Showering this time around was quite different from six months ago.

I wasn't trying to scram. And I wasn't alone.

It could be sexier, I guess, if I didn't have my hair wrapped up in a pouffy turquoise shower cap but washing my tightly coiled hair wasn't something I could do often and without a precise, time-consuming routine. So I had to put it away.

Stellan was amused by that but made no complaints. He had the rest of my entirely naked body to get busy with, after all.

The clawfoot tub in my 1950s bathroom was updated but it still wasn't all that spacious for two showering adults. Luckily, not much room was needed to stay cozy and lather each other up, our straying hands taking their sweet time to memorize each other's body.

But another round of sex had to wait until we were dry-ish and able to make it to my bed.

When we did get there, another biological need demanded priority.

"I'm exhausted but most importantly, I'm starving," I muttered from under Stellan's arm which had me tucked in against him.

"Me, too," he said, even as his fingertips trailed down the dip behind my back and over the very rounded curve of my butt. "I think it's almost ten at night."

I opened an eye and saw him squinting at the vintage alarm clock on my nightstand. He'd lost his glasses somewhere in the hallway outside my bedroom. I found it endearing, that small flaw.

And he barely has any whereas your small flaws are things like physical aggression and drinking all day.

Groaning, I pushed myself up to my knees, which quickly resulted in Stellan's gaze going straight to my breasts bouncing in front of his face. Those he seemed to be able to see just fine.

"Come on, I'll go make something to feed us," I said with a laugh, sliding off the bed and grabbing a short, silky white robe so thin it was almost translucent.

My kitchen, pretty much like the rest of my house, was a mix of fifties-flair and modern finishes. I had the teal cupboards deepened just enough to give it a sophisticated feel, and got a whole new range of vintage-inspired appliances to go with it. It was feminine and nostalgic and quite ironic for someone like me to want because I'm definitely not 1950s wife-material. But I like what I like and that's that.

I had just started slicing pieces off a half-finished rye loaf when Stellan sauntered in, wearing nothing more than his black-rimmed glasses and dark gray boxers. His hair was that same damp mess I remembered from six months ago, except that the warm lights in my kitchen were bringing out the golden tones from its dark auburn shade.

With that long, sculpted body, that chiseled face, and that constant half-smile on one corner of his sensual mouth, Stellan looked fiercely potent. But he walked with a casualness like he didn't really think about how fucking hot he looked and that was what made my heart stutter and my legs press together from behind the kitchen island.

"I'm making turkey sandwiches because that's all I have ingredients for," I said as he walked around the kitchen island to stand next to me.

Too tired. Too hungry. Too tired. Too hungry.

"Stand at least six feet away from me or we're not going to be able to have dinner," I snapped, my voice a little shaky from a new rush of need. "For the love of God, we can't have sex again. At least not until we're both fed."

Stellan looked a little startled and then laughed, moving back to the other side of the kitchen island with his hands held up. "Alright, alright. I just wanted to see what I could do to help."

The frustration was real because I handed him the pack of sliced turkey and cheese none too gently. "Put some on the bread while I go wash and chop some lettuce."

The ten minutes it took to fully assemble the sandwiches and make a side of salad was quiet and efficient. We kept catching each other's gazes and the damned man kept smirking as if he knew the hell he was putting me through. I needed just the smallest amount of revenge so when my robe started to loosen, I occasionally shifted here and there to let some of my ample cleavage show. Well, that plus the hard nipples under thin silk were giving him pretty much a softcore-porn level of entertainment. His boxers started losing a lot of room to the growing bulge in them.

He eventually groaned and dragged a trembling hand down his face. "You're right. I'm too hungry right now. Let's actually eat."

I laughed and instantly, the sexual tension abated. I told him to grab his plate and glass of white wine and follow me out to the patio that overlooked the pool. Yup, the same pool where it all started.

"I admit I wasn't here long enough last time to get a good look around but your house is incredible," he said as we settled into metal chairs around the patio table. The metal surface had a mild cold bite to it but it was welcome in the humid heat of the summer night.

"I'm sure it was difficult since Rachel's face had been hogging yours the whole night," I said, supposedly as a joke but a pang of jealousy hit me anyway. She had only able to do that because I pushed her to him.

Stellan grimaced slightly. "That was only much later into the night. But I was distracted as soon I came through the door."

I had a feeling that if I wanted to keep harping on about Rachel, Stellan would let me and bear it like a saint. But I was feeling too good to torture us both tonight so I let it go.

"It was already a very nice house when I first got it—private, half a dozen rooms, a decent pool. A renowned—and pretty notorious—prima ballerina had bought it as a vacation home out here on the west coast. Rumor has it that she met up with her long-time lover here on weekend getaways. He was the governor of California," I said, giving the backyard a sweeping glance. "I love its history. I like rebellious women. And the house had so much character. Everything remained original to the decade but that also meant it was old and needed fixing."

"What I've seen of it still looks true to the decade but also updated," he said, glancing around. "Did you do all of it yourself? Clearly, you know your way around home construction."

"In the beginning, I did, and only the small stuff. I spent my early teens fixing stuff around the house because I was the only one who would dare lift a finger and there wasn't always money to call a professional," I said. "When I started working on bigger renos in this house, Jamie helped me. Took us about two years with a lot of extra hands."

"Is that how you met Jamie?"

I grinned. "No. I first met him at work. He built sets for a local studio the agency uses here in the city. He still does. He was the only guy who never looked at me funny so I chased him around telling him we should be friends. He told me I'm a lunatic then went shopping with me at Home Depot for a project. The rest is history."

Stellan laughed. "That sounds outrageous enough to be anything but the truth."

"I adore him," I admitted. "He's really good to me. Never puts up with my bullshit but lets me rattle in my cage at the very least. He's working so much on this new project but he won't let me pay him more than the minimum rate."

"Why not?" Stellan asked and his expression was sincerely curious.

"He wants to make sure we can pay the guys he brought in," I said. "We pay them a little more so they can get health insurance. We also opened them a tab with my doctor if they need anything. I think, if things work out, we'll keep them as a permanent crew for future flips. We'll add on as we need more."

"They looked like they still needed to be ID'd."

I grinned. "They probably do. College isn't an option for them and the jobs they'll find on the streets are going to land them either in jail or dead on a sidewalk somewhere. So Jamie and I are trying to keep them busy with honest work. Even if I didn't enjoy the process, I'd probably keep buying properties just to give them something to do."

Stellan studied me for a while before a soft smile touched his lips. "You're not really as heartless as you let people believe."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "They believe what they want to believe. I don't really go out of my way to try to convince them of anything."

"What if people only believe the worst things they hear about you?"

I shrugged. "Just because they're terrible doesn't automatically mean they're not true. I'm capable of doing some pretty questionable things."

Stellan chewed on his bottom lip for half a minute and I just watched, aware that he seemed to be working up to a question.

"I've been told a story of how you got this house," he finally said. "Is it true?"

I hitched a shoulder. "It depends. If the version you heard is from Rachel—which is me getting this house as a gift for a short fling with Jonah Wallace—then no, it's not true."

A hint of pink tinged Stellan's face and I let him soak in that moment of slight embarrassment for rolling with Rachel's preferred version of the story. But then I quickly reminded myself that I never really went out of my way to correct the public opinion after news of that night made the rounds. I only explained to people I felt like explaining to.

"Sorry. I never thought Rachel would deliberately lie about things, especially in the beginning when she acted like a dream girlfriend," Stellan said with a small, sheepish smile. "And honestly, I was too invested in every little trivia she had to share about you, even if I wasn't quite aware of it at that time. I didn't want to deter her from telling me."

I secretly added that to Rachel's growing tally of sins against me even as I gave Stellan a teasing smile. "Did you have a little crush on me back then?"

Stellan held my gaze, his next words quiet. "You sensed how I felt the moment we locked eyes on each other. You know you weren't wrong."

My heart started a slow throb, the breath thinning in my chest at the reminder of our near-instant pull to each other that night of the party. It threatened to push me right back down into the rabbit hole of what-ifs and what-nows and I shoved back hard at that, unwilling to burst this happy bubble we were floating in for now.

I cleared my throat and wiped all teasing from my smile. "So... Here's the real deal about this house. Yes, I got it from Jonah Wallace. But I didn't have an affair with the old man. He was nice and all, even a little sweet at how he'd attempted old-fashioned wooing, but I wasn't interested. So at a small private party where he wrangled an invitation to, we played poker. He had mad skills. When it was just down to the two of us, I asked him to bet a property which I'll own free and clear if I win. He chose this house."

"If he hadn't lost, what would he have won?"

"One night with me."

Stellan's eyes bugged out from behind his glasses as he choked a little on the last bite of his sandwich.

I grinned and waited until he had a chance to gulp down some wine. I wasn't being dramatic on purpose—okay, maybe a little—but Stellan had a lot to learn if he was going to survive being around me.

"Jonah was in his seventies, I think, when he died," Stellan said with a wince. "And that was a year after you got this house."

"Oh, he was old, for sure. I tried to set him up with my mother but he wasn't interested. Too bad, really, because he could've been a decent husband to her. He had plenty of money and he wasn't a douchebag," I agreed, smiling fondly at the memory of the old boy.

He really had seemed ancient to me, with the thinning silver hair and wrinkled skin, but he had such a light, easy-going personality that was contagious even to me. He never took any of my rejections personally and despite his insistence, he never acted inappropriately with me. He'd already been rich even before amassing more money as a hedge fund manager but he never married or started a family. "Truth is, he was a really nice man. I think he was just lonely."

Stellan briefly closed his eyes in mild disbelief. "I hate to ask but would've you have done it if he'd won?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I would've if I'd lost. It was a matter of honor—even if I did make that bet confident with my odds of winning. And no, I didn't cheat."

"Jesus, Kady," he said with a wry shake of his head. "You were so young then. Hell, you're only twenty-two now."

I snorted lightly. "Don't forget. I was married at eighteen. It headlined the tabloids for a bit."

Stellan's mouth tightened and he didn't have to say that he had definitely not forgotten.

It was, after all, the foundation on which I'd built my reputation. If one looked far back enough, they would find the crucial point when former starlet Cece Jones's odd-looking adopted daughter became the 'Child Bride'—engaged at seventeen to Warren Priestley, son of the wealthiest plantation owner in South Carolina, and married to him three months later, a day after she became legal.

"Do you think you can tell me about it?" Stellan asked quietly. "I only want your version of the story."

"But everyone else's is just so much juicier," I said in a dry tone, wondering how much he knew. The Priestleys paid good money for very little to get out there.

I never once kept my lips fully zipped about that part of my past but only a very few people in my life knew the whole story. I didn't know if telling Stellan would change things between us.

But if it did, then wouldn't you be better off walking away now?

"It was as black and white as the press made it out to be in the beginning," I admitted, daring fate to prove me wrong about my odds. "Cece and I moved back to South Carolina after she pretty much lost everything in LA. She goes through money like she goes through men—fast and full of bad decisions. I met Warren at one of his father's fancy parties and he decided right then and there that he wanted me. Cece thought he wasn't such a bad catch, despite being forty-six-years old at that time, and he happened to dangle her parents' old house as icing on the cake if I agreed to be his wife. Part of my brain back then operated the same way Cece's did, which was to believe that I needed a man to depend on, and I felt like maybe it wasn't such a big sacrifice if it meant we could get Cece's house back and live comfortably."

"Did you actually care for the man at all?" Stellan asked and I smiled at just how fucking classy of a human being he is.

"The first, and usually the only reaction people would have about my relationship with Warren, is absolute certainty that I married him for money," I said, absently swirling what was left of my wine. "And that's not wrong. I didn't hate him in the beginning but I didn't love him. I didn't even like him all that much with his creepy, brooding stares and the dirty stuff he'd whisper to me when I couldn't get away fast enough. I married him for money, plain and simple. I figured I'd be able to tolerate him well enough."

I calmly waited for him to say something, bracing for judgement, because even I'm not terribly proud of that choice myself.

"I don't think that decision sat well with you," was all Stellan said.

I raised a brow. "Well, I was definitely still thinking about it after we'd said our vows. I said yes because I thought I had time to settle into that decision. He'd promised to wait until I was ready, postponed the honeymoon for a month. Turned out patience isn't one of Warren's virtues. A week after the wedding, he started stalking me in the house. His lewd comments were getting worse until he just basically started calling me a whore. He'd corner me and grope me, even in front of other people, especially his friends. He'd make shit up and tell them all these filthy things I'd done for him. And then he finally tried to rape me—and married or not, whether for money or some true love shit, whether or not the wife wears too low a neckline to take seriously—rape is rape if a spouse says no and you do it anyway."

I didn't realize my grip on the glass had been tightening until Stellan suddenly grabbed it away from me.

"Easy now," he said, putting away the glass and taking my shaking hand in his. He brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss on my knuckles. "He's not here with you, Kady. He's out of your life for good."

The memories have never completely faded from my mind but angry defiance had always managed to push them far back and keep them there. It was rare now for me to gasp awake in the middle of the night, from nightmares of Warren's bruising lock on my wrists and his inescapable weight as he straddled me on the bed.

I met Stellan's intent gaze but I couldn't really see him in the haze of memories.

"Warren liked to smoke in the room," I said, swallowing hard. "I managed to kick him off me and I grabbed his ashtray in the scramble. I hit him in the head with it. After he went down, I kept at it. I wanted him dead. He would've been if one of the maids hadn't run inside."

"I may have to finish him off myself," Stellan hissed under his breath. The flat, cold tone was something I'd never heard him use before and my gaze came back to focus on his face. His free hand was clenched tight in a fist, aggressively pressed against his mouth as if it was seconds from swinging. His jaw was taut, and his dark brown eyes had a steely glint to them. "I don't care what you married him for. There's never a sufficient reason for a man to violate a woman."

I managed a smile, the dark fog receding. "I agree. And I fought for that when I demanded an annulment three weeks after I married him. I went to Edward, Warren's father, and told him everything. I didn't care about the money or the house they'd promised to settle on me. I just wanted out—and Warren in prison. Cece took my side after she learned what happened. She threatened to go to the press if they didn't cooperate. A month later, I was free. Edward paid me a small settlement—probably to discourage me from pressing charges against his son. I took it and bought Cece a small place in LA. Then I moved here. I was a different person after all that and I needed some distance from my mother."

"Do you blame her for what happened?"

"No. How could I? She doesn't know better," I said. "She tried to get me to survive the only way she knows how. But she had no idea what kind of man Warren is. An old girlfriend of his wrote to me a year after we left, telling me that I did the right thing. That he was a monster no one could label openly in a town where he and his family are practically gods."

My temper flared again at the reminder of how fucking unfair the world is sometimes. "Even now, most people who don't know the whole story still see him as the victim. And I was the gold-digging ditz he'd been smart enough to get rid of. One they couldn't blame him for having a temporary lapse of judgement over because, hello, have you seen this body? But I have zero fucks left to give about that now. People will believe what they want to believe and I'm not bending over backwards to change their minds about it when I have absolutely no use for what they think."

"I believe the truth only matters the most to yourself and the people you love and trust," Stellan said, a small smile on his face despite my fresh black mood. "Outside of that, everyone else is just noise."

"Yeah, like farts," I muttered and we both burst out laughing.

Stellan came out of his seat and crouched down in front of me, his one hand still holding mine. "Thank you for telling me. It was hard for me to hear and you're the one who had to live through all of that. But I understand so much more."

I traced his jawline with a fingertip as I fought the prickling behind my eyes.

I can't cry.

I haven't cried since that night I dropped the bloodied ashtray and scooted to a corner to wail at the pain in my soul. There was nothing else that Warren could take from me—not even my tears.

"More like what?" I teased, moving that fingertip down Stellan's nose. "My anger issues? My reputation as a man-hater?"

"Well, yes," Stellan said objectively, blinking behind his glasses as if his own train of thought had caught him off guard.

I laughed and bumped a kiss against his very serious-looking mouth. "Warren set me on a very different path after that night. I don't waste time on worthless men. Or just worthless human beings in general. And I make no bones about it which is neither pleasant nor popular with most people. Luckily, I don't care for having very many people in my life. The few good ones I've got are good enough."

"Am I one of them?" he asked in a husky tone, leaning in and touching his forehead against mine. "I want to be—quite desperately, I might add."

"Not sure why you do but you might be," I murmured back, circling my arms around his neck and tilting my head to kiss his mouth lightly again. "You definitely could be. Even though you shouldn't be."

His eyes found me in the shadows. "It's going to take some time, isn't it?"

I swallowed hard, guessing at what he might be asking but also terrified to assert anything. To make claims on what was beyond anything I imagined for myself.

"I'm not what you're meant for, Stellan," I admitted, wondering whether I was being brave or just wimping out at the moment. It was hard to tell. The difference is all in the aftermath. "I don't know that I can do happily-ever-after. I don't even know if I can do happily-right-now."

He smiled faintly, closed his eyes and nodded. "All I ask is that you give it a chance."

I teetered at the edge of that choice.

It was one I'd marked off my list years ago as highly unlikely.

But then again, it's Stellan asking.

*****

Ninya's Notes:

Happy New Year, everyone! I really hope that 2021 will prove to be a much better year for all of us, even if it's not going to start our great. I really do wish you good health and a happy mindset because God knows they've never been more important than now.

So, on to the chapter... What do you think of the revelation about Kady's past? When I was creating her character, I really wanted someone different not just from my usual female lead but also from Stellan. It was obvious that Kady was going to have a damaged past but I needed it to be one with mistakes she was not proud of but mistakes she would own even if Warren's actions can never be justified by her and her mother's poor choices.

Also... Peace is one of my low-key favorite songs in Folkore and I always knew it was going to be in this book because the man Taylor's referencing in the song is such a perfect fit for Stellan. I think, since day one after they met, Kady's always felt like to be with Stellan was like wasting his honor, even if she'd practically do anything for him. It's a song I definitely think she'd sing to him in her heart. So I'm so glad I found a chapter for it.

Anyway.. let me what you all think! Hope you have a great weekend! 

Till the next post!

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: Peace by Taylor Swift ♪♪♪

https://youtu.be/HpxX4ZE4KWE

Our coming of age has come and gone
Suddenly this summer it's clear
I never had the courage of my convictions
As long as danger is near
And it's just around the corner, darlin'
'Cause it lives in me
No, I could never give you peace

But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm
If your cascade ocean wave blues come
All these people think love's for show
But I would die for you in secret
The devil's in the details
But you got a friend in me
Would it be enough
If I could never give you peace?

Your integrity makes me seem small
You paint dreamscapes on the wall
I talk shit with my friends
It's like I'm wastin' your honor

And you know that I'd
Swing with you for the fences
Sit with you in the trenches
Give you my wild, give you a child
Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other
Family that I chose now that I see your brother as my brother
Is it enough?
But there's robbers to the east
Clowns to the West
I'd give you my sunshine
Give you my best
But the rain is always gonna come
If you're standing with me