Chapter 3
“Ready?” Tristan asked walking ahead towards the door.
Mel hurried to keep up and followed him into the largest, grandest foyer she had ever seen. There was dark hardwood covering the whole seven hundred square feet of it. The staircase in the center was a butterfly shape, with wrought iron balusters and the same hardwood on the stairs. They led to God-only-knows where and Mel was intrigued to see the rest.
“Well, what do you think?” Tristan asked watching Mel in a strange way.
“Your home is gorgeous.” Mel gasped, her hand on her chest.
“If you’ll follow me to the kitchen, I will see what was left for us to eat.” Mel nodded and stayed close to his heels, afraid she would get lost in such a large home.
In the kitchen, on the massive granite island, there were two sandwiches, potato chips and cans of soda. The meal seemed grossly understated for such a rich home but Mel was starving and didn’t care.
“Have a seat and dig in. I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.” Tristan disappeared through another door on the other side of the massive kitchen.
Mel was too nervous and giddy to eat right away. Instead she looked around the beautiful kitchen. There was a Wolf range and a Sub Zero refrigerator the size of her apartment. Having a culinary arts degree herself, this kitchen was like a dream come true.
“You haven’t touched your food.” Tristan said, appearing from somewhere behind Mel.
She jumped but quickly recovered. “This is all a bit overwhelming. I’m trying to get my bearings.”
Tristan had changed into jeans and a black t-shirt, which was so snug Mel could make out a six pack underneath. Warmth flooded her face at the thought and she looked down at her sandwich, still trying to decide if she felt like eating. Tristan nodded and finally sat down, picking up his sandwich and taking a huge bite. Clearly he had no reservations about their situation. Mel sighed, and picked the sandwich up and began to eat. It was delicious and before she knew it the whole thing was gone, along with half of her chips and soda.
“Looks like you were hungry,” Tristan said, standing and taking both of their plates and placing them in the sink.
“I guess so.” Mel still felt a bit awkward.
This whole arrangement felt forced and even though she was attracted to Tristan, she didn’t feel like he necessarily was attracted to her. At least not since that day she played for him. That day the sparks between them were so bright they were almost visible. Mel watched Tristan as he not only set their glasses in the sink but began to load the dishwasher. She just assumed that his maid would take care of it. He turned and she looked down, knowing her surprise would show on her face and not wanting to offend him.
“Would you like me to show you around the house?” Tristan asked, stopping next to her so close their arms were touching.
The feeling in Mel’s bicep was electric where his forearm was touching her. She wanted to move, almost needed it because the feeling was too intense, but she couldn’t, not yet. Mel nodded, unable to speak. Tristan took her nod as a yes and turned, leaving her standing in the kitchen like an idiot. She hurried after him, still afraid she would get lost in the huge house.
“I will only show you around a bit. This place has a lot of rooms and we’d be here all night if I showed you everything.” Tristan spoke matter-of-factly without any hint at sarcasm or even humility. His lack of emotion was beginning to get to Mel but she decided to ignore it.
They walked up the large staircase and turned left. From there he took her down a long hallway and stopped in front of the door at the end.
“This is my bedroom, the master. I wanted you to know where it was in relation to the rest of the house, so that you don’t get lost.” He motioned her to walk in and she did, looking around in awe.
The room was very masculine, all dark woods and maroons and browns. In the middle of the room stood a large, mahogany, four poster bed draped with a thick maroon comforter. Mel was so tired she felt like curling up in that bed and never leaving. To the left of the bed was a large sitting area with a fifty inch TV and a large love seat. Attached to the sitting area was the master bath which had two large walk in closets off of each end of it. Mel could never imagine living in a room this large and her head was spinning with the amount of money Tristan must make. Of course he didn’t want to be with the likes of her, she was nobody but a poor orphan from a bad part of town. She wasn’t good enough for anything but a contract to have sex. Mel almost snorted at the thought and had to turn away from Tristan again so he wouldn’t see the look on her face.
He showed her a few other rooms, a guest room and guest bathroom, a library and the family room on the first floor. Afterwards Mel stood awkwardly by the entrance to the kitchen wondering what would happen next. Tristan suddenly grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. Mel’s hand was on fire from his touch and she all but melted into him.
“I’ll have Bernard bring you home. I’m glad you were able to come home with me this evening.” Tristan dropped her hand and began to walk away.
“That’s it?” Mel said and then clapped her hand over her mouth. Why did she say that out loud?
“What was that, Ms. Fairbanks?” Tristan turned back to her; his blue eyes the color of arctic water.
“I, uh, nothing. Thanks for dinner.” Mel stuttered. She tried so hard to suppress the emotions she knew were flitting across her face.
“Did you expect something more?” Tristan moved closer to her, the way he walked was like a lion stalking an antelope. The hunger in his eyes increased the closer he got to where she stood and Mel’s heart began to pound as he stopped directly in front of her.
“No, nothing.” That was a lie of course.
“Your eyes say otherwise, Ms. Fairbanks.” Tristan lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. His were hypnotic and Mel was unable to look away no matter how uncomfortable she was.
She didn’t know what she should say or do so she did nothing but stare back at him with surprise. Tristan smirked, obviously enjoying her discomfort as usual. Mel wanted to shrink back away from him. The energy that he gave off made her aroused and terrified all at the same time. As her body tried to move away from him it also betrayed her by throbbing in between her legs. Tristan leaned down towards her face and Mel let out a whimper against her will. Frustration at her traitorous body made her eyes begin to tear up, even as her panties became soaked because of Tristan’s contact and proximity. His smell wafted to her nose; leather, expensive cologne and male. It intoxicated her and she felt as if she was having an out of body experience. Tristan lowered his head even further still, his mouth poised just above hers. Mel couldn’t move because he was holding her chin and when his lips brushed over hers gently she stumbled forward, her hands coming up to brace against his chest. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into him, her lips parting softly to allow him access to her mouth. But Tristan didn’t proceed any further.
In one abrupt movement he let go of her chin and stood back up to his full height. Mel almost fell over because she was leaning against him. If Tristan hadn’t reached out and steadied her with his hand she would have fell face first into the hardwood floor.
“I guess the eyes don’t lie.” Tristan smirked and Mel’s face heated.
She didn’t answer him, too embarrassed by the way her body had responded to his minimal touch. He clearly thought it was funny and was playing with her and Mel wondered if this wasn’t the kind of demeaning relationship he was after. Anger suddenly filled her chest, making it ache. Lost was the feeling of lust that had momentarily inebriated her. It was replaced instead by righteous indignation. How dare he think that just because she was beneath him he could treat her like this?
“I’d like to leave now,” She said, shaking with rage.
Tristan’s face went blank again, all signs of teasing and laughter gone. “Very well. I’ll call for Bernard.”
Tristan walked away and Mel stood by the front door in the foyer, her arms wrapped protectively around her chest. This did not go well. Second thoughts about signing that deal were filling her head and Mel just wanted to go home.
*****
Tristan’s jaw ticked with rage as he headed out to the garage.
“Bernard, please take the girl home so I don’t have to look at her anymore,” Tristan barked his mood suddenly sour.
Why did she have to play games with him? If she had spoken up and asked him what she was doing in his home he would have told her and he wouldn’t have played back. Nothing made him angrier than people who were always beating around the bush. He also didn’t like how the look of shock and embarrassment on Mel’s face made him feel. He repeated to himself again how he didn’t do guilt and walked back towards the main house to hide in his study. Her presence in the foyer haunted him as he crept under the staircase and down the back hall opposite the kitchen. He could see her with her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if warding off danger. Tristan almost snorted. Wasn’t that the truth? Men like Tristan were dangerous because they didn’t feel and didn’t want to feel and Mel Fairbanks better get used to it or she would never make it through to the end of their deal.
Once in his study Tristan relaxed against the closed door, breathing in and out of his nose deeply. His study was his solace. The place where memories of the places he had been and the things he had endured didn’t haunt him. Sometimes he would spend days in here, only coming out to eat since he had a bathroom in the back of the room. Since he met Mel he had been retreating to his study a lot more than usual. Not wanting to explore what that meant, Tristan sat in his soft leather chair and leaned back closing his eyes. He didn’t have time to think about that right now. Taking a deep breath, Tristan put Mel out of his mind and imagined something relaxing. Picking his head up, he smiled. Now he was centered and Mel Fairbanks wasn’t troubling his mind any longer.
*****
Mel promised herself she wouldn’t cry on the way home. Not over a jerk who clearly seemed to get off on playing games with her mind. Releasing a large breath, Mel relaxed her head back against the seat back, looking out the window at the Southern California sky. Out here, away from the city, the stars were brighter and Mel felt the lump in her throat rise again as she thought about not being able to share nights like this with someone she loved. Blake was the only person she really had. Blake’s family was her last and final foster family.
Mel remembered being wary and frightened when they moved her in the middle of the night from the previous house when social services found out how the family was abusing the children. Fresh out of an abusive household, one in which she had spent six months, Mel wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived at the next family’s house. The social worker essentially left her at the door with her bag of things and then drove away. Mel remembered being close to tears when Blake’s father opened the front door. She cowered away from his hand when he tried to lead her inside and the look of anger on his face made her even more frightened. Mel didn’t learn until a lot later that he was angry at the previous foster family for scaring, and scarring, her so badly. That first night was hell. Mel spent the good bit of it wide awake and staring at the door in case the father came back.
When she woke, it wasn’t the father who came through the door however; it was a bouncy red head about her age, a year younger to be exact. For weeks Blake tried to coax Mel out of her shell. Starting a new school and having a new family all in a matter of two days was hard on Mel, especially since it was her first year of high school. All these years later she was grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Talley for bring her into their home, giving her a forever friend and getting her the help she needed to deal with her past. She couldn’t bring herself to call them mom and dad, but they were the next best thing.
“We’re here, Ms. Fairbanks,” Bernard said in his feeble old man voice as they stopped at the curb.
Mel started a bit, so lost in memories that she forgot where she was. Thanking Bernard, Mel stepped from the limo, digging in her purse for her keys. Pushing her apartment door opened, Mel frowned. It wasn’t a mansion but it was home. She kicked her shoes off and climbed into bed, unsure what the next few weeks would bring with Tristan and anxious to begin recording her record.
At least I have something positive to look forward to, Mel thought as she drifted to sleep.
*****
The next week rolled around and Mel felt those same jitters in her belly as she approached the Powers Records floor in the elevator. She took several deep breaths, willing her heart to slow and her stomach to stop churning. The nerves weren’t so much about recording her album as they were about seeing Tristan. He was unpredictable and she wasn’t sure what he would do or say while she was there. Facing him again after what happened last week made Mel’s stomach lurch and the coffee she had on the drive over almost came back up. It was a good thing she couldn’t eat when she was nervous otherwise she would have vomited on her way up the elevator. The doors to the elevator opened with a ding and Mel stepped off, rubbing her sweating hands on her skirt.
“Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself as she opened the doors and stepped inside.
The receptionist greeted her with a big smile, remembering her from the previous week. She pointed Mel down the opposite hallway of where she went with Tristan and somehow that made her stomach settle a bit. Shifting her guitar case from one shoulder to the other, Mel pulled the door to the recording booth open and stepped inside and right into a brick wall.
“Oof,” Mel grunted and began to fall backwards, the weight of her guitar case pulling her petite body down as she stumbled back.
“Woah,” a male voice, a voice that she knew, said. It was Tristan.
He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her upright and against his chest. Mel put her hands in front of her, and splayed them on his chest to push away from him. She ignored the feel of hard muscle against her hands and tried to release herself from his grasp.
“Easy now.” Tristan’s voice was surprisingly gentle as he eased back from her.
Mel brushed a stray hair out of her face which had escaped from her slick ponytail. Once she was focused and standing on her own two feet, Mel scanned the room. Tristan was there as well as two other men who were behind the control board of the sound booth.
“Gentlemen, this is Mel Fairbanks. We are going to begin recording her album today. I trust you all received the information about her music and are prepared for the session.” Both men nodded at Tristan as he commanded the room. He looked at Mel. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, still a bit flustered from their encounter. The nervousness that had calmed as she made her way away from where she knew Tristan worked came back in a double dose. Why was he here to see her record? That wasn’t a part of his job as CEO. Tristan directed her to the door of the soundproof room. He told her where to sit and how to use the mic. Mel was too thrown by his kind demeanor after their encounter last week that she could only nod that she understood. The guys outside of the window spoke to her through the headphones and explained how they would monitor sound and her voice and record it on their end. She would do two songs a day for two weeks and they would then put the album together after they edited and made sure it was ready for the public's ears.
“Are you ready?” Tristan asked, sitting with the men outside of her tiny soundproof area.
“Yes,” Mel said with a slight gasp, suddenly realizing her dream was about to come true.
Mel played and sang her heart out, all of the songs she wrote in the last ten years about her loss and her despair and her anguish. The songs were about her abuse, her parents’ deaths and living alone in the world. Some of the songs were so much of her soul being bared that Mel couldn’t help but shed a tear here and there as she sang. Nobody mentioned it, and they only stopped her a few times to make sure her sound was correct. Afterwards she looked up, feeling almost as if she had been asleep and dreaming for an hour.
“Great work, Mel!” The engineer, Louis, said through the headphones.
Mel smiled at him and took the headphones off, slipping her guitar back into the case and strolling out of the soundproof booth.
“You have a wonderful voice,” Louis gushed again and Mel wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Thanks,” she said, sitting on the large, leather couch in the corner for playback.
Tristan appeared out of nowhere, having left some time while she was recording. He had a strange look on his face and Mel looked away from him and waited for Louis, and the producer Rob, to begin playback. Mel felt the couch dip as Tristan sat down next to her. The butterflies began to riot in her belly again and Mel took a deep breath and tried to focus on what Rob was telling her.
Another hour passed before they had successfully completed that part of recording. Tristan sat next to her the whole time, barely speaking and Mel felt strange but knew she couldn’t get up without making him aware of her discomfort. When it was over, she stood, flinging the guitar case back onto her shoulder and headed for the door. As she exited the room, after saying goodbye and shaking hands with Louis and Rob, she felt Tristan’s presence behind her.
“What?” Mel turned on him and said. Exhaustion and hunger made her snap.
Tristan put his hands up as if in surrender. “I was walking you out, Mel.”
Her name on his lips sounded strange because he continually called her Ms. Fairbanks.
“Sorry. I’m just exhausted.” Mel’s stomach growled as if it were punctuation at the end of her sentence.
“And hungry it seems.” Mel nodded.
“I skipped breakfast.” Not sure why she told him that because it wasn’t any of his business when she ate.
“Would you like to get lunch with me?” Tristan stopped her outside of the elevators and asked.
That was a bad idea, but she did make a deal with him. “Uh, sure.”
“Great. There’s a café down the block with wonderful tomato basil soup.” Tristan hopped into the elevator after her.
Mel tried to scoot as far away from where he stood as possible, which proved difficult because he was so large and standing in the middle of the elevator.
“I won’t bite, Mel. Unless you want me too.” His eyes shone with something Mel recognized from the night before as lust, darkening the ice blue to stormy gray.
Her response died on her lips when Tristan spun around, crashing his mouth into hers and hauling her up against his chest.