The drive back to my place was shorter than I remembered; thoughts of what I was going to do with the dark-blonde beauty next to me kept me busy. Emma had winched again as she sat down in the car seat, and my dick twitched at the sight.
We didn't talk. I hated to have unnecessary conversations. If I had anything important to say, then I would say it, but only then.
Action spoke louder than words anyway.
The thing was, being in Emma's presence made me want to ask her stupid questions about her life. I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to get her to talk just so I could hear her calming voice. All the other women I'd met had this annoying screeching quality to theirs, but my little submissive didn't.
For once, I craved the sound of a woman's voice, and I hated it as much as I hated every other weakness Emma brought out of me. I think a part of me hated her, too, just because of the effect she had on me.
By the gate to my property, I pushed on the remote control to open them. The bars opened smoothly and without a sound.
It took four minutes to reach the middle of my estate, where the distasteful manor towered over the huge pine trees encircling it. It was the home of past horrors, but I didn't feel the same fright looking at it now as I did before.
Emma gasped as she took in my home. I tried to look at the monstrosity from her eyes; it was old—eighteen-century type old—and made of grey limestone bricks. The building had huge windows, giving the rooms inside natural light. By the entrance, two large white pillars were supporting a white canopy.
From what I gathered from her gasp, she thought it was impressive. If she only knew what had gone on inside those walls...
I only lived here to prove a point—to myself more than anyone else. The past didn't control me; nothing had control over me besides me.
I'd kept it the interior the same as it had always been. A great hall that echoed with each step we took. Not one but two ballrooms. Seating rooms. A couple of kitchens. Countless bedrooms and bathrooms. Pool room...there were too many rooms, and I was never in most of them. Truth be told, I was never here; when I was, it was only to sleep, work in my office or make food in the kitchen. The kitchen was by far my favorite place in my home. It was where I felt the most comfortable, where I could lower my shoulders and do something stress-free and enjoy my own company.
I started making food when I got into street fighting and found that it had a calming effect on me, like meditation. Whenever I needed that kind of relaxation, I found myself in the kitchen, learning new recipes and mastering old ones.
Driving around the sizable roundabout, I parked the car right by the entrance. I left my keys inside, knowing Malcolm, one of the many who worked here, would drive it into the garage.
When I opened the car door for Emma, she stepped out and turned towards the front yard. She took in the perfectly mowed lawn, the white gravel in the driveway, and the complete privacy the many trees offered. That was the only thing I liked about this place—the privacy.
"It's beautiful here," she commented but left it at that. While I saw that she thought the place was remarkable, she didn't hold much interest in it beyond getting to know me. The curiosity in her eyes as she looked around was proof of that.
I didn't say anything back and instead strode towards the door, knowing she would follow me. The light sound of footsteps behind me proved it.
Emma seemed surprised as I helped her out of her coat but let me do it without further reactions. Taking my own jacket off, I hung them in a room next to the foyer.
While I was a beast of a special kind, I was also a gentleman. Even though I wanted to inflict pain on women, I still respected them.
Leading Emma towards the great hall and up the stairs, we went through the hallway and directly to the kitchen. All the while, I had to stop several times to make sure Emma wouldn't get lost because she simply had to look at everything along the way.
"There should be some dinner in the oven for us," I said, every word sounded grating and rough to my ears. I wasn't used to talking this much to anyone but my friends and those I worked closest with.
Just as I mentioned food, Emma's stomach rumbled. While I grew irritated, she laughed it off.
"Sorry, it's been a while since I've eaten," she informed me, and that was precisely why I was so damn irritated. She should eat regularly, most importantly to maintain her health, but also to make sure she didn't lose any of her sinful curves
Working in my nightclub was challenging, with few breaks and none more than a few minutes. Emma wouldn't have gotten time to eat, and I didn't like that. My mind tried thinking of smart ways to make her breaks longer. I could hire another bartender, but then she would lose a lot of her tips with not two but three working behind the bar. I needed to talk to the guys about it. They would be fucking surprised when they learned Emma was working for me.
"Mmm, it smells good," Emma said when we got to the kitchen. The aroma of homemade lasagna and garlic filled the air, and I couldn't wait for her to taste the food I'd made. I'd cooked before I went off to work, and one of my staff had warmed the food for us, so it would be ready when we got here. That saved us time.
Fuck, I was actually excited to see if she liked my cooking. The thought turned me to stone. Emma was making me soft, and I was never soft. Part of me wanted to text either Callan or Mateo to come to get her, just because her presence unnerved me, making me into someone I wasn't.
"Sit down," I grunted as I made my way to the oven, grabbing potholders and took the casserole and the garlic bread out. Slicing the bread, I served each of us a generous amount of food. I didn't care if she didn't eat it all, as long as she felt full when she was done.
I laid the plates down on the dinner table before I went to the fridge and took out water bottles. I filled two glasses and had ice cubes in them both. The utensils were already on the table, along with napkins.
Emma was patiently waiting, not touching the food until I sat down. Even then, she didn't make a move to eat. Instead, she looked up at me. "Do you say grace?" Emma asked, and when I shook my head, she finally picked up the fork. I couldn't help but look at her as she tried the lasagna I had made for us.
Her eyes widened at the first bite, and she hummed a sound of pleasure. "Holy shit, this is the best food I've ever tasted," she said after she swallowed it down. I almost wanted to laugh hearing the profanity coming out of her mouth after she'd asked if I said grace. I only shrugged and started eating.
I could tell Emma wanted to talk, but either she knew I wasn't in the mood for it, or she was too busy eating. I guessed the latter with the way she was gobbling the food.
It pleased me that she enjoyed something I'd made, which dampened my mood further.
Why did I want her so fucking much but still not want her around me? It didn't make sense, but then again, nothing about her and me made sense. There was just something about her that both piqued my interest and unnerved me.
Emma wasn't like anyone I'd ever met. She was special.
Anyone else would've run the other way if they were alone in a room with me. But Emma? That wasn't how she rolled. She talked to me like I wasn't the scariest motherfucker she'd met when I knew I probably was. After all, no good person killed his own parents in cold blood.
After the very late dinner, Emma took both of our plates, washed them, and put everything in the dishwasher. I had staff for that, but I didn't tell her that. Watching her do something so...domestic was oddly pleasant.
"So..." she started when she finished with the dishes. "I got my results today."
"What did they say?" It was an unnecessary question. She'd already told us she was clean, and I trusted her words. Normally, it was hard for me to trust, but something about her told me I could. I guessed it was because she wore her emotions, making it easier for me to read her.
"They were all negative," she affirmed. "Wait here, I'll get them for you so you can read through them."
Emma walked to where she'd stored her bag and opened it. She found the envelope quickly and gave it to me.
I read through it, seeing she'd spoken the truth about being healthy. Satisfied, I handed it back to her.
"Do you..." Emma started when she had put the document back in her bag. She looked embarrassed, and that made me curious.
"Yes?" I asked.
"Do you have a toothbrush for me? With the garlic and all..." she trailed off, but I knew where she was going with it.
Chuckling—which surprised the hell out of me, I wasn't known to laugh—I led her to the bedroom that would be hers whenever she slept here. "Everything you need should be in the bathroom." With that, I went to my bedroom down the hall and brushed my own teeth.
Emma was waiting for me when I was done, and without a word to each other, she followed me to my playroom. Soon, her cunt would be mine.
I could already envision her naked body underneath mine, accepting my hard, brutal thrusts. If she thought I would go easy on her because this was our first night together, she was dearly mistaken.