by Alice Ward
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… wi
ne, 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 fingers 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.
I woke Thomas from a dead sleep but could tell it was something he was accustomed to. He whistled low when I finally made it through the whole story and promised to get a team together to begin an investigation of Jewel as soon as possible.
Tomorrow, I would confront Adara about her identity and initiate a more honest relationship with her. I hoped she’d received my letter and the flowers, but she didn’t mention them, though she’d been wearing the necklace I sent around her neck. Since they’d used me to dupe her with Jack, I was surprised she’d been given any of it. I’d hoped my message would open her up to me just a little.
Though she’d given me her real name, I needed to find a way to get Adara to have enough confidence in me to trust me with her story. I would earn that trust.
When I woke up midmorning the next day, I was feeling restless and excited. I wanted to rush to her suite and see if she’d slept well, if she was hungry. As the morning dragged into afternoon, and I’d heard nothing from her — no text, no phone call — I panicked for a moment thinking she may have left the house. I contacted Ms. White, who assured me that Adara was still sleeping peacefully.
I’d canceled my business appointments for the day to spend the time with Adara and felt restless, like my organs wanted to crawl from my skin. To relax, I sat down at the piano in the sitting room near the main entrance hall. Playing the piano had always settled my nerves. I hadn’t realized I’d been playing for so long until I heard footsteps on the staircase behind me.
I lifted my fingers from the keys and watched her struggle down the stairs with her cane.
“Well, look who’s finally awake at four in the afternoon,” I teased, hoping she wouldn’t be offended by the jest. There was so much we still didn’t know about each other. So much to learn and uncover.
She flashed a shy smile. She was still wearing that damn flesh-colored mask and one of the outfits my sister had left. She looked stunning in the jeans and billowing floral print, just the perfect mix of casual and ethereal. Her leg was in a brace, which made her gait stiff and awkward as she maneuvered down the stairs. At least she felt comfortable enough here to not hide her disability from me. I
wanted to ask about her medical procedures and recovery, but I wanted her to tell me her story in her own time.
I also wanted to jump up and help her, pick her up and carry her down the stairs. Hell, I’d install a damn elevator, but I didn’t want her to feel helpless. I could only hope she was steady enough to negotiate the stairs safely.
“I’m glad you were able to get some rest,” I added, keeping my tone light and casual so she didn’t feel uneasy about her lengthy decent.
The smile grew wider. “That’s the most comfortable bed in the world.”
An image popped in my head of me lowering her to that bed, stripping her of that blouse, the jeans. When I would have risen and greeted her at the bottom of the stairs, I was forced to remain at the piano or give myself away. “Yes, I’m a sucker for a good memory foam mattress.”
God, I’m so interesting. Maybe I could woo her into bed with my knowledge of mattresses. I needed to get a grip.
“I didn’t know you played piano.” When she neared me, I could smell her scent, light and flowery and just her. “Well, I don’t really know much about you, do I? Other than what I’ve read on the internet…” She blushed and pressed her lips together.
“Right. The young entrepreneur who’s taken the world by storm with his transoceanic ‘must haves.’ Ugh, I hate reading about myself. I’ve about stopped giving interviews because they take maybe half of what I say, then what they chop together makes me sound like an arrogant ass.” I felt that way, but I was actually titillated by the fact that she’d read about me online.
“I was thinking about one of the ten most sexy men of the World Wide Web,” she said playfully.
“Oh, that one’s even worse,” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes for effect. “I absolutely hate the way news outlets portray me as some kind of hot forager of unexplored business opportunities. It makes me feel so cheap and opportunistic.”
Whether it was true or not, I wanted to think that she’d looked me up online because she was as interested in me as I was in her.
