But I take Oliver’s, and I let him lead me deeper into the maze. The sounds of the surrounds fade away, muffled by the enormous hedges that rise several feet higher than the both of us. Zee had this maze installed near-grown, Niklaus told me once. It is well-established now, the only sound the ruffling of the hedges as they tremble in a breeze. Above us, the late September sky is still California-blue and clear; in England it would be dreary by this time of year.
And in front of me, Oliver pulls me onward.
“Ezra said there are shortcuts,” he confides after a few minutes, turning back to look at me. “Should we try to find them?”
“No,” I say at once. “We’ll find our way as gentlemen, Oliver. No cheating.”
I imagine his nose wrinkling up this time when he smiles. “You really like things in a particular way, don’t you?”
“Don’tyou?” I counter. My heart is beating faster. I’m not sure I like it.
“Come on, then,” is all he says, pulling me on with him. “We’ll do it like gentlemen.”
He walks more slowly than seems necessary, and he continues to take the lead, forgetting everything he learned as recently as five minutes ago. But for some reason, I don’t mind it as much as I would with any other staff member.
Naturally Oliver thinks me too demanding, too insistent on having thingsjust so. He lacks even the basics of service. I might point out to him that the detail-oriented training I am giving him is a privilege; Dominants these days are so focused on pleasure—or pain—that the simple art of service is becoming a rarity.
And Oliver himself is a prime example of this lax attitude. A young man who has, by everyone’s admission, been involved in the scene for years—and yet he struggles to merelywalkbehind a Dominant.
Olivershouldbe walking behind me, exactly as I showed him not ten minutes ago.
I stop, releasing his hand, and he stops as well, looking back at me with the same excited wonder in his eyes that has been there since we began our foray into the hedge maze.
“What is it?” he asks, his eyes finding mine with fearlessness. He can’t even keep his eyes respectfully dropped. “Do you want to stop for a moment?”
“No, I... You should be…” I can barely speak over the music crashing around in my head. Where on earth did it come from, after I’ve struggled all morning with that wretched theme song? It’s quite a new melody, winding its way down to my fingers and making them twitch, aching for the piano keys, I assume, until I clench them.
Do these fingers of mine want to play?
Or do they want to touch?
Oliver is still waiting patiently. “What is it, my lord?”
I don’t want to speak sharply to him, to ruin the mood. He’s only here for the weekend, after all, and he seems to be able to bear my company for more than a few minutes at a time, unlike some of the other house staff. “We should take the next left,” I say, gesturing ahead.
His eyes get even wider. “You think that leads to the middle?”
“Perhaps.”
“You’ve been in here before, haven’t you? Okay. I’ll trust you. You take point.”
“Point?”
“You go first.”
I happen to know this maze very well. The turn we take will not lead us to the middle.
But it does make Oliver move behind me and, finally, let me take the lead.
CHAPTER8
Oliver
Haughty Hottie keeps hold of my hand as he leads me through the maze, and when I’m not staring around in wonder, I’m staring at the back of his head, wondering. He seemed uncomfortable when we first entered the maze, but now that we’re in it and he’s leading me through it, he seems used to all the twists and turns.
I’m still thinking about his accusation from before: that I was topping from the bottom. Mostly I’m thinking about it because it was kind oftrue. My work persona might be super-accommodating, but I do get a steel undercurrent in it sometimes, especially when I’m managing a difficult guest. But I was so worried about lunch service—especially after bailing on breakfast like a total chickenshit—that I figured it couldn’t hurt to pull on that figurative mask along with the literal one I’m wearing.
Lord Arden picked up on it right away, and he didn’t like it.
