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“I understand more than you know.” I wasn’t exactly sure if that was the absolute truth but it sounded good.

After all, I was falling hard for a man who should have been in my distant rear view mirror after one night of fantastic sex yet I couldn’t manage to let go.

That bothered me most of all.

After a satisfying lunch and one too many dirty martinis, I made it home in one piece. Stanley, the butler, answered the double doors as soon as I pulled up in my Range Rover. Our on-site personal valet would park my vehicle in the ten-car garage my deceased husband had on the property while I was free to go about my life as I pleased.

I’d lived this lifestyle for years, and yet I still couldn’t get used to such wasted extravagance. All made from the hard-earned money my husband had accrued over the years backstabbing and clawing his way to the top. Not that it’d been a steep climb.

Although I knew very little about his background, I did know his name was a fabrication and his family wasn’t originally from Ireland. They hailed from lands further abroad but his parents were now deceased and there was no one around to tell me the real story.

My whole life seemed to be one huge deception based upon the half-truths and stories people wanted me to know instead of what truly happened. I’d accepted it a long time ago but it was still disconcerting. As someone who’d always desired the truth and nothing but, I wasn’t trying too hard to find it.

I walked past the foyer and noticed the black and white roses sitting on the large oak table next to an expensive Degas ballerina. The vase was just as expensive and extravagant as the flowers but they were new and hadn’t been there when I left for my lunch date.

“What’s this?” I asked out loud.

“They were delivered about a half an hour ago, Madame,” Stanley said in a regal manner. “These aren’t the only ones. There were a total of five vases delivered. I have put one in the formal living room, another in the formal dining room, and the last two in your bedroom. Of course, Matilda took care of your bedroom . . . I would never enter your suite without permission, Madame.”

I glanced at him as if he’d personally betrayed me. “Was there a card?”

He stared back at me with watery gray eyes. “Yes, Madame. Matilda left it in your suite.”

I dismissed him with a wave of my hand and quickly walked to my suite.

Matilda was my personal maid who kept my suite pristine and knew all of my dirty secrets—from when it was my time of the month to how often I should stop by the doctor for my follow up birth control visits.

After Richard and I tried to have a child and I miscarried, I felt like it was partly my fault. I’d had an IUD inserted though I failed to tell my husband and we kept trying though I knew there would never be a child.

“If you cared so much about your legacy then why didn’t you have children when you were younger?” I often yelled at him when we fought about the very subject while he was alive. “Why in God’s name is it so important for you to have children now? You know the risks involved with a man of your age conceiving a child—why would you want to put an innocent life through all of that? You’re too
old
!”

“Well, if you really stopped to think about my reasoning, you’d know I am also thinking of you, buttercup,” he’d replied in that deep voice of his with its slight accent I was never able to trace. It sounded almost Dutch or German though he had an Irish last name.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean you’re almost thirty, and the viability of your eggs will start to deteriorate faster than my sperm. I assumed you would want a healthy child—or was I wrong?”

Richard had always known how to wound me where it hurt the most. Between my scarred childhood and an unhealthy relationship with my brother, I wasn’t sure I even wanted kids. Perhaps that’s why I hadn’t been devastated when we lost our child and I had no wish to go through the experience again.

I was so deep in thought, I failed to realize I was not alone in my suite.

“What’s this?”

I turned around so fast, I almost lost my footing but righted myself in time. Campbell glared at me with those impenetrable green eyes that seemed to bore right through my skull.

“What are you doing here and why didn’t you make an appointment?” I walked over and snatched the card from his hand before I reached the plush loveseat and sat down. “I really don’t have time for your games today, Cam. It’s been a hectic few weeks.”

“So hectic that you’ve cancelled our appointments yet you had time to fuck another man? ‘White and black roses for such a beautiful, mysterious woman. You should stop mourning and celebrate life.’ That’s what the card says, Alyssa. Who the hell is ‘D?’ You better have a damn good answer too. ”

I stood in a hurry from the sofa, walked closer to him, and stopped several feet away. “I’m under no obligation to inform you about my personal life, Cam. You’re married with a wife and children. I’m footloose and fancy-free. In fact, I want to end any sexual contact with you from now on out. We both know I won’t be single for long and I can’t stand all the hovering you do. Get out of my house.”

His green eyes darkened before he closed the space between us and grabbed me by the neck. With his hand tightening around my windpipe, I started struggling for breath. It wasn’t long before my defense mechanism kicked in, and I clawed out at him with my fingernails before wickedly scratching his neck.

“You fucking bitch.” Cam let go of my neck but not before he backhanded me across the face.

I held my cheek as I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t believe what he’d done especially since the last time he’d hit me was the night he’d taken my virginity. After that, he didn’t have to; it was easier to be compliant and left with bruises no one could see then those that could be exposed to the world.

“If you touch her again, I’ll kill you.”

I could recognize that guttural yet sexy South African accent anywhere but what the hell was it doing coming from inside my house?

I looked up past Cam and came face to face with Dorian. He stood by Matilda who pretended as if she saw nothing before she walked away in silence.

Cam turned around to face Dorian. He looked from him to me and back again.

“Are you the one who is fucking my sister?”

“Actually, she’s not your sister—not by blood anyway.” Dorian smirked. “What we do with one another is none of your business. However, if you lay a hand on her ever again then I will fucking kill you. This isn’t a joke and don’t get it twisted—I may be a celebrity but I’m certainly not above committing murder. You—I’d gladly kill . . . all Alyssa would have to do is give me the word.”

I stared at the man who’d saved me at the least inopportune time but I couldn’t even bring myself to be angry with him.

He’d saved me when I couldn’t save myself and yet again, I found myself falling further down the rabbit hole past lust, and into a new dimension all together.

This was dangerous—
he
was dangerous. What the hell was I doing?

“Alyssa, say something.”

I realized Cam was speaking to me yet I had nothing else to say to him. I didn’t want him dead but I certainly wanted him gone.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” I whispered.

Dorian glared at Campbell with hard blue eyes. “If I were you, I’d follow the lady of the house’s orders and get the fuck gone . . .
Cam
.”

My brother shook his head. “You won’t get rid of me that easy, Alyssa! You
owe
me for what I did to
help
you, and I will be back to collect.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t do it for me, Cam, and we both know it. You did it for your own selfish reasons . . . the money, as usual. I’ll give you what I owe but I don’t ever want to find you in my house again or I will call the police and press charges for harassment.”

Cam smiled but there was absolutely zero mirth. “You’re not getting away with this because if I go down then I’m dragging you right along with me.”

“Try it and we’ll see how much time that buys you . . . you’ll be dead before you ever see a fucking dime so get out.” Dorian crossed his arms against his chest. Not only was he taller but in better physical shape than Cam, whose only source of exercise came from his five mile morning jogs around his neighborhood.

“Fuck you both. You may have won this battle, Romeo, but I promise as God is my witness you will not win the goddamn war.” Cam stormed past him in a huff, and we both listened as he double-timed it down the stairs and out of the front door.

Dorian entered my suite and closed the door behind himself. “Sit down. Let’s get you taken care of.”

I did as I was told though my cheek ached more than my bruised neck. I listened as Dorian walked into my bedroom and directly to the bathroom. There, he turned on the water and returned moments later with an ice-cold hand towel to hold against my sore cheek.

“What he did to you is going to leave bruises you know. I hope you have some very good makeup to cover up these marks until they heal.”

I nodded. “Yes, of course I do . . . but a better question I should be asking is how did you get into my home?”

He could have easily lied about how he’d gained access to her property but he’d already decided to let the breadcrumb trail begin.

Dorian had been serious about murdering Campbell but he had a lot of reasons, most of them extremely fucking intimate. He wouldn’t divulge them to Alyssa anyway—not now at least. He had a plan to stick to and he was most of all patient, precise, and tried to make as few mistakes as possible.

The fact remained he didn’t believe in coincidences, and just because he happened to like this chick more than any other bitch he’d ever fucked still didn’t make her all that special in his eyes.

“Spare key.” Dorian held it up for her to see. “Your deceased was a producer with a state of the art studio built on the same property as his home. I wanted to ask your permission to use it. The singer is only in town for a couple of days and we have to her tracks lined up so she can record them here. You see, she asked me to collaborate on some songs for her upcoming album,
The Real Me
.”

“How
original
,” Alyssa murmured sarcastically. “Has she been fake all this time?”

He couldn’t help but to laugh out loud because her humor was spot-on and usually tongue-in-cheek. That’s what had him so fascinated about her. She made him feel almost guilty for being in the situation to take advantage of her at a very vulnerable time in her life. However, the fact remained he wouldn’t allow anyone else to take part in his grand plan, and he’d already decided only one other person would benefit when all was said and done.

After all, she’d done all the hard work.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Ella Jade.” Dorian sat next to her on the loveseat. “I co-wrote a couple of songs with her and she wants me to co-produce them too.”

“She’s also your ex-girlfriend or should I stop reading TMZ?” Alyssa’s hazel eyes lit up with fire but it simply amused him she could be so feisty after the violent altercation she’d recently been through with her adopted brother.

“Don’t insult my intelligence—someone like you doesn’t have the
time
or inclination to read TMZ. Grace told you we were an item, didn’t she? After all, the woman is my manager.”

She stood and tossed the hand towel on the table next to the huge vase filled with white and black roses. “What are all the flowers about? I thought what ever we . . . had—if you could even call it that—was over. You didn’t call me and I didn’t call you. It’s been three weeks. Shouldn’t we be ready to move on?”

Dorian stood and walked up behind her. Her head bowed, she looked so vulnerable but he knew what a hellcat she truly was beneath the surface. Alyssa was far from being a doormat.

“Don’t you
mean
aren’t you ready to move on?” He touched her shoulders softly. “I know I am. I can work with Ella and it means nothing to me. Been there, done that. However, I do want to pursue something with you. The last three weeks have been pure torture. All I can think about is what I wanted to do with you in bed and what I did do with you in bed.”

Alyssa turned around and faced him. “What are you talking about?”

“We fucked. That’s it. I treated you the same way I would treat any other random girl who fell into my bed but that’s the problem. You aren’t just any girl—you’re a woman—and I want to experience sexual feelings with you I haven’t done with anyone in a long time.”

Dorian knew she was doing her best to read him as a person. Was he sincere or had he just showed up for a little more action between the sheets? He usually wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve but something about this woman told him she was worth it. Despite what he would do to her just to get revenge on a feud decades old that she had absolutely fuck all to do with but that was just how the cookie crumbled. He refused not to take what was his by birthright because she thought she’d gotten lucky and landed the jackpot.

“Listen, it’s a great offer, really but . . . I still can’t be seen with anyone yet. The press would crucify me and call me a whore. My God—Richard’s Estate attorney warned me I would have to wait at least a year to start dating. I have to appear as if he was the most important part of my life, and the only man I truly loved. If I don’t, I risk everything and for what—a few more romps in bed with you only for you to dump me once someone hotter and more exciting comes along? I don’t have the time or the patience for childish games, Dorian.”

He grabbed her waist and pressed his right cheek against her left, his mouth close enough to her ear as he whispered, “Who ever said anything about childish games? I want to wine and dine you, silly. I didn’t come here to jump into bed with you. I actually want us to try to work this out. I’m attempting to grow up and actually have a mature and healthy relationship. I know you had a late lunch but what about dinner at my place? Say around seven o’clock?”

Alyssa rubbed her cheek against his before she replied, “I thought your only interest in coming here today was to ask me a favor about using the recording studio. You’re welcome to it. No one uses it much except friends of Richard. When are you planning on starting your work with Ella Jade? I can call and make arrangements—”

“No need. I know all the artists and producers who use Richard’s studio and I’ve already cleared the time with them.” He pulled away as the palms of his hands replaced his face against her soft skin. “So, we’re on tonight for dinner, right?”

“Well, since you put it that way, you make it pretty hard for a woman to refuse.” She smiled though there was still an unknown sparkle in her eyes. It was almost like she sensed everything happening was too good to be true.

“I can’t wait to see you.” He kissed her lips quickly before he turned and left her suite, closing the door behind himself.

Dorian would have gladly worn a smirk had he not walked past Matilda who glared at him like he was the devil himself. What the fuck was up with him and old broads anyway? It almost felt like they could sense his true intentions.

Then again, it might have been his situation. It wasn’t ideal, and Richard was loyal to many people in his life though they weren’t always the most important. Unfortunately, the man had been obsessed with making money and breaking free from a tortured childhood. He could understand why the deceased producer acted the way he did but that certainly wasn’t condoning the behavior itself.

Although Dorian had promised himself he wouldn’t try to pressure Alyssa to have sex with him, all thoughts of what he shouldn’t do left his mind as he began to prepare dinner. He didn’t keep much food in his home and shopped several times a week at Whole Foods or Gelson’s to ensure the foods he liked were fresh at all times.

He had a choice of making a soup for dinner, which was a great idea because it wouldn’t weigh them down and he could still manage to get her drunk enough that she would end up back in his bed. Technically, they were taking it slow. He waited three weeks to call her and serenade her with enough flowers that had cost more money than most middle class families made in a week but it was worth it.

In the end, he chose his favorite soup to make because it reminded him of his homeland of South Africa. True, he’d been born in the States but he still had a very beautiful piece of property in the land where he had matured from a boy to a man. He loved visiting but with his schedule, it was almost impossible to make it out to see his place more than once a year. The field hands and maids got more out of the place than he did.

His front door opened and closed as he chopped up lobster tail and decided to add prawns to the recipe along with shallots, finely sliced onions, yams that had been peeled and chopped up along with heavy cream to the water and butter base of the soup. After adding a tablespoon of garlic to the soup base that slowly cooked on the stove in the pot, he added chopped up yams, onions and shallots to the soup pot as Ella walked into the kitchen.

“Mmm, whatcha makin’?” she inquired in that little girl voice of hers that drove him crazy.

Her fans might have thought it was cute she acted and sounded like a perpetual twelve-year-old desperately trying to emulate Taylor Swift. Or that her bodyguards carried her petite, one hundred and five pound frame to the limo after performances because her feet hurt from walking around in five- and six-inch heels but Dorian wasn’t amused at all.

It was one of the major reasons why they’d broken up.

At the age of seventeen, he was already a mercenary in South Africa, and had seen the worst of what human beings could and did do to one another over petty tribal differences, conflict diamonds or any of the other precious minerals that were raped from the continent he still considered his true home.

Someone like Ella didn’t get him at all and never would. She didn’t have the intellectual capacity to understand what it was like to not get her way all the time. She’d never had to go days without a shower or climb through swamps or the bush with your fellow soldiers, trying to hide out from the enemy. She had no idea what it was like having a gun constantly shoved in your face or dealing with despot leaders who cared nothing about their people, and rather what they could rape from their country to set them up in mansions somewhere nice like Switzerland, France, or Monaco.

Dorian had soon grown tired of her but now that she was staying for a few days in L.A., he would have to set her straight that there would be nothing going on between the two of them besides their professional endeavors they’d already planned.

“What are you doing in my home?” His voice was cold and beyond icy but Ella laughed it off, her big brown eyes merry and bright in a pixie cute face.

“I still have your keys, silly.” She jumped on his marble counter and swung her legs back and forth. “You must be entertaining that
older
bitch tonight.”

“Which one would that be, Ella?” He finally added the seafood to the pot, and turned the stove on low so that the soup wouldn’t burn or overcook any of the ingredients.

“Alyssa Conlon. The
great
Richard Conlon’s trophy wife. She’s, like, thirty years old, you know. She must have good genes ‘cause I admit she doesn’t look it but doesn’t it bother you you’re totally going cougar? What’s
wrong
with chicks your own age?”

Dorian checked his temper before he turned around to face his ex-girlfriend. “She’s only two years older than me, Lucia—that hardly qualifies her as a ‘cougar.’”

“Whatever.” Ella jumped off the counter and paced in his living room, her high-heels clicking loudly against the hard wood floors. “So after you’re done wooing the widow and you get everything you want, do you think there is a chance we can get back together? I mean, I’ll totally clean up my attitude and I’ll be a really cool girlfriend, you know? I can’t survive professionally without your vast expertise, Dorian, but you already know that. Please don’t make me beg.”