You and Me: Together duet book number two Read online

  You and Me

  Together duet book number two

  Melody Eve

  Edited by

  Booktique Editing

  Cover Art by

  Shanoff Designs

  Copyright © 2018 by Melody Eve

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For my mom.

  Thank you for instilling in me the importance of reading.

  I still miss you every day.

  Contents

  Description

  Chapter 1

  2. Roman

  3. Roman

  4. Aria

  5. Roman

  6. Aria

  7. Roman

  8. Roman

  9. Aria

  10. Roman

  11. Roman

  12. Aria

  13. Roman

  14. Roman

  15. Aria

  16. Roman

  17. Roman

  18. Aria

  19. Aria

  20. Roman

  21. Aria

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Melody Eve

  Description

  Roman and Aria find themselves in the middle of an unexpected whirlwind romance.

  Well, unexpected for Aria at least.

  After six years of watching over her, Roman finally made his move when Aria was about to walk down the aisle with a man not worth the change in the bottom of her purse.

  Now that he has her, he will do everything in his power to make sure she stays in his life. Convinced that it’s her ex who is responsible for the hang-up calls and cryptic messages that have been left in her apartment, he is covering all the bases to keep her safe.

  But will his overprotective alpha male ways drive her away? Or will her stalker get through his line of defense and leave him broken and alone again?

  Chapter One

  Roman

  When I saw her years ago in the bank, just sitting there in Paul’s office wringing her hands waiting to find out if she could borrow the money to buy her bookstore, I had to grab the door to keep from collapsing. Ingrid, my secretary, thought I was having a heart attack. I thought I was having a heart attack or hallucinating or seeing a ghost.

  Aria wasn’t a ghost, though, she was my second chance, and I will spend my life making sure I don’t waste that second chance.

  As we drive up the mile-long driveway to my house, I have the first of many insecure thoughts. I don’t have insecurities let alone insecure thoughts, but being with Aria has made me a different man. She isn’t impressed with material things, in fact, she seems to dislike them at times.

  What if my house is too much for her? Too flashy, too big, too over the top. She was almost married to what the world would consider a wealthy man, but there is a difference between his kind of money and mine.

  David spent his, and I didn’t. His money was gone as fast as he earned it and not on anything lasting or valuable. He didn’t invest or save or put away even a little for a rainy day. No, the superstar baseball player wasted his money on partying, women, drugs, and gambling. It’s a wonder Aria didn’t know what kind of man he was.

  In her defense, she is a trusting woman who never expected her boyfriend of so many years to be living a double life. She only saw what he showed her—a nice car, a nice house, and a solid career.

  He treated her well in the beginning. I remember those days. He took her on exotic vacations and bought her gaudy jewelry. What he didn’t understand, and I could see it all over her face in the photographs I had my private investigator take, was that she enjoyed the simple life. She yearned for her few close friends, home-cooked meals, and reading her favorite novels. Going to Vegas and New York made her weary and anxious. Home is where she liked to be, and over the years, that is where she stayed while he was out living the life of a young, wealthy bachelor.

  The hardest times for me were when he was gone, and she was home alone. I wanted to befriend her and drop hints about her boyfriend and his cheating ways. There was only one problem with that—she would never believe it. She was the type of person who needs to see with her own eyes the kind of man she was dating, and when I learned of their engagement, I showed her just that. A picture is worth a thousand words they say, but in Aria’s case, it was worth only one—goodbye—and I thank God for that.

  Now I’m pulling up in front of my half-billion-dollar mansion worried that she’s going to refuse even to get out of the car when she sees it. I should have taken her to my apartment in the city. It’s nice, modern, and much more understated, but it’s not home.

  I chance a glance at her out of the corner of my eye as we pull up to the front door. She’s fast asleep. Can I be this lucky? Yes, I believe I can.

  As gently as I can, I stop the car, put it in park, open the door, and round the front keeping an eye on her. She doesn’t stir when I open her door, and I unbuckle her belt and scoop her into my arms leaving the car door ajar so as not to wake her closing it.

  In her sleep, she buries her head into my chest as I cross the foyer and ascend the bifurcated staircase to the second floor. I’m glad I called ahead, the chandelier in the foyer that is usually bright has been dimmed as I requested.

  When we reach the landing, I make a right and continue up another short set of stairs to the east wing where my bedroom is at the end of a long hall lined in dimly lit sconces.

  The French doors to my room are opened in preparation for our arrival. Ella, my housekeeper for the past ten years, has everything perfectly arranged. A bouquet of multicolored sweet peas sits on the table in the center of the room, the sheets are pulled back on one side of the bed in a crisp triangle, and the curtains are half drawn to keep the room dimly lit.

  I wanted Aria to rest as much as possible, and soft lighting seemed appropriate. The ensuite bathroom light is on, and Aria’s toiletries have been arranged on the vanity. Ella doesn’t miss a trick.

  She hasn’t needed to ready a room for a guest for a very long time other than my mother and Leeza, and she has never prepared for a guest to stay in my room. I imagine she is downstairs in the kitchen doing cartwheels and gossiping with Mother and Leeza if they have arrived.

  I lay Aria down on my side of the bed, and she rolls away from me still asleep. I consider waking her to check that she’s all right until I remember the doctor’s words in the ER. She needs to be on strict bedrest, and if she can’t manage that, she will have to be hospitalized.

  I slip her shoes off of her feet and cover her with a light blanket and sheet. When she looks as tucked in as she can be without undressing her, I sit in a wingback chair at the bedside and watch her sleep.

  I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. After an hour, I allow my vision to blur and imagine Aria is my first wife, Millie, sleeping in on a Saturday morning. When she was pregnant, she slept as late as possible on the weekends when she didn’t have to work.

  She never actually had to work, but Millie insisted on keeping her career after we married. She said she didn’t want to be a kept woman, and she would contribute to our joint income no matter how meager her salary was. I loved her even more for that.

  When I’ve daydreamed long enough, I leave her alone and make my way toward the kitchen to find my family and something to eat.

  Ella is bustling around making tea and putting together an intricate tray of pastri
es for my mother and sister who are sitting around the kitchen table drinking martinis. Martinis and pastries, only my family would consume such an abominable combination.

  “Alcohol and carbs, ladies?” I ask entering the room with my confidence restored. Being the head of the family has been my job since my father’s death, and I take it seriously. Dad always made everyone feel safe and cared for. I’ve been doing a great job of that with both of them. Now, if I could only get Aria on board.

  Mom stands to cross the room and envelop me into her trademarked hug while Leeza hangs back waiting for me to come to her. “I’m so glad you’re home. How did things go with Aria?” Mom asks.

  “Fine,” I say when she releases me. “Well, almost fine.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. What’s almost fine mean?” Leeza asks as I bend to kiss her cheek.

  “It means she’s here with us sleeping in my bed but only after nearly fainting when we met. I took her to the emergency room, and they said she needs rest, a week of bedrest to be exact. She’s agreed to let me take care of her for that week but no longer.”

  “She almost fainted? Is she going to be all right?” Mother asks.

  “They said she’s been doing too much. She should have been put on two weeks of strict bedrest in Mexico or hospitalized possibly. I wasn’t thinking straight when I brought her to the UK. I should have brought her straight home.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Leeza asks taking a sip of her drink and a pastry off the tray Ella just placed in the center of the table.

  “Take her home? I was having her place remodeled.”

  “So. You could have brought her here for a while until it was done. It wasn’t worth risking her health.”

  “Leeza, you know Roman wouldn’t purposely put her in harm’s way,” Mom says narrowing her eyes at my sister. Leeza’s never been one to treat me with kid gloves about what happened to Millie the way Mother does.

  “I thought resting on the plane and in London would be okay. I also wanted her to meet you two. God only knows why.”

  “All right, you two, let’s not argue. The past is over, let’s concentrate on the future.” Mom turns to me. “Did she like the apartment renovations?”

  “I think so. She didn’t get much time to enjoy them before her ex barged in, however.”

  “Her ex? He dared to show his face at her home after what he did to her?” Leeza says throwing back the rest of her drink and pulling the olive off the spear with her teeth.

  “He wants her back. He made that pretty clear.”

  “Clear how?” Mother asks.

  “He’s been doing some research on me. Not very good research, mind you. He told her I was committed for two years, and he showed her a photograph of Millie.” My mother sets her glass down on the table and rests her back against her chair. Leeza makes an unintelligible comment under her breath that I am positive my mother wouldn’t approve of had she heard it.

  “How dare he look into your background when he’s been so awful to Aria all these years.”

  “You were only at Fair Meadows for six months,” Leeza says.

  “Yes, well, the truth seems to be hard to come by when the pot is calling the kettle black. I told Aria the truth, and I told her why I was there.”

  “What about the photograph? How did she handle that?” Leeza asks.

  “It was a shock, of course. She’s worried it means something that it doesn’t. I didn’t have time to get into it too deeply before she started feeling sick.”

  Mom sits up and rests her arms on the table. “What do you mean she’s worried it means something that it doesn’t?”

  “She thinks I’m trying to replace Millie with her because of her looks. Granted, the resemblance is what drew me to her in the first place, but it’s Aria that I’m interested in. It always has been.”

  “You know, I never really knew the extent of your watching over her. What prompted you to do that?”

  “I couldn’t get her out of my head after that day she came into the bank. Her bookstore is right down the street from the bank, and I walked by it every day. Then I started going inside often just to get a glimpse of her. That led to me having coffee at a table near the cashier’s desk as often as I could, so I could listen to her interact with the customers. She is so generous and kind and funny. She charmed every customer who walked through the door, even the ones who couldn’t afford to buy a book. She allowed them to use her free Wi-Fi and read her books like it was a library instead of a place of business. She was genuine, real, almost old-fashioned in her mannerisms. I fell in love with her voice first. The musical way she spoke to people, especially children, it made my heart melt in my chest. Then I fell in love with her hands, so small and delicate yet strong and capable. She built displays and sorted books and did her own maintenance on the building like a pro.”

  The three women are staring at me like I’ve been speaking another language that they don’t understand. Ella’s hand floats up to her chest, Leeza drops back against her chair, and Mother blinks her eyes slowly two, three, four times before speaking.

  “I’ve never heard you speak so reverently about anyone before, son, not even Millie.”

  The truth is, I don’t think I have ever felt this way for another woman, not even my dear- departed wife. I loved Millie, of course, deeply, but Aria moves me in a way she never did. She turns me on with her body and her mind. I want to be a better man for her. I feel like I have something to prove. With Millie, I always knew where I stood. She was fine with wealth, used to it even. She came from an upper-class family in New York and never thought twice about it. She didn’t spend much, but she also never had to worry about budgeting as Aria has.

  I shrug one shoulder. “She’s amazing, even more so up close. I’ve been watching from the sidelines for so long, it’s surreal to be holding her in my arms and spending time with her.”

  “Don’t smother her, Roman. She’s got to be a little freaked out by all your stalking. I sure would be if I were her,” Leeza says.

  “We will talk about it when she’s feeling better. My focus is going to be on getting her back to one hundred percent, so she can get back to her bookstore. She misses it terribly.”

  “He’s lying. He wants her one hundred percent in bed with him,” Leeza says elbowing Mom.

  “Leeza, get your mind out of the gutter and be a lady,” Mom scolds.

  I laugh. “A lady? Mom, I’m pretty sure that ship sailed a long time ago. You’ll have to settle for a modern-day wench instead. That’s as close as you’ll get.”

  Leeza breaks off a chunk of gooey pastry and tosses it at my face where it bounces off my cheek. “You missed,” I say taunting her.

  “No, I didn’t, that’s where I was aiming.”

  “Your drink, sir,” Ella says placing a tumbler with two fingers of scotch in front of me.

  “Thank you, Ella.” I look from my sister to my mom and back. “Why is it we are drinking again?”

  “Every time we cross the ocean safely, we sit down for drinks. It’s a celebration of life you could say,” Mom says raising her now empty glass to cheer. We clink our two empty martini glasses and one scotch together, and Ella sweeps in to freshen up their drinks. If she keeps that up, we, or at least my mother and Leeza, will be drunk as skunks when Aria wakes up if she wakes up tonight. She may sleep through until morning, and that would be great according to the doctor.

  “To the drunk life,” I say sarcastically.

  “To life, drunk or sober,” Mom adds.

  “To pastries and martinis, may they always be fat-free like Ella makes them,” Leeza says.

  “Oh no, Miss Leeza, they aren’t fat fr…” Ella tries to set her straight, but Leeza cuts her off.

  “No, no, no, let me live in my fantasy world, Ella,” Leeza exclaims squeezing her eyes closed and waving her arms around like a nut.

  “How many of those have you had?” I ask them. “And don’t lie, Ella will tell me the truth.”

  “
This is my third,” Leeza says. “My second and last,” Mom says.

  “Party pooper,” Leeza says.

  “We have to get our bodies adjusted to US time. I’m not party pooping, I’m jet lagging,” Mom explains. “In fact, I’m going up to bed now. I love you, son, and I’m glad you have Aria home safe and sound.” She stands and kisses me on the cheek. “Good night, Ella. Thank you for the drinks and snacks. You’re so lovely.”

  Ella blushes. “Thank you, ma’am. Breakfast at seven?”

  “Yes, that will be nice. Will Aria be joining us for breakfast?”

  “Absolutely not. The doctor said strict bedrest, and I’m going to make sure of it this time.”

  Leeza giggles and snorts. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

  I glance at Ella. “No more for her,” I say pointing at my sister.

  “The party pooper doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she says rolling her eyes. “I may as well go to bed, too. Night, night, Ella,” she says waving at my housekeeper as she stands and links arms with Mom.

  “Be careful on the stairs,” I remind them. Both are wearing heels, jet-lagged, and tipsy. All I need is another drunken fall and visit to the ER.

  I turn to look at Ella who is watching me with stars in her eyes. “Ella?”

  She startles when she realizes she’s been caught. “Oh, um, can I get you some dinner?” she stammers, but I’m curious as to what’s going on in her head.

  “What were you thinking?” I ask her, and she lowers her eyes to the floor.

  “You’re different now. I like it. All the sharp edges seem smoother. Love agrees with you.” She peeks up through her lashes, and I smile.