I want to know what she’s thinking.I’m about to ask when her stomach gurgles.
“Let’s get some food into you.”I take her elbow, and she lets me steer her down the long hall, leaving the likeness of my parents and younger self.
We have breakfast in the south wing in a dining room that gives us a view of my mother’s gardens.
“This is incredible,” she says once she’s finished her omelet.
“What?”
“All this.”She waves a hand around the cavernous room.This was my mother’s favorite dining space, full of light.It was designed with white columns and cream and gold wallpaper, and she added large pastoral paintings in ornate frames.
“Oh.”I set down my napkin.I say thank you because it’s polite and not because I had a damned thing to do with the architecture.
“I can’t imagine growing up here.”For the first time today, she meets my gaze.We share a long glance, and I sense that she’s not complimenting me on the grandness of the house.She’s thinking of how it would be to live here as the last remaining Roy.So much wealth and grandeur and nothing to make it a home.“You must have been lonely.”
“Hamish took care of me,” I say lightly.“And I went to school.”
“Until you were kicked out.”
“I see you read my journals.”I know she found my boyhood bedroom.I watched her on the surveillance cameras.We haven’t discussed it yet.
She looks abashed at invading my privacy.“Only a few.But I don’t need to read them to know how alone you were.”
She knows because she’s felt that deep, aching loneliness herself.She didn’t have the comfort of wealth to buffer it.She sees me, and she understands.
As exciting as it is to have her know my secrets, I don’t know if I’m ready to be dissected like this.“When you’re finished eating, I’ll give you a tour of the rest of the house.”
“Rex,” she hesitates, and I know she’s going to say what’s been on her mind since she woke up.“I’m not staying.”
I half expected it, but it still hits like a body blow.
“Thank you for breakfast,” she continues, “but I should be going.”
I control my impulse to shoutNo.“Where will you go?”
“To the city.To do my job.”She’s toying with her collar again.
I clear my throat and look pointedly at her collar until she realizes what she’s doing and drops her hand.
Only to raise it again to indicate the metal at her throat.“When are you going to remove this?”
“Why would I remove it?”I’ll make her say it outright.Tell me she doesn’t want this.
We both know she’d be lying.
She huffs.“I can’t wear it forever.”
“Why not?”
She looks around as if waiting for help to come.“Because I need to work.I need to get back?—”
“No, you don’t.”I let my gaze roll over her.She’s wearing the clothes I gave her and eating the food I provided.
She flushes because she knows how much she loves it when I care for her.“You thought I would, what, quit my job and be your full-time submissive?
“Sounds perfect.”Being with her is the most pleasure I’ve had in this grand room.I lean in, coaxing her to confide in me.“You love this.You love my control.”
She averts her gaze, and I want to grip her shoulders.Make her admit what she seems so reluctant to voice.
