Man of the House

by Abigail Graham

"What was that about?"

  "The boys’ aunt," he says. "Gloria. We weren't close when Hailey was alive, but I let her take the boys for a couple of weeks here and there. I worry about the effect it'll have on them, but it's more in my head than anything else."

  Alive. I catch on that word and squeeze it, trembling a little. I didn't think to ask, and now I feel so stupid. Of course there has to be some reason Jason and Tim's mother isn’t around. I figured it was divorce. He doesn’t wear a ring.

  What happened to her?

  The question is on the edge of my tongue, and I bite my lip to hold it in. Aiden is pained for a brief moment, before he touches his lips to my forehead.

  "Hungry?" he says. "We skipped breakfast."

  I touch my stomach. After the plane ride I'm not exactly eager for food, but the boys overrule me, surging into the kitchen with eager demands. Aiden throws open the vast, well-stocked fridge and begins crafting sandwiches. He drops a turkey club on me before I have time to protest, and the four of us eat in relative silence.

  The boys are acting different. They know something is up, even if Aiden thinks them oblivious. Jason, in particular, is watching us. Watching me.

  "Nature walk?" Aiden asks as I push half my sandwich away.

  Tim looks eager. Jason groans.

  "Nature walk," Aiden decides, without waiting for our input.

  “Mind if I bring my sketchbook?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Aiden says. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

  I change into a pair of sneakers and follow them outside, pulling on a straw hat. The air is warm on my shoulders, but the breeze keeps it from turning too hot.

  "How big is this place?"

  "Big," Aiden says. "This way."

  He leads the way up a cobbled path across a wide field and into the woods. The two boys naturally move ahead, opening the distance before warily letting us catch up.

  I keep pace with Aiden, moving closer then pulling apart, again and again. Our hands brush, almost close around one another, but there's still something keeping us apart now.

  "You should talk to them," I tell him.

  "I know," he says. "I'm not sure how they'll take it. I haven't been with anyone since their mother."

  "You haven't told me anything about her."

  "What did you want to know?"

  I stare down at the stone path. "I know she existed. I'm not dumb. The boys came from somewhere, after all."

  He laughs, but there’s little humor in it. "True enough. I thought women didn't like it when their dates talk about their exes."

  He glances up at the boys, running ahead to stand on rocks and peer down a slope towards a fast-running shallow stream, and comes to a stop, keeping the distance from them.

  Aiden touches my back, a small, possessive gesture that swells hot within me. I cough a little and clear my throat.

  "You know why I'm concerned about a relationship with you. You're young—"

  "I'm nineteen, Aiden. I turn twenty in two months. I'm not over the hill, but I'm an adult."

  "It makes me nervous," he says, caressing the curve of my jaw now. "You awaken feelings in me I don't understand. I wanted you from the second you walked into my office."

  "What feelings?"

  He moves closer. "Hunger. You make me feel like a big bad wolf."

  "Preying on the cute little damsel in distress?" I say with a flirtatious tilt of my chin. "Maybe I want to be preyed on. Maybe I want you the way you want me."

  "I'm worried you think I'm something I'm not."

  "You think my head's clouded with hero worship? I'm trying to have my girlhood crush?"

  "Might be," he says.

  "So what if I am? So far you're everything I dreamed you could be."

  I slip behind him and rise on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "I think about you when I play with myself."

  "I know," he says, softly. "I heard you that night."

  "That wasn't the first time." I duck around in front of him and face him before turning away. "I always wanted it to be you. I wanted you to—"

  "Snatch you up and rescue you?" he says, placing his hands on my upper arms. "Whisk you away from your tower so you can let down your hair?"

  "You're worried I think life is a fairytale. I know it isn't. I'm ready to give myself to you."

  "I'm not sure I can take what you're offering," he says, gripping my arms a little too hard before he relaxes.

  I sink back against his chest and lean on him, sighing.

  His arms slip around me from behind, and I close my eyes, savoring the warm breeze and shade trees and him. "Why not?"

  He doesn't answer, but there is a pain in his ragged breath. A secret fire that's still burning in there. He misses her, I realize. Does he think he's betraying her? Is he afraid she'd judge him because I'm so young? Or is it something else?

  She's dead, you idiot. He lost someone. There's a hole in him and you're irritating the edges trying to push your way in. Shut your mouth and savor the moment.

  Aiden relaxes, the memory either fading or losing its bite as he pulls off my hat and buries his face in my hair to breathe in my scent.

  Jason is watching us.

  "I'm going to talk to them tonight."

  I nod. "Good. You still need to talk to me, though."

  Aiden loosens his grip, his arms sliding down to my waist.

  "I'm not going to lie to you. I'm afraid for you. I told you before, I don't want you to suffer a scandal."

  "I can handle it."

  "Can you?" he asks, his voice hot. "Can you handle photographers following you? Reporters shouting lewd questions? Can you handle illicit photos on gossip sites, hate groups attacking you on Facebook? You'd be surprised what my fans get up to."

  "Fans?" I say.

  "What kind of self-respecting single billionaire would I be without a legion of female admirers? If you're with me publicly you're going to get caught up in that. Don't tell me you haven't seen some of the photos."

  For the first time I feel distant from him. "I admit I have a little collection of them I downloaded. Just a few for research purposes. The beach ones."

  "I can't go swimming without someone sneaking up on me to take pictures. I don't want that for you."

  "Don't think I can handle it?"

  He kisses my shoulder softly.

  "No. I want you all for myself. I want you completely."

  I shiver with delight, but I'm nervous at the same time. Aiden senses it.

  "I don't want to put you in a cage," he says to reassure me. "I want you to fly free."

  "Good."

  "No cage. Now, tying you up, on the other hand…"

  My whole body goes rigid. "What?"

  "That’s what scares me," he says, toying with my hair. "I don't want to push you past your limits. But if you trust me, and I trust you, we won't let that happen."

  "What if I want to go past my limits?"

  Aiden stiffens now, in every sense of the word.

  "This is awkward," he says, grinding his cock into the small of my back. "God bless the man who invented jeans."

  He gives me a sharp jerk to…adjust himself and pulls away, his hands lingering my shoulders.

  "Come on, boys, there's more to see!"

  I savor the quiet as I walk with him, trying to imagine what wicked things he has in mind for me, for my body. It makes the walk feel like floating. I'm only half aware of the gorgeous vistas, but as we follow the mountain trail the trees open up onto a sunlight valley, and the four of us stop to marvel. A herd of deer pick along through the grasses, raising their heads as they chew to stare up at us, unafraid.

  "Ever been around so much wildlife?" he asks.

  "No."

  I shudder as I realize how much of my life has been spent in the same few rooms. It's like I was born a prisoner, and I'm just learning what parole is. Aiden puts his foot up on a rock, and I can't stop myself from staring. He could be a model on a magazine cover, gorgeous and pe
rfect, the sun turning the faint wings of graying hair at his temples to spun silver.

  "Are you posing?"

  He laughs. "Maybe."

  I wish I had a camera. Just a private snap for the two of us. Mostly for me. I'll be thinking about that image tonight.

  We follow a long, curving path, returning to the cabin from another direction. The boys are exhausted by the time we return, and I expect that was largely the point.

  "Tick check and hit the showers, boys," Aiden says, ushering them inside.

  "Ticks?" I blurt out.

  "Just have a look at your legs before you wash up. Come on out to the pool. I'm going to teach you to swim."

  Aiden pats my shoulders as we head into the house, disappearing into his own bedroom.

  I slip into mine and stare at myself in the mirror, shivering at the idea of some little crawly bloodsucker on my skin. When I'm satisfied there's nothing clinging to me, I turn to the dresser drawers.

  Aiden had a number of swimsuits sent ahead of us for me to wear. I pick out the most demure one, a racerback one-piece, and pull it on, feeling self-conscious as I pad barefoot through the kitchen to the back door.

  Behind the house is a broad patio, leading to an in-ground pool with a deep and a shallow end and a hot tub in a raised stone basin off to one side. Aiden is lying back on a chaise, wearing only tight red swim trunks. I stop to gape at him, at the sweat beading his magnificent body, before he sees me and sits up.

  I feel almost naked in this bathing suit, even if it's modest by most standards. Anticipation ripples through me, thinking how it will cling to my body when it gets wet, outlining every curve and contour of my form, my already hard nipples poking through.

  Aiden leaps gracefully into the pool and skims quickly to my side, lapping water over my feet as I stand at the edge. "Jump in or walk down the stairs."

  I hesitate, thinking for a moment. I have a sudden, nervous urge to just leap into the water, but I dismiss it and walk around to the shallow end, descending into the cool water, my teeth chattering by the time it reaches my chest. I keep my feet on the bottom and walk across the pool to him, fighting the rising surge of panic I feel every time I float a little bit.

  "Okay," he says, half-walking, half-swimming to my side. "First lesson. Dead man's float."

  "What?" I chirp.

  "It's just a name. Here."

  He slips an arm behind my back and another under my legs and lifts me up. Water streams from my body as I break the surface in his arms. Then he lowers me and leans me back.

  "Neutral position, kind of a zero-gravity pose. Yes, like that. Spread out a bit. Let the water support you. Don't panic—your head will stay above the waterline."

  He says that, but fear twists in my stomach as the waterline tickles my chin and cheeks. He gradually moves his hands away, until he's standing next to me while I float.

  "Good. Very good. You're a natural."

  "So now what?"

  "Float a while. The key is to learn not to panic. Next we'll dog paddle."

  As ridiculous as I feel as I'm doing it, I grow equally excited. I'm swimming!

  After a while, I'm exhausted. I swim back towards the stairs, pull myself out of the pool, and sit on the edge, shivering in the evening cool. Aiden lifts himself out more deftly and sits next to me, then rises to fetch a blanket-sized towel and wrap it around my quaking shoulders. The chatter leaves my teeth.

  "Here," he says, piling logs in a firepit on the patio.

  When the fire starts to really catch, I come over and sit in a chaise near it and let the heat warm my legs.

  "Hot dogs?"

  Tim's voice catches me off guard.

  "Go get 'em," Aiden says, nodding.

  His son runs inside.

  "Fetch your brother!" Aiden calls out after him.

  A few minutes later they emerge with a pack of hot dogs, buns, long metal skewers, and all the fixin's. The light starts to fade, throwing long shadows across the patio, dancing from the fire as Aiden roasts dinner over the flames.

  He plops one in a bun and hands it to me, and I stare at it for a moment.

  I've never eaten a hot dog cooked over a fire. I feel like an alien, watching the rest of them eat.

  Aiden leans back.

  "Jason, you do the rest if anyone wants seconds," he says, yawning.

  I only have one. Aiden watches in silence as his eldest cooks seconds and thirds for the two of them. I finish mine and lean back in the chaise, legs crossed, wrapping myself in the towel. The nights are colder out here.

  As it gets fully dark, Aiden rises to light torches. They smell odd from the chemicals that keep bugs away.

  When they start yawning, the boys head inside, leaving us alone.

  "I'm exhausted," I sigh. "Was this all the same day?"

  Aiden laughs. "Yeah. The days are longer out here."

  "How long have you had this place?"

  "It was one of the first things I bought when I allowed myself to think I was rich. You should have seen me sweating when I wrote the check."

  I laugh. "I can't imagine you being nervous about anything."

  Aiden says nothing. "Why don't we warm up in the hot tub before we head in?"

  "All right."

  The water swirls and bubbles, steam rising from the surface. I sink into it, an involuntary groan of calm bubbling from my throat as I relax into the water.

  Aiden joins me a moment later, slipping in next to me. I scoot closer and lay my head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

  Chapter Nine

  Lilah

  I haven't slept like that in years.

  I was under the impression that I was supposed to be nanny-ing or something, but I forgot to set any alarm, and Aiden didn't bother me. It's just past the crack of ten when I roll out of bed, yawning hard as I force myself up. I could sleep longer, but I don't want to miss the day. I take a moment to stretch in the sun and let the light soak into my skin before I slip into the shower, wondering what he's going to have planned for us today.

  The aroma of breakfast draws me to the kitchen. Aiden is hard at work, brows furrowed as he puts on a show of flipping pancakes. The boys didn't wake any earlier, but he must have been up since the crack of dawn. There's already a bowl of biscuits—scratch-made, no less—on the big butcher-block table, along with scones and croissants. It's too much food, but that doesn't seem to matter to Jason and Tim, already eating with aplomb as they wait.

  "You're just in time," he says, scraping the griddle-scrambled eggs. He plates some up for me and throws the pancakes in one big stack for us to pick without forks.

  "You're quite the chef."

  He sits down to eat with us. "Still only an accomplished amateur."

  "Businessman, chef, medical doctor…"

  I regret saying that when his expression clouds. "I don't really think of myself as a physician anymore. I stopped practicing long ago."

  "Why?"

  He sighs. "Demands of the business. My father was an engineer. I ended up following his path, career-wise, over my own. I'm something of a polymath. Taught myself everything I needed while Roland's bankrolling kept us afloat."

  "I don't know much about how you got started."

  "You were very young when I began working with your father. My father left the business to me very early. I didn't know how bad off we were until it all fell in my lap."

  I nod.

  The kids are eyeing us.

  "Have you, ah…" I start.

  Aiden shakes his head, then nods, confusing me. "Boys, I have something to tell you. Delilah is more to me than someone I work with. She's not here to be your caretaker or tutor."

  "Then why is she here?" Jason demands, his question bursting out with a shocking intensity. He's been sitting on that one for a while.

  "She and I are together."

  "Are you going to get married?" Tim asks.

  "It's too early to tell," Aiden says.

  Before he finishes, Jason stor
ms out of the room, shoving his plate away. His heavy steps storm up the stairs, and a door slams a moment later. Tim looks after him, shrugs, and lifts the uneaten pancake and eggs from Jason's plate onto his own.

  Part of me wants to laugh, but Aiden frowns.

  "I should talk to him alone," he says, a nervous edge to his voice. "I'll be back."

  That leaves me alone with Tim.

  Aiden's son kicks his feet in the air in front of his kitchen stool and seems more interested in feeding himself than dealing with me.

  "Don't worry," Tim tells me. "Jason's been a shithead ever since Mom died."

  "Watch your language," I say absently as my heart falls through the floor.

  Since Mom died.

  "What happened to her?"

  "I was little. I don't remember. Dad doesn't talk about her. It makes him sad."

  I hear yelling upstairs. It's Jason doing the shouting, but I can't make out the words.

  "Do they argue a lot?" I ask Tim, lowering my voice."

  "They do now," he says. "More than they used to. It's hormones."

  I blink a few times. "What do you know about that?"

  He shrugs. "That's what Miss Maria says."

  The yelling quiets down, but Aiden doesn't reappear for a while. When he returns to the kitchen, he sits down at the table and sighs.

  "Tim, would you go on upstairs for a while? I'll call you down when it's time to go out."

  Tim eyes us both warily, then heads upstairs. He snatches a scone from the plate before darting up the stairs.

  Aiden and I sit together in the kitchen. I feel like one of the pots hanging overhead is going to leap off its hook and brain me. Aiden doesn't look much more optimistic. He folds his hands on the table.

  "He's upset." I say.

  "It's a natural thing. You’re the first since his mother. That was very traumatic for him. For all of us."

  "What happened?"

  "I'd rather not—"

  I put my hand on his. "It’s fine. Don't tell me if you don't want to."

  He looks at me oddly.

  Aiden

  Lilah rests her hand on mine, the compassion in her eyes more beautiful than a dozen sunrises. Her soft skin caresses the rough crags of my knuckles, and I take hold of her fingers, entranced by how delicate she is, like an exotic bird, but with steel bones. There's more in her eyes than I would ever expect.