Billionaire Protector: A Dark Romance

by Nikki Chase

  Despite my initial apprehension, something about Raphael puts me at ease. Not that my gut is always right, but I feel like he’s harmless, at least to me. A big man like Raphael can definitely cause serious harm to some people, but he wouldn't hurt me.

  Most interestingly, there’s no weird tension between us like there is when I’m with Seth, even though Raphael is just as attractive.

  “Have you toured the house yet?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Great! You just met the right person at the right time. Let me give you the grand tour.”

  I turn around to look at my half-unpacked bag. I guess that can wait. Besides, if I’ll be getting the rest of my stuff tomorrow, I’ll just be unpacking twice. Might as well wait for the rest and do it all in one go.

  “Sure,” I say.

  I follow Raphael down long hallways with crystal chandeliers overhead and dramatic lighting in every corner. The house looks even more grand and imposing against the dark backdrop of the night.

  The floors are marble throughout the mansion, grey and black veins on white. The walls are somewhere between grey and beige. The lack of colors draws attention to the architectural details, like the thick beams of wood just below the ceilings, or the little alcoves in the walls where sculptures are displayed.

  There are doors on both sides of all the hallways—more doors than I can count.

  “How many rooms are in this place?”

  “You know what? I have no idea,” Raphael says.

  “Does Seth have a big family living here?”

  “Not really.” Raphael thinks about my question, pausing before he says, “Depends on who counts as family, I guess.”

  “He has a lot of friends living here, then?”

  “You can say that, I guess.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ah, yes, that’s confusing, isn’t it? Sorry, but it’s really not my place to tell you,” Raphael replies cryptically, which only piques my curiosity even further.

  “Check this out. This is pretty cool,” Raphael says as he disappears through an open door into a dark room.

  I follow him. My eyes widen when I see the view from the balcony. From here, I have a great view of the sprawling grounds. The gardens are green and lush, with ambient lighting in strategic spots.

  The centerpiece, though, is the big fountain in the middle of the lawn right in front of us. It shines like a jewel against the dark green velvet of the grass, the water bright from the underwater lighting. The sound of water splashing fills the night air.

  I can see myself sitting here on the balcony, curled up with a good book, listening to the fountain. There’s a set of table and chairs that would be just perfect for it. I could stay here for hours. I still haven’t seen the whole mansion yet, but I can safely say that I’ve found my new hangout.

  “Nice view, huh?” Raphael asks, startling me. I almost forgot he was even here.

  “Yeah. Great view,” I say.

  “I hope you enjoyed the house tour.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen everything yet.”

  “You haven’t, but some parts of the house are off limits.”

  “Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  How are there so many secrets in one house? Why is everything so damn mysterious here?

  “I can’t say,” Raphael says with another friendly smile. That curve of his lips is starting to piss me off. Why won't he tell me anything?

  I get that it’s going to take time for me to gain Seth’s trust, but I’m not asking for his online banking password here. I just want to see the house I’m going to live in, and maybe learn more about my new housemates.

  “Of course you can’t,” I reply. I immediately regret letting my irritation show. It’s probably not Raphael’s fault he can’t tell me anything. I should probably direct my questions to Seth. I give Raphael an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

  “For what?” He shrugs and softly shakes his head. “I have to go, Alice. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. I hope you like it here.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “Thanks for the tour.”

  “Yeah, I figured Alejandra would be too busy to do it today with the new shipment coming in.”

  “What shipment? Does Seth run a business from here?” I ask.

  “Ah… I can’t say.” Raphael smiles again. “Sorry, Alice. I’ll see you around, okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks again.”

  I hear Raphael’s footsteps get further and further away, the rubber soles of his loafers muted against the marble floor. I keep my gaze on the fountain, letting myself be hypnotized by the bright lights and the rhythm of the water.

  I look up at the crescent moon, it’s sharp ends piercing through the dark cloak of the night.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  I can’t shake off the feeling that something’s off, but maybe it’s just because I’m so far away from the city.

  I’ve traveled, of course, to Seattle and even to Bali, but I’ve never stayed in any rural areas. Maybe it’s the stillness and the quietness that unnerve me, the wildness of my surroundings.

  Or maybe it’s my new mysterious boss who's gotten me all anxious.

  What is it about Seth?

  It’s not just his looks. Raphael is just as gorgeous, but he doesn’t make my heart race the way Seth does.

  I guess I should slow down. This is just my first day. Maybe I shouldn’t go around suspecting people of having dark, dangerous secrets just yet. I’ve probably just been watching too many episodes of Law and Order.

  It’s more likely that Seth is a regular businessman. He runs a boring shipping thing from here because, well, if you have a mansion this gorgeous, wouldn’t you want to spend all your time here? And he doesn’t want me wandering into every part of the house for privacy reasons.

  There are completely rational, non-paranoid explanations for all my concerns.

  Anyway, with the amount of money I’m being paid, I shouldn’t even care. I should just do my job and enjoy the money. Treat this like any other job.

  But Seth is not exactly like any of my other bosses, and this mansion is not like any of the restaurants where I’ve worked.

  I wonder if it’s just been such a long time since I got laid that I’m overanalyzing the first man I’m attracted to since the break-up.

  Honestly, now that I’ve decided to banish Fred from my life for good, it’s easy to see that my future will be better without him. He was always such a wet blanket, telling me to play it safe and never try anything new.

  I’ve always known how much Fred sucks, deep down.

  When I first got together with him, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but he was persistent and I gave in. I thought we could give it a go and see if we could work out.

  We got along pretty well, in the beginning. I didn’t feel any strong attraction toward him, but I was opening myself up to the idea that love didn’t have to be this torrential, passionate breaking of the dam. It could be a quiet river flowing with affection and acceptance.

  Maybe this could be one of those relationships that were based on companionship and friendship, rather than passion, I thought. Maybe love could be slow and sweet, rather than fast and hard.

  Before Fred, my love affairs were short, meaningless, sex-fueled liaisons that burned out too quickly. I thought I needed a change.

  But once we were in a relationship, it was impossible for me to end it. I quickly felt trapped, with his frequent meltdowns and suicide threats.

  I stuck around, not out of some misplaced hope that we could ever work out. I was just managing one crisis after another. It was less “I may not be in love with him but I love him and maybe that’s enough,” and more “I don’t love him but I don’t want his suicide on my conscience either.”

  For the longest time, I blamed myself for ever getting into a relationship with him. I thought it was my own fault for leading him on, for letting him think I was more into him than I really wa
s.

  Then, as the years passed, he became the biggest part of my life.

  His jealousy didn’t allow me to socialize with any man, ruling out a lot of after-work drinks and outings in mixed company. Even when I went out with girlfriends, he’d constantly call and text to make sure I got home before his curfew.

  If I was ever late coming home, we’d get into a big fight. Thinking back, though, it was less like a fight than it was an interrogation. He’d insist that I had met up with some other man, instead of just chilling with my girls for a while longer.

  At some point, it became easier to limit my social circle rather than get into tearful, dramatic fights with Fred. Sure, he was my best friend, but he also made sure that I had no other friends.

  I didn’t see what he was doing, though. I didn’t have anything to compare the relationship with, because it was my first long-term, serious one. I just thought that was the way all relationships were. After all, everybody was saying relationships were hard work.

  Nobody else knew me better than Fred did; nobody else spent half as much time with me as Fred did; and Fred became my whole world. Things sucked when he was angry with me, and things were better when he was in a good mood.

  I thought I loved him, but that wasn’t love. I was just trapped and trying to cope the best way I could.

  The way he treated me, I doubt he ever loved me either. It was always more about ownership with him. He wanted me, but he also wanted to change everything about me.

  He almost succeeded, too. My blood boils when I think about how I let him turn me from a strong, independent woman into a weak person who walked on eggshells all the time, just to avoid triggering his anger again in some way.

  The only things that kept me sane were my work and my close relationship with Emily. I was lucky Fred and I were on a break when Emily needed a place to stay. That gave me the kick in the ass that I needed to move out of the apartment I shared with Fred and finally get my own place with Emily.

  If it wasn’t for moving to my own apartment, I wouldn’t have been able to distance myself enough from Fred to see things more clearly.

  Now, it’s obvious to me that I wasn’t putting enough distance between Fred and me. That’s why this job came at such a good time.

  I still feel a little guilt over the hurt I’m causing Fred by not even talking to him, but I can’t let him pull me back in. I have to constantly tell myself his well-being is not my problem anymore, that his anger and his meltdowns don’t have to affect me anymore.

  I chuckle as a random memory slips into my mind.

  Back when we started dating, I was volunteering for this progressive prison program that helped inmates learn new skills, like cooking—which was where I was stationed, obviously.

  It was the kind of thing Fred would’ve discouraged; there was no way for me to have started getting involved in that kind of program once I was fully under Fred’s control.

  He was such an asshole that one of the inmates punched him in the face. He wouldn’t tell me what had happened, but he seemed embarrassed because his fragile masculinity was hurt.

  The inmates who were on my program were actually sweet and polite in their interactions with me. Still, the place was filled with criminals, many of whom were violent.

  I like to think those inmates found Fred more irritating than being in prison.

  Prison? Yeah, I guess I deserve this.

  Fred? Fuck that guy. Spending time with him is more punishment than I deserve.

  With a grin on my face, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with cool, clear, countryside air.

  For once in my life, everything’s going well, and maybe that just boggles my mind for no good reason, forcing it to cope by conjuring up something sinister.

  I’m free now, and that’s all that matters.

  8

  Alice

  Sunshine streams into the room through the window, barely filtered by the sheer drapes. I yawn and do a full-body stretch.

  I look around me, as if I'm trying to convince myself that this is really my home now, that the events of the past twenty-four hours really happened.

  My new bedroom doesn't look too different from the one back in my apartment. It's a similar size, except there's carpet on the floor, which feels soft as a cloud under my bare feet this morning.

  Mornings always energize me. It's a new day, a new beginning. I can shape this day however I want.

  In the brightness of day, I’m having trouble believing the noises I heard in the middle of the night were real. I mean, it was my first night in a new, intimidating place, so maybe I dreamed the whole thing up? It seemed real at the time, though.

  I woke to the tortured moans and grunts of a woman, which got louder and louder until they turned into full-blown screaming. I grabbed my phone from the night stand to check the time. 3:07 a.m.

  Great. My new home is haunted, I thought.

  I decided to check out the source of the eerie noises, in case there was some kind of dangerous situation unfolding nearby. But before I could get out, the noises abruptly stopped. I opened the door and popped my head out, only to see the dark, empty, unfamiliar hallway stretching infinitely in both directions.

  I had no idea who my neighbors were or what kind of habits they had. For all I knew, it could’ve been the audio track of a horror movie playing in the next room.

  I didn't even know which room the strange sounds had come from. I couldn't simply start knocking on every door just to wake everyone up and ask them about noises that were no longer audible. That wouldn't be the best way to introduce myself and make a good impression.

  So I went back to sleep, deciding to wait until morning to ask someone.

  I’m sure there's some kind of a reasonable explanation. A new mansion with this kind of modern design doesn't feel like somewhere ghosts would enjoy hanging out.

  In the shower, I think about what to cook for breakfast. I haven't had time to check what's available in the kitchen, but I know where it is from the quick (partial) house tour Raphael gave me last night.

  I quickly get dressed in something practical—a pair of black dress pants and a pink button-down shirt—and head to the kitchen. I can't wait to see my new kitchen and meet my new co-workers on this new day.

  “Morning, Alice,” Alejandra greets me in the kitchen with a smile, even as her gaze continues to be locked on to the screen of the tablet in her hands. She’s wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline today, and heels.

  “Morning,” I reply. I wonder if Alejandra dresses up every single day. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  “I was just about to get you from your room. I didn’t want you to get lost on the way to the kitchen,” Alejandra says as her long fingernails tap the screen noisily.

  “Oh, there’s no need for that. Raphael gave me a quick tour of the house last night.”

  “Raphael, huh? That’s great,” Alejandra says. “Sorry, I’m a little distracted. Give me a minute finish up here.”

  “Sure.” I smile at the other girl in the kitchen, a young girl who’s shyly glancing at me while she washes some vegetables in the stainless-steel sink.

  “Hey, uh…” I sidle up to Alejandra and, in a lower voice, say, “I heard some weird noises last night.”

  “Hold on… Okay, Alice, this is Ana. Ana, this is Alice.” Alejandra turns around and leans her back against the counter, putting the tablet on the stone counter behind her. “Ana will help you prepare food for Mr. Wayne, Alice. She doesn't speak much English, but she's learning, and she does good work with food prep.”

  “Look forward to working with you, Ana,” I say.

  She looks up at me from underneath her lashes and returns my smile.

  “Tell her what you just told me, Alice,” Alejandra says.

  “Uh, I heard some strange noises last night.”

  “Sorry, Miss Alice,” Ana says softly.

  “Oh, that was you?”

  “Yes, Miss. I have nightmares. I
’m sorry.”

  “Oh, that’s okay, Ana. I’m not angry or anything. I’m just concerned. You sounded like you were in pain. But you’re okay?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  “Call me Alice, please. We both work here, don’t we? We’re colleagues.”

  “Yes… Alice,” Ana says hesitantly.

  “Great. I’m sure we’ll work well together.”

  “Okay, now that all the introductions are done, I’ll leave you to it,” Alejandra says.

  “Wait, what does Seth usually have for breakfast?”

  “I don’t know, dear. Surprise him.” Alejandra smiles and turns around on her heels before click-clacking away hurriedly. I still have no idea what her role is in this house, but she seems exceedingly busy.

  I turn to smile at Ana. She looks like a nice girl. She’s wearing a white shirt with the initials SW on the little pocket over her chest. A uniform?

  “Do you know what Seth usually has for breakfast?” I ask.

  “Omelette,” Ana says.

  “Great. Is it usually you who cooks for him every meal?” I ask.

  Ana pauses to think before she replies, “Yes.”

  “How many people are we cooking this for?”

  “Two.”

  I wonder who Seth has breakfast with.

  It doesn’t look like he has kids. This house is not exactly child-friendly, with its sharp corners and open sockets and lack of brightly-colorer pieces of plastic strewn all over the floor.

  He might have a girlfriend or a wife. My chest tightens at the thought of him with a beautiful, glamorous woman on his arm. Maybe Alejandra?

  I open the fridge door. Eggs, cheese, tomatoes, fresh herbs… I can do something with these ingredients.

  “I washed vegetables,” Ana says as she points into the sink in front of her.

  “Perfect.”

  Over the next few minutes, we peel, wash, mix, and whip up some omelettes. I put them on two plates and sprinkle some truffle salt on top.

  “Mr. Wayne is at table,” Ana says as she peers through the doorway.

  “Great timing. I’ll bring these out. Thanks, Ana.”