“I don't know what the hell you're talking about,” I reply and shift my gaze heavenward, still pondering on his question.

“I highly doubt.” Roberto chuckles beside me, which impels my eyes to look back at him. His serious demeanor returns rather instantly when he says, “I'm not sure what's going on, Adrian, but I am going to tell you one thing—father to a son.”

That's all I needed. My single father-figure handing relationship advice. We might as well ask the devil about tickets to heaven while at it.

“I'm listening,” I remark anyway, eager to hear whatever he has to say given that we've never had any personal conversation before, especially the one involving matters of the heart.

He sighs heavily as I eye him intensely, waiting.

“If she chose you despite knowing the kind of life you live… No, the life we, the Castles, live, and still want to remain by your side, then perhaps she's worth every risk you can possibly take, have you ever thought of that?” He inquires strenuously and I'm a hundred percent sure he is referring to Arabella, which means he's more invested in my personal life than he lets on.

Surprisingly I'm not mad this time, but my face hardens at the weight of his words.

“Does the life we live fit someone like her? You were there when she nearly died, remember?” I retort.

Roberto nods and says, “I remember, son. I also remember how devastated you were when you thought you'd lost her after that godforsaken incident, and even more when you eventually sent her back.” He pauses; we stare at each other deeply and keenly, and it almost feels like an invisible father-and-son bond I once thought we had has returned. “The life you lead, Adrian, can get pretty lonely as years go by. No, it does get lonely, and empty, and everything good you once had becomes a ghost of a memory blurred with time and regrets.”

A slim cold creeps onto my skin at his last sentence, making me shudder inwardly. I exhale a sharp breath through my nose, experiencing a wave of sadness akin to fear.

“Is that what happened with Reece's mother? Do you regret pushing her away?” I pry, for I know only half of his story with Solana Torres, a cellist and tango dancer he met on one of his trips to Cuba many years ago.

Reece has never seen her mother's face, not even the sound of her voice. She was taken away from Solana the minute she was born, and it was the last time we heard of the woman Roberto Castle loved for more than twenty years of his life.

“No, my story with Solana is different,” Roberto replies after a long silence, his eyes averted down toward the front garden yard. “She was expecting my child but never wanted to keep it after knowing who I am and the world I live in. It scared the hell out of her.” He glances briefly at me, his moonlit eyes radiating the long, buried ache.

“Because having your child meant she'd be stuck in your world,” I exhort, merely affirming his statement.

“Exactly! And by that time I was a different man, a man full of vanity.” He stares at me this time, as though whatever he's about to say next won't be as colorful as I would imagine. “I wanted to kill her for even thinking about killing my child, or maybe for not loving me enough to accept all of me which is very pathetic now that I think about it, because it was her decision based on her true feelings.” He laughs gently while saying this.

I only smirk. In the end he didn't kill her. Reece was born and that woman is still alive, I suppose.

Or not? I gaze at him sharply, eyes narrowed with minor confusion regarding this tiny detail.

“What did you do to her?” I quiz.

After a monument of time and suspense, Roberto casually replies, “I banished her. She despised this life so I gave her the opportunity to run and never look back and she took it without hesitation,” and there’s deep pain hidden behind his stern eyes.

I'm surprised he never told anyone about that. Sometimes it feels like Reece resents and blames him for keeping her away from her mother because no one in our family knows or speaks about her.

“But that American girl is not Solana,” Roberto states, interrupting my immediate train of thoughts. “I knew that much from the moment I  met her and I could tell she had a backbone to stay by your side right away.”

“But it doesn't mean she has to,” I snap, feeling completely undecided. “I tried my best to keep her out—I swear I did. But she always finds a way to get in and I don’t know if that's okay because it feels fucking okay having her next to me right where I can see her.” 

Just thinking about Arabella and not being able to hold her and kiss her right now makes my heart enraged. I feel like I need her more everyday.

“Then stop protecting her from afar and do it right beside her like a real man, Adrian!” my father snaps back. “Live a full life together, or at least die trying, damnit! You don't get this same life twice so don't waste years trying to fix what the universe has already fixed. You love her, be with her! You always do whatever the hell you want anyway so what changed? You are not the type to run away, you always face it head on! You got out of the fucking pentagom, something no one managed to do alive, and you built your own secret empire just to prove me wrong about the hands that kill, now it’s about time you do the same for yourself!”

I'm not sure if things are as simple as my father makes them appear to be. It could've been easier if I didn't break Arabella's heart too many times already—maybe I could go back. But right now, more than anything, I am afraid of doing the same thing all over again by dreaming too high.

It's true I want and need her by my side now more than ever. God knows how beautiful life becomes whenever she is around me, at home especially, but can I afford the price that comes along with such luxury? Can I be the man she truly deserves?

When I finally lay in bed, back in my old bedroom, I clutch my phone from the wooden nightstand and reach for the message tab. It's almost sunrise but I don't have a wink of sleep even after emptying a half bottle of rum I've found in Roberto's vintage stash.

I type a text to her: 

Let me start by saying I'm sorry about the argument we had earlier. It wasn't my intention to shout, I only want you to be safe and when you are not I lose it. Also...

I hesitate, unsure what to write next. How do I tell her that I love her, miss her, and need her, and that life has never been the same ever since I shut her out of my life several months ago? What if she's decided to move on with Erlington, her boss, and now she wants nothing to do with me?

“Fuck!” I growl at the thought of him, Erlington Svvenson, or any other man, touching her the same way I used to touch her.

It wrecks me right from the marrow of my bones. I hate the idea itself and it’s exactly what fills my head from this point as I marvel at the dinner date they had today and whatever they might have said and done throughout their fucking time.

Angrily, I delete the whole text and rewrite: 

I apologize for what happened earlier, but you should be careful because it's still not safe out there! I hope your boyfriend can be patient for a little longer. Take care, Good night.

And as soon as the text is sent, regret slaps me hard on the face. Why the hell did I have to mention him like a jealous man I hate to admit I’ve become?

“What the fuck am I doing, really?” I think out loud, falling down on the bed with a sigh wondering why I'm behaving like an adolescent for the first time in my life.

“He's gotta be kidding me!” I throw my phone away after reading Adrian's message. “So much for the apology, that bastard.” Now I pull the duvet and spread myself comfortably in his vast bed that carries his scent as though he’s here.

Replying to his message will only infuriate me further, I decide. But he still haunts my thoughts for a longer time, especially since I'm sleeping in his room tonight. I’m angry at him for thinking that I’m having a fling with Erlington, that I'm probably fucking him, but somehow there is a silver lining because at least it affects his guts.

He may act all macho and inflexible, but deep down he's just a man with feelings like any other and I will make him regret thinking that he can just toss me around for whatever reason. I will keep seeing Erlington, if he's really up to it, but with no strings attached. That period of being loyal to my feelings towards Adrian Castle is over.

I'm done being good!

I'm fed up with branding him the only man left on Earth for me.

My phone chimes again and a deep frown appears on my face, thinking it’s Adrian. But it's not. When I open my Whatsapp, I find Erlighton's message wishing me good night and thanking me for the great time he had today, and normally this is the part where a girl begins to feel those tiny butterflies blanching their wings in her tummy.

But I feel indifferent. Maybe the rage toward Adrian has consumed my entire emotional system. With a faint smile, almost forced, I type back a simple reply showing I had a great time as well, which is true, and that I'l see him tomorrow at work. I don't know if being with another man will help me resolve this inner conflict I'm having with myself or not, but I’m willing to try.

As I place my phone back on the nightstand, I once again see the credit card he's left me for whatever reason. My fingers reach for it and my eyes stare absentmindedly at its exquisite, royal-like appearance. It’s the infamous Amex black card that comes with invite only—not just any rich man can have it. I mentally snort, knowing a commoner like me is here holding it.

“Welcome to mama,” I whisper under my breath, smiling with malicious intent, for I've got a number of things to purchase just to see if the legends are true about it not having the 'spending limit' and, mostly, what Adrian's reaction will be.

____

When I wake up in the morning, I find that lady in the kitchen again, having a serious instruction-like conversation with Mario. Based on the lemon, bleach, and breakfast smell flying all over the place, something about bacon and eggs fussing in the skillet, I think she woke up earlier than I usually do. She's already cleaned the entire living room floor, and she's onto cooking now.

Impressive!

“Good morning,” I greet them while tiptoeing my way around the island, still wearing my pajamas.

“Good morning, Ara.” Mario beams, dressed fully in his black suit, as usual. At last his warm demeanor is restored in comparison to his disposition last night. “I hope you slept well,” he says gently.

“Better than I expected.” I brush it off with a smile because I do feel positive today.

We exchange pleasantries until he finally introduces me to Adelle, the newly hired part-time housekeeper to assist with chores.

“Oh, hi.” I smile at the tall, middle-aged woman with long black hair pulled up into a tight bun. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mrs. Castle,” she replies, and my eyes widen.

“Sorry, what?” I lower my head to one side in a confused fashion.

“Um…” She hesitates, her round eyes skating between me and Mario as if she's seeking for clarity. “I thought she…” Her voice trails off again, and her gaze remains with Mario who's surprisingly on the verge of laughing.

He clears his throat. “Well, I think I forgot to mention that Mr. Castle is not married yet,” he tells her, but it still feels vague.

I mean, where did she get the Mrs. Castle thing? Was it the argument I was having with 'my husband' yesterday?

“Just call me Ara,” I step in.

“Very well, ma'am” Adelle utters. “I'll have your breakfast ready, is there anything specific you prefer?”

“Um, not really. A toast, bacon and eggs will do but please make it to go; I have to be in the office early,” I reply and it feels super weird that I have someone doing my daily bidding.

“Of course,” she says simply and I round my way back upstairs after muttering my thanks.

She sounds professional, maybe too professional for my taste, but I have no reason to judge yet given that she may have gone through a lot of screening to even be considered a pass to enter Adrian's private quarters.

Before I go to work, however, I leave her a list of instructions about my house rules and the kids, emphasizing on Reece's allergy to berries and Isla's overenthusiasm to sweets which is about to have all of her teeth fall out at this rate.

“Don't fall for their ploys,” I add. “None of them is allowed to go past that elevator, and no one other than Mario and I are allowed to get in. Absolutely no one!”

Reece rolls her eyes at the breakfast table and Isla pouts, making her fork collide with her plate as she drops it recklessly to cross her arms on her chest. They wanted to go to Central Park but I cannot risk that unless Mario and I are there with them.

“At least let's get Thor and Loki back! Where did they take them?” Isla laments.

“Well, they had to stay at the vet’s. I don't think Adrian would appreciate little poodles running around his house, would he?” I grab my breakfast bag in a hurry, already dressed in a white palazzo jumpsuit and nude strappy heels. “See you guys later. Behave! Both of you!” I give them a warning glare as my shoes click-clack on the floor.

“Sure, Mother!” Reece mutters and I realize that her little princess attitude no longer bothers me as it used to before.

Laughing, I tell Mario, “I'm done. Let's go.”

Thanks to Adelle, we're ahead of the rush hour as I had a free morning without much to do other than preparing myself for work. There’s no congestion on the road; we reach Hi-Five earlier and I'm the first one to arrive in my department according to the friendly receptionist I recall as Tatiana.

“And you look insanely stunning today! I haven't been seeing you around, where were you last week?” she asks exuberantly and with so much energy to converse.

How do some people manage to do that so early in the morning?

“Thanks,” I reply to her compliment before adding, “I just had some family emergency but all good now.”

“I see.” Her pink lips stretch into a broad smile; she is speedily typing away something on her big computer, eyeing me over the screen. “Well, Mondays are crazy and mine is already crazier. Have a great day, Ara!”

“You too, sweetie,” I answer and usher myself toward the elevator, ready for my own slice of Monday.

There's a huge bouquet of fresh flowers on my desk when I walk into our office. My eyebrows pull each other into a frown, wondering what the hell is going on as I'm the only person present here. But I think of Erlington right away, and it’s weird that after just one date we've already moved into flowers and... chocolates? I see a cute red box beside the flowers.

Carefully, I place my purse on the desk, eyes on the sophisticated red wrapper holding a bunch of red, pink, and white roses mixed with baby breaths. I slowly lift the bouquet to look closer, still unsure what I feel about this exotic romantic gesture. The flowers are lovely, honestly, and their fragrance has turned my space into a garden. And there's a card, type-written beautifully.

I've screwed up again, I’m sorry.
     ~Adrian

___________

A/N: Our guy is trying, right? I feel his struggle to remain in control crumbling lol. Thanks for reading.

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