The Red Wing Mansion

Chapter Three

Perhaps he can read the smug look on my face.

Claudius stands up, stretching out his gloved fingers.

"I'm feeling pretty dead," Claudius answers out right, his eyes staring right through me.

It's starting to feel like I just walked into my own horror movie. Is he about to morph into a demon and kill me? I kind of can't help imagining it.

Distract. Pretend he didn't just say that.

"I got laid this week," I blurt out, "Twice. Two different guys. Been a nice week. Crazy. This holiday is going well. Do you mind if I take a picture of you?"

Um. Yep. All that just came out of my mouth.

"Why," Claudius sounds frustrated now.

"You're – well you could be a model, you're very handsome," I compliment him, "It'll look good in my travel vlog I'm working on. I'm talking about the Red Wing mansion. The Clue township. It's going great."

Claudius Fontaine tries to keep in a smile as he looks at his feet and tries not to laugh, before he readjusts his black gloves again and looks at me through two heavy lidded eyes, "Do all girls speak like whores nowadays?"

"Excuse me," my eyes almost roll out of my damn head, my mouth gawking, "Excuse me?" I say it twice, "I'm a free independent twenty first century woman, yeah. I can do," I grab the ends of my braids and pull them out, whacking out the hair in a mess, and even kicking off my boots – because I fucking hated misogynist fucks, "Whatever the fuck I want," I dance around in the dirt, barefoot, "Because I'm free, Claudius. It's a –" change in the times.

"What did you just call me?" Claudius Fontaine loses all expression.

Um. Fuck.

"Sir," I lie, kind of annoyed, "Obviously. Sorry," I walk off to grab my boots. I don't know why I kicked them off. He fucking annoyed me so much, "You're not paying me by the way, so I don't have to listen to you," I add.

"Exactly what a whore would say," Claudius bites down on that straight away. When I turn my infuriated glare toward him, he enjoys my anger, "You should tie your hair up – it suits you better than those childish braids."

"I'll present my hair however I want," I feel like we're going around in circles.

"You need to wash your feet before you put those shoes back on," Claudius stops me, before I slip the first boot on.

It's true.

The socks were clean in the boot – my feet were dirty.

I entertain him.

"Why, you're so knowledgably Sir, I'll do just that," I strut past him, hair flowing out as I walk into the laundry room and go to turn on the tap.

But no water comes out.

The other taps on the property worked. Why not this one?

I look out the window to see where the arrogant dickhead went.

"Only cold works, on the left," he's travelled right behind me.

Oh my, g –

Fontaine reaches around me, his arms either side, barricading me into the sink – as one hand lies on the wood counter top on my right, and his left hand grabs the tap – turning it on for me. It was too tight, so I quickly gave up on it.

The water now freely pours out, while his arms stay either side of me, as I fill a bucket.

"Quiet now?" Claudius asks, a velvet caress over my head, still standing behind me.

I bite my bottom lip, as I refuse to speak.

I didn't know what to say anyway.

I just wait for the bucket to fill, and then I reach for the tap – but he does first. He switches it off for me.

"Thank you," I choose to say.

"Sir," Claudius breathes the reprimand.

"Thank you, Sir," I say it as smoothly and eloquently as possible, and then he backs off as I turn with the full bucket in my arms.

I don't look him in the eye, as I walk to a washing bench and sit down on it. I dunk my feet into the water and wash them with my hands. Then I pull my feet out and wave them in the air, letting them air dry.

As I kick them about, Claudius is still here, leaning on the wall by the door – watching my bare feet swing.

"Robert will ask you to stay for another 6 months, and he'll pay you for your services. He likes your work ethic, and he'll let you stay on the property too," Claudius speaks quietly, while speaking of the Elderly man who owns the property.

"O-oh?" I murmur, "I haven't heard from him about such an offer."

"You will. The sleeping around will have to stop if you agree to stay," Claudius adds on that clause very quietly.

I know that's his authoritative tone.

Really?

"I haven't agreed... yet," I try not to snap, "I have to think about it C – Fontaine, Sir."

"You really struggle with remembering that," Claudius points it out like I don't already know.

"Sleeping around?" I pretend to change the topic, "Not really. I love sex. Don't you?"

"Of a particular kind, yes," Claudius speaks, clipped.

"Men?"

"Women," Claudius's brow ticks – he's annoyed I keep annoying him back on purpose.

"So you're kinky?" I ask, "You like feet?" I wriggle my toes.

"I prefer complete control over a woman," Claudius speaks, calmly.

"O...k, domination kink. Some girls like that."

"I'm not particularly concerned with what you like," Claudius twists the conversation for his gain. I go to glare at him and he's just watching me with a cold unfazed look in his eye. Then he leans off the wall to walk out the back door.

"Where are you going?" I ask – to be honest, I was scared when he did the disappearing act, only to reappear. I could never guess where. I rather just have him in my sight. So I didn't have to worry about him sneaking up on me again.

"To clean my riding crop," Claudius says cryptically, without looking back as he disappears around the bend.

Oh, shit.

That was a threat.

A direct threat.

A kinky one.

My thighs immediately squeeze together – and I curse under my breath as I close my eyes and try to keep my composure.

Fuck.

Why did that turn me on? He was a fucking ghost. Why was I even talking to a ghost?

I still had a whole day left to keep cleaning.

I was determined to finish before the sun went down, so I could leave with the day.

I was only confident then.

When it was dark, however – I just felt totally at his mercy. And that was scary.

I remember that empty yet completely full touch on my chin, like it was moments ago. Stroking my skin.

It was so cold and real in some ways.

And yet –

I stand up and quickly put back on my socks and boots.

Enough thinking.

Forget Claudius Fontaine.

I still had a job to do. He wasn't going to distract me.