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bit about Robertson Garrett. From what they have on the Internet about him, he was horrible. I remember he died of a stroke. I guess that’s why he has this library dedicated to him.

I move past the movie display. It’s novels I’m after and this place is filled with them. I bounce up and down when I see a leather-bound copy of Wuthering Heights in a glass case and nearly faint when I see that it’s a first edition. I look around trying to find a pair of book handling gloves and sure enough, there’s a box full in one of the vintage writing desks. I put them on and nestle down in a comfortable recliner chair to read. I know I shouldn’t, but when will I ever have another chance?

I’ll just flip through it really fast, no more than five minutes.

Famous last words because the next time I look up, it’s already after five. I almost drop the book, trying to put it back on the shelf and leave before I’m caught. The great room is empty, so I think I’m home free. I’m about to strut up to my room, but stop dead in my tracks when I see Mr. Garrett coming from what I’m guessing is his bedroom. I lower my head instinctively when he looks at me.

“Where were you?” He asks, looking past me down the hall. I try to think of where I could possibly be coming from, but the only thing down that way is the damn library.

Busted! So busted!

“I was in the library, sir,” I say with a sigh.

“I thought Brianna told you that no one’s allowed in there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I would like to say a lot of things, but it goes against the contract, so I’ll just apologize for breaking the rules, sir.”

“Still as smart and smart-mouthed as ever, I see.”

“Guilty on both charges, sir.”

“Don’t get cocky, Miss Warren. It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I apologize, sir.”

He tilts his head, scowling at me. I’m sure he’s waiting for me to say something else, but I know when to shut up. I’ll just think about what an asshole he’s being instead of saying it out loud. I have to be careful that my face doesn’t give me away though. I guess it worked because he’s smiling a little.

“You still enjoy reading?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you find my collection to your liking?”

“Yes, sir, very much so,” I say, but instantly regret it. It might give him some weird ideas on how to torture me. I can just see him now, using scenes from medieval books to get his rocks off on me.

“Then feel free to read them whenever you’d like,” he tells me.

“Really? I can use the library? Are you being serious?”

“Completely. I remember how much you value books. I’m sure you’ll be careful with them. For now, you need to get ready for dinner.”

“How shall I dress, sir?”

“To the nines, Miss Warren. Dinner’s my time and you’ll always dress your best for me but wash your face. I want to see you without makeup.”

“Yes, sir,” I tell him and quickly go upstairs to my room.

“Miss Warren,” he calls for me and I turn around, going back down the stairs to stand before him.

“Sir?”

“Don’t forget the heels,” he orders. “I want you always in heels.”

I look at my feet encased in the soft fabric of bright yellow wool and cringe.

“Yes, sir,” I tell him. I wait to see if there is something else, but he walks away without another word, so I rush up the stairs again to my bathroom.

I clip my hair up and wash my face before stepping into the shower. Scared I might be late, I don’t take much time enjoying it. I just quickly wash up, then look through my closet for something to wear. I decide on a blue halter neck dress and matching stilettos. I release the clip on my hair so it can fall back down. It was just done today and I don’t want to mess up the look.

At exactly six o’clock, I go downstairs and into the kitchen. The smells are so delicious they’re even making my nervous stomach growl.

“It smells wonderful,” I tell Bree.

“Veggie burgers,” she says, smiling at me. “Tristan had them catered from someplace close to where he works.”

“He did?” I ask. Looking at the packaging, I smile. It’s from my favorite restaurant. No wonder it smells so good.

“Shocked the shit out of me,” she says. “The guy hates this type of stuff.”

I plate up our meals, giving him the larger of the two burgers and a large portion of the salad made to go with it. I cut my burger and leave half before carrying both plates into the dining room where Mr. Garrett’s waiting. At least I have experience in this area. I set his plate in front of him before placing my own. He watches as I pour the iced tea Bree brings over before she disappears into the kitchen again.

“Is that all you’re having?”

“Yes, sir.”

I know he requires that I clean my plate and I don’t want to chance piling too much on just to have to try to stuff it all down. He taps his finger on his glass, looking at my plate and then at me.

“Normally, as a submissive, you need to wait until your Dom permits you to eat. Lucky for you, I’m not that strict.”

“Thank you, sir,” I tell him, but what I really want to do is give him the finger if he thinks he’s not being strict.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Eat.”

“Oh, sorry,” I say, picking up the burger and taking a bite.

I close my eyes as I’m chewing. It’s so juicy and they season it just right.

“How is it?”

“As delicious as always,” I say, and he grins.

“I thought it’d be a nice way to celebrate our arrangement. They’re still your favorite?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he says, leaning to the side to look at me. I look down

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