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“Have you read it?” he asks.
“I saw the movie.”
He looks aghast. “You should read it. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Belle got a library, not a book loan!” I shout after him.
He just laughs.
Twenty
Maddie
Aidan has been gone for a few hours. It’s strange and liberating to be here on Aidan’s estate alone. Well, obviously I’m not alone. Cora is here, as well as Aidan’s driver, Vinny, and a whole bunch of random goons that guard the property. As well as my rotating team of personal security detail.
Aidan also has a personal chef, Claude, who comes in a couple of times a week and prepares meals that can be reheated, but he’s been called in for the whole week to prepare fresh food for me three meals a day while Aidan’s gone. We’ve already had a meeting about my preferences, and he’s indicated his willingness to stay on full time if I require it. Claude says that Aidan doesn’t mind reheating things so only needed him to come in and batch cook a couple of times a week, but he can cook fresh if that’s what I prefer. I told him I’d think about it and let him know by the end of the week.
The sun has gone down, and I’ve just had probably the fanciest Salisbury Steak that exists. I honestly really just thought this was a frozen microwavable dinner. I didn’t realize that it could actually be made in a way that one might call gourmet. It wasn’t something we ate in my family.
The chef has excused himself for the night after letting me know he prepared some snacks and deserts for me, a variety of mini quiches and a charcuterie board with sliced meats and cheeses and some grapes in the refrigerator in case I get hungry before breakfast.
When I was concerned about what all this wonderful food would do to my ability to fit into my cute clothes, Cora reassured me that there was a gym on site as well as both an indoor and an outdoor pool. She showed me these areas, and I was very reassured.
She then left me alone to explore the house on my own. The number of common rooms in this house is shocking to me. There’s a living room, a great room, and a drawing room, which are all similar types of rooms but they’re all in different styles and levels of formality for entertaining different types of guests.
There’s both a place to eat in the kitchen and a formal enclosed dining room with a door for private dining. The pantry off from the kitchen is enormous and leads to a large sunroom and herb garden.
There’s Aidan’s study, but there’s also a library with an enormous fireplace. A home theater, game room, gym, both an indoor and outdoor pool and tennis courts out near the gardens. A music room, a bar and lounge, a ballroom, guest quarters, servants’ quarters, a terrace, a pool house. I’m completely overwhelmed by all of it.
There is one place I don’t dare explore… At the back of the house is a narrow dark hallway that ends in a staircase that goes to a basement level. That whole area gave me the creeps so I steered clear.
It’s hard to believe the wedding was just yesterday. I haven’t had any time to really think about this situation and what I’m going to do about it, how I’m going to play it. I’m only just now really remembering how the only thing that was holding me together was fantasizing that Aidan was… well, Aidan. That he was the hot guy that rescued me in the alley, so I could turn it into a fairy tale with some dark handsome prince.
And now I’m mad that I got that? No, I’m mad that he thinks he can arrange me on his board like a chess piece and who cares what I want.
I’ve been sitting on the large back porch reading Pride and Prejudice. Or trying to. It’s not that I don’t like it, I’ve just got so much on my mind. I still can’t believe Aidan has these books. They seem so… girly. But there’s an inscription on the title page to Evelyn Stryker. When I asked, Cora told me this book and the others in the collection belonged to Aidan’s mother. She loved Jane Austen.
The collection is bespoke and was made specifically for her, the only one of its kind and given to her by Aidan’s father as a wedding gift. And Aidan trusts me with it? It obviously matters to him, or he wouldn’t have it. He wouldn’t have read it. He wouldn’t be able to quote it. It’s one of a kind, and besides that has sentimental value.
It’s becoming increasingly hard for me to hold onto hatred for Aidan. I want to keep him in the box labeled monster, but he keeps doing non-monster things. It feels nearly impossible to keep all these versions of this man in my mind. The weird kid who followed me around, growing into the man who stalked me and demanded I marry him… but also the man who saved my life in that alley.
But let’s not romanticize the man running a criminal organization who kills people for reasons other than self-defense or damsel rescue. But also the man who keeps a collection of Jane Austen books near and dear to his mother, and has actually read them. And doesn’t hide them like some dirty secret that isn’t manly enough to display.
My mind keeps drifting back to the secret passage, and how I’m going to get in there because for sure I’m getting in there. There’s no way I can live in a house with a secret passage and not go in there.
It’s just after ten o’clock when I retire to my suite of rooms. And of course the goons are right outside my door.
“Mrs. Stryker,” one of them greets and nods at me.
“Gino,” I say to the one who spoke. Cora introduced me to everyone, but I still think of them as “the goons”.
I spend the next two hours watching and rewatching online videos on lock picking and searching my room for suitable tools. Then I relocate to Aidan’s suite. With him out of town, I could sleep in my own room, but the only bed that I’ve actually slept in, is Aidan’s.
The goons make no commentary about my re-location, they just move to their new post. Okay that was a bit of a test run to see how they would react if I was out of my room at night. I feel like a naughty school child at boarding school, wandering the school grounds after hours, as though I’m not allowed to be out of my room this late.
After I’m set up in Aidan’s room, another thirty minutes pass before I get up the nerve to venture out again. By this time, I’ve watched my chosen lock picking video another three times and hidden my tools in the pocket of a pair of jeans I changed into.
When I finally leave the room, the goons don’t say a word. Nobody tries to stop me when I go downstairs. I mean… there’s really nowhere for me to go. There’s a high wall around the entire perimeter of the estate.