I found myself pacing the house, steps light and quiet. Nothing was dusty; nothing had changed from when I was here before.
The pictures were all in the exact places. There were still no signs that anyone lived here.
A perfect posed house for a magazine. And not in a cozy way, either.
“Charlie?” Vincent’s voice caught me mid-step as I passed the office door, cracked just enough to see the edge of his desk.
I paused, peeking in, hands clasped tight in front of me. Had I done something wrong? Did he need something?
“Come here.”
I didn’t run, but my feet moved faster than usual, stopping at the side of the desk, keeping it between us like a buffer I hadn’t asked for but needed.
“Tell me your thoughts,” he said.
Not what I expected. I glanced around the room, then back at him.
“The house doesn’t look lived in,” I said slowly. “I’m trying to figure out why.”
Vincent leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach. “When I bought this place,” he said, “I hired a decorator. Told her to do whatever she wanted. I wasn’t home much back then, just needed a bedroom to crash in at night.”
He shifted, pushing his chair back slightly, the space between us stretching but not breaking. And for the first time, I wondered if he’d ever really let himself belong here. Maybe he was like me, feeling like he didn’t belong in a space called life.
“I love the kitchen, but the rest of the space is just…not me, I guess you could say. Maybe, together, we could redo it all. Pick colors and furniture and pictures to hang up to make it feel more homey.”
“I’m…I’m not good at that.” I shook my head.
“You never know, we could try. Hire a designer to listen to what we want. I want this place to feel like your space, too.”
“If you want, Sir.”Please press it,I thought.
“I’ll let you get used to being here first, then we’ll figure something out.”
“Okay, Sir.”
“Was there anything else bothering you?”
I shook my head, hoping he’d ignore the lie. There were many things, but nothing I wanted to voice. Like ever.
“You are free to talk to me, ask me whatever you want. I won’t be upset over your questions or concerns.”
I dipped my head in a nod.
“How about you pick out a book on the shelf over there and find a spot to read and relax. You’ve been walking the house for a good fifteen minutes.”
Glad to have something to do, I did just that.
The bookcase was full of different things. The history book would be the best choice, but my hand went to a different one. One that had words I didn’t understand.
BDSM, Submissive or Dominant.
Surely if Vincent didn’t want me to read it, he’d have told me.
Finding a chair, one that I hadn’t noticed the last time, set in front of a window, I curled up into it, legs pulled up under me, and started to read.
***
I didn’t notice him at first. Not until the shadow stretched across the page and I had to force my eyes up from the words.
