“You have the full report already?” I ask, leaning back in my chair.
Reese Terrell, my driver, and personal security stands across from my desk. Holding out a file to me. “No, sir. But you made it sound urgent when I drove you home from work, so I figured I would get you as much as I can tonight.”
I nod in approval taking the file from him. We are in my study at my house. I can smell the pasta London is cooking for dinner wafting in through the open door. It’s been four hours since I said goodbye to Emery Palmer on the street and I have not stopped thinking about her since. I want her, more than I have ever wanted any other girl in my life.
Turning my gaze down I carefully look over the report.
Name: Emery Briar Palmer
Age: 18
Birthdate: March 7th, 2006
Birthplace: John H. Stroger Hospital, Chicago Illinois
Occupation: Unknown
Residence: Unknown
Education: Lincoln Park High School (Diploma)
Current Work Address: Unknown
Current Address: Unknown
Driver’s License ID: Unknown
Medical History: Unknown
I read over the report frowning a little. “This does not tell me a whole lot.” I have questions and I need them answered. Desperately. I have never wanted to know everything about a girl more.
“I’m aware, sir. It is the best I could have gotten in two hours,” Reese says apologetically. He can tell just how important this is to me. I have never asked him what he thinks about my… sexual tendencies. He knows, of course, both him and London do. Not completely, not explicitly, but enough to get the picture. Both have signed NDAs so what they think really doesn’t matter but I have wondered just what they think.
I nod slowly, “you didn’t find an address?”
“No, sir. That is the thing that raises my curiosity the most. Very little comes up about her. No social media pages, no current address, no current place of employment. I am getting hospital records from when she was born to determine who her parents were and perhaps, I can learn more through that.”
I nod slowly. Something was not adding up. This girl was still a huge question mark. Normally when I find a potential Submissive even just two hours after requesting information, I have a small picture. But not with Emery, no she was still just as big of a mystery as she had been when she stepped in for her interview.
What did I really know about her? She was beautiful, liked books, and was young… but that was not anything real. She had gotten the job, tomorrow Jayne would give her a call to let her know. Maybe I could reach out to her and offer to take her out to dinner to celebrate… I shake my head, no that was not who I was. I just wanted to see her so badly.
“Keep looking,” I order Reese in dismissal, tossing the report onto my desk.
He nods, turns and heads back through the door. London appears after a moment.
“Sir, your dinner is ready. Shall I set the table or bring it in here?”
“The table will do,” I say as I slowly get to my feet. Following London down the hall, sitting down I watch as she turns the TV to me and flicks on the news. She then sets a placemat, plate, cutlery, and glass of scotch in front of me. Finally, she dishes up a full plate of spaghetti with a side of Caesar salad slice of garlic bread. The meal is delicious as always, London is an excellent cook.
After dinner, I work for about an hour before changing into a pair of track pants, and an athletic sweatshirt and head out for my nightly run. I love running just as the sun sets. The sky is beautiful, and the air is fresh. There are fewer people out and about. Not to mention it gives me a chance to push away the thoughts of the day and clear my head so that I can settle down and sleep.
Upbeat music of many different genres plays in my ears as I run through the park half a mile from my house. It’s wide open and filled with many different walking paths. After about three miles I pause next to a tree to stretch a little and catch my breath. I look around, there is much left for snow now. The grass is brown for the most part but in the occasional spot, it has already started to turn green. It’s not as nice out here in the early weeks of spring as it is in the dead of summer, but I still find it peaceful.
I frown a little when I notice the bundle of blankets on the park bench a few steps from me. Why did these homeless people insist on using this park? Sure, it was on the nicer side of the city and there was less crime, but that would start to change if too many of these bums decided to stick around.
When I have caught my breath, I slowly begin to run again, jogging past the bench. For some reason, I can’t help but turn my gaze to it as I pass, and instantly my feet come to a halt.
“Emery?” I ask frowning deeply.
She jumps, pulls down her hood, and slowly sits up. Her eyes widen when she notices that it is me. “Mr. Corrette… er, hello, sir.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask taking a few steps closer to her.
She hesitates. The same way she did in her interview when she was trying to consider what half-truth to tell me. I have long since been able to figure out when a girl is lying or beating around the full truth.
“There is no point in lying,” I say almost impatiently. “What are you doing here Emery?”
“Sleeping,” she finally whispers.
I frown deeper, my heart plummeting to my feet at her words. What the hell had happened to her? Who had let this beautiful girl out into the world to sleep on park benches?
“Come with me,” I order.
She looks at me in surprise “s-sir?”
“Come on, I’m not letting you sleep out here. My house is nearby,” I say stepping closer. “Can I help you carry anything?”
She hesitates a moment longer before slowly stuffing the backpack that she had hidden under her blanket. First her blanket and then her pillow. “No, I can handle it.”
I ignore her, when she is finished packing up her stuff, I take the backpack, swinging it over my shoulder. I look her over frowning when I see how red her ears and nose are. My heart nearly breaks in two at the sight.
“You are freezing,” I say softly, placing the backpack back down I pull off my sweatshirt. It’s not much but I have a feeling right now every layer will help. “It’s probably a little sweaty but…” I pass it over.
She hesitates before smiling a little “th-anks.” She pulls it on over top of the coat she is already wearing.
How long had she been sleeping on park benches? One question answered, a hundred more rose. Picking back up the backpack I reach for my phone dialling Reese’s number.
“Mr. Corrette?”
“I need you to pick me up. I’m three miles into my run,” I say.
“I will meet you at the corner, sir,” Reese says before he hangs up.
This was not the first time I had needed to be picked up on my run. Emergencies happened occasionally when I had to interrupt it, but this was one of the strangest reasons to have to stop it.
“Come on,” I say gently. Slowly beginning to walk towards the meeting spot. “Reese won’t be long.”
“Reese?” Emery asks as she follows at my side.
I nod. “My personal driver.” When we reach the corner, I turn to her. I can hear her teeth chattering. I hesitate a moment, but only a moment before I say, “come here. Let me warm you up.”
She jumps a little when I grab her arm and pull her closer. She hesitates a moment before curling up into my chest. She is so small her head rests perfectly on my chest. The perfect size so that I can curl my back and give her a bear hug. She is so cold I almost flinch. It’s almost like she is solid ice. It’s not long before Reese arrives, when he stops next to us, I pull away from Emery. Walking over to the passenger door I pull it open.
“Reese crank the heat,” I order as I place the backpack in before nodding Emery in.
When she climbs in, I gently shut the door. Walking around to my side, I slid in, looking at her. “Why are you sleeping on a park bench?” I almost demand.
She glances at me, looking surprised at my tone. “Er — um — it’s sort of personal… sir.”
“Not good enough,” I say shaking my head. “Why are you sleeping on a park bench? Have you run away from home?”
She shakes her head. “No… my mother passed away when I was fourteen… she was the only family I had so I spent the rest of my childhood in a group home… it wasn’t a good place so the moment I turned eighteen I left… I didn’t have any money or options so I just…”
I frown deeply. Sympathy rushing through me, I understand complicated childhoods more than others. I practically sit on my hands to stop reaching out to her and offering her physical comfort. “I am so sorry,” I whisper, turning my gaze down to my hands. “You will spend tonight at my place and then we will figure out something more permanent.”
I look out the window just as Reese pulls up at the front door. “Reese, get Emery’s door and carry her bag inside.”
“Yes, sir,” Reese says stepping out of the car he walks around pulling open her door. “Miss Palmer.”
I step out of the car, hearing Emery murmur her thanks to Reese. Stepping up to the door I pull it open for her.
~Emery’s POV~
Stepping out of the car I give Reese the Driver a small smile. “Thanks,” I say, before turning to the house. The heat had been on full blast in the car and thanks to it I have slowly started to warm up.
When I truly take in the house my eyes widen. It is so beautiful and modern. The house has to be three stories, I have always been bad with square footage, but it must be at least 10,000. It almost looks like the entire house is windows.
Stepping up to the large wooden door, I watch Corrette pull it open for me. Inside is a large, vast entryway. There are no signs of a coat closet or coat racks. A small white table sits near the door.
Corrette steps over to it, placing his headphones on the charge, before tossing his keys inside a bowl beside it.
“London,” he calls.
A woman seemingly materializes from down the hall, hurrying over to them. She was older, probably about 35. She is of average height about 5’6, with dark brown hair and green eyes.
“Get a fire going in the den,” Corrette orders “and bring out a couple blankets. Is the guest room clean?”
“Yes, sir,” the woman says.
He nods glancing over at me. “Did you want her to take your coat, or are you still cold?”
“I will take it off,” I say, I pull off his sweatshirt before unzipping and handing over my jacket. I look down at my old, ratty shirt, a little embarrassed that Colin Corrette is seeing me in dirty, old clothes that haven’t been washed in a week.
“I can sort out some clean clothes for you and London can wash everything you have,” he offers.
“O-okay, thanks,” I say. Can he read my mind or something?
“Come I will show you your room,” he says, walking deeper into the house he pauses just down the hall pulling open the first door.
Inside it is a large room. It has a king-size bed, perfectly made with lavender gray sheets and cream-white blankets. A large fluffy shag rug sits under the bed and a 65-inch TV sits on the wall opposite the bed. In one corner is a large makeup station, stocked with some of the most expensive brand-name products. It looks like there is literally every sort of product you could think of. Every shade of foundation and contour, mascara of every different type of colour and volume and eyeliner, shades and shades of lipstick. Nail polish. Face cream, toner, makeup remover. Everything.
In the opposite corner from the makeup station is a corner desk, set up with a pair of large computer monitors, a docking station and a desk lamp. Next to the desk sat a cushy armchair and a large bookshelf, every shelf was stuffed full of books save for the middle two, which were completely empty, like waiting for the owner of the room to put their own favourites on the shelf.
Except for the furniture, there is no décor in the room, and it is rather simple. I am almost convinced that I smell fresh paint, but I am not completely sure.
“This is amazing,” I say. I have never seen a bedroom of this size or with so much inside. The walk-in closet that I see through a pocket door is the first of its kind I have ever seen.
Corrette smiles a little. “I’m glad you like it.” He takes a small step out of the way as Reese steps in, places my bag on the bed and then leaves. “I will go see what I have for some clothes for you, then leave you to get settled a bit while I shower.”
I nod.
“If you are hungry or anything London Ross, my housekeeper is around she can help you out. There is a bathroom right next door if you need it,” he adds before he heads out of the room.
I turn my gaze back to the room. Why exactly does he have this magnificent of a guest room and why is it stashed full of everything a woman could have ever asked for? I step closer to the makeup station, sit down on the stool, and pull open one of the drawers. Inside I find razors, wax strips, and q-tips.
In another a hair blow dryer, curler, hot rollers, strainer and a few tools I have never even seen before.
When I hear a noise behind me, I nearly jump out of my skin, whirling around. Corrette stands at the end of the bed watching me, a pair of PJ shorts and a t-shirt in his hands.
“Why do you have all this?” I ask curiously.
He looks like he is not sure he wants to answer the question. He sighs a little, “when woman I am with stays at my place she sleeps here.”
I blush a little at his words. I look around the room, “are you with someone right now?”
“No,” he replies, placing the clothes down on the bed. “These will probably be big on you, but it’s, unfortunately, all I have.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I say with a true smile. “Is it okay if I have a shower?”
He nods. “Course, there should be a few towels in there already. Please, Emery while you are here, make yourself at home. You are safe here.” He frowns a little at his last words and quickly turns and heads off.
I hesitate after his abrupt departure, before getting to my feet. Grabbing the clothes, he brought I bring them up to my nose. Just like his jacket, they smell amazing. Like cedar and cranberries, and beneath that the smell of him. Someone should make that into a scented candle and label it masculinity.
I step out of the room and into the bathroom next door. Inside is like a peaceful oasis. The shower is massive, not that word does not do that justice, it spans the entire back wall. It is tiled with black swirling tile. A massive rain shower head hangs from the ceiling and I can already tell that it will feel like heaven. What I assume are jets run down the wall and a handheld shower head sits on the wall. Expensive shampoo, conditioner and body wash sit inside the cubby, lit up with warm purple light.
A large, very deep standalone tub sits beside the shower, and above it a shelf which holds fluffy lavender gray towels, some bath size, some hand towels, and a few dozen face cloths. Two obviously fresh towels hang from a warmer within easy reach from both the shower and tub. The walls of the bathroom held large slabs of white marble. Small white hexagon tiles line the floor. The vanity was laid with black marble countertops, with a sink sunken into the counter.
Everything about the bathroom was beautiful. It is like some magnificent spa. The floor is so warm even when I remove my socks and touch my bare feet to the floor. I take off my clothes, slowly and neatly folding them up before placing them on the floor, it doesn’t seem right to place my dirty street clothes on such nice countertops.
Stepping into the shower I turn it on just past what many would describe of hot, letting the water fall over my body. Letting it warm me up. I breathe a peaceful warm sigh, leaning a little against the wall. This is the first hot shower I have had in nearly six weeks.
I should feel incredibly embarrassed that my hopefully new boss came across me sleeping on some park bench, but for some reason, I am not. I am only grateful. Tonight, I can sleep in a comfortable, large bed. Tomorrow I can wake up and use expensive makeup. Who cares if it is the same bed that his girlfriends have slept in? Although it does make me wonder why exactly his girlfriends were not sleeping in his bed when they stayed the night. There was that alarm bell again. But what could possibly be bad about him? He had offered me shelter when I needed it, badly. Maybe I am just naïve, I wouldn’t be surprised, I was an eighteen-year-old virgin, and I was useless when it came to boys.
I didn’t mean to take a forty-five-minute shower, but it felt incredibly nice. After towel drying my hair, I wrap the warm towel around my body, tucking it in. Inside one of the drawers I find a brand-new thing of deodorant, a toothbrush still in the packaging and a new tube of toothpaste. In the drawer right next to the toilet, there are pads, panty liners and tampons of every size. He has everything. Even little dixie cups and a bottle of mouthwash.
Finishing up in the bathroom I return to the makeup station and slowly blow dry my hair, selecting a large paddle brush from the large selection in a drawer. When I am done, I gaze into the mirror with a small smile, his shirt is quite big on me, and hangs down past my knees, finally, I decide to just ditch the shorts, they are far too baggy. Should I feel more hesitant about walking around this man's house pantiless in his t-shirt?
Stepping out of the room, I slowly make my way through the house, finding the kitchen and a living room in the back. Pictures of nature, beaches and forests hang throughout the house. The house is huge, a large spiral staircase stands in the middle, wonderful gray hardwood flowed throughout, and the walls were painted a dark grey-green colour, the windows and doors were accented and outlined with dark wood.
The kitchen was so vast it looked like it should have its own zip code. The cabinets that sat on either side, were painted light gray and white. A large island sat in the middle with six barstools. Everything was so beautiful; his interior decorator really deserves a high five.
The woman that took my coat earlier is whipping down the counters but pauses and looks up at me when I enter.
“Miss Palmer how was your shower?” she asks.
“Very peaceful,” I say with a warm smile, sitting down at one of the barstools.
She smiles, stepping closer “I am London by the way.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say accepting her hand to shake.
“Is there something I can get you?” she asks.
“Ugh…” I hesitate, before slowly nodding “d-do you have hot chocolate?”
London smiles nodding, “yes. One hot chocolate coming right up. Whipping cream?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say with a small laugh.
“I’ll take a mug too, London.”
I turn in the stool, making a soft bang as the metal of the chair collides with the countertop.
Corrette is leaning against the doorframe to what I assume to be his room. He is dressed in a pair of PJ pants and a simple tight black t-shirt, which stretches deliciously across his chest.
“Right away, sir,” London says.
Silence falls for a moment before I say, “Mr. Corrette, thank you, for letting me stay here.”
He smiles a little crossing over to the stool next to me, sitting down. “I wasn’t going to just leave you on that park bench. And please, Emery, you can call me Colin, at least while we are not at work.”
I look down at my hands, then back up at him, “at work?”
He laughs a little nodding, “you have the job. Act surprised when Miss Duncan calls you tomorrow.”
I gaze at him in surprise, my jaw literally dropping open. “What!? I-I got the job! Oh my God!”
He smiles softly, running his hand through his hair. He turns his gaze to mine, holding it for a moment before he asks, “let me take you out to dinner tomorrow, to celebrate.”
“Don’t you have better things to do on a Saturday then hang out with your new homeless intern?” I ask with a small teasing smile.
He frowns a little. “So, is that a, no?”
“Ugh — no. Sure dinner.”
He nods and our gaze meets again. My heart races under his piercing gaze. Making me shift on the chair a little. Thankfully London places the mugs of hot chocolate in front of us.
“You are dismissed for the night, London,” Colin says.
“Thank you, sir,” London says, before turning and heading off.
I slowly take a sip of the hot chocolate, it is delicious. It has been a long time since I have had some. Placing the cub back down I run my thumb over my lower lip.
“Well, I am going to head to bed, we will sort all of this out in the morning,” Colin says getting to his feet, his cup of hot chocolate in hand. “I promise you one thing, you are never going to have to spend a night on that park bench ever again.”
My breath catches as he reaches his hand to caress my cheek. I lean into his touch a little. Why does his touch feel so good? Why does it cause warmth to spread through me heading directly down there?
It looks like it almost pains him to step back. "Would you like to head to bed or watch a movie?"
"I would love to watch a movie," I say with a warm smile.
"Which one?"
"Charlotte's Web," I say instantly. It has always been a favourite of mine and it has been a long, long time since I watched it.