“Bathroom is over there.” I gestured to the left with my hand and she flinched. Jesus, that pissed me off. How many times had Alfonzo or Jacob raised their hand and hit her? “Go shower. There are clothes next to the sink. Come out to the kitchen when you’re done and eat something.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. She’d do everything I told her to.
I stood, brushed by her and left the room.
It had only been eight minutes since I left her before she was walking barefoot across my hardwood floors into the kitchen.
I stood facing the stove, stirring the vegetable beef soup in the cast iron pot, the steam and aroma rising up in front of me.
I refused to direct her on what to do. This was a learning curve for me, too. I was pretty fuckin’ sure her normal move would be to kneel on the floor, probably by the doorway. But my rule was blaring in her head.
I swear I heard her heart thumping hard against her chest a few feet behind me as she again had to decide what the next step was. For all I knew, she’d just stand there until I addressed her, but she’d have to wait a fuck of a long time. I’d make her stand there all night if I had to.
I ladled the soup into two bowls then carried them over to the bar stools at the island which was a mere inch from where she stood. The scent of the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with the soup.
I pulled out both seats then sat.
Ask me, London. Fuck.
It was a simple test. I knew she was watching me and from the corner of my eye, I saw her bite her lower lip and her eyes waver to the stool, to the bowl of soup, and back to me.
Take a risk, damn it. Be fuckin’ brave, baby.
Ten minutes. Ten fuckin’ minutes. I was on my second bowl of soup and hers was no longer steaming.
“May I eat, master?”
“Yes. You can help yourself to anything you want at any time.” And I didn’t like her calling me fuckin’ master. “You know my name—use it.”
She sat quietly at the island and ate the cold soup. I restrained myself from heating it up, but that was her fault it took her so fuckin’ long.
I never said I was nice.
She was cautious as she ate, and I couldn’t help imagining us in her kitchen together. A different arrangement. An entirely different girl.
I looked at Raven. I’d never fuck her.
I shoved back my stool, stood, then went and rinsed out my bowl in the sink, put the rest of the soup in a container and placed it in the fridge. I washed the pot then turned around and she was still sitting there, spoon resting against the lip of the bowl and her head down.
“Go to sleep when you’re done, bab… Raven.” I strode out of the kitchen, open concept, so I was still technically in the room, and sat on the couch. I put my knife on the glass coffee table along with my rolled-up wire. Then I clicked on the stereo to some jazz, put my feet up, and waited.
I had my head back and eyes closed when I heard her approach. And this is when it fucked with my head because I wanted to look at her, hold out my hand and drag her down on top of me, then undress her and taste that sweetness I’d craved for years.
Years. Jesus.
But I didn’t want the submissive, obedient robot. I wanted London.
“Kai,” her voice trembled and I stiffened.
I took my time to peer at her standing beside the couch, arms at her sides, fingers gripping her shirt. A scared little rabbit that wanted to crawl in her hole. But I was the wolf and I sat on it, blocking her escape.
“Yes?” I knew exactly why she was here. She had no idea where she was supposed to sleep. Alfonzo, and I was pretty sure he was the one who kept London to himself, may have kept her in a basement, on the floor of a room, fuck, in a closet or cage for all I knew. I’d have liked nothing better than to wrap my piano wire around his neck and watch his eyes pop out as he struggled to breathe. And just for fun, I’d let him take a breath then take it away over and over again.
“Where do you want me to sleep?”
“You may sleep in my bed for now. The guest room isn’t set up yet. When it is, you may sleep in there. The choice will be yours.”
She hesitated, biting her lower lip as if contemplating what I’d said. But this wasn’t about me. This was about her and she had to learn to make choices.