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Quickly, I picked a simple black shirt and a pair of jeans. I slipped on a light pink pair of panties and a matching bra before I dressed. I slid my feet into a soft dark gray pair of quilted flats that fit like they were made for me.
Everything fit perfectly. Too perfectly.
I sighed and left the closet. I’m not sure why, but there was a small part of me that wanted some part of the outfit to not work out.
I walked down the hall and turned right before proceeding down the stairs into the open living room and kitchen area. The scent of bacon was already wafting throughout the room and my sour mood seemed to ebb for the time being. Dean was dressed in a pair of black lounge pants and a simple burgundy-colored t-shirt. The cotton fabric hugged the firm muscles of his backside and I couldn’t help myself as I took a long look.
When he made a movement to turn around, I looked away as quickly as I can, hoping he didn’t notice the way my face heated anyway.
“See something you like, little girl?” he smirked and I blushed harder.
“I’m starving,” I responded, ignoring his jab to the best of my ability.
I sat down gingerly on the stool in front of the rather large granite island and put my elbows on the edge. My backside was still slightly sore, and I did what I could to hide that it was. For a while, I just watched him cook quietly. He seemed to know what he was doing, much to my surprise. He oiled the pan before frying up a few eggs and he even kept the bacon that was cooking beside it covered with the lid to keep the grease from flying everywhere.
It was pretty impressive, actually.
The toaster dinged and as if he’d planned the timing perfectly, he plated the eggs, a few pieces of bacon, and then the toast seconds after it popped up. He passed over a smal
l jar of peanut butter, jam, and some butter in my direction the moment after he placed the plate in front of me. With a smile, he swiftly salted my eggs and then ground a little pepper on top as well.
“This looks delicious,” I smiled.
“Eat up. You’ve earned a good breakfast for sure,” he said, and I turned away with embarrassment at his implication. I stared down at my plate and picked up the toast, deciding that I wanted peanut butter on it. I reached for it and he grabbed it first, twisting it open and handing it to me. I muttered a quiet word of appreciation as I took it. I scooped some out with my knife and spread it over the rich wheat bread in a flourish. Finally, I took a bite and enjoyed the warm taste of freshly baked and toasted bread.
“So, what exactly are your plans for me?” I asked briskly.
“You’re going to live here with me as my wife,” he answered.
“Yeah. I got that. What does that mean? Am I imprisoned in this house? Am I even allowed outside?” I asked. There was a distinctive bitterness in the tone of my words, and I couldn’t hide that even if I wanted to.
“You’re not my prisoner, Willow, if that’s what you’re asking. It isn’t safe for you to venture far, but it should be for you to go into town if you need anything,” he answered.
“Good. When can we go?” I pressed.
He cocked his head.
“Is there something you need already?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I’ve just never been to Switzerland.”
It was the truth. I’d been to a number of cities within the United States and had even been taken on a few quick trips to Mexico and the Caribbean and even further south with some of my previous marks, as well as some interesting beachy locations for the honeymoon, but I’d never spent much time in mainland Europe, especially not in a place like this.
“I’ll take you into town this weekend,” he offered.
“You will?”
“Sure,” he replied with a grin. “It isn’t a particularly big town, but it’s charming and there’s several really good hometown cooking restaurants as well as a few rather quaint shops.”
I’d definitely never been to anything like that. My marks always seemed to want to impress me with their money and took me to the best of the best.
“I’d like that,” I said. While I wanted to see the town, I also wanted to look for avenues in which I might be able to disappear without a trace.
“Why don’t we go tomorrow?” I added.
“I have to go out of town on business for a few days. I get back on Friday evening. We can go together on Saturday morning,” he answered.
“Oh. Where are you going?” I asked.
