Page 17 of Kept 3
“Let us meet your chef,” he murmurs, walking to his desk and ringing a small bell.
The butler knocks twice on the door, and then enters, announcing the man behind him as he does so, and I gasp, my eyes widening as I turn to stare back at Nicholas. He looks in control, as he always does, but there is a slight uncertainty in the quirk of his lips, as though he doesn’t know if he has done the right thing.
“Monsieur Contell,” I breathe.
“Hello, Josephine,” he smiles, his heavy French accent taking me straight back to the restaurant in France. I’d spent so many nights after work and days before, leaning against his stainless-steel benches and gleaning every bit of information I could about becoming a Michelin starred cordon bleu chef. And now here he was, in Ereston, I couldn’t believe it.
“How?” I ask, spinning to look at both Nicholas and he, as they shake hands.
“Your fiancé, Mr Lumier, invited me to stay and teach you. I have a three-month long-service leave from Paris, so I thought, why not?”
“Fiancé?” I hear my voice go up three octaves as Nicholas gives an imperceptible shake of his head and takes my hand, squeezing it hard.
“And I couldn’t ask for a finer chef,” he says, turning to smile at Monsieur Contell.
“This is not the place for you, Chef,” I shake my head, trying to impress upon him the fear in my eyes as I pull my hand, painfully, from Nicholas’ strong grip and step towards Monsieur Contell. “Please, go back to Paris. I don’t need a chef of your standing and experience to teach me the basics. I’m afraid I will just be wasting your time.”
“Not at all, Josephine, darling,” my captor croons, moving to stand beside me and placing his arm around my waist, as I stiffen in his embrace. “Monsieur Contell is excited to serve here, isn’t that so?” he turns his charm full-blast on the chef who gives me a concerned glance, but nods.
“Very well. My butler will show you to the kitchens,” Nicholas says quietly, his arm still clamping me in place beside him, “Josephine will join you in a few moments, and your lessons can begin.”
Chef Contell nods and gives me an uncertain smile, before turning and following the butler out of the room. The butler gives me a withering look as he leaves. I don’t know if he told Nicholas I had drugged his tea, but I no longer have a stash of unused sedatives in my room, so I’m thinking, yes.
As they go, I round on Nicholas, turning to face him, his arms still clamped around my waist.
“You can’t have him here, you psycho. Set him free.”
Nicholas laughs, but gazes down at me, an amused set to his lips. “He is no prisoner. I have paid him five times his normal salary and given him a house and car to boot. Believe me; he is very, very happy to be here. Unlike some,” he adds, his tone darkening.
I frown as I notice his eyes slip from mine, to my lips.
“You told him I was your fiancé,” I accuse.
He shrugs.
“Girlfriend doesn’t really cover our relationship. Our commitment will be lifelong.”
“Yeah, right, as long asmylife lasts, not yours,” I mutter, struggling to pull myself out of his arms as he tightens his hold.
“Why do you resist me so, Josephine?” he sighs, “you know you want me as much as I want you. Would it make you happy to become my wife, to wear that title, rather than be my Kept? Is that what you require to acknowledge my sincerity?”
“You are seriously on drugs, Mister,” I mutter, still struggling, “and don’t even think of using any of your crazy mind-powers on me again. I swear, I will never speak to you again if you repeat anything like that stunt you pulled the other night.”
“Josephine,” he chuckles, “I assure you I have no more ‘crazy mind-powers’ up my sleeve. And what I did to you,” he says huskily, leaning forward and running his nose from my collarbone up to my ear, slowly, “was something that can only be done to my Kept.”
I close my eyes for a second, his nose is giving me goosebumps and sending delicious shivers up and down my spine. It is difficult to concentrate.
“I am not your Kept,” I mutter, trying to lean away from his nose as he continues to run it up and down my neck.
“No?” he laughs quietly, “if you had not wanted it, wanted me, it would not have worked on you, Josephine. And tell me, have any of your other lovers ever made you come, with a word or otherwise?”
“That is none of your goddam business,” I mutter through clenched teeth, “now let me go.”
“I will,” he says, breathing out slowly and looking me in the eyes, “after a kiss.”
“I’m not going to kiss you.”
“We could stand here for a very long time,” he smirks, “I am certainly quite comfortable and happy to do so. Chef Contell might begin to worry though, and if he worries too much, it might impact on our arrangement in unforeseen ways.”
