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The streets flew by without my notice. I was on auto-pilot. It had been months since I’d been back here, but I would have been able to make the trip with my eyes closed. It was home, far-removed from everything else in the world. No one else had ever been there because I hadn’t wanted them to taint it. But Scar, she belonged there. Our home.
Fuck, that was some sappy shit, but there it was.
I made a quick stop at the post office and then, precisely twenty-three minutes after pulling off the highway, I slowed as I approached the gates. A retinal scan and 12-digit code later, the gate opened and I put my hand on Scar’s shoulder to wake her.
Her eyes fluttered open and then went wide in fear, but she became aware faster than before and she turned to look at me. I smiled and then nodded ahead of us, then drove slowly up the winding drive. Her eyes went wide in astonishment, not fear this time, and I bit back a grin. Yeah, she was impressed. Two storeys of stone and glass—a five-thousand square foot escape from my everyday life. It was small in comparison to Marcos’ home, but it was perfect for me.
We reached the top of the drive, and she was still staring wide-eyed at the house. The property surrounding it wasn’t much to look at—rock and stone and self-sustaining shrubs. Allowing no one else here meant I didn’t employ landscapers, and I wasn’t exactly the gardener type. It was tidy though and serene.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed finally.
“It’s ours…unless you want to tear it down and build something from scratch.” It seemed like a waste of a house, but if that’s what it took for her to feel comfortable here, I’d do it.
“Of course not,” she said, though her countenance had changed.
She was nervous. A new place. More unknowns. Maybe I should have insisted we stay at the hotel longer. Since it was too late for that, I slid out of the car and came around to help her out. Her ribs were healing, but the seats were lower than the bed height she’d had to manage at the hotel.
She wrapped her arms around me as I slid my hands beneath her arms to help her up, but once on her feet, she didn’t let go. She was breathing faster and I could feel the pounding of her heart against my chest.
“I know it’s ridiculous, it’s just…” she started to explain.
“It’s new and different, and it’s already hard enough to deal with things you are accustomed to,” I finished for her. She knew my history now. She didn’t have to wonder how I could relate.
She nodded against my chest, and it only took a minute for her breathing to return to normal. When it did, I took her hand and led her up the front steps. She was intrigued by the retinal and fingerprint security checks at the door, and hopefully, it would help to reassure her nothing was getting in without my permission.
And then we were inside, and I was closing the door and re-engaging the security system. Clutching tight to my hand, she gazed around in wonder. Marble and granite, leather and crystal, the décor were extravagant, and the open floor plan, even more of a wonder to behold—not nearly as magnificent as the woman standing next to me though.
This was it. She was here—in a place I could never have imagined she would be a few short months ago. But I knew what came next—what I’d agreed would come once we were here. A part of me hoped she’d forgotten or changed her mind. Another part of me very much hoped she hadn’t.
“I know what I asked, but I don’t know how…or what I should do.”
Well, she hadn’t forgotten.
This part should have been simple. A master controls while a submissive submits. I wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the premise. But I’d had some time to think this over the past three days, and if I was going to go through with this, I wanted a few modifications to the typical structure—whether she liked it or not.
“I’m going to take you on a tour of the house, and then we’re going to discuss the ground rules.”
“Rules?”
“Tour first, then rules.”
I kept the tour brief—she’d have plenty of time to get acquainted with the house—and I deliberately concluded the tour in the sunken den at the far side of the house.
“All right, Scar, this room is my first ground rule. And it’s non-negotiable. In this room, you’re Scarlett Donovan. You say what you think and you do only what you want. Understand?”
“I don’t…”
“Consider it a rhetorical question, Pet. Like I said, it’s not negotiable. You will spend time in this room every day. When and how much time is up to me.”
