, where the grandeur of the estate looms before us. Frank pulls the vehicle to a halt beside a mountainous staircase. The Romanesque villa rises majestically, its towering Corinthian columns flanking the entrance The architecture is reminiscent of a structure Julius Caesar himself might have called home. The pale stone glows faintly in the soft light, exuding the sense of power and prestige Colton cultivates.
Frank exits the car first, his shoes crunching on the gravel as he circles around to open the back door. I step out, the cool air hitting my face, and I’m immediately greeted by the sight of two imposing guards standing at attention beside the massive Byzantine doors.
To the side, an attendant stands poised, her hands clasped gently in front of her, dressed in a crisp uniform that mirrors the outspoken luxury.
The attendant, standing statuesque, gives a small nod, silently ushering me into the foyer beyond.
As I step inside, the space engulfs me in opulence—a gaudy display of wealth that practically drips from every gilded surface. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, scattering fractured beams of light across the marble floors, while towering columns adorned with gold leaf line the room like pillars of excess.
Two guards are waiting for me at the entrance, their eyes unblinking. Without a word, I raise my hands to my head in a practiced motion, signaling my compliance. They move swiftly, one of them sweeping a security wand over my body with precise, efficient movements. The wand traces the length of my arms, across my torso, and dips down to my legs, the hum of the device cutting through the heavy silence of the room.