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“You are correct,” I answered a little smugly. I was proud of what I’d created with my money and wasn’t afraid to show it off in the right circumstances.
Shelby’s jaw literally dropped in surprise. I never told her what I did for a living or that I was wealthy. Funny how I could feel so connected to her already, but we really didn’t know that much about each other.
The ramp down to my parking garage was almost invisible from the street, it was an optical illusion based on the lighting and structure. I owned four spots, three of which were full. I filled the fourth when parking the one I was driving. I bade Shelby remain in the car, wanting to be the one to unbuckle her and help her out of the car. I allowed her to carry the bear whose name she informed me was Sir Charles. The rest I piled in the elevator, including the bags from our shopping trip.
The ride was quick and silent. Shelby, unable to wring her hands and instead, picked nervously at the bear’s nose, which explained why half was missing. When the doors opened into the penthouse, her breath caught.
“Holy shit snacks! This place must have cost a fortune!”
Humor bubbled, and I couldn’t help but laugh at her remark.
“I purchased it in the building stages about twenty years ago, so not as much as you would think, still it was a few million at the time. I could probably get seventeen for it now.”
Her jaw dropped further if that was possible. “Are you a gangster?” she turned enormous eyes on me.
“Not even close. Come on, let’s put your equipment in the game area. I set it up for gaming already with all the bells and whistles. Then I can show you all the spaces on the way to the guest room where we can store your bags.”
I loved the gaming space but hadn’t used it often. Along one wall was a bar and above it multiple screens. On the floor were a half dozen white leather bucket-rocker seats you could also lock in six unique positions to get the best angle for the screens above. There was plenty of space left over for virtual reality games to be played. Perfect for Shelby to live stream.
“What a sweet setup,” she said excitedly.
“I like it too, but I only use it when Heimdall comes over.”
“Who is Heimdall? You mentioned him a few times.”
“His real name is Gabriel. Heimdall is his club name like mine is Baldor. He’s one of the owners of Midgard, as well as Valhalla and Asgard.”
“Viking Gods, cool. I’ve heard of Valhalla but never been as it’s a steep membership fee for someone like me.”
“Its membership is well-vetted, and we try to only let in people who are established in the lifestyle and are known to be courteous in the dungeon.” Shelby moved her equipment around and began placing it how she wanted on the sturdy glass shelving. She was itching to set up her gear, but I also knew after the emotional day and long evening that she needed rest.
“Shelby, there is plenty of time for that tomorrow, after a good night’s rest. Come, we still have a tour to do and expectations to discuss.”
I showed Shelby how the blinds were on a timer, but she could manipulate them when required. The entire front south-facing side was floor-to-ceiling windows, which were beautiful, but the light could affect her gaming.
I designed my place like a square with a corridor running down between the two halves. The front side included the master suite and all the entertainment space, the backside had the workout area and four additional bedroom suites. It was extravagant to have ten thousand square feet all to myself, but my home was my castle. The building offered additional amenities which I enjoyed, including shops, dining, and a nightclub.
The only time I went anywhere was to meet up with one or all of my core group, or to go to one of the clubs. My presence was not required at any of them, but I liked to drop in as Baldor and keep my finger on the pulse. As they knew me well in all three, finding a last-minute play partner, if I required one, was easy, and that was perhaps part of why I was growing tired of the game. It had all become too easy and superficial—predictable.
“What’s this space all about?” Shelby stopped walking, staring at my wine wall with interest.
“A temperature-controlled wine room that is also set up for tasting.” I wasn’t the only one interested in wine. Freya’s parents had been dabbling and with her now full owner of their thousand acres, we were considering investing and helping her convert the land to grow grapes. Before their illness and subsequent deaths, her parents had the inspections done and were given the paperwork to go ahead, then disaster struck, and the fertile land was waiting for its transformation.
I hadn’t spoken with Marissa much since the funeral. She’d been busy down south, taking care of all the things that went into the closing of her parents’ house and investments. I didn’t relish the idea, but being the only child, since the death of my sister, put me in charge of dismantling their lives after their death.
“When I first built the tasting room, I was going off on many wine-touring adventures and it made sense to set up a designated space for it. It impresses clients as well, but I don’t need to impress anyone, anymore. But I still like wine and hope to get involved in one soon.”
“You’re shitting me? I heard that was not near as profitable anymore because of the weather being so unpredictable. They’re blaming climate change, but I don’t know, seems too easy to me.”
There it was, the language again, just like an ornery teen who’d been given some small freedoms and exploited said freedoms to a whole other level. Time for a detour and a talk.
I moved down to the other hallway to the guest room closest to mine and deposited her bags on the floor. I sat down in the armchair and pulled Shelby onto my lap.
“We need to chat about your language, little girl.”
Shelby broke eye contact immediately. She did not like being chastised, and I knew from our run-ins at the club that she often responded defensively. That was a big difference I was discovering between a Little and a Middle. A Little would have accepted that a talk was about to happen and would already have crocodile tears spilling and splattering on my pants. Shelby was by nature defiant, and it fit well with the age she identified with.
“Shelby, look at me,” I said firmly. Her antics were almost laughable, and it required some effort to not chuckle at the way she looked at me, at an angle hiding behind her mane of hair. But she wasn’t disobeying, she was looking all right and no doubt saw what my eyes were expressing—don’t mess with me, little girl.
