Trust Me | MxM | BDSM

20. Breakfast

"See? I'm not hiding anything."

"Oh, definitely not. You're not even cleaning him up afterwards?"

They're talking as if I wasn't here, or at least unable to understand them - and I have to act as if that were true. I take my position, facing the room.

"I think he looks perfectly fine like that."

The clicking of her heels follows me to the edge of the room and brings her endless legs into my field of vision. I can see the hem of her tight black and white dress that stops a finger's width below her pussy. I blink, refusing to look up further. She huffs disapprovingly.

"He's such a stud, and all you can think of is reducing him to something like this."

Her words sting.

"Maybe you just don't understand what this is," Gavrilo argues lightly, accompanied by the sounds of dishes being put on a table. It's comforting that he's defending me like this, or maybe he's just defending himself. "Ever thought about that?"

"Gav, I know what this about, so I can safely say that I'm an idependent woman, so I'm not just going to let some guy that I'm fucking put a collar around my neck."

He heaves a sigh and walks over to us, then briefly pets my head before slipping his hand around her waist. Their bodies are so close that when he leans in towards her, my insides clench nauseatingly. My empty stomach worsens the feeling.

"But you didn't come here to discuss sexual preferences with me, so let's eat," he says softly and guides her to the table. I allow the tension to show on my face when their backs are to me. It sucks that he just lets the topic drop like that - and I'd somehow thought he was going to kiss her, though that really shouldn't matter.

"I came here because I thought you'd invite me to some fancy brunch."

He pulls the chair back for her before taking the opposite seat.

"Dog, here," he orders and I crawl over to take my place at his right side. Again, his fingers find my hair to glide through the short strands, and I relax with a soft sigh. "So, how's the warehouse coming along?"

The term makes me perk my ears up. Her reluctance to answer peaks my interest further. Maybe my work is going to start paying off sooner than expected.

"I didn't come here to discuss business, either."

"I'm just asking."

"You're never just asking. How do you know about that, anyway?" When Gavrilo doesn't answer, she huffs angrily. "Well, then don't expect me to talk to you. You're not talking to me either."

"Miller told me."

"Will? The fucking snitch."

"He's my man. You go around asking about my business partners, of course, he's telling me. That's what I put him in your group for."

She laughs out loud, and I hear the cutlery clink as it drops back onto the plate. Her voice is dangerously low when she purrs, "That man is not your business partner."

"Oh, he very much is. We're doing everything we can to stay out of each other's way, that's what I'd call a partnership. Not the healthiest one, but-"

"He wants you dead," she interrupts flatly, and I frown at the conflicting emotions rising inside of me. I'm curious as to who they're talking about and strangely bothered by the prospect of someone hurting my master. Something that's to be expected given our relationship, yet quite troublesome. My therapist is going to love our sessions once I'm done here.

Gavrilo's words catch my attention. "Which is why you can tell your husband that he better stay miles away from Anders if he doesn't want to go down the same road as his father."

She jumps to her feet, pushing the chair back forcefully. Its legs scrape across the parquet floor, the sound as shrill as her voice. "You're threatening me?"

He heaves a sigh, getting up as well. His hand slips off my head, and a sense of loss grips my heart. I feel left alone. The tense atmosphere only makes it worse.

"Anne, don't think he can sabotage my business and get away unscathed. I wouldn't be here today if I just let something like that slip. You can be happy I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt here, otherwise, you could look for a new husband," he says casually, almost bored as if he was talking about a painfully uneventful day at work. His cold attitude startles me. She slams her hand down on the table.

"He's my husband."

"I know. My father arranged the marriage, remember? So please, for the sake of our friendship, don't make me doubt your loyalties as well."

He is already doubting them, though, and I realize this might be the start of the road that would end at her grave. A calm dread settles on me, reining my heartbeat in again.

"You wouldn't dare kill me," she whispers apprehensively and Gavrilo lets out a dry chuckle.

"You know better than to think I'd be holding the gun."