by Alice Ward
“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… wine, 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 e
ntrance 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.
“I know what you mean,” she agreed, and it took a second for it to click. All the news stories after Nate’s death. They’d painted her as guileful, like she’d only been with Nate for his money. Damn it. I really was one smooth operator. My heart dropped to the floor.
To make her feel better, I told her one of my most embarrassing moments. “I once did a photo shoot that was supposed to be me surrounded by the things I import. It turned out that the photographer wanted me to pose with only the luxurious drapes. And that’s all.”
She stared at me blankly for a second, then her eyes popped wide and she barked out a laugh. “In nothing but drapes?”
“They thought it would be sexy and modern.” The way she was staring at me now, it was like she couldn’t imagine me even being asked to pose that way. Did that mean she didn’t think I was sexy?
Wow, that’d be a twist. According to the internet, almost every woman on the planet found me attractive. So that certainly hadn’t been a problem up until now. Being seen as an asshole focused on capitalizing on a business venture over human interaction tended to be more of what I battled with.
“Ah, you don’t think I’m sexy.” I hung my head and drew my lip downward, exaggerating disappointment.
“No, no.” She moved closer. “I was just trying to imagine you… draped in… drapes. It would depend on the kind of drapes, would they be made of crepe or silk? Cause crepe would be hell on the skin.” She covered her hand with her mouth and snickered. When her gaze landed on the drapes in the living room, her eyes got even bigger and she pointed. “Do you mind giving me a little remake? We’ve got the props right here.”
I hadn’t seen this lighthearted, teasing side of her, and I liked it. Her smile was happy, and her eyes shone.
“Right.” I gave her a knowing look. “Mind if I put on some music?”
She lifted a shoulder. “If that’s what you need to get you in the mood, Mr. Sexiest International Tradesman. What you were playing was nice.”
“Thanks, but I’m just an amateur piano player. Let’s have some lunch and listen to the pros.” I reached for my phone on the edge of the piano and put on a play list I’d organized this morning. Adara Wilde’s “Mamma Ain’t Gonna Lie” was the third song. I had a few minutes to warm her up before things were possibly going to get tense.
“Sure. I like listening to you play, though. I’ve been up for a while and could hear from the west wing. You’re quite good.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“It was nice, lying in bed and listening to you play.” Her eyes darkened and fell to my lips, my chest… my hands.
The sudden image flooded my brain of her lying on white sheets, piano music all around, and nothing between us but notes filling the air.
My cock stood at attention, and I couldn’t take the torture of not knowing any longer. I stood, using the piano to block my lower half. “About last night…”
“Yes. I haven’t thanked you enough, Roman. The necklace.” She fingered it around her neck. “The flowers and card. I—”
“No, I just… I don’t want you to think I would take advantage of you. I want you to know that I think highly of you and I would never…” My gaze landed on her lips and seemed to stick there, like magnets to metal.
“Kiss me if I didn’t want you to?”
That broke me out of my trance, and my eyes shot up to hers. “Yes. Exactly. I’d…” I moved closer. “I’d never kiss you if you didn’t want it. Never do anything you didn’t want.”
Her lips were drawing me in again, and I wanted to taste them, nibble them, run my tongue over them. Taste the rest of her. I wanted to lay her out on the piano and stroke her until she hit a high note just for me.
The idea of her splayed out on the piano led to a fast fantasy of fucking her till dawn, making me flush, my dick stiffening with desire.
Damn it, how was I going to keep myself away from this woman?
Her face had gone scarlet, and she stuttered, “I know some ninja moves, I’ll just warn you.” She threw up her arms into a karate stance. “But I’m not sure they’re effective against the Sexiest Tradesman.”
“Stand down, princess, let’s have lunch first.” I blocked her maneuver, took her hand in mine, and led her to the dining room where Ms. White had set out a beautiful lunch of roasted chicken and herb salad.
“This looks wonderful.” She smiled, squeezing my hand before letting it go. “And this table. If I sit at one end and you sit at the other, we’d need to text to communicate.” She went to the far end of the table and waved.
I laughed. “We can play king and queen later. My sister and I used to. Right now, though, I was hoping you’d sit beside me.” I gestured to the place setting that was already next to mine.
As she made her way around the table to her chair, it happened. Her song came on, and she froze, her hand gripping the back of her chair. All the color drained from her face as she stood there immobilized.
I too was frozen, with hope and trepidation, but also in fear that she would be hurt or angry. I tried to relay my care and compassion in my gaze. “This is one of my favorite songs,
Adara.”
Her eyes found mine and were glassy with tears.
My eyes never left hers. “It’s beautiful. I’m curious, what was your inspiration?”
I didn’t want to play games, and I didn’t think it would help her to live a lie any longer. She’d have to face this moment sooner or later. I was helping her do just that as gently as I could.
I watched her suck in a deep breath and hold herself together. She didn’t say a word.
I realized she needed to be eased into this, so I continued, “I ask because I know the story about the little girl you wrote it for. But when I listen to the words, they seem more personal, more heartfelt than just the vision of a young girl with her mother. I wondered if this song wasn’t about that child, but was instead about you as a little girl.”
I was coming on strong, so left off the part about her as a child wanting a mother who didn’t lie, but I could tell she got my meaning. I wanted her to trust me, to confide in me, to show me her true self.
As I watched her, the first part of her façade crumbled. Silent tears dripped down her face.
My heart panged. “I don’t want to upset you. It’s the farthest from my intentions, but we need to be honest with one another. I can’t imagine how painful it’s been… like living a nightmare, I suppose. You don’t have to remove your mask or reveal any more of yourself to me if you don’t want to. I’m not asking for that. Though I wish you would trust in me that way.”
She finally moved, raising her hand to wipe at a tear. “I…” She shook her head.
“Believe me when I tell you, I’ve wanted to escape the world as well, and trust me, there are still days I wish I could. I’ll give you a home and a sanctuary here for as long as you need it, all I ask is that you not lie to me.”
She nodded and sat down heavily, blindly stared at the wall across from her, still not speaking.
Not wanting to push her further and knowing she hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday, I dropped the subject. “May I offer you some chicken?”