His Slave

9. The Grand Tour

If I thought James' car was nice, it is nothing compared to where he lives. When we arrive at his home, I am awestruck by an elegant, four story mansion with two enormous oak doors defining the entrance, ivory pillars and great big arched windows. The pristine lawns and perfectly spaced oak trees seem to go on forever. And the entire property is enclosed by a tall, gilded fence. 

I mean, I always knew the Harrington family was incredibly wealthy. So, I wasn't expecting an average house. But this?! This is... unnecessary. When James parks his fancy black sports car in front of the mansion, a debtor I hadn't noticed steps forward, waiting to James to get out of the car.

He pops the driver side door open, removing his sunglasses and setting them in the center console. Then he closes the door, casually stalking around the car, opening my door for me. 

He smiles at me sheepishly, waiting for me to exit his car. 

I shake my head. "I'm not getting out," I tell him stubbornly, folding my arms over my chest. 

James shakes his head, still smiling at me. "I wouldn't keep up your stubborn behaviors here, if I were you," he advises, running his fingers through his thick black hair. 

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" I spit back. Deep down inside I know I shouldn't be fighting him like this. He is at liberty to do whatever he wants to me now. But I'm not just going to cower to him. That's what he wants. 

His expression turns stone cold. "Get. Out. Of. My. Car." He snaps at me through gritted teeth, his words pure venom. It's enough to make me obey. I unbuckle the seatbelt, hoping James can't see my hands  shaking as I step out of the car. 

He shuts the door, dropping his keys into the debtor's hands without so much as a word. He's about to turn back to me, but I take this opportunity, darting down the driveway, towards the metal gates. 

James follows me and it doesn't take long for him to catch up. He tackles me to the ground, glaring down at me. 

I try to wriggle out from underneath him but he pins my hands above my head. "Erin, rebellious little slave of mine," he addresses, his words drenched with warning. "I will say this only once. I am in control of your life now. The more you fight me, the less enjoyable this will be for you. The more you obey, the more inclined I'll be to trust you- to give you what you want. If you think you hate me now- if you continue to fight me- I can show just how much you can hate me," he whispers dangerously. "Don't try to run again," he orders, getting off of me. He stands, offering me his hand. 

I begrudgingly take it and he pulls me to my feet, not letting my hand go as he starts towards the doors. I have no choice but to follow him. "My family has owned this manor for nearly two hundred years. It is our family's pride and joy," he explains as if he were a spoiled rotten prince showing off his palace. I mean, he practically is. 

"Manor? I think you mean palace," I correct, hoping a joke will lighten the mood. 

James glances down at me sidelong, his eyebrows raised in question. "I suppose this would seem like a palace to you," he states as we start up the steps. 

"What was that supposed to me?" I ask angrily, attempting but failing to pull my fingers from his grasp. 

James just smirks, turning towards me. "It means you've been a debtor since you were seven," he explains. Whoa. He didn't call me a slave. "They only allowed you to go to school until the sixth grade. You have a lot to learn about how the world works, Erin," he says. 

His words have injured my pride but I don't say anything in response. 

After a moment, James turns back towards the doors, opening one of them and ushering us inside. I am met by sheer opulence. An enormous chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and there are old portraits hung on every wall. Polished hardwood floors, satin sofas and wingback chairs, wood paneled walls, end tables with vases of flowers and intricate rugs. There are two staircases that lead up to the second story, curving out around the foyer in a gigantic half-circle. The tall windows let in a large amount of natural light, casting the entryway in golden sunlight. 

"It... It's beautiful," I murmur absently, making James laugh. 

"I thought you would enjoy it," he remarks, leading me further inside, showing me the kitchen, the walk-in pantry, the breakfast nook, the formal dining room, the ballroom, the study, the back porch, and the music room. And that's just the first floor. Then he takes me up the stairs to the second story, showing me several of the guest rooms, where his parents' room is, the second story balcony, and several small party rooms and bars. As if a ballroom wasn't enough. He shows me the library which starts on the second floor, and goes up to the fourth, with rails and bookcases that reach about halfway up to the glass ceiling fifty feet above. 

"Oh," I whisper. It's all I can say. 

James laughs. "What do you think?" He asks. 

As if I can even form a coherent thought right now. After turning in a slow circle, taking the magnitude of the library in, I turn to look up at him, meeting his violet eyes. "It's... lovely," I whisper, thinking that I might have misjudged this situation. This is the most magnificent library I've ever seen in my life, and I doubt anything could ever top it. 

James shows me the rest of the third and fourth floors, which aren't anything special and James laughs every time I get distracted by the library. I keep glancing over the rails, staring at the aisles and aisles of bookshelves. I couldn't read all these books if I had twelve lifetimes to do it!

He ends the tour in his bedroom, which makes me a little nervous. 

"what did you think?" He asks me, taking a seat on his enormous king-sized bed. His bedroom alone could easily house ten people.

"It's the most amazing house err... mansion I've ever seen in my entire life," I say without really thinking. 

"And to think I haven't even shown you anything outside yet," he teases. 

"There's more?" I ask, overwhelmed. 

He nods. "Oh yes. There's lots more," he assures me. 

And then it strikes me that he never showed me my room. Why wouldn't he show me my room.  "Where will my room be?" I ask suspiciously. 

James smirks but he doesn't say anything for a long time, as if he knows something I don't. "Erin, you don't have a room," he explains. 

I blink. "But-," James cuts me off with a wave of his hand, standing and stalking towards me in that damned predatory fashion of his. I'm starting to remember why I hate him so much. He backs me against the wall, towering over me. I'm frightened. There's a sinister smile plastered across his lips. 

"My dear little slave," he says, dragging his fingertips across my cheek, leaving behind prickles of heat. My heart starts to beat faster. "Didn't you know? You'll be staying with me, in my room."