Page 28 of Slave

Doing some final stretches, I thought back to the paperwork she filled out for Richard. Her birthday was June 18th, and she was still seventeen when she came to be with Ian Pierce, which increased my belief that she’d been forced into this.

The more I thought about it, the more I was certain she’d not graduated high school, if she’d gone at all. It was just one more thing we needed to discuss.

Grabbing a towel and giving a quick swipe across my face and neck, I went back downstairs to shower.

When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I nearly tripped over Brianna. Taking in the scene before me, I tried to make sense of it. She was once again kneeling on the hard marble floor of my kitchen only a foot away from the soft cushioning of the carpet. The sentiment was not lost on me. I’d snapped at her last night. Brianna thought I was upset with her, and she was providing penance.

“Stand.” She rushed to comply but kept her head lowered.

I looked her over, taking in each angle and curve. There was no denying I wanted this woman. The memory of how she’d woken me yesterday was still fresh in my mind.

But those thoughts were of little use to me now. Instead, I held my ground. “How are you this morning?”

“I am well,” she answered in a very timid voice.

“Good,” I said. “I’m going to my room to shower.” Moving to go around her, I noticed her pressing her lips together. I paused. “Did you have something you wished to ask, Brianna?”

She nodded but didn’t speak. I was not going to play this game, so I just waited for her to spit it out. It didn’t take nearly as long as I’d thought it would before she asked, “May I make breakfast for you this morning, Master?”

Shock crossed my face, although with her eyes still on the floor she didn’t see it. But then it also struck me that this was the first real thing she had asked for without prompting. She wanted to serve me. I knew it was her way of apologizing for whatever wrong she thought she did last night to upset me, but this was an improvement over her last attempt at thank-you. “Yes, that sounds lovely.” I was about to walk away again when I saw her lips clamp together a second time. “Was there something else?”

“Do you have a waffle iron?”

I glanced up at my cabinets. Diane had been the one to stock my kitchen with what she saw as the essentials. Racking my brain, I tried to recall if a waffle iron had been included. There really was no telling. I hadn’t used half of what she’d installed or shelved. “I don’t know, but you are more than welcome to check. My kitchen is at your disposal.”

“Thank-you, Master,” she whispered.

Watching her for only a moment longer to see if there was anything else, I was surprised to see a hint of a smile. She was happy she’d pleased me.

Since I was no longer needed in the kitchen, I made my way to my bedroom. Today would be a casual day. I had some e-mails to catch up on since I’d taken yesterday off, but nothing that would take me more than an hour. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I lay them neatly on the bed.

The shower was my refuge, my sanctuary. I let the water fall over me and wash the tension from my body. In here, there was no Brianna, no broken woman whose life and well-being were solely in my hands. Just me.

After drying off and getting dressed, I stepped out into the main room. As soon as I opened my door, the most wonderful smell hit my senses. Waffles.

Looking into the kitchen, I was struck by the sight of Brianna standing with her back to me pouring batter into a waffle iron. Apparently, I owned one. Her moves were flawless, almost like a dance as she reached for the things she desired. She was obviously at home in the kitchen, and from the smell of things, could cook wonderfully.

I walked toward her and managed to make it over halfway before she noticed me. Her reaction was such that she almost dropped the plate full of waffles she held. She met my eyes only briefly before her gaze lowered to the floor.

Continuing to close the distance between us, I walked to the refrigerator. She remained where she was, holding the food. I figured instead of telling her to take the food over to the table I’d go with a less direct approach. Opening the refrigerator door, I reached inside for the milk. “Would you prefer milk or juice?”

There was only the slightest pause before she answered. “Milk, please.”

Closing the door and tucking the milk under one arm, I went around her to grab some glasses. By the time I turned back around, she was at the table sitting with her hands in her lap. I smiled.

Breakfast was absolutely divine. The waffles were perfect, and she’d even made syrup from scratch. Saying she could cook was an understatement.

After four waffles, I laid my fork down. I just couldn’t eat any more. “Those were delicious, Brianna. Thank-you.”

I saw her eyes widen in surprise at my praise, then a soft, “You’re welcome, Master.”

Watching her as she continued to eat, I asked, “Do you enjoy cooking?” She nodded. “Would you like to be in charge of our evening meals, then?”

Her eyes widened further, but she pressed her lips together again and nodded. She was keeping something from me. “What is it?”

She remained silent.

“Brianna,” I said with a hint of my impatience.

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