Enslaved (3 page)

“Someone’s going to go through my things? Who?”

“You can ask Adele yourself. That’s her.” He gestured to a casually dressed woman, the blue phone on her hip as well.

Adele stepped forward with her hand out and a huge fake smile on her face. Had to be fake, because why would this woman be happy to have her move in? Elisabeth shook her hand but didn’t return the smile.

“Are you his wife?” Elisabeth asked. It came out sounding like an accusation. “I mean, I’m sorry. I’m Elisabeth. Trevor invited me here.” Although she still couldn’t figure out why she was chosen. Why her, and not a woman who would fit into this world of his?

Adele laughed like they were old friends already and shook her head. Her hair moved slightly and then bounced back into place. “No, I’m not Trevor’s wife. I’m his house manager. An estate this big requires a team to keep it running, and a manager to run the team. Here’s your phone, by the way.”

Huh. Elisabeth took the blue cell phone gingerly, like it might bite her. Her name was engraved on the back, as if Adele had a random engraver on hand to quickly write things into metal as necessary. They even spelled it the way her mother had, with an
s
instead of a
z
.

“That’s in case we find a lost phone, we know who it belongs to,” Adele said. “I have your number, and so does Trevor. I’ve already put all the numbers you’ll need on speed-dial for you.” She started walking up a winding pathway leading to the main doors and looked behind her expectantly until Elisabeth followed.

What had she gotten herself into?

“What numbers are you talking about?” Elisabeth asked. “I don’t know anyone here.”

“If you get hungry or thirsty you are welcome to come to the kitchen, or to have someone bring you what you’d like. So Kitchen is third on the speed-dial. Trevor’s first, I’m second, of course. If you need a ride someplace, Carl is number four, or if you need help dressing or with your hair or makeup, that’s Julian, number five on the phone.”

“Why would I need help getting dressed, from a man? Does Trevor know about this?”

“You’re not Julian’s type, sweetie,” she winked. “And he’s a master at making people look their best. He’s even done me up a few times when I had a special date with my hubby. Julian’s good like that. You’ll like him.”

So Adele was married. Okay. All of the information she’d just thrown at her swirled in her head. Where was Trevor? All those rumors she’d heard about the BAD Boys back at WhipperSnapper mixed her up, not knowing which were true, which weren’t, or even which rumor applied to which of the guys. Who had the dungeon? Who’d been arrested? Who had the fucking airplane?

She didn’t know Trevor at all, yet here she was moving in and already she had a cell phone with her name engraved on it. For someone who’d never had anything, this was overwhelming.

It would have been easier if Trevor lived in the projects somewhere. At least then she’d know what she brought to the table.

“I’m sorry if I sound grumpy,” Elisabeth said to Adele. “I’m usually really nice, I swear.” She forced a laugh and a smile. “I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t know what to expect when I got on that train at Grand Central . . . I didn’t realize it was all so . . . formal.”

“Oh honey, no, you’re not grumpy! And we’re totally not formal at all. Look at me! I’m in khaki pants! Now let me show you around.”

Elisabeth followed Adele around the house for what seemed like forever, although she did admire the movie theater set up in the basement with reclining leather chairs and drink holders, a popcorn machine and a screen that could rival any proper movie theater she’d ever been to. The indoor Olympic-size pool was cool, too.

So is this what men with insane amounts of money spent it on? Running a household like it was a luxury hotel?

Adele smiled at the pool, as if she had a certain fondness for it. “Trevor does laps every morning before work, it’s how he stays in shape.”

“I don’t know how to swim.” Elisabeth winced at the sound of the fear in her voice, as though Adele might think tossing her into a pool would be funny.

Adele pulled out her phone and her thumbs flew across it as she made a note or sent a message or something. “We’ll get you lessons. That reminds me, can you ride? Should we schedule you a riding instructor as well?”

Ride?

The blank stare on her face must have been sufficient answer, because Adele did her lightning-fast thumb thing on her phone as she murmured “Horses.”

Ah, horses. Okay. She liked the idea of horses, and she heard they could cause a newbie quite a bit of pain between the legs if ridden incorrectly, which she was bound to do, so that might be fun. Was that gross? Elisabeth laughed, startling Adele away from her thumbs.

“Sorry. I’m sure I’ll enjoy riding lessons.” She wasn’t interested in the swimming lessons, but she didn’t want to get on Adele’s bad side if she was in charge of the house.

“We also have fabulous tennis courts here. I’ll have Julian get you some tennis outfits, unless you brought your own?”

“No.” It didn’t seem like Adele was the type to tease her, but still, all this talk made Elisabeth feel less and less like she belonged. “I suppose I’ll be needing a tennis instructor too, then?” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Absolutely! I’ll get on that for you.” Adele, phone still in hand, made another note. “I’ll show you to your suite. We call it the Pink Room, do you like pink?”

“I suppose,” she said. Her childhood bedroom had been pink, so the color didn’t hold any good memories or anything. It remained the color of Pepto-Bismol until she became a teenager and painted the walls black in an act of defiance, or depression; she still didn’t know what inspired the ghastly paint job. It made her once-ordinary room into a prison cell.

The high entranceway in front of the double spiral stairways leading up to the second floor was nothing short of majestic, but it was all too big, like Grand Central had been. The urge to look down and focus on the ground, which was so much closer, came over her. She fought it. No need to look up, no need to look down.

Just. Breathe.

Who was Trevor really? What was he into that he lived all alone in a house like this, surrounded by staff at his beck and call? The house seemed like it was meant for a family, not a lone Dom.

“You get a real leg workout if you climb these stairs every day, like I do,” Adele said, not sounding even close to short of breath, as Elisabeth was becoming. Damn, these stairs were high. And Elisabeth wasn’t exactly the exercise type. She preferred to get her heart rate going in other endeavors.

“But there’s an elevator as well, behind the stairs, for when his grandparents visit or for staff with trays, that sort of thing. Still, seems a pity not to use such a beautiful staircase, am I right?” Adele asked.

Elisabeth nodded, breathing hard. Strange to imagine the notorious Trevor Brooks visiting with his grandparents, but then again few people would probably imagine her as she had been only a few years ago, taking care of her mother until she died. Elisabeth’s heart raced, most likely from the stairs, and not the memory of finding her mother’s body.

Breathe.

Maybe she really should take the stairs to build her stamina. Especially if living with Trevor was going to involve swimming and tennis as well as just being a plain ol’ sex-slave.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Elisabeth asked Adele as she opened the door to the Pink Room.

Adele stuck out her jaw, a strange expression that vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Of course! You are Trevor’s invited guest. I’ll give you a little while to relax and get dressed and I’ll bring you to Trevor.”

“I am dressed,” Elisabeth started to say, but Adele had already closed the door behind her, leaving Elisabeth alone in the Pink Room, which was probably the understatement of the year.

A moment of panic hit her, and she rushed to the door to see if she’d been locked in. No, the door opened. Adele was halfway down the hall.

“Yes?” Adele asked, clearly trying to indicate both that she was in a huge hurry but also that she was happy to help at the same time.

“Should I call . . . Julian?”

“That’s probably a good idea. Speed-dial five.” With that, Adele rushed away.

Elisabeth flopped onto a pink satin chaise lounge, grateful for the rest after the long flight of stairs and the tour of the estate. Surely she hadn’t seen all of it, because she had no idea where Trevor was. She had a feeling she’d be more comfortable if he were here.

Maybe that was the point, to let her know her boundaries. She wasn’t his girlfriend or his wife. She’d been brought to serve him, to release Gregory from his feeling of responsibility over her. But even if she no longer wore Gregory’s collar, she didn’t wear Trevor’s. Not yet.

And with only one admittedly-vivid flogging to go by, she couldn’t be sure if she wanted to be his collared submissive or not. Maybe he didn’t want a sub either. Perhaps he just needed another staff member, someone like Adele, but who he could beat the fuck out of and have her enjoy it.

Elisabeth’s suite had a huge canopy bed covered with pink lace and wide windows with lace curtains pulled open to allow the sunshine to pour in. Her luggage was nowhere to be found, but her clothing was in one of the dressers.

None of it seemed nice enough to wear around the house, even if the place was as informal as Adele seemed to think it was. Trevor had only really even seen her in her vinyl club-wear, so her street clothes might leave something to be desired.

The bathroom was bigger than her entire bedroom at Gregory’s house. A grand Jacuzzi-style hot tub sat in the center, with a two-headed shower behind a glass wall at the back of the bathroom. A huge vanity table and lighted mirror with a pink-cushioned stool sat beside the sink.

The walls were covered in mirrors. She stripped out of her T-shirt and jeans and frowned at herself naked. Her curves should be covered in welts and stripes and deep blue bruises, not pale and white. Her waxed pussy should be sore, not neglected. Her body looked beautiful only with the aftermath of a punishment coloring her skin, at least to her it did.

Elisabeth picked up the cell phone and pressed the number five, surprised by how quickly it was answered.

“Ohhh, hey girl, this is Julian. I’ve been
waitin’
for your call. Where you been?” the voice on the other end of the line said. Everyone was an insta-friend around here, weren’t they? She wanted to be annoyed about it but instead found herself liking Julian instantly, just by his voice.

“Um, hi, Julian, sorry about that. This is Elisabeth. I’m in the Pink Room and I’m supposed to get dressed to meet Trevor, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to wear or what.”

“Don’t worry, gorgeous, I’ll be right there with clothes for you. You get all showered up and clean for me, use the hair conditioner, you hear?”

“Okay,” she said. Then, “How do you know my size?”

“I took the liberty of looking at your current clothing you brung and getting some items in a similar style and size on your behalf.”

“Thank you, I think. I guess I’ll go shower and condition.”

“And shave them legs, girl, you know Julian don’t like working on no gorillas.”

She laughed and hung up, surprised by how quickly this stylist guy made her feel at home, maybe because he spoke to her like she was a human and not “an invited guest.”

The shower was stocked with brand new soap, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a poof (pink, naturally), and one of those fancy razors with five blades and an aloe strip sitting next to raspberry-scented shaving gel. Pink. The urge to splash black paint on it all crossed her mind briefly and left before she had a chance to even envision the outcome.

The hot water stung her back, and she smiled, reveling in the sensation. She missed how her skin was always marked when she was with Gregory. How the water would burn and reignite her welts. But enough reminiscing, she needed to move on. That was one final thing she could do to please him.

But could she be the type of woman worthy of living in a place like this, with BAD Boy Trevor Brooks?

No. She was too twisted. He’d figure it out eventually, see where she came from, that she didn’t belong here. And she’d be out on her ass again.

With the showering, conditioning, and de-gorilla-ing done, she wrapped herself in a fluffy pink towel that felt like gossamer on her skin. It was like the room was meant for a fairy-tale princess from far, far away, not for a girl who showed up on the doorstep with a bag filled with clothes she couldn’t even wear in his house. At least she had a matching bra-and-panty set, and they were black. Gregory had gotten the lingerie for her at Walmart of all places. Surely Trevor would feel the cheapness on her the moment he saw her and lose whatever hard-on had incited him to invite her to stay.

The blue cell phone rang and vibrated at the same time, nearly falling off the vanity table she’d put it on.

“This is Elisabeth,” she answered, the way she heard Carl answer his phone in the car. Quick, to the point.

“Elisabeth, I’m so glad to hear your voice. Welcome to my home.”

“Trevor!” She stopped, not wanting to sound too needy or giddy. “Home is an understatement. You live in a mansion.”

“It is big, thus the cell phones. I had asked Adele to bring you to see me when you were ready.” He didn’t sound angry, just confused, as if he couldn’t understand why his orders hadn’t been followed.

“Um, I don’t think she thought I was presentable. She took me to the Pink Room and suggested I get dressed.”

“Did you listen?”

Elisabeth smiled. “Actually, I’m just in my bra and panties right now. Julian is on his way with some Trevor-estate-approved clothing for me.”

“I think I prefer you undressed for now. You can try on clothing another time.”

His words activated something inside her, something warm and good. “Shall I come to you like this, sir?”

“If we had the house to ourselves, I’d say yes. Instead I’ll come to you. I’ll call Julian and have him on standby. I know he’s been dying to meet you since I told him we’d be having a long-term house guest.”