by Celia Crown
When he said ‘home,’ it felt like he had resentment and animosity towards the house that Katerina had set up for me since the first day of our college entrance exam. It went on for three days, and we had to spend the nights at a college dorm that the school had set up to prevent information from leaking out on social media for the next batch of students.
It was hard to go on for the days when all we had to do was study with no social media presence for three days; everyone thought it was a training camp, or Katerina had been kidnapped. Her presence online is remarkable; she updates every second of free time that she can find in her busy schedule as the rich daughter of a rich oil tycoon.
She would tell me about the times that she had to sneak away from her father’s overbearing protectiveness. Her bodyguards are the type of men that came from right backgrounds of training, and I prefer not knowing what kind of training they have in order to be chosen by her father who is notorious for his paranoia.
I understand that he is the CEO of the company, but even Kace doesn’t have his level of paranoia.
In fact, I haven’t even seen one man dressed in black roaming in the halls of his massive manor. It’s like they don’t exist, but Kace reassured me that nothing would happen to me. I assume that he has shadow bodyguards that can physically blend into the walls or shadows, but I have felt his meaning goes deeper than his bodyguards.
He can protect himself. Anyone who looked at him without a suit on would automatically assume that he is one of the most expensive bodyguards out there and his client is equally high-profile.
Presidents, Prime Minister, the Pope, or even one of those infamous celebrities that are able to meet the president on the whim just because they want to.
How that is possible is beyond me.
I would think that the president has high security when it comes to important matters, but I guess meeting celebrities with a world-wide following means that the president can tap into the minds of generations across the globe and send messages through celebrities.
People these days rarely care about politics unless it directly affects them.
I can see Kace Hawkins as a bodyguard; even his name sounds powerful to the ears.
He’s massive, one of the biggest men I have ever laid eyes on and I have seen the people in the gym of the school. Some of them are well over six foot, which is the ideal height for women when they have preferences. The men in the gym are all packed with layers of muscles that they like to flex in the mirror as if no one is watching them, but the level of humiliation that I feel for them when they pose is astronomical.
I cringe when I see a grown man be so vain, and their colleagues aren’t any better. They hype each other up with encouragement, and at some level, I agree with them, but after a while, it becomes excessive.
Kace isn’t vain; he doesn’t need to bring attention to his body. He has that type of masculinity that reeks of power with one mean glare of his green eyes, and it’s that haunting hollow smile that truly scares me about this man.
I saw it once when I accidentally walked in on him speaking to his staffs because I needed to ask him about something, but that question dissipated the moment I turn the corner where he was being so cold towards everyone in the room.
When he saw me, his smile warms with such a smooth transition that I didn’t even think anything was wrong with it. Everyone had released a breath of relief when they saw me as if I was their saving grace, but I just probably needed to ask where I can find a pen so I can write down anything I might need when school starts again.
Summer vacation is only about three months if I don’t count that final exam around the middle of May.
Not only is Kace not vain, but he is also a man of his words.
He promised that he would never get angry with me no matter what I did, and that was unreasonable to me. I thought he should be angry or reprimand me with punishment if I did anything that offended him.
His smile hides every bit of his emotions, and it scares me how much he cares about my feelings rather than exposing his to make me uncomfortable.
I told him that I swore I wouldn’t be upset if he told me that I did something wrong, but he countered in a smooth tone that I could never do anything wrong.
That man talks smoother than Loki and his silver tongue.
I wouldn’t be Malia if I wasn’t a nervous klutz. I fumble a lot of things when I get anxious and being by myself in this massive manor with everything at my disposal frightens me: his staffs, a personalized number of his private phone number on my phone, and the security of his guards surrounding me in the shadows.
Everything in his name is mine to use, but I don’t overstep my boundaries. I don’t ask for anything unless I absolutely need it, and even then, it’s awkward for me to ask for a side of strawberry jam for a piece of bread.
Kace only leaves me alone when he deals with business, and he doesn’t want to bore me with the technicalities, but his main reason for keeping me away from that world is because businessmen are sleazy when it comes to young women.
I have heard the stereotype that those who are more powerful tend to go for people who are borderline legal or sometimes underage just because they have access and because they want to.
Kace isn’t like that. I know he isn’t, and he has shown no interest in anything illegal; he runs a straight and narrow business that caters to a specific type of clientele.
The filthy rich and extremely privileged older men.
He says that the older they are, the easier it is for them to indulge in wine as they have had years of experience understanding the structure of the bottle of wine. The complex flavor has multiple layers to it, and only a select few can detect what kind of wood he uses to marinate the wine.
He didn’t use the word marinate, but it’s basically what I got from him when he explained how he made wine as simply as he can.
I asked him to use the dummy version with less complicated words. I’m not sophisticated and educated like him. I have this idea that he’s one of those people who have the time and wants to read through the terms and conditions page just for the heck of it and to prevent any privacy issues down the road if he were to use the service.
Kace calls it a date when he guided me through a day of winemaking; he even let me go near his wines even though I literally broke a bottle that cost more than my life not long ago.
He has such a big heart, and he forgives me too easily. I would rather have him be extremely mad at me and yell at the top of his lungs. It would make me feel less guilty about it.
Kace doesn’t do that, and he goes on his days to make me feel welcomed in his home with all the amenities at the most top quality possible.
I should be treated like a criminal while being locked in a cell that he probably has or can build with a snap of his finger, but he has me feeling like a spoiled princess with breakfast in bed and lunch dates overlooking the garden of the maze and beautiful flowers and dinner in an intimate setting that resembles a date.
Today is another one of those days where he had personally made breakfast for me while he practically demanded that I eat in bed, and sometimes he would feed me while my hands are busy fiddling with the adorable bottle of milk to be poured into a glass of fresh strawberries.
A man as powerful as him that reeks of strength have such dainty, little kitchenware, and I don’t question it; I just want to see the glass be filled with milk as the strawberries float and knock against the little cubes of ice.
He had instructed me to wait in my room with the entertainment of a massive television and all kinds of electronics provided by his personal assistant and butler of the manor.
Kace has a butler.
What kind of rich does that make him?
Royalty rich, and I’m starting to suspect that he’s of royal blood or something.
Then again, he makes wine, and wealthy folks are lining up with bookings months in advance to get a bottle customized to their preferences.
This afternoon he had a meeting with his clients, and I didn’t want to bother him, so I agreed to stay in my room, for the time being; he would come to get me when he’s done, and he had sent word for me to be dressed for dinner from his butler.
“Have you finished work?” I ask, curiosity lingering in my voice as he nods, curling his fingers into mine as he takes me out of my room.
It’s comforting to have his hand in mine; they are big and protective. Yet, they are rough and hard from the years of working while keeping his reputation the cleanest in a cutthroat business.
“Yes,” he replies in his deep voice, “I apologize for leaving you to yourself.”
I shake my head; his broad back is defined by the black suit that he’s wearing, and it’s a view to be mesmerized by.
“You have work to do,” I say, “You shouldn’t spend all your time with me. I should be the one apologizing. I’m taking up your home and your time; you’ve been so generous with me.”
I feel as if I’m leeching off his wealth without doing anything to pay back the debt from that wine, and I could have called Katerina to come to pick me up.
Hell, I could have told him that I wanted to go home a long time ago. I just never have the guts to do it, and I know the main reason is that I don't want to leave him.
I can be at home in the States, but without him; it’s more painful than I thought when I think about a day without him.
I tell myself that Kace Hawkins spells heartbreak and I should get away as soon as possible. He’s not someone I can have, for many reasons and the most glaring one is the one that he has a wife.
From day one, he told me that he has a wife. And, I broke his anniversary gift to her.
I don’t understand why he wanted me to marry him even though he has a wife, and the law states that polygamy is illegal. Our relationship could never work, and I don’t think I can handle sharing Kace with anyone.
It hurts too much.
I’m greedy and selfish for not wanting to share a man that I have no chance with.
We’re too different; he’s in a world of riches and power while I’m stuck in a world of debts and fairy tales.
He’s never going to leave his wife.
“My love?” he squeezes my hand to get my attention.
I snap out of my thoughts, “Yeah?”
“What is the matter?”
I don’t tell him what’s on my mind; I’m too scared this dream will shatter if I bring up anything that remotely suggests that what we’re doing is wrong.
Whatever we’re doing. I don’t know myself as there is no label or guide to this; a manual of how I should handle this would be nice instead of going in the dark.
“Nothing,” I bite the inside of my cheek.
“What did you promise me?” he raises the question with a stern tone.
I shiver and avoid his gaze as he slows his steps, “Never lie to you.”
“What are you doing now?” he presses.
The corner of my lips twitches as he caught me; he’s too keen on every aspect that concerns him.
His wife is such a lucky woman to have him.
I wish I had met him sooner, and maybe he would be my husband instead of someone else. Being a homewrecker is not an experience that I want to have on my resume.
“I’m just wondering why my friend hasn’t called me,” I comment plainly with a soft smile.
It’s particularly true because she hasn’t called me, and he never specified what I’m lying about so I can just twist the truth.
“I have spoken to her this morning,” Kace tells me out of the blue, and I’m shocked.
Katerina should have called me instead of reaching out to the manor’s owner, but I would like to say that they can be friends and I would be fine with it.
Somewhat.
I don’t know where this possessiveness is coming from, but I don’t want any woman having any relations with him.
I can bear professional relations because his business does not discriminate sex.
My mind and heart are fighting over logic, and I can do nothing to make them stop.
“What did she say?” I swallow nervously, and I’m also wondering what they talked about that isn’t business.
Or pleasure, the masochist part of me hums.
I should have that part of me checked because that is the last thing I want to know.
Katerina is a beautiful woman, and Kace is an attractive man; they can be a match made in heaven in the eyes of everyone.
Including me. Everything about them sits together like puzzles; their sophistication, maturity, and the same social circles that they associate with.
He’s also everything she described as the husband that she wants.
“Miss. Rushkoff had informed me that your home has been demolished.”
I choke on my own spit at that; this is the first time I hear about this. Katerina should be talking to me about this instead of relaying the information to Kace for him to break the news to me.
I know that Katerina has this thing about her that refuses to let her face problems head-on if she doesn’t deem it worth the trouble she has to go through.
However, I’m her friend, and she should tell me this over the phone at the very least.
Who tells a strange man that her friend’s home has been demolished?
If I were in Katerina’s shoes, I would be thinking that I do not want to tell my friend that the house that I bought as a gift and is also living together is getting demolished for reasons that are still unclear.
“Demolished?” I stutter, stopping in the middle of the hallway to try and digest this massive information overload.
“Yes,” he turns around to face me.
Kace cups my cheeks with his big hands, cuddling the soft skin and the sensitive skull where I can feel a headache coming.
“There have been complications with the contractors when it was built, and they need to take the home down for legal purposes.”
I need to know more, “Legal purposes?”
“My love,” he shakes his head solemnly, “I do not wish for you to be upset; I will take care of it.”
“How?” I ask with desperation for the truth leaks through my words.
“You will stay for the remaining of the summer,” he suggests, but it sounded like an order.
“What about when I have to get back to school?” I stammer, tears prickling in the corner of my eyes at the unbelievable.
Where am I going to sleep?
I can ask Katerina if I can share a room with her since she needs to find a place to stay too. Then I can use free time in school between classes to look for apartments that are close to the campus and cheap for students.
“None of that,” he wipes the tear that trickles down halfway on my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I say out of habit.
Kace steps closer, pressing his lips to my forehead as a gesture of comfort and affection.
“I promise that you will finish school,” he assures.
“I can’t ask you to rent an apartment for me. I’ve already taken so much from you, and I don’t know how to repay you right now!” I choke a hiccup.
I can feel him smile on my cheek when he leans down to press his lips there. “I only wish for the best of you. Nothing is too much when you need me.”
If he can arrange an apartment for just a couple of months so I can get enough money to pay for my own rent and pay him back, then that would be ideal. Though I’m not picky; I’ll take whatever he can give me with the looming deadline of tuitions and books for the semester.
I’ll figure out a way to repay him later.
“Thank you,” I murmur with a sniffle.
I probably look like a gross mess to him, always crying and relying on him.
“Anything for my love.”
Chapter Six
Kace
“Get it done,” I say over the phone with a hiss.
The man on the other man replies back wit
h a cool confirmation as I watch the amount that I have transferred to my lovely Malia’s university account.
Her loans have been taken care of; that amount is simply spare change to me, and I do not require it to be used on any other thing besides the need to alleviate her stress level.
Then another amount is sent from an offshore account to the contractor of the home that Malia resides in. It will no longer be her home, and I refuse to allow her to call anywhere else her home, but I would prefer if she thought of me as a place to return to.
We can move to another home if this isn’t satisfactory to her.
I have resources to turn a country into her home if she wishes, but my Malia is not a materialistic person. She is a sweet girl with good morals; she’s the complete opposite of me, and I have no problem using that naivety of hers to keep her chained to me.
“Do not call this number again,” I warn with a silent threat through the speaker as I close the call line and break the phone in half with my bare hands.
It breaks apart easily, and at the sound, my butler comes in with a disposable bag that contains an acid inside; when it comes in contact with any metal, everything melts away.
I am careful when I conduct business, shady or clean.
I have known a few judges and politicians who would be willing to step into the shadows just for a bit to get what they want, and with the right incentive, they will be doing my bidding.
The first call I made during the time when my Malia was indulging in her bath; I struggle to not go into her room to see her submerged in flower petals and steaming water with those big, brown eyes shining in beauty when she looks at me.
My cock has been straining against the fabric of my pants for the last two hours.
That first call was to the heiress of Rushkoff Oil. I did not give her a choice when I told her that Malia would be staying in France with me and I would take care of the home in the States, but she will not intervene in our relationship.
That woman is vicious when she demanded to know what I had planned, and if I had hurt her best friend, and if I did, she would be coming after my balls.