My mouth goes a little dry, and I have to swallow before answering. “It is, my lord.”
He gives a slow nod. “Would it be too much if I asked…”
He needs a little encouragement, so I serve it up—but I add a side of cheek that he probably wasn’t looking for. “If you don’t ask, my lord, you’ll never know the answer.”
His lips thin, and for a moment I think I’ve pissed him off. But you know what? He’s actually trying to repress a smile.
“While you’re here in this household, I would prefer a monogamous interaction with you, as my assigned service submissive.”
“Of course. It never even crossed my mind—who elseisthere to fool around with?”
He can’t suppress the smile this time. “Well, Oliver, I don’t like to think that you choose me simply because you think thereisno other choice. For example, Chef Henriette, is a Dominant.”
“She is?” I ask blankly. “Oh.”
I’ve seen Chef Henriette crook her finger at Daniel from time to time, and they’ve disappeared from the main kitchen, only to return disheveled and red-cheeked.
I thought they’d been cooking at high heat in close quarters or something. Well…I guess they were.
Wow. I amnotas observant as I thought I was.
“Am I to understand, then, that you don’t have a yen for Chef Henriette? Or Carlton, for that matter?”
Carlton thebutleris a Dom, too? Well, damn. For a moment it seems awfully complicated, but then I think about it in terms of my work at the Bellamy. Carlton and Chef Henriette are kind of like middle management.
Lord Arden is still waiting for my reply.
“No, my lord, I don’t have a yen for either of them. Just you.” I try to backtrack as soon as it’s out of my mouth. “I mean—I don’t have ayen, I just—”
“I understand,” he says, and this time he actually chuckles. “I suppose what I’m asking for, Oliver, is temporary ownership. During your time here.”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Yes, please.” I look down at the floor, almost shy.
Ownership. From some Dominant I’ve practically just met? I can hear Brandon braying warnings in the back of my mind, but I ignore them. I’ve fantasized about having a dedicated Dom of my own. Brandon has one. Why can’t I?
“Is there anything else you would like to add?” Lord Arden asks.
“What about—what about when I’mnothere, my lord?”
There’s a very long pause, and I dare not look up at him.
“It was my understanding that you were leaving again after this weekend.”
Shit. I actually forgot for a second. “Oh, yeah.Yes, I mean. Yes, I…guess that’s true.” I look up at him now. He seems perfectly composed sitting there in the chair, totally relaxed. Unlike me.
I canfeelthe flush starting in my neck. “I just meant... Actually, I have no idea what I meant,” I say. There’s another long pause, and I start chewing my lip.
“I don’t believe I have the right to dictate your choices during your private time, Oliver,” he says at last, quite softly. “As much as I might enjoy that option. But if this is your last weekend here—and Niklaus said you weren’t coming to the masquerade—”
“No,” I admit. “I have a—a prior engagement,” I finish, remembering how Zee put it that night she first put the proposal to me.
“Then, regretfully,” Lord Arden murmurs, “it seems to be a moot point.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”
There isn’t, although he reminds me that if something comes up, he requires me to immediately flag it so that we can renegotiate. This guy is as safe a Dom as any I’ve ever had—and a buttload safer than a lot of the ones I’ve played with in LA.
