CHAPTER TWENTY
Roman
I let her sit with her feelings for a moment and just held her hand. I didn’t feel like it was the appropriate time for me to start offering solutions. However, there were very simple resolutions to the problem of her belongings. I’d have someone go to her apartment and get her things. The money would be easy to replace, and she didn’t have to know it was from me.
With her skin touching mine, the absurdity of my feelings for her disappeared. I promised silently that I would do everything in my power to protect her. Her safety was all that mattered.
Helping her would be nothing in the great scheme of my world; I had more than enough money to set her up over and over again. The satisfaction, however, it would give me to offer this amazing, resilient woman sitting beside me a chance at a new and better life would be life altering. Since she consumed my every thought, offering something back to her when the world had obviously taken so much, would be satisfying.
The idea of getting even with Jack Marshal was also too gratifying to pass up. I knew he’d become the largest internet retailer in the world. I’d heard talk that he went to poor manufacturers in foreign countries and offered slightly less than what they would normally get for goods in bulk wholesale, to be delivered in a fraction of the time they’d usually be produced. Although this arrangement meant a great deal of money for struggling businesses, it was a large, lump sum of money with a demand for the goods to be delivered at an inhumane rate.
If a company could make a million t-shirts for a dollar a shirt in a month’s time, he’d ask for a million shirts in two weeks for a lower price. Having big orders helped failing businesses in impoverished places, yet the money was less than the value of the product. This was Jack’s signature, and he’d have them sign nondisclosure agreements, or no money would be tendered.
My business was similar, we also went into poor areas overseas and sold locally made goods internationally. There was a great profit in having this kind of business practice, but when my company went in, we negotiated fair-trade for both parties. It was essential that their workers be paid fairly while working fair hours. Every business had to be in complete agreement and happy with the terms, or we wouldn’t contract with them.
After the initial set up, my analysts always went in and gauged the realistic yield for the businesses. Often, we would upgrade machinery and make it more efficient as well as consult about niches in the market that weren’t being served. We’d find ways the company could capitalize on these needs. It was a win-win.
I felt certain I could create a win-win for the Butterfly. If she’d let me.
After we sat in silence for several miles, I thought it was time for me to speak up. “This must be painful for you. I can only imagine what it’d feel like to have somebody I cared so deeply for disregard everything I am because of their greed. I want you to know, I can help you. I want to help.”
“She gave me a gun.”
I stared at her, unsure if I’d heard her correctly. “What?”
“Brandy. She gave me a gun before I went to the meeting I thought was with you. It was in the clutch we always carry. It’s stocked beforehand, so I didn’t know it was in there until I was in the room. It’s how I got away from Jack.” She covered her mouth, her shock obviously not worn off yet.
For a moment, I was at a loss for words. “Well, thank God she did. I think you should take some time just to heal and recover. I have a large home with lots of space, very private. You’ll never know I’m there.” Unless you want to. God, I hope you want to. “I hope you’ll consider staying with me until you get back on your feet again. We’ll find a way to recover your belongings. I won’t allow them to win.”
“I just left her there. Roman, there’s no telling what they’ll do to her.” She looked at me with large glassy eyes. Her mask was the same color of her skin, giving the illusion of being able to see most of her face. The mask had been jarred a bit, revealing more of her bone structure than it had before. As we passed out of the small town we’d just driven through, ironically called Anaconda, the light shifted, and moonlight struck her face — like a spotlight. A sudden memory jolted me, and it was like I was watching it all again on the giant TV monitor that had been hanging from the wall in the VIP lounge.
It was an old lounge, at a stadium that was within the fairgrounds and only used for the county fair. But when a business associate had offered me tickets, I’d had to see the famous duo.
Her voice. It was one I’d heard many times, yet different.
I felt like someone punched me in the chest, all the breath knocked from my lungs.
Adara Wilde and Nate Galloway. An unlikely couple, her a rock star and him a country music stud.
They were magic. Even that night, as the fair called the concert off. But the fair board had waited too long, and the crowd wasn’t willing to leave and miss their heroes performing together.
I’d watched in horror as it all happened. The screaming of the crowd, the whistling of the wind, and the horrible wrenching of steel as it dropped to the stage.
There’d been nothing I could do then.
I’d tried to find out what had happened to her after Nate’s death, which was bad enough to witness in person and just as horrid when a video of it went viral. Adara had been in the hospital for weeks. But then she’d disappeared from the public eye completely.
Until now.
In disbelief, I knew I couldn’t do anything more for her than offer her safety and help her find a new life. But I would do everything she would let me.
“What if they hurt her? I have to help her, and the others. Jewel is so much darker than it seems.”
“As soon as we get back to the house, I’ll make a call. It’ll be discreet. If your friend wants out, I can be sure she gets out.”
Maybe I could really get her out. And shut the damn place down. Maybe get Jack Marshall in a jail cell where his fucking ass belonged.
I let go of her hand and wrapped my arms around her. As she sighed and leaned into me, and I held her, a protectiveness I’d never felt before bubbled up into my chest.
Stunned, I stared out the window, holding Adara Wilde in my arms. It all made complete sense now. The mask, the limp.
Most of her fans had assumed she was dead, but her records still sold, even to this day. Why didn’t she have that money? Why would she have to work at Jewel? Had she suffered a bout of mental illness? My curiosity raged within me, but I couldn’t bring myself to let her know that her secret was out.
I stared for a moment at the beautiful woman sitting quietly beside me as Warren drove us up the driveway.
“We’re here,” I said softly.
She looked up at me and seemed so small and fragile that I took her hand and helped her out of the car.
“Let’s get you inside and to bed.” I didn’t leave room for argument, and she didn’t protest.
As we walked inside the ranch house, Ms. White greeted us. “Good evening, Mr. Wellington. You have a guest this evening?” While she did well concealing her shock, it was evident in the fractional rise in her tone.
I hadn’t thought about the sight Adara made, standing in the foyer in her barely there dress and black cape. Ms. White looked like she was trying to keep from having a stroke and was probably regretting her advice to me.
I cleared my throat to cover a chuckle. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead, but do you mind opening up the west wing? I think the rose suite would be best, it has the most light.”
There were three suites in the west wing of the house, each with a living area, bathroom, study or kid’s room, and a bedroom. There were also five single bedrooms, with two shared bathrooms. I never visited that side of the house, but I knew Ms. White kept the rooms tidy, dusted, and ready for use. It was one of her household duties.
My side of the house had my apartment and an identical one my sister used when she and Pete were here. When I was young, I remembered sharing rooms in the west wing with my siblings. Ms. White still had an apartment on the first floor behind the kitchen and there were other servants’ quarters on the grounds that were for our seasonal staff.
I watched Adara’s eyes widen when she walked through the foyer. It was quite grandiose. The sweeping banister staircase was straight out of a 1950’s movie and the three-story entry more resembled a grand ballroom than a home.
Adara’s mouth dropped open. “Wow. You live here? By yourself?”
I nodded, but at that moment I seriously wondered why I chose to live here alone. I’d done a lot of updating to the place, so everything was modern, sleek and top-of-the-line, but I hadn’t altered the original structure. It’s what held most of the memories, there wouldn’t be any point living here without those.
“Mr. Wellington, if you’ll permit me, I’d like to go and freshen the linens,” Ms. White commented, a minuscule glint of panic lighting up her features.
Ah, so she did slack off at times, good for her.
I nodded. “Of course.”
Ms. White left without another word, and I faced Adara. “I know it’s late, or early… are you hungry? I’m not the best cook, but Ms. White always keeps stuff I can grab and nuke.” Insecurity tickled my stomach. I may have had a lot of money and a fierce reputation in business, but my lonely bachelor lifestyle sort of bordered on antisocial loser. Who had a whole fridge full of meals for one?
“I’m a bit hungry,” she offered as I led her to the kitchen and motioned for her to have a seat in a comfortable padded chair at the kitchen table.
“Good, good.” I opened the fridge. “Let’s see what we have in here.” I started pulling out containers with clear glass lids. Each was labeled with the meal and ingredients on them. “We have Beef Wellington, of course.”
She laughed, and I thanked god for Ms. White. “Of course.”
I smiled and continued, “With snow peas and garlic confit, lamb shanks with mint leaves, quinoa salad and aged goat cheese. I like that one.”
She scrunched her nose like a four-year-old. “Don’t think I can do baby sheep.” She flashed an endearing smile.
I paused to look at her for a moment. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen from her.
“Okay.” I smiled in return. “How about chicken? No baby chicken nuggets or anything, just the big adult chicken. Probably was old, near death even…”
She grimaced.
Fuck, Roman, how have you ever even had sex with a woman if you’re this awkward?
“There’s frozen pizza. I always keep it on hand for my sister’s kids.”
I hated frozen pizza, but the smile that lit up her face was so delightful, I made a vow to myself to learn to love it as I stuck it in the microwave.
“Pizza, it is. You want a salad to go with it, and some Italian red?” I looked over the beverage choices I had to offer. “Or Coke? Orange juice? Beer?” Help. I was dying.
“A glass of wine would be nice.” Her tone sounded more relaxed, and I could tell the shock was wearing off.
If it’d been me, I would’ve been scalded with anger. Then I remembered the gun she handed over to me in the car and guessed she just had an iron spine. She deserved to be pampered now, and that’s what I aimed to do.
“I have to say, I didn’t peg you as a pizza eater,” I commented as I grabbed two wine glasses and some nice bottle I brought back from Italy last year.
“Pizza is good for your soul.” She shifted in the chair with a flirty smirk.
“Is it? I’ll have to remember that,” I said, handing her a glass of the rich full-bodied wine, raising my glass to hers. “Cheers.”
We clinked glasses, and I relished the delight that spread across her face after her first sip of wine.
“Nice, isn’t it?” I asked as I watched her enjoy the wine. “I love this label because it reminds me of the small winery in the mountains of Italy I visited. It has a hint of smoky flavor that brings to mind the smoke billowing from tiny mountain houses that sit atop the steep hillside. Then there’s also a touch of flower, like the fragrant ones that dotted the landscape.”
Her eyes lit up. “Roman, you just painted a picture with your description. How lovely. Thank you.” She looked happy-ish, then her head bowed and there was the woman I’d met at Jewel.
Fear that someone from that damn place would come after her almost choked me. I would make sure she’d be safe at all costs. And help her shed the unnatural submissive body language that had probably been seared into her brain.
“I want you to feel safe here. They can’t touch you here. I have security. No one enters the property without permission. You can relax.” But I couldn’t relax. I needed to protect her. As I gazed across the countertop at her, with her beautiful wine-tinged lips and red-brown hair mussed from her flight, my cock came to life with a vengeance. God help me, even as she’d just stepped out of a place where they’d damn near brainwashed her, I wanted her.
I could protect her from them.
But who would protect her from me?