“One last thing, Oliver,” Zee says, as I keep signing the pages. “The mask. It’s up to you, of course, and as a technical employee of this household, you’re welcome to keep wearing it. Or—”
“I’ll keep it. Please.”
They both seem surprised by my quick response, but that was one thing I was worried about.
Keeping the mask in place will help me remember that this is just pretend. It’s a masquerade that Elliot and I are playing out.
It will go on until the Halloween masquerade, and then it will end when we both leave this fantasy world and go back to our separate realities.
I need to remember that.
* * *
The days go on with our new arrangements in place. One of Elliot’s requests was a formalizing of what we’ve been doing already: private punishments only. And though I was worried about how the other staff members might take my sudden rise in position in the household, I find I didn’t have to worry about it at all.
If anything, they’re almost as happy about it as I am. It only occurs to me later that maybe they think what Zee and Nik were thinking—that this is the start of some newrelationshipbetween Elliot and me.
But I’m hardly going to tramp all the way back down to the kitchen to correct their view.
As the days pass, I do find it easier to go to work and balance my submission to Elliot at home. And to my surprise, he makes caring for me as much a part of our dynamic as my caring for him.
It’s not that I’mnotserving him. I spend a lot of time on my knees, that’s for sure, and the punishments are regular—sometimes he doesn’t even mark it down on my dance card, but just pulls me over his knee andbam, spanks me until I’m squealing out an apology.
But he’s also very aware of my energy levels and makes sure to take the time to pamper me after some long and draining days at the hotel.
One Wednesday night, after I’ve returned well after midnight, Elliot has tucked me up in his bed and is feeding me my risotto dinner a spoonful at a time. He’s wearing his robe, and I’m pretty sure he’s naked under it. “One thing I would really like to know, butwon’task,” he says, “is where exactly, you work. What is this place where they work you hard all day and night, but is so wonderful that you still want to go back day after day?”
Wednesday has been a particularly difficult day.
Brandon was worse than he’severbeen today, and Sarita nearly quit in protest. I could hardly blame her. Plus Magda was on the warpath all day, and I’ve had to change around some of the staff scheduled for the meeting coming up next week, and then I realized I’d skipped over a whole hidden column in the Excel spreadsheet for the meeting’s budget.
It took two hours to go through the numbers again, in consultation with the accounts department, to make sure we hadn’t over- or under-billed the client.
So hearing Elliot speak so lightly of it rubs me the wrong way. “It’s ajob, Elliot,” I snap. “It’s not always fun. If it was always fun, it wouldn’tbework, it’d be play.”
“Yes,” he says after a pause. “I suppose that’s true. But couldn’t you just find a job that felt like play? That way—”
“No,my lord,” I say sarcastically, “I can’t just throw away my career because it’s not always super-fun. I’m not some rich aristocrat with land and a title.”
He pauses, the spoon halfway to my mouth, and puts in back in the bowl. “I’ve offended you.”
“You think?” Wow, I’m going full brat here. Elliot obviously thinks the same, because he gets a flash in his eyes. “I’m sorry, my lord,” I add after a moment, forcing the words out. “I’m being…disrespectful.”
“You certainly are,” he agrees. “Three marks for that, I think. But I’ll remove three as well, because I seem to have been disrespectful myself.”
He’s scrupulously fair. I’ll give him that.
“But just so you know,” he goes on, spooning more risotto into my mouth, “I’m not rich.”
It’s a good thing my mouth is full of creamy rice, or I’d say something to make him put a few more marks back in my dance card.
But apparently he can read my mind, because he gives a wicked smile. All he says, though, is, “If I were rich, Oliver, I wouldn’t be here begging in the streets of Hollywood as I am. And even then, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to save Arden Hall.”
I swallow the next mouthful quickly. “That’s your home?”
“Yes. My family’s ancestral seat. And over the last three years, while I’ve been wholly focused on myself and my misery, I’ve let it fall into financial ruin.”
Well, shit. This is all new information. “But you’re anEarl.”
