A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

I swallowed hard. This man never threatened, he promised and followed through. Nothing I could say or do would dissuade him. I walked back to my room in a state of silent panic. Three days to make a decision. Three days to decide to stay or flee… flee? I couldn’t do it. I had fashioned this prison with my own hands. I was trapped, bound to him by silken manacles of love. A sense of inevitability swept through me, filling me with dread. I had only three days to come up with a plan. And it had to be a good one.

* * *

He departed at dawn the next morning with Gideon and Bear, leaving me in the tender care of Mr. Bored and Unflappable, Justin Luck. I got an earful about keeping my phone on me at all times. He repeated and repeated it until he was certain I understood not to ‘disobey’ direct orders. I kissed him hard and told him I would miss him, because it was the truth. I would miss him desperately. It was the first time we would be apart since we started sleeping together. Not that we ever actually slept together. That was the bone of contention, and he planned on getting his way.

Ben Winters had recently returned after a short trip home. I was in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast, when Ben entered after one of his early morning workouts. Soaked in sweat, his grey t-shirt stuck to his muscular torso like he had just won a wet t-shirt contest. He was quite a specimen.

“Let me make you an omelet.” I reached into the basket of freshly laid eggs and began counting. “How many eggs?”

“Twelve.”

My eyebrows rose up my forehead. I glance up at him and he shrugged, an optic white smile taking up half of his face. Ben took a seat at the kitchen counter and drank his water while I began to crack the eggs and beat them. He scanned the kitchen to make sure we were alone before speaking.

“How come you didn’t go to London with Sebastian?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

I shook my head. “It’s complicated,” I dissembled. Avoiding eye contact, I stared at the blue flecks on the cracked eggshells.

“Looks pretty simple from where I’m standing. Vera, I haven’t seen him like this––ever.”

My gaze lifted swiftly to his and found the indisputable truth of his words. An unspoken understanding passed between us. Ben loved Sebastian as much as I did. I didn’t fault him for not wanting to see his best friend hurt.

“Where’s home?”

Deflect and redirect, I had become remarkably good at it. I resumed chopping the baby spinach for the omelet.

“Colorado, for now.”

I diced baby heirloom tomatoes and dumped them in the bowl with the eggs and the spinach.

“Do you like it? I’ve seen pictures. It looks very beautiful.”

“My business is based there.”

I sprinkled a few pieces of fresh mozzarella cheese in the bowl, added the mushrooms, and poured the contents onto the hot skillet, infusing the room with the perfume of fresh garden vegetables.

“That smells amazing.” His stomach agreed with a growl.

“Why is your business based there?” I asked curiously as I flipped the golden fan onto a porcelain dish and placed it in front of him. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the aroma wafting up from the plate, then dug into the omelet with enthusiasm.

“With the new marijuana laws on the books, businesses can sell it but can’t deposit the profits in banks, they have to store the money elsewhere. My guys protect the money as it’s being transferred from location to location. We’re talkin’ hundreds of thousands so you can imagine how tempting it would be to anyone skilled in armed robbery.”

“So basically you’re a drug dealer?” Charlotte’s clipped British voice rang out as she entered the kitchen. I noticed the brief stiffening of Ben’s body. His eyes narrowed as his head swung around to meet Charlotte’s smug expression.

“Charlotte, be nice,” I warned in a motherly tone.

“I’m a businessman, Miz Beckwith. I provide a needed service and my guys happen to be the best.”

“At being thugs for the drug trade?” Her voice was sticky sweet, without an ounce of remorse.

“Charlotte!”

Ben’s charming demeanor vanished. His jaw pulsed with pent up emotion. “Are you a lesbian, Beckwith?”

“Ben!” I shouted.

Charlotte’s eyes were as round as dinner plates, an angry twitch visible at the corner of her pursed mouth. But he didn’t stop there. “Is it all men you find repulsive, or just me?”

Thankfully, as things were spiraling out of control, Mrs. Arnaud entered the kitchen in her usual jovial mood.

“Good morning, Ben. I see that Vera has already taken very good care of you.”

“Mornin’, ma’am. Yes, she has. Thanks, Vera, this was…amazing. You’re amazing.”

A deep flush the color of beets rose up my neck at his high praise. I looked over and found a quirky smile playing on Marianne’s lips, and Charlotte…well, Charlotte looked like she was about to spontaneously combust. Her face was turning from shades of pink to purple. The vein in between her brows was throbbing. I could see it from a distance as he continued to talk.