Page 25 of Bound to Him

Parker pushed himself off the bed and stood with legs that were a little wobbly. It didn’t matter. His master held him steady as they went into the bathroom. “We’re eating in the theater room, Master?”

“No.”

“The dining room, then?” That hadn’t happened since his arrival. He hadn’t even gone into it, only glimpsed it through the open door. It seemed weird for them to eat there. “Do you have guests coming?”

“No. It’s just the two of us and we’re eating on the patio now that the weather has turned nice.” He slapped Parker on the ass. “Now, into the shower with you.”

* * * *

Parker sat where Sebastian led him, confused yet excited at the formality of how this night with his master was turning out. They were both dressed in button-down shirts, slacks and loafers, as if they were eating in a nice restaurant. The table on the patio was set with flawless white cloth and napkins. A lit candle sat in a hurricane lamp in the middle, surrounded by a ring of cut flowers. There was china and silver, nicer than the everyday dinnerware and cutlery. A tall, silver ice bucket was standing to one side, a bottle of what even Parker could tell was champagne nestled within. The way the table was set, it looked as if they were going to have more than one course for their meal.

“This is beautiful, Master.”

Sebastian smiled. “I’m glad you like it. Having a patio in this part of Boston is rare. I don’t take advantage of it nearly as much as I should.”

Beasley entered with a trolley containing a large terrine that matched the white plates with their subtle gold ring. The man lifted the top and ladled pea soup in each of their bowls, drizzling some kind of creamy white stuff over the top before adding crumbled pieces of bacon.

“Shall I open the Cristal, sir?”

“Please do.”

Parker watched with fascination as the servant opened the bottle of champagne. There was no burst of liquid shooting out the way he’d seen on television. There was a quiet pop, then Beasley filled first Sebatian’s flute, then Parker’s.

“Thank you, Beasley.” Sebastian lifted his glass. “I hope you enjoy this. Many people would argue that Dom Perignon is the best champagne but I prefer the taste of Cristal.”

Parker looked at his drink with a frown. “I’ve never had champagne of any kind. I don’t think I’m allowed to drink alcohol. I’m not twenty-one,” he added, as if the man who’d paid an enormous sum of money for him didn’t know his age already.

“Nonsense. This is a private home and if it’s legal for you to be a debt slave, it should be legal for you to drink.”

Parker figured Sebastian knew what he was talking about and it was true, the laws about debt slaves did seem to outweigh others that had been in place far longer. He took a tentative sip. The subtle flavor burst across his tongue and the liquid slid easily down his throat. Finding it pleasant, he drank more deeply before setting down his glass.

“What do you think?”

“I like it, Master.”

“Good. I’m sure you’ll like everything Beasley has prepared. Starting with this very refreshing soup.”

The sandwich he’d eaten at his mother’s house was long gone from his stomach. He found he was hungry and tucked into the soup with true gusto. It was delicious. No surprise there—Beasley was a great cook. Parker was glad that the dinner wasn’t going to be anything too exotic for his tastes, as well, if this first course was anything to go by.

“How was your visit?”

Surprised at the question, Parker looked at his master. “It was great, thank you. I gave them gift cards because I wasn’t sure what they’d want. They said to be sure to tell you how grateful they were.”

Sebastian seemed very pleased by that. “Excellent. It was my pleasure and the gift cards was a sensible idea. I always buy my mother something shiny from Tiffany’s for her birthday and Christmas. I have no idea if she likes any of it, but as she expects a tangible gift, I have to go with the safest choice.

Parker scraped the bottom of his bowl. “My mother would hate getting something from Tiffany’s. She’d be too afraid of losing it.”

He sat back and drank more of his champagne, acutely aware of the social and economic chasm between his family and his master’s.

“She sounds like a sensible woman. Ah, Beasley. The soup was excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.” Beasley removed the empty bowls and replaced them with plates of risotto with what looked like lobster. He also presented them with a side salad of arugula, upon which he shaved some parmesan before disappearing again.

Parker chased his champagne down with ice water before tucking into his main course. He was grateful that he recognized everything. That knowledge, along with the alcohol he’d consumed, made it easy for him to relax.

“How is your food?” Sebastian seemed to really care about the answer.

“It’s delicious, Master. Thank you.”

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