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I'm a bit troubled that I don't know which one of my masters Mr. Kelly is. I think it's probably Seven, but I don't know for sure, and I feel confident Seven and Declan won't submit to an interrogation about the matter, so I quietly shut the door.
“Sorry, I was just exploring.”
She smiles, not unkindly, and goes on about her business.
I'm also a little weirded out that every single bit of staff knows my name. The second floor has several large nice bedrooms with balconies, several of which have their own bathrooms, like mine. None of the rooms are Declan's or Seven's. It's the third floor where I find their rooms. They look different in the day. Both are understated and masculine.
Having seen just about everything there is to see, I go back outside and get in my car. I don't remember the way here, so I program the address of my penthouse into the GPS.
It only takes about thirty minutes to get back to the city. It seemed farther away, but I guess every drive feels long when you're drunk, scared, and about to lose all your freedom to people you know you can't truly trust.
I go back to my penthouse and just sit on the sofa, staring out at the view of the city. I'm still processing all of this. I order in pizza and watch TV and take a bubble bath trying to feel normal. I'm still not sure if that drunk phone call was my worst idea or my best.
I get back home ten minutes before six to find Seven standing in the main entryway, still wearing the suit. My mouth goes dry. That look really works for him. “We're having dinner in the formal dining room. I'm told you've snooped around so you know where it is.”
I'm not sure if he's upset about that. They didn't say I couldn't look around. They never said any area of the house was off limits.
“I'm sorry, Master,” I say even though I don't really feel I owe him an apology.
He smirks. “For knowing where the dining room is? Yes, you should surely be punished for that high crime. Go upstairs. There's a dress for you on the bed. Put it on and come down. Dinner's almost ready.”
Upstairs, draped across the bed is the most sophisticated black evening gown I've ever seen, and a pair of silver heels. I dress and fix my hair and makeup then stand for a few minutes admiring myself in the leaner mirror. The pink gemstones glitter in the light. The band isn't too thick and clunky, so it doesn't seem out of place.
“You really are a pretty toy.”
I spin around to find Declan—also still in a suit—leaning against the door frame.
“Dinner's ready; come down now.”
“Yes, Master,” I say, but he's already disappeared down the hallway.
I move slower than him in heels, so I never quite catch up. When I reach the formal dining room, fine bone china and crystal has been laid out. The silverware is actual silver. Servants are serving some type of soup in shallow elegant bowls.
Seven sits at the head of the table. Declan is seated to his right. There’s another place setting across from Declan. One of the servants pulls out that chair for me, and I sit.
“You look beautiful, Kitten,” Seven says.
“Thank you.”
“I'm sorry, what?”
“Thank you, Sir,” I attempt, hoping he'll take that because we aren't alone in this room.
“No,” he says flatly, even as his hazel eyes flash with emotion. “That will not work for me. Try again, Kitten.”
“Thank you, Master,” I murmur as I feel the flush crawl over my skin.
“Good girl.”
We've just finished dinner in the formal dining room when the doorbell rings. Seven and Declan remain seated. I hear the front door open, some murmured words, and then a moment later a dangerous-looking man with dark hair and coal black eyes steps into the room. He, too, wears a suit, but even dressed nice, he looks rough and hardened, which makes the suit seem ill-fitted, even though it's as well-tailored as Seven’s and Declan's.
I tense as his gaze sweeps appreciatively over me. There’s something slimy and oily about the way he looks at me. He lingers on my cleavage before moving up, but not to my face. To my collar.
He knows. Then he looks me straight in the eyes and smiles.
His attention shifts to Seven.
“I thought I'd never get a meeting. I heard you were gone for a few weeks.”
