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Did he want to join in? To chase us?
And tickle my belly when he caught me?
Yes, please.
As strict and as harsh as his old governess undoubtedly was, and as successful as she might have been at driving the worst of his instincts out, she hadn’t completely succeeded.
A tiny filament remained, like a crack in the foundations of a majestic building.
Ready to be exploited.
And boy, did I want to exploit.
“I want you to be his governess,” he said. “I’ll give you the same deal I gave the previous one.”
“Oh no,” I said. “You’re going to do no such thing. You’re going to give me something a lot better than what she got. You can bet your bottom credit on that. And that’s if I decide to accept the position. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some toys to go look at.”
I felt good about myself that I’d bested Traes. But it was a pipedream. There could be no relationship between us. He was a rich alien dude in charge of a vast business of some sort and I was a poor former-slave girl just trying to make ends meet and return home.
It could never work out between us. Even if I wanted it to.
Which I didn’t.
Not at all.
Nope.
But boy, his ass looked good in those dark pants.
One of the most important things when developing trust with kids was keeping your promises.
I left to go find Cleb’s room and got lost immediately. The place was huge! I asked one of the maids for directions and she was very happy to take me to Cleb’s room personally.
When we reached his room, I thanked her and knocked on the door.
Cleb got up from the bed. He’d been reading a book.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I had to talk with your uncle.”
“That’s okay!” he said, thrilled I’d turned up.
“You said you wanted to show me your toys,” I said. “I can’t wait to see them.”
He had a ton. Some were so advanced they wouldn’t look out of place in the United States military. Others were constantly moving mounds of gelatinous mass much like a lava lamp. Most had a thin layer of dust on them, suggesting they rarely, if ever, got played with. The ones Cleb directed me to were a set of cheap and nasty mass-produced plastic figures of little men with fast cars and attractive women.
“What are these?” I asked.
He looked at me incredulously.
“You don’t know Captain Titan?” he said.
“I’m not from around here, remember?” I said.
He lay down on the floor so the little figures were no more than a few inches from the end of his nose. I got down there with him. He seemed surprised—and pleased—I did. He picked up a little figure of a handsome man armed with a pistol.
“This one’s Captain Titan and this one is his enemy, Titus,” he said. “This is his car and these are his super special weapons.”
“What do they do?” I asked.
