Before I made a decision, another reply came.
Master,
Did you have a good day?
-Your Pet
No one asked me that.Ever.
Not my partners. Not my staff. Not the people who shook my hand and called me “Sir” in a different tone. It was such a simple question, but from her…it cut right through me.
I shouldn’t have answered.
I did anyway.
Not really but it’s better now, talking to you.
My finger hovered again. Too honest. Too much. I should’ve deleted it.
But then another message appeared before I could.
I probably can’t do much, but could listen if you’d like, Sir?
-Your Pet
That word—Sir—slipped through the screen like a promise, threading heat through exhaustion.
Even in text, she could undo me. What was it about this girl?
I typed it before I could stop myself, and watched the words appear in the message box. Was it too much? Would it reveal the identity I’d kept hidden?
I deleted it.
Instead, I wrote?—
It’s under control.
A lie. But one that felt safer.
See you Saturday.
My reflection glared back at me in the dark glass of the office window. The truth was, everything was not under control.
The company was bleeding money. The clients were losing faith. And the only thing that seemed to ground me anymore was her voice, her obedience, the softyes, Sirthat made everything else fade away. The things I shouldn’t want outside of the club but fuck it all to hell, I did.
I set the phone down, dragged my hand over my face, and stared at my now clear desk, trying not to imagine Mira tied to it, begging for release.
If I kept this up—if I let the lines keep blurring—I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keepMasterhidden at the club.
Chapter 17
Mira
Pushing send on my phone, I snuck a glance at Mr. Reid’s door. He’d kept the blinds closed all day and hadn’t come out once. I’d learned he had his own restroom in the back of his office, which explained why some days he didn’t leave even for food.
Mr. Cross was out doing damage control. I wasn’t sure where Mr. Hale had disappeared to, but the last time I’d suggested bringing Micah in, Mr. Reid had all but bitten my head off. I understood wanting to keep the circle small, but ours was running out of ideas. And without new ones soon, we’d all be out of a job. If he weren’t so damn unbearable, he might actually listen to reason.
Had I really just asked my master to tell me about his day? Of course he’d deflected. Why had I expected anything else?
