I can’t help but smile again. “Perks of being my slave,” I nearly growl. His smile drops and his pupils blow out. I clear my throat, and say, “We can come back for you to change after I show you the rest of the house.”
Cassius follows me out of the room, and we go back the way we came and into the large dining room.
“This is where I eat meals. This is the spot I prefer—” I gesture to the head of the table that faces the bay windows that overlook the backyard. “You will spend time here while I eat. Over here is the door to the kitchen.” We push through the swinging door and enter the kitchen.
“Holy crap,” he mutters. “This is like a restaurant.”
“It came with the house,” I say, feeling odd about the way he feels about my house. Living like this is all I’ve ever known, and though I know not everyone lives like this, I’ve never had someone scrutinize it before. “Anyway, there is a chef that comes to prepare meals. They are kept in the warmer here. When it is meal time, you will be the one to bring me my meals. Mitts are in this drawer, the tray is here, and the menu is posted here on the refrigerator, so you know what to grab for condiments and drinks. Any questions so far?”
“No, no questions.”
“Great. Let’s continue then.” I go back through the dining room, turn left and go into the sitting area. “We will also spend a lot of time here. I like to read or relax with the fire in the colder months. And the last place that you need to know of is my office, which is this way.” We make our way to my office, which is around the corner and down the hall opposite his room. “I try not to work while home, but it happens sometimes. You’ll need to know where it is, in case something comes up and I need you here.”
“Is there a schedule of where you will be at what time, so I know where to find you?”
“I left a detailed schedule on your bed that you can look over when I send you back that way. It’s not set in stone, but it’s good to go off. I will typically tell you where to go and when, though. Like when breakfast is done, I’ll tell you to meet me in the sitting room in ten minutes, for example.”
“So, I should get a watch?” he asks, holding his wrist up, and I get the strangest idea.
“Actually…” I walk over to my desk and pull the small key from my top drawer. I hesitate a moment before walking to the locked closet in the back of the room, where the safe is kept. I put in the code, pocketing the key for now. The door pops open. There are a few of my favorite watches in here, and something about him has me wanting to see him wearing one of them in particular.
“I need to be honest with you,” I start, walking over to him with the watch in my hand. “These are special to me. They’resome of my favorite lines from my company, and I can’t be sure why I even want to do this, but something is telling me I should. Let me see your wrist.”
He holds his wrist out, and I put the watch on.
“It fits perfectly,” he breathes out, looking down at the watch.
“Guess it was meant to be then.”
He looks up at me, his eyes watering. I let go of his hand, liking the way it feels in mine a little too much.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, fine.”
I give him a look. “You can’t lie to me. It’s important we’re honest.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I am okay. I’m not used to having nice things, and all of a sudden, I do. Clothes, a phone, a car, this watch… I don’t feel like myself. It’s like I’m borrowing someone else’s life, and one day, I’ll have to give it back. It’s all pretend. It’s a part to play.”
“I understand,” I step closer, putting my hand on his upper arm. “I appreciate your vulnerability. But let me ask you… does it feel wrong?”
“No,” he whispers. “And that’s what’s scaring me. I like it. It feels right.”
“Then let it be.” He nods. “But if it becomes a problem…”
“I will tell you immediately.”
“Good boy.”
There go his eyes again, wide and pupilsblow.
I shouldn’t like that I caused it. Or worse—I shouldn’t want to do it again.
God, he’s going to be the death of me.
“Right, well, if you don’t have any other questions, we can begin?”
“Yeah, totally.”