A Psychopath For a Boss

Chpater 23 Good Talk

James's POV

With all things considered, things have been going well, for me. Travis keeps bashing his own hopes against the rocks by trying to escape and failing. His will was weakened and he seemed to be more agreeable with me the more I let him feel closer to freedom before pulling him back.

My company has been getting along. We sued Lydia out of her shoes and issued a warning notice that all of Alo's non-patented works were not tested yet on humans, and should anyone try to make them, they do so at their own risk. Any companies that try to manufacture them will risk admitting to the world that they were using Alo's leaks for their own gain. For the most part, the public announcement and claim to the leaked products went smoothly. Any disputing company would have to face our legal team in court over our word and evidence against their claim to owning our product. No one dared to force that lie.

I noticed Travis's gaze on me. We had been sitting in my book room together now for almost an hour. He did not seem interested in reading, though I had cracked open a pleasant book for myself. He seemed to be there for The Chair. The Chair was one of the softest pieces of furniture I had and, as the softest, nearly completely devoured whoever sat in the gentle white waves of goose-feather-stuffed fine cotton. However, despite his original intention seeming only to be daydreaming in the upholstery's throw blankets, his stare was now locked onto me.

"Do you need something?" I asked, looking up from my book and meeting his gaze.

"Yes." Travis moved, getting himself adjusted. His every movement seemed to require extra effort in The Chair, face holding serious lips as he had to take both arms over the armrest to prop himself up. "Can I go back to my job soon?"

The words completely threw me for a loop. Of the things I considered he might ask me, this was the most from-the-sky question I had heard from his mouth. There was no doubt some inkling of reason behind his words, some plot, or plan to flee me, but the hint of his possessive tone with 'my' job suggested that perhaps he wanted to no longer be idle. Perhaps I had left him listless for too long, almost a month having passed now since I captured him.

"That depends on your behavior outside." My face kept blank, revealing no trace or hint of the surprise that jumped inside of me.

"You never take me outside." Travis pointed out. "You keep coming and going but don't give me any fresh air, and keep locking me in small spaces if I upset you. For living in such a big house, you're making me feel claustrophobic."

"You haven't earned my trust." I pointed out to Travis, closing the book in my hands and dusting the blue cover, before rising to put the novel away.

"I don't think you trust anyone." Travis stood from The Chair, walking up to pause behind me, just out of arm-reach. His eyes were at the back of my head, still hot with contempt for me.

"I certainly find trusting people who have thrown lamps and hit me with a headboard a little difficult." I pointed out, keeping my back to him as I slid the book back into its home. My house had to be childproofed for the mouse following around behind me, I heard the thunk as his knee hit a coffee table.

"I certainly find trusting people who kidnap others and jerks off to their cries for help difficult." Travis quipped, tone filled with a sassy slide that seemed to poses him at times. Typically, he would follow the remark with a look of regret and an attempt to flee the room. Yet today, he was holding no concern for himself, or perhaps was feeling bold enough to hit me again.

"You're speaking as if I'm a degenerate." I turned to Travis and marched over to him, expecting to see some flicker of fear or flight, but instead I discovered his face rather calm. He was bored, the slack look to him aided his plea, and his arms moved up to cross over his chest.

"You are probably worse than a degenerate." He muttered, knowing very well that I wouldn't stand for the insult. He spoke before retaliation, a step back as my hand raised, "If I'm screwed anyways, I want to have some of my life back."

"You don't need a job or money...." I began to tell him.

"I am not a pet though! You're keeping me here like one. I don't want to be housebound." He turned from me slightly, not to keep his eyes off of me as he moved back to The Chair. "I've already submitted to you. Give me some freedom."

He sat in the chair, clean-shaven as I had brought a barber around to clean him up. His figure was independent with how he sat with high posture, his face gentle with smooth curves, with a strong chin and piercing eyes. His hair was wavy and kept its length to my pleasure, and how it settled now on his shoulders could have been the mark of a divine. My heart started to give before I did, his expression plain yet begging.

"You're going to put yourself in danger if I let you." I warned him, though I had already given in.

"It really is your fault for putting me in danger in the first place." He retorted, slacking back in his seat as if I was going to deny him.

"I will have to keep an eye on you at all times. That means you cannot go anywhere you please." I continued, moving to the armrest of the chair and resting against it.

"I'm not surprised...." He looked up at my face. Those slightly-chapped lips were changing from a frown. "Are you going to give me a color-coded schedule or something if I can go?" He asked, only lightly dusted with sarcasm.

"I should." I have him an amused smile. "Though, I will expect a daily payment for letting you out."

"By payment I don't think you mean money." His smile slipped off to a frown again.

"That's right." My smile turned to a vicious grin and I moved closer to him. "I expect services from you."

Travis leaned away from me, "What sort of...."