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A week later, Miles and Tessa arrived in front of an old brick home, just as the sun was setting. Tessa gazed in awe at the spooky sight that greeted her; the strange yellow/orange glow in the sky was an ominous sign of the dark things to come. The night was made even more portentous by Miles’ attitude. He was cold and brooding, as he’d been for nearly two weeks. As many times as his coldness had made her shudder, she was still unaccustomed to the effect, and it scared her.
The limo pulled into the circular drive in front of the mansion. This was not as expansive a place as Tessa imagined it might be; yet it was large and imposing, wedged between other antiquated houses in a neighborhood of the wealthy. Quite oddly, the lights inside the house glowed with the same ochre hue as the setting sun.
“Damien will be with you shortly,” they were told by a curt, efficient maid as she let them into the house.
“Is this the soiree?” Tessa whispered to Miles.
“No,” he answered.
“Then what?” she asked.
“Quit asking questions,” he replied as he held her hand tightly on his arm.
Tessa wished they would sit down—the high heels Miles insisted on hurt her feet even if they gave her legs the shape Miles loved. At the moment, though, her feet were aching and she thought it was a little too much to ask that she negotiate her way in shoes so high.
When the door opened, they were greeted by a cloud of cigar smoke billowing from the room beyond. The smell was pungent, but sweet.
“Please come in,” another maid said. She held the massive oak door open for them.
Miles dropped Tessa’s hand and let her walk behind him into Damien’s study. It was a pleasantly gracious room for the kind of man that liked to drink and smoke and read, and do whatever men do long into the night. With a half dozen overstuffed chairs, and a worn leather couch appropriately arranged, it could easily accommodate quite a gathering of men. Gazing about the room, Tessa noticed five men, including Damien, not one woman other than herself.
Tessa was bewildered by the group, as their purpose for being there was not obvious to her. Her presence on Miles arm caused little more than a ripple through the other guests. Damien himself was sitting behind his desk at one end of the room, smoking a cigar. Tessa thought he looked different than he had weeks before when she met him. That didn’t surprise her, considering the rapid transformations he’d made during their inglorious session together. On this occasion, he was cruder than he appeared before. His hair was mussed and he wore his tan sweater with the sleeves pushed to the elbows. Perhaps his earlier refinement was for the women at the luncheon; now among men, he took on a typically masculine attitude, with little polish or gleam. Frankly, he was more appealing to Tessa this way.
“You wanted to see her,” Miles addressed Damien. He looked up from some papers, as Miles walked Tessa through the middle of a heated conversation.
“Good evening Miles,” one gentleman said, interrupting his harangue long enough to greet his friend.
“G’d evening Miles.”
“G’d evening.”
The one salutation triggered another, which triggered another, but the idle small talk was brief. Once Tessa and Miles were standing in front of Damien’ desk, the other men returned to their chatter about stock prices.
There was something odd in Miles manner; but Tessa had little time to consider it, since she was quickly the focus of both men’s attention.
“I was unimpressed with your little trinket,” Damien began, “I was surprised you were still keeping her around. When you mentioned the soiree, I thought we should talk.”
“You weren’t unimpressed with the movies,” Miles reminded him. “But frankly Damien, I don’t really care about your considerations. Take it or leave it, she doesn’t have to be at the party.”
Tessa was surprised to hear Miles talk so sharply to his “major patron.”
“I’m sure something can be worked out,” Damien assured him a little more kindly.
He leaned back in his chair and stared her. Despite his more consistent attitude this time, he was still unsettling. His eyes bore into her with a ghastly intensity that made her want to turn and run from the room. Anticipating her trepidation, Miles grabbed her arm and held her fast, just for good measure.
“Actually Miles, I wanted to see how I’d use her,” he said. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get a good look at her at the luncheon. Not good enough anyway. She is the kind that requires a good bit of thought. Is she trained on a leash?” he asked.
“No, and I don’t plan to, at least not before the soiree.”
“Really?” Damien replied in wonder. “You’ll have to tell me your reasoning on that.”
“Anytime,” Miles said, “anytime but now.”
Damien nodded at him, respecting his wishes. “So, if I collar her, what will that mean?” Damien asked. “Will I have a petulant little bitch on my hands all night, or will I be able to use her as I wish.”
“I can’t say Damien, but Tessa learns quickly, I imagine she’ll handle the collar well, after all she’s wanted one around her neck for some time.”
“And you’ve denied her, how interesting.”
