The Escape
Page 73
He kissed my neck as he carefully pulled out. “Did I hurt you?”
“It’s a good hurt,” I winced, feeling both sore and needfully deprived of his cock.
“Good, you’ll remember me then while I’m at work.” He smoothed his fingers across my aching, satisfied sex.
As if the universe had heard him mumble the word “work,” his phone rang. He groaned and rolled over to press it to his ear.
“Roman Wellington,” he snapped, and I stiffened automatically at the formalness of his voice. There was a long pause as he listened to the caller.
I watched his face turn from sleepy satisfaction to suppressed anger. His breathing became forced, and a pique of anxiety bloomed in my stomach.
“I’ll be in right away,” he said through gritted teeth and tossed the phone onto the bed. “Something’s come up at work. I’ve got to go.” He headed for the closet and the long line of suits he had to choose from.
“I’m sorry… I hope everything is okay.” I sat up and studied the hard countenance that had replaced the man who’d just joked about his giant dick before fucking my brains out. For a reason I couldn’t name, my heart began to beat erratically.
Feeling overwhelmed and like the ground I was walking on kept crumbling under me, I watched him. When he turned and looked back at me, it was with his signature intense stare that didn’t give anything away. I’d learned enough about him to know that this look was him hiding his feelings.
He was so fond of asking me if I was okay, I wanted to extend the same courtesy. “You seem upset. Are you okay?”
“I think we’ll need to put a pin in this, I have a lot on my plate right now.” His voice was cold and distant, and he turned away, pulling a jacket off the rack.
My body turned as cold as his tone. Put a pin… “Do you want me to leave?”
He froze, looking at me oddly. “No…no… I—”
“I’m not sure what we’re doing, Roman. I’m feeling overwhelmed.”
He looked up at the ceiling, as if searching for divine guidance. “I’m not sure either. There’s a lot of firsts for me here. And right now, I need to work, so…”
Whether he knew it or not, his eyes immediately went to the scar and my heart fell.
“You take a shower here, and I’ll use the one in the guest room. I’ve got to get into work as soon as possible, I’ve got a crisis on my hands.”
“Okay,” I said in a daze. His crisis was because of me, I knew. Because of me, his business was in jeopardy.
“This isn’t about you, Adara, I just need a minute. I’ll see you tonight when I get home.” He tried to sound genuine, but I could tell it took some effort.
Feeling unsettled and unsure of what was happening, I took a shower. It felt good to be alone with my thoughts. The warm water cascaded over my body, easing the soreness, and erasing some of my fears. I wanted to stay here forever under the pelting spray, but I had to be brave enough to walk back into his bedroom and talk to him about us.
After my shower, he’d already gone, but my phone dinged and a message from him popped up. I’ll see you tonight, probably late. Don’t answer your phone. I’ll have someone pick up your stuff from Jewel. Do you have access to your account online? Check and make sure your funds are there.
It was only a text message, but he seemed so efficient and controlling. This was a side of Roman I didn’t know, his billionaire businessman side.
Another text message popped up from Roman before I had time to answer the first. Miss White will take you into town today to buy you some clothes. Get anything you want on me.
I stared at the message. I hated… hated… being told what to do.
With gritted teeth, I texted back. Thanks for all of your help, but you don’t need to buy my clothes. I’m a big girl. I can handle getting my belongings back. Dammit, pride. Could I?
I was filled with confusion because of the way he had changed so suddenly, and I hated feeling so insecure in my own abilities. If I had a place to go, I would have left. I didn’t want him to buy me stuff, it would be too much like the set up at Jewel. He was rich beyond my wildest imagination and could afford to purchase several women with his extravagance, but he couldn’t buy me. Was he trying to? Or was I just being paranoid?
As I sat on his bed, I realized that I was feeling more emotion all at once than I’d allowed myself for over two years. To me, waves of emotions like this were like a rainbow that — if I could get them down in words — would shoot out into the great unknown and touch someone else’s life in the form of a song.
I jumped up off the bed, galvanized for the first time in many months and quickly limped for his study. There, I found a notebook and pen, never mind that it wasn’t my normal notebook. Then I went to the study in the guest wing, built a fire, and curled up in the deep-cushioned chair and put words that turned into lyrics down on paper.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Roman
My hands clenched around the steering wheel. I hated leaving Adara with that look on her face. I knew I’d hurt her. I’d just fucked her brains out and then essentially walked out.
But dammit… I had shit to deal with. Surely, she could understand that.
A new story broke overnight and would be appearing in all the newspapers this morning. Already, since New York was three hours ahead of us, Crave.com stocks had ticked lower. The phones were ringing off the hook, both large and small clients demanding answers, some wanting to break their contract. It was a disaster.
When it hit, the article alleged that Crave.com and our famous coffee brand, Krave Koffee, were exploiting the workers in a small village in Brazil. At the least of their claims was the allegation that I was paying a fraction of the cost for the beans.
I squealed to a stop in front of a gas station, went in and bought a paper. I wanted to know just what was waiting for me when I got to the office.
The front-page article summarized my local dealings, then read:
“The reason we get everything on Crave.com for such a steal is that they’re stealing from their suppliers,” said an unnamed source. Crave founder, Roman Wellington, a supposed long-time champion of fair trade and global equality, has been revealed in a scandal which alleges he’s forced child laborers and underpaid workers to live and work under slavelike conditions in Brazil. His company has also been named in a lawsuit that claims he’s trafficked young workers for the fields and the sex trade.
After reading those words, my mind whirled with anger. I didn’t dare read the rest, but Adam had told me there were interviews with workers from our coffee operation in Brazil and testimonials from villagers, farmers, and children who all claimed to have been bought by our company. The most convincing of these interviews was a fifteen-year-old girl who said she’d been sold to Crave.
Throwing the paper down on the passenger seat, I hit the gas, pushing the engine to bleed out my anger on the car instead of my innocent employees waiting for me at the office.
This couldn’t be happening.
My company’s entire reputation rested on our commitment to fair trade and exemplary business practices with developing nations that profited both our economies.
Crave.com had been my childhood dream. I wanted to create a company that didn’t inflate prices or pad the pockets of only one side of the retail exchange. I wanted fair prices for all, prosperity for all.
We saved people money, and made other people money. My employees also enjoyed good salaries. But we didn’t traffic in people. Just the opposite, we were advocates against such practices.
Now, with this popping up, if someone found out I’d been to Jewel it would finish off my reputation. Embarrass my family. Affect how Adara was welcomed back into the world when she went.
Not to mention that my entire business model was built on the company’s reputation. A story like this, especially if it demonized me, would absolutely ruin us.
The saddest part of all this was, despite the rumors that I was an absolute asshol
e, I really cared about what we did at Crave. We elevated the quality of life for so many people who’d otherwise be living in poverty. For people living in those small villages, we provided education, healthcare, housing, and infrastructure.
I myself made sure these changes were made in the places we worked with. I was stunned and unable to believe that someone on my team had taken advantage of this incredible resource. Our moto was “Crave what you believe in.” Our beliefs and our reputation were our brand.
When I got into work, the looks on everyone’s faces made me think that I’d already died and come back as a zombie. There was such a mix of shock and horror as I passed through. But I couldn’t let it daunt me.
“Adam,” I barked. “No calls.” Being pleasant wasn’t on my priority list. “And book me a trip to Brazil, ASAP.” I walked into my office and slammed the door.
At my desk, I looked over the article and what was popping up online. I would need to call in someone who could get to the source of this and turn it around. A detective slash publicist.
I made a call to the company attorney, and he was already on it. So far, he hadn’t been able to find record of a lawsuit anywhere. Something wasn’t kosher.
I could hear Adam outside my door fielding calls from reporters, saying I wasn’t offering any statements at the moment. He was a good assistant. I didn’t expect anyone to bang down my door with him out there, which was great. When this was all over, I needed to reward him.
My door was slung open, and I’d jumped to my feet before I focused on Peter standing there, looking like a ragged Bear Grylls.
I groaned, mourning the peace and quiet that swiftly died with my brother-in-law’s presence.
“Broooo!”
My eyes rolled back in my head, and I flopped back down in my chair. I hadn’t the energy for him right now.
“What the fuck, dude? USA Today is smoking crack. When did you become a slave owner?”
It wasn’t a real question, so I didn’t bother to answer.
“No worries, Roman, I’ll help you get to the bottom of this nonsense. A competitor is probably out to get you. People will believe anything, don’t sweat it.”
“That’s okay, Pete. I’ve got it handled.”
Pete strutted into the room, running his fingers through his now even shaggier beard. “You shoulda come with us, let loose. We had such an amazing trip and you’d be high on fresh air and wouldn’t be trippin’ on any of this.”
“I’m not… trippin’,” I spit out, “and if you are—”
“No, no, haven’t tripped on anything other than wine for a long time. Hey, you want some good news?”
On top of what I was dealing with at the moment, a Pete-good-news-fest was all I needed, but I bit down on my tongue and nodded because he was my brother-in-law and Lil would be pissed if I blew up on him. The last thing I needed was for her to start a campaign for anger management.
“We met this guy on our vacay. He’s one of the creators of the Coachella Music Festival in the California desert, and he wants you to be one of their sponsors. They never have sponsors, cause they’re a ‘for the people’ kinda thing, but your company is so in line with their philosophy, he wants you.”
I tapped one of the newspapers. “I’m sure he won’t touch me with a ten-foot pole now.” I wanted to close my eyes and let the world fall to pieces around me. I was tired of having to construct and manage everything.
“Some douche set you up with that article. This’ll all blow over by then.”
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Tell him no. I don’t need any more public humiliation right now.”
“Sorry, Romy, I already agreed for you. He was there when we heard the news. We have total faith you’ll find the asshole who’s making all the bad press. The festival isn’t until April. We assured him you were the real deal, and he’s gonna hold judgment, so he’s solid.”
I rolled my eyes and leaned back farther in my chair. “You can’t just agree to a business transaction for me, Peter.”
He was being supportive, and Coachella would be great publicity for us. However, the taste of defeat was still sour in my mouth.
On any other day, this would’ve been great news. I usually didn’t let shit get to me, but this wasn’t just a rumor. Someone was at work here to ruin my company. No, not someone. It was Jack Marshall, the bastard. And if I could prove it, I was going to ruin him.
Adam knocked on the door, which was still partially open.
“What?” I answered, irritated.
“Sorry, Mr. Wellington, the earliest flight I can get for you to Espírito Santo is tomorrow. They don’t have anything available before that.” His eyes were wide and fearful.
I didn’t want to make any more enemies, so I nodded, adding a tight smile. The look of surprise on his face was priceless.
“Great, book it,” I said, and ignoring Peter, went back to looking over the books for the coffee farm in the mountains near Espírito Santo, Brazil. I would get to the bottom of this, even if it killed me. I didn’t want to leave Adara right now, but maybe it would be for the best. It would give her time to get settled, rest, have some peace without me waving my dick at her every five seconds.
“Adam, in response to reporters who call, tell them I’m looking into who is spreading lies about the ethics that we hold so dear to this company. Thanks.” I smiled again, and he backed into the doorframe before stumbling into the outer lobby.
“You’re going to Brazil?” Pete’s eyes lit up.
“To investigate. I don’t believe anyone in this company would commit the atrocities we’re accused of, but I won’t know for sure until I speak to the ones interviewed. But Adara’s at my house…”
“The girl? You, no-second-date Romansky, has a woman staying at his house?” Peter’s eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open, making him look like a goofy cartoon character. “I’ll go to Brazil with you, dude. We’ll film the whole thing. And in the meantime, I may know someone who can get a line on Mr. Jack Marshall.”
I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to take a trip with Pete, but maybe it was right. I needed to get this scandal under control. I couldn’t let its nastiness smear onto Adara. She’d been through enough.
My cell rang. It was Thomas and I snapped it up. “Yes.”
The detective exhaled a long breath. “Nothing on Jewel, but I wanted to share an interesting piece of news I’ve uncovered.”
My balls tightened. “What’s that?”
“I was putting our feelers and spoke to Adara’s manager, Neil Ferguson. Apparently, the manager, her record label, and about an army of people have been looking for her for months, and have kept it under the radar in the hopes they would find her unharmed.”
“Seriously?”
Thomas made an affirmative noise. “Seriously. Apparently, they’ve been looking for her because they have some big opportunity. They are wanting her to come back for some type of award, and they want to relaunch her career. But she’s been so well hidden away, even their damn PI couldn’t find her.”
“Thanks. I’ll let her know.”
“I’ll be going out to your estate to interview her tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. The day I was leaving for my own personal crisis. She would have to go through the interview alone.
As I disconnected the call, I stared at the phone.
Adara was on the cusp of returning to stardom, and she didn’t even know it.
She would soon.
I called the contractor I used for all my renovations and ordered a sound studio to be built in the guest wing. I wanted it stocked with a fucking guitar and every damn thing a super rock ‘n’ roll star could ever possibly need.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Adara
After I emptied my emotions out on the page, I’d wanted to play but didn’t have a guitar. So I put on my mask and another outfit of Roman’s sister’s and went downstairs, determined to do something to take control of my life.
I needed my money, but I almost needed what little things I had more. Everything from my life before was in that one bag.
Roman texted me that there would be a detective coming to interview me tomorrow and that he would give me the details later.
I fixed a coffee and grabbed a couple of apples for Sissaleigh and went out to the barn. The smells there seemed to soothe my soul, and the company couldn’t tell me what to do.
I fed the apples to Sissaleigh, who was actually as bossy as she could manage without words. The horse had a definite backbone, and I could probably take a few lessons from her.
On my way back from the barn, Janis called. She was probably the only person from Jewel I had the stomach to talk to, so I answered.
“Hey, Adara. How are you? I’ve been so worried. You just disappeared.” She sounded nervous, but maybe that was because she was worried.
“I needed to get out of there.”
“Well, everyone is looking for you. You have rehearsal in an hour, and Brandy’s been frantic.”
My breath caught in my throat, and my heart rate spiked. Even hearing Brandy’s name made me feel sick to my stomach. I could never go back there. “I’m not coming to rehearsal today.”
“Why?” Her voice held an accusing tone.
“I’m no longer working at Jewel. Can you help me with something though? There’s a suitcase near the door in my apartment, it has all my important things in it. Can you grab it? I’ll tell you were the key is—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t, Adara.” Her voice lowered. “Things have changed since you left, security is tighter. More cameras.”
I couldn’t control my racing heart as my nerves sky rocketed. Something seemed off.
“What do you mean? Are you okay? Is Brandy okay? You don’t sound right.” The Janis I knew would have tried to help me if it were possible.
I hated this, hated these feelings, this worry. I felt so helpless, unable to do anything to stop all of the injustices at Jewel, to stop all the women from suffering there.