“Did you ever have long hair?”
“It depends what you consider long, but longer than this, yes.”
“Did you braid it?”
“Yes, because it’s the most practical way to keep your hair out of your face when you’re doing things, such as sailing a boat.Now, enough of this.I’d rather not feed into your obsession.Unless you’re feeding yourself, I’ll order a chef.”
Theodore gaped at him.“You’ll order…a chef?”
“Yes.To make you food.”
Theodore, with the skill of a good former sex worker, wiped his face clear of any strong expression.
“I’ll make a salad and have that with the leftovers.I like leftovers, you know.”
Perhaps… Ah.The chef was male, objectively handsome.That’swhy he wanted the amendment.He doesn’t want another man in the house.And taking up work at the Boudoir must’ve been what Celeste advised to help drive home the point that he is deserving of my full attention.It does not explain why he went out eating with Sage’s apprentice and this Carl person, however.Hmm.
“Of course.Do you mind me reading a few pages while you make your food?”Peter tapped the novel Theodore was still holding open.
Theodore let the book fall shut, stood, and stretched.“At your own risk.”
Peter only glanced at the pages.His attention was mostly on his phone as he went through a list of names.Now, which one of these culinary experts comes with a vagina?
Chapter 7
Theowasfeelingbad,and he had no idea why he was feeling bad.No, I fucking do.Peter’s too fucking nice, and him being nice all the fucking time obviously makes me feel bad for asking him for that stupid cock-lock clause in that stupid, ridiculous contract.Why the fuck did I ever agree to sign a contract in the first place?
Theo was reheating a stir-fry and some rice in the microwave, watching the little plate go round and round in circles.It was taking too long.
“Do you know what you want to watch tonight?”Peter asked, looking up from the really bad book that was just bad enough to be sort of good, like junk food or too much sugar.
“You know I hate that question.”Theo tried to say that sweetly.He meant it sweetly.Yet, in his own ears his voice rang with annoyance, and only the slow microwave deserved that.“Do you always have to ask?”
“Oh, I absolutely do.What if I miss you hankering for a specific movie, and I make you watch a silent film instead?”
Peter, in his strange basement archive, had a lot of them, some so old Theo guessed they were the only copies left, neatly digitized and labeled at that.They’d watched a French one once, and Peter had translated the intertitles on the fly, whispering them in Theo’s ear.It had been entertaining, delightful, and hot all at the same time.
Theo focused on the seconds the food had left to heat through.“Well, can we do horror again?”
“Of course.Do you want me to pick, or should we let the computer do it?”
That was another Peter thing.The way he’d explained it to Theo, he’d curated a large database of movies and sorted them by genre, release year, and run time, and then he’d written a program that could pick one at random.Theo had mentioned that there were websites that could do that, and Peter had explained that there were none that only included good movies in their data set and had the rare ones he had in his collection.“Besides, I made this for us,” Peter had added, and Theo shivered just remembering those words.
“Yup.Yeah, let’s do that.Nothing too old though.I want something newer.”
Peter turned a page and hummed.“That’s doable.”
“Cool.”
Peter put the book away and stood, then put out a tray for the food.He’d timed it perfectly so the tray was there when Theo was ready to get his food out of the microwave.
“Theodore, let me.It’s hot.”
Theo frowned.“I burned myself a little that one time.I learned my lesson.”He pointed.“You have oven mitts.”
Peter was already moving in though.“I do, but you have such beautiful hands.I’d much rather do this than risk you hurting yourself.”
“Fine.”
