The Choice

by Alice Ward

  Ms. White left without another word, and I faced Adara. “I know it’s late, or early… are you hungry? I’m not the best cook, but Ms. White always keeps stuff I can grab and nuke.” Insecurity tickled my stomach. I may have had a lot of money and a fierce reputation in business, but my lonely bachelor lifestyle sort of bordered on antisocial loser. Who had a whole fridge full of meals for one?

  “I’m a bit hungry,” she offered as I led her to the kitchen and motioned for her to have a seat in a comfortable padded chair at the kitchen table.

  “Good, good.” I opened the fridge. “Let’s see what we have in here.” I started pulling out containers with clear glass lids. Each was labeled with the meal and ingredients on them. “We have Beef Wellington, of course.”

  She laughed, and I thanked god for Ms. White. “Of course.”

  I smiled and continued, “With snow peas and garlic confit, lamb shanks with mint leaves, quinoa salad and aged goat cheese. I like that one.”

  She scrunched her nose like a four-year-old. “Don’t think I can do baby sheep.” She flashed an endearing smile.

  I paused to look at her for a moment. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen from her.

  “Okay.” I smiled in return. “How about chicken? No baby chicken nuggets or anything, just the big adult chicken. Probably was old, near death even…”

  She grimaced.

  Fuck, Roman, how have you ever even had sex with a woman if you’re this awkward?

  “There’s frozen pizza. I always keep it on hand for my sister’s kids.”

  I hated frozen pizza, but the smile that lit up her face was so delightful, I made a vow to myself to learn to love it as I stuck it in the microwave.

  “Pizza, it is. You want a salad to go with it, and some Italian red?” I looked over the beverage choices I had to offer. “Or Coke? Orange juice? Beer?” Help. I was dying.

  “A glass of wine would be nice.” Her tone sounded more relaxed, and I could tell the shock was wearing off.

  If it’d been me, I would’ve been scalded with anger. Then I remembered the gun she handed over to me in the car and guessed she just had an iron spine. She deserved to be pampered now, and that’s what I aimed to do.

  “I have to say, I didn’t peg you as a pizza eater,” I commented as I grabbed two wine glasses and some nice bottle I brought back from Italy last year.

  “Pizza is good for your soul.” She shifted in the chair with a flirty smirk.

  “Is it? I’ll have to remember that,” I said, handing her a glass of the rich full-bodied wine, raising my glass to hers. “Cheers.”

  We clinked glasses, and I relished the delight that spread across her face after her first sip of wine.

  “Nice, isn’t it?” I asked as I watched her enjoy the wine. “I love this label because it reminds me of the small winery in the mountains of Italy I visited. It has a hint of smoky flavor that brings to mind the smoke billowing from tiny mountain houses that sit atop the steep hillside. Then there’s also a touch of flower, like the fragrant ones that dotted the landscape.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Roman, you just painted a picture with your description. How lovely. Thank you.” She looked happy-ish, then her head bowed and there was the woman I’d met at Jewel.

  Fear that someone from that damn place would come after her almost choked me. I would make sure she’d be safe at all costs. And help her shed the unnatural submissive body language that had probably been seared into her brain.

  “I want you to feel safe here. They can’t touch you here. I have security. No one enters the property without permission. You can relax.” But I couldn’t relax. I needed to protect her. As I gazed across the countertop at her, with her beautiful wine-tinged lips and red-brown hair mussed from her flight, my cock came to life with a vengeance. God help me, even as she’d just stepped out of a place where they’d damn near brainwashed her, I wanted her.

  I could protect her from them.

  But who would protect her from me?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Adara

  It was surreal.

  I was in Roman’s massively lavish home, sipping the best wine I’d ever tasted, sharing a frozen pizza with a man who made me smile. Really smile. Even after all that just happened an hour ago.

  Being here with him felt so right, even though the circumstances couldn’t have been more wrong.

  We simply ate and talked about nothing in particular, and it felt good. He didn’t ask me any more questions about my past and didn’t offer to hash out solutions to my present. We talked about Italy, his nephews, and the history of his home, which apparently had been in his family since the eighteen hundreds.

  I got a glimpse of this incredible man’s normal life. Well, normal to him. He was raised with money, and at first glance, had always had far too much of it.

  After we finished eating, it was nearly two in the morning.

  “You’re exhausted,” he said, keeping a respectful distance. “I’ll walk you to the guest quarters. Now, please be assured that your privacy will be respected. I’m happy to have you here as the space is far too large for one person and the house manager. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.”

  My heart squeezed at the sincerity in his gaze. “Roman, I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done.” He’d made me feel wanted and safe, which was a feeling I hadn’t known in far too long.

  The suites in the west wing were literally on the other side of the expansive home, up an entirely different flight of stairs from the entrance. I’d need a set of wings to get to his side of the mansion if I wanted to do so fast.

  I was winded, and my leg was sore by the time we reached my suite. When he opened the door, my jaw felt like it nearly dropped off my face.

  I was well accustomed to large homes. Nate and I had owned several. It had always seemed like overkill to me — the house on the beach at Malibu, the one in Brentwood, Tennessee, the place in the Caribbean — but it made Nate happy. And more than anything else, I wanted Nate to be happy. But here, in this home that was more like a hotel, I felt a pang for a moment, imagining Roman growing up here with all this empty space.

  This wasn’t my kind of living. I’d had to adjust once mega stardom hit, but I was raised in modest foster homes. Even when I broke out as an artist and started making money, I never really spent it. I’d had a simple condo until I moved into Nate’s opulent house.

  I never bought much of anything apart from outfits and a new guitar, although I had the normal expenses that came with touring and performing. Nate, on the other hand, spent a fortune on luxury cars and vacation homes, which I’d ended up eventually sinking much of my own money into because he was such a flamboyant spender that he often got ahead of what he was bringing in. Thanks to my generosity — and ultimately my stupidity — his family now owned everything that hadn’t been foreclosed on after Nate’s death. As naive as a child, I’d let him handle everything. Had trusted him to handle everything. And I hadn’t been smart enough to protect myself.

  Standing here, with the massive suite decorated in hues of rich gray with striking white trim, I remembered what it had been like to walk into a room and just enjoy it, not worry about whether you could pay for it or not. I wished I could have that feeling again. There was a thick plush rug on the floor and a scent of cedar in the air, which perfectly complemented the lavish minimalism.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said in awe, running my hand across a polished wood table that was a symphony of sleek lines.

  “Here…” He nudged me with a gentle touch. “I’ll show you the rest.”

  He took me into a small study with a brushed metal desk, a voluminous leather arm chair you could curl up in with a good book, and a bookcase filled with novels that crossed the entire back half of the room. It was cozy and inviting, especially the fireplace in the corner. Roman caught me staring at the hearth, which beckoned me to find a Stephen King novel and just lose myself for a day.

  “
Would you like me to light the fire?” His eyes sparkled as he spoke, perhaps enjoying the idea that he’d make me happy.

  “I’d love one, but not tonight, thank you.” I drifted over to the bookshelves.

  “Do you like to read?” There was a discernible note of enthusiasm in his voice.

  “Yes, very much.” So much that I was torn between wanting to make conversation with him and hoping to devour the titles before me. “You do too, I take it. Unless…” I looked over at him, slightly worried I’d made too quick an assumption, “this room belongs to someone.” I tried to smile, a little embarrassed to be asking him personal questions, no matter how innocuous.

  “It’s my guilty pleasure. I hide in this room and spend the day reading when I want the world to go away. Sadly, I don’t get much of a chance to escape my life.”

  He and I seemed to be kindred in so many ways. I wanted to rush over to him and throw my arms around his neck. I felt like we’d known each other all of our lives, and even lifetimes before that.

  With Nate, I’d learned to love him. Nate had grown on me, and we volleyed our considerable differences with compromise and negotiation.

  With Roman, things felt simple, like they just slipped into place.

  “Since you’re tired, I’d like to show you the bedroom and bath,” he said as he nudged me toward the hallway, “then I’ll retire myself.” His eyes were red. He was tired as well.

  The king-sized bed heaped with pillows in the finest damask looked so soft and delightful, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

  “This is your bedroom, I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Please make yourself at home.” He turned and opened the door next to a giant walk-in closet and revealed an amazing marble covered room with a swimming-pool-sized whirlpool and two sinks.

  “I can’t believe this place,” I said, amazed. “I had a nice home before… but this is exquisite.”

  “Thanks. My mom has good taste, but when I bought the place from my parents, I added many upgrades that better suited my needs.” He seemed really proud of the work he’d done to the house, but it felt unlived in, like it was waiting for people to fill it up.

  Such a big place for only one person seemed like a waste, unless he was fond of entertaining.

  “Do you host a lot of parties here?”

  I blushed, and he laughed. I knew from the look in his eyes that he understood my unintentional meaning. Why would a single guy have such a huge place for entertaining? He shut the bathroom door and brought me back into the living space.

  “I have a few parties now and then.” The way he said it implied that he didn’t want to expand on the subject.

  There was a small suitcase standing near the entrance door that wasn’t there when we first walked in. My heart leaped into my throat, and I felt a rush of nauseating heat coat my skin. I was too accustomed to Jewel, where a suitcase that appeared out of nowhere was liable to be filled with sex toys and other erotic items.

  “What’s that?” I almost didn’t want to know.

  He sensed my fear right away and smoothed his arm down my back. I stiffened at his touch.

  “Ms. White has brought you some clothes.”

  I swallowed hard and stepped away from him. “Do you keep women’s clothes in different sizes?” Maybe I was entirely wrong about him. I barely knew this man, and here I’d walked into a secluded mansion with him alone. Maybe I was still naive. Maybe I was still too trusting. Maybe…

  “My sister used to live here with me before she was married last year. She loves to shop, it’s her downfall. Almost an addiction. She has so many clothes she never gets the chance to wear everything she buys. You and she are about the same size. Luckily, her more frugal husband has curbed her of the habit. In fact, she’s taken a disturbing turn in the opposite direction. They’re camping this week in Banff, Canada. Just them and some hippie friends.” He scrunched up his face in disdain.

  I blew out a breath. My paranoia was getting away from me. Was it? Wasn’t it? I wasn’t even sure what to think anymore.

  He was staring at me, and I realized I was dropping the ball on our conversation.

  “Camping in Canada sounds fun actually.” I hated to contradict him, but it did sound like a blast. “Camping in the great outdoors… wine, campfires. Sounds amazing.”

  He stared at me like he thought being outdoors would be akin to torture.

  He obviously hates it.

  The real me had just popped out. I’d tried so hard in the past months to keep my persona tightly knit. No holes, no fissures. I’d had to be in control, sexy, alluring, and mysterious. That was the Butterfly, but the Butterfly wasn’t me.

  Adara Wilde was nothing like the barely dressed woman who soared over men’s heads for their sexual entertainment. It had physically pained me to have to put on the act. In the past, I’d been happiest when I could grab my guitar and sing my heart out for hours. I remembered when, after playing, I’d hunker down for a milkshake and a good book in front of a blazing fire, like the one in the study. I felt a longing for my guitar that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  That was me. This black clad, mask-wearing phantom was only a shell.

  “Well, maybe in the right company,” he said with a slight smirk. “Being with a bunch of millennials — aka my recently married sister and her new hubby — who is also a business partner, didn’t sound like much fun.”

  “Sounds like you and your sister are pretty different.”

  I was surprised at how happy I sounded, how happy I actually felt to be here. In contrast, he seemed to be pretending happiness. Why? Was he worried about me being in his home? Or was he simply lonely in this monstrous house all by himself?

  He laughed. “You have no idea.” He looked around the room like he was trying to think of more to show me then stuck his hands in his pockets. “So, the suitcase most likely has a selection of my sister’s unfortunates, which never got to see their day in the sun. There’s still a closet full of them in her room. I can show you where if you’d like… if you want to look for something else.” His face became very serious, and in it, I could see the staunch businessman that seemed to be the him he was most comfortable with.

  “I’m sure they’ll be fine, thank you.” Without meaning to, I quietly returned to the Butterfly persona again.

  An air of discomfort and awkwardness sparked up between us. It was time to put this day to bed. I couldn’t hold up much longer, and I could see he was struggling as well. The day had been traumatic, and I had a lot to think about. And I could think better after I’d rested. My mind was too jumbled right now.

  “Well, it’s time we get some sleep, I think. There’s a large selection of toiletries in the bathroom, use whatever you like. You have my number, so just text me when you’re ready to eat breakfast, or if you sleep in, lunch. I’ll have someone bring a fridge in here tomorrow and get you stocked so you can have some snacks and things for yourself. There’s an auxiliary kitchen on this wing, but it’s in the service area, and it hasn’t been used for over a year, so if you like to cook or whatever… I can have it refurb—”

  I laughed. A loud audacious sound. The real me laugh. “No need. I’m flattered though that you would go to such lengths for me.”

  “Well, I’d have it updated, at least,” he said as his face flushed red. It was cute, and it was beginning to believe that he harbored feelings for me. Real feelings. Not just intrigue and lust.

  “I’ll text you, which sounds crazy, but I’d probably never find you in this house. This is all so lovely. I don’t know how to thank you.” Tears heated my eyes, and I knew at any moment I was going to be like a dam bursting.

  He knocked me in the arm in an endearing, boyish gesture, like a fifth grader who was embarrassed that he’d bought his crush too much for Christmas. “Stop it.” He stared at me with his eyes full of hope, nodded, and started to walk past me to the door.

  Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. After my finge
rs wrapped around hard biceps, I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. My lips parted but no sound came out.

  “I still don’t know your name.” His voice held a wishful quality that had my heart pounding out of my chest.

  Should I tell him? How could I not? What if he wasn’t what he seemed?

  “Adara,” I whispered.

  He repeated it, but only when he said it, my name sounded like the most exquisite of exotic fragrances. Then his arms were around me and his warm lips pressed against mine. He tasted like cinnamon and mint, and the scent of him — clean, refreshing as the sun on morning dew — seemed to rush into my bloodstream like a drug. One minute I was standing firmly planted on the plush rug, the next I was floating near the ceiling.

  Too soon, he pulled back, stepped away, and all the aches in my body I’d forgotten slammed into me.

  He said goodnight and left me in the extravagant suite all by myself, my own wing on the opposite end of the house from him. It was both amazing and eerie.

  Feeling unsettled, I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my cape, along with the charger he gave me. Roman must’ve silenced it earlier because there were twelve text messages and two new voicemails. I couldn’t handle the thought of facing any of them, so I put the phone on the nightstand and tried to ignore it. Then I opened the suitcase, which was full of beautiful clothing that sent ripples of excitement through me.

  I wore beautiful stuff at Jewel, but most of what they’d given me had a sophisticated sexiness to it, or sluttiness, depending on the purpose. In these clothes, I would feel fun and flirty, instead of cheap and exploited. I loved them. I’d probably love his sister.

  I went into the bathroom and decided to sink into the huge Grecian tub for a hot soak before bed. I’d relish this rare moment of bliss.

  What would become of me would have to be dealt with tomorrow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Roman

  I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment and relief at being able to get Adara to my home and away from Jewel. The next thing on my agenda was to call my friend on the detective force in Butte.