The following week is hectic. After looking at four houses, Monster decided on a stately white house with a robin’s egg blue front door. Two floors, with the rooms mostly decorated in pastels. The house isn’t anywhere near as large as the compound in Columbia, but it is practically in Audubon Park.

Most importantly, according to Monster, it’s up for a quick sale. So, I guess some money changed hands and some documents were signed, but I didn’t see that. I spend most of the week fitfully picking out and ordering decor online from the relative comfort of my hotel suite. I stay at the Monteleone, so it’s not like I want for anything at all.

In fact, I can go to eat or to browse on Royal Street, as long as I have my contingent of bodyguards that stick to me like glue.

So, it’s a pretty birdcage, gilded and crystalline. But I’m still in it, looking out at the rest of the world. I find myself getting jealous of a maid who’s about my age, just wheeling her cart around my floor.

To her, I probably look elegant and rich. Certainly not like I’m someone else’s possession. I guess that just goes to show how you can’t judge a book by its cover.

That is the one big change between Columbia and here, though. Now that I am here, I can read anything I want, anytime. I even go down to Faulkner House Books in Pirate’s Alley and spend a little money there.

If I’m going to be in a birdcage, I will damn well be sure that it’s well lined with books.

I don’t see Monster for almost the whole week. Figuring he’s busy, I try not to worry too much. I ask about Cerberus, my puppy, and I’m assured that he’ll be brought here at some point.

On the sixth day, I get ready to move into the house. There isn’t much for me to do, honestly. Just get myself and my clothes over to Uptown, the rest will be taken care of by silent helpers.

Drumming my fingertips on the SUV’s leather seat, I try not to panic too much as the bodyguards drive me over to the house. Looking out the window with wide eyes, it’s hard to believe that I’m back in New Orleans. Being driven down Tchoupitoulas Street, looking at Mardi Gras World as I drive by.

As we get closer to the house, big oaks start to pop up everywhere, shading the neighborhood of grand homes and neatly kept yards. I have always loved this part of New Orleans, so dense and green, so mysterious and wealthy.

When the car comes to a stop outside the house, Monster is waiting on the porch, looking as elegant as he always does. His dark hair is a little mussed, his face unshaven, his white shirt open at the collar.

And yet, the very sight of him does something to me, excites me in a strange way that I cannot define. Unable to repress a smile, I slide out of the SUV, straightening my teal silk dress as I do so.

When he sees me, his whole face lights up. Or… that’s not it, exactly. His whole face changes from a neutral expression to one that is darkly amused.

He’s missed me, though. I can tell. His eyes say everything that he doesn’t, and his eyes are eating me up as I stride over to him.

“You look nice,” he says, biting his lip. “And by nice, I mean especially fuckable.”

I blush. “You left me alone in the French Quarter with a limitless credit card. I amused myself by buying all the dresses and lingerie I could find.”

His gives me a wicked smile. “Oh, I hope so. I imagine that you outdid yourself in decorating the house, too.”

I cock my head. “You haven’t been inside?”

Monster shakes his head. “No. I was waiting for you.”

Looking at him, I don’t quite know what to do with this version of Monster. Far from being the same man that chained me to my bed and made me trade sex for food, he is almost… nice. Normal.

I squint at him, uncertain. I’ve noticed this trend with him, where he does something extravagant, followed by something unspeakable. So, what is he up to now?

“Let’s go inside,” he urges, putting his hand on the small of my back. A chill skitters up my spine. Every time he touches me, even if it’s something that’s this small, it’s just electric.

I open the front door, unsure what to expect. The very first thing I see is Cerberus struggling in one of the bodyguard’s arms. He howls when he sees me, renewing his fight to be free.

“Cerberus!” I cry, holding out my arms to him.

Behind me, Monster nods. The bodyguard puts Cerberus down, and Cerberus comes barreling over to me, knocking me over with his exuberance. I get all the puppy licks and kisses as I dig my fingers into his fur, so glad to see him. I don’t even realize I’m crying until Monster produces a handkerchief seemingly out of thin air and hands it to me.

“Thank you,” I whisper, using it to dab at my tears. “Oh, god, I missed him!”

Monster just acknowledges my sentiment with a grunt. Clearly, he doesn’t feel the same way about the dog, but I don’t care. I gather Cerberus in my arms and squeeze him.

“Are you happy, princess?” Monster asks.

“Yes,” I admit, nodding. I wipe at my face again and laugh as Cerberus licks me. “I am.”

“Come on,” Monster says, nodding toward the rest of the house. “Let’s go see what you spent so much money on.”

Getting to my feet, I tour the first floor with wide eyes. There is a formal parlor and a more casual living room full of big white overstuffed couches. There’s a formal dining room with a massive antique cedar table and matching chairs, and a state-of-the-art kitchen complete with a personal chef named Bertrand.

There’s also an area of the bottom floor that Monster deems ‘servant quarters’, which I assume has the laundry room and other things. He doesn’t seem too interested in seeing it, though.

Glancing out the back, I’m pleased to see a huge pool, surrounded by patio furniture. The backyard is large and spacious, closed in by a tall wrought iron fence. It’s hard to have a pool anywhere in New Orleans, so my heart thrills a little to see one here.

Upstairs, following a grand staircase, are the four bedrooms and their accompanying bathrooms. I’m in an airy, sunny room with all white linens; Monster’s room on the opposite end of the floor is essentially the same as it was in Columbia.

When he lays eyes on his room, his eyebrows rise a little. Still, I can tell that he’s not displeased. His room opens up to an adjoining office, which is nearly the same as his office in Columbia. It’s a little smaller, but the gist is the same.

He eyes me. “I was curious how you would decorate my bedroom and my office.”

I flush. “I figured you could have whatever you wanted at any time, so… you probably liked your setup there.”

“That was clever of you,” he murmurs. Then he looks at his watch, sighing. “I have to go to a meeting in a couple of hours. Will you have dinner with me before I go?”

From the tone of his voice, I take it as a request. A request, from him? That, of course, makes me want to do it. My heart thuds as I nod, conscious of the fact that this is the first time that we've shared a meal together.

Scratch that, this might be the first time that he’s ever asked me for anything. I’m not foolish enough to believe that I’m being courted or asked for a date, but it’s still something.

Right?

As I follow Monster downstairs, I picture us having a very different life. Just for a moment, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like if I was still Katherine and he was known as Arsen; if we had met under more auspicious circumstances.

Would we be heading downstairs to ask Bertrand to make us dinner right now? Granted, I think that our… relationship probably wouldn’t be so far advanced by now. In my mind, we would have taken our time, gotten to know each other much more slowly and fully.

So, maybe we would’ve dated for a couple of years by this point, and he’d buy a house and let me decorate it for him. Maybe we’d even be married, in another universe.

After all, a girl like Katherine could do much worse than a man like Arsen, from what could be gathered from the surface of things. And yes, perhaps he would even let Katherine glimpse his dark undercurrents, get a peek at what really made Arsen tick.

I picture us, Katherine in pink silk and pearls, Arsen in a dark suit. They look so perfect together, as if they were made for each other. She clings to him, leans on him for support, both mental and physical. He wears a stony expression,After all, a girl like Katherine could do much worse than a man like Arsen, based on things seen on the surface. And yes, perhaps he would even let Katherine glimpse his dark undercurrents, and get a peek at what really made Arsen tick.

I picture us, Katherine, in pink silk and pearls and Arsen in a dark suit, looking so perfect together. As if they were made for each other. She clings to him for support, both mental and physical. He wears a stony expression, but I can tell by his stormy eyes that there is a lot going on beneath his stoic exterior.

I heave a sigh, cutting my daydream short. It is nice to picture how things would be in that strange mirror, but it isn’t real. The reality of it is that the Katherine that I imagine died the moment that Tony turned her over to the cops.

And Arsen? Arsen is lost somewhere beneath all the brutal cruelty that defines Monster.

Monster glances at me as we head to the kitchen, lifting a brow. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I was just imagining…”

He leads me into the kitchen, signaling to one of his bodyguards. He puts his hand on my arm, to still me for a moment. The bodyguard waits, expectant.

“Tell the chef that we want dinner. And some wine, too. Actually, tell him to bring the wine out first.”

Then he puts his hand at the small of my back, propelling me toward the dining room. The warmth from his hand is reassuring. “You were saying?”

Taking a deep breath, I try to pick my words carefully. “I was just imagining… You know, what it would be like if we’d met organically.”

His brows fly up. “Is that right?”

“You asked,” I grumble, defensive. I can feel a little bit of color start to seep into my cheeks.

Monster looks at the broad cedar table, choosing a seat to the left of the head of the table. He pulls the seat out, motioning for me to sit.

I’ve never seen this facet of him; solicitous, yet dominant. I take the seat, which he pushes in a little. Then he sits at the head of the table.

The chef hurries in with two glasses of wine, setting them before us. I eye the red liquid, realizing that this, too, is another first. Monster moves to pick up his glass and begins swirling the wine.

All the while, he never takes his eyes off of my face. I lift my glass and take a sip of the wine, which is bitter to my palate. Swishing it around in my mouth, I am not sure how to react.

After all, I’m not really old enough to drink spirits. But then again, there is nothing that follows proscriptions of age or legality here between the two of us.

“What do you imagine that we would be like if we had met through different circumstances? I’m genuinely curious because I was under the impression that you didn’t choose to be here.”

My face flushes red. “I don’t. I just… I wonder what it would be like if I did. Like… if this whole thing was a choice I made.”

His grey eyes are steely. “And? What did you think? Were we a happy couple?”

That question goes beyond my imaginings. I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Happy, I don’t know. I was just trying to imagine the circumstances that could have led to us touring this house together.”

His lips thin.

“I see.” He takes a sip of his wine, considering the matter. “If you imagined us together, what did you imagine for the future? Would you want to travel the world together? Or are you the type that has her children’s names picked out?”

My face crinkles a little as I stop to consider it. “I can honestly say that I do not know.”

“You’ve never thought about it?” he asks, looking at his wine glass.

“No, I haven’t. Either way, whatever I may or may not have had planned for myself before all of this…” I shrug again. “What does it really matter? After all, you’ve made it pretty clear that I shouldn’t plan anything for the future.”

Monster sits back in his chair, contemplating me. “I did imply that, didn’t I?”

Inclining my head, I take another sip of wine. Its taste is bitter, but I can taste the dark redness of the fruit. I’m not entirely sure, but I think I might like wine.

Monster doesn’t say anything, he just continues to look contemplative. Bertrand eventually brings in some trout almandine for us, and the matter is dropped.

In the back of my mind though, I am wondering: should I be trying to figure out what the future holds for me, or not?