Chapter 7:Come to my private suite now!

Lazarus

The door clicked shut behind her, and Lazarus stood still for a long moment.

He could still feel it. A strand of her hair, soft as thread, slipping between his fingers. And the scent. When he had leaned close to her ear, he could smell something soft and clean, like vanilla and a warm shampoo. It was nothing expensive. Mixture of vanilla and coco.

Careless, he thought. That was careless.

He crossed the room and poured himself a drink. He didn’t touch it. He stood at the window instead, watching the other maids work outside the glass window and thought about the way she had looked at him with her puppy doe brown eyes.

She had been terrified. He had seen it in her eyes, in the way her breath caught when he leaned close and her busty chest raising up and down in fear,That part he understood. Fear was a language he spoke fluently. Most people shook when he stood that near, and he rarely noticed anymore.

But under the fear, there had been something else.

She had not looked away, she seem to know how to hold her gaze with him.

Not when he laughed. She had stood there, small and shaking, and her eyes had followed him like she was trying to work him out. Like she wanted to know what was underneath.

Her eyes were big and brown,with her black long curly hair and heart shaped lips and they showed everything. Fear, broken, stubborn and a kind of courage, all at once. He‘s willing to unlock one day at a time.

Innocent, he thought, and almost laughed. He hadn’t used that word in years.

She had been terrified, and he had enjoyed it, but it wasn’t only that. Something in him wanted to go slowly.He could have ordered her, forced her into having sex him, broken her down in a week, men in his position have the power to do it. But instead he found himself wanting to take his time with her. Willing to unravel her as time goes.

Devouring her slowly and carefully is a way to fully own her, that way she would be shivering at the thought of him and by the time he had tamed her, it would be more enjoyable to take her.

He could tell by the look of her eyes that she had been into something intense that she wasn't telling him, he was observant and could tell,not that he had earned any trust for her to tell him anything about her life.

She made his mind wander a bit to when he use to have a girl that was into him while growing up but his father ”Alexander” wasn’t a big fan of love, he wanted an unwavering son and always disciplined him anytime he was caught with a love letter given to him by female friends,Not only him. His mother was also flogged by being soft with him, and his sister was also punished.

He pushed the memory back where it belonged. Love and distraction was a door he had locked long ago. He knew what it had cost him and felt it wasn’t really worth it. His respect and gains were more useful, he thought to himself

Well..Lazarus continued

She‘s a tool, he told himself . A useful one, if she finishes this mission. Good for her. If not she would be sorry.

He said it twice, like a man trying to advice himself by keeping his hands away from something sexy and tempting.

Then he picked his phone and typed.

Black. ”Come to my study. We need to prepare the girl”.

On my way, Don.

Lazarus put the phone down. He would find out what she was worth.

After that, he would decide what to do with her but he’s willing to take his time slowly with her till he’s satisfied.

After talking to black…hours passed it was 10:30pm on a Saturday evening.

Lazarus sat on the couch,rolling his tense and aching shoulder, everywhere ached so bad after the calls and meetings with men who wasted his time.

A massage would help, he thought.

Then his mind drifted to Delia, an evil smirk spread across his face, as he pushed his long wet hair back with one hand.

she should put her hand to use tonight.

He picked up his phone and typed.

”Stacia, come to my private suite now“!

He set his phone on the table and waited, counting the minutes of her arrival with a naughty smile.

****

DeLia

I stared at the screen, my heart beating fast. This late? I thought. What could he possibly want at this hour?

I looked at myself in the little mirror hanging above my  wall in the bathroom. What I wore, just my long thin strap black nightgown I‘d always wear at night.

Too tired to change it, It looked appropriate enough.

I dashed out, I wouldn’t want to be punished for coming late.

I stepped into his private wing, then through the door into his room, my heart beating out of my chest the whole way.

It was the first time I'd ever been inside. Everything gleamed, the walls painted in a rich, oil-slick gold,. I didn't know where to let my eyes rest. Every direction held something more expensive than anything i‘d Seen in the mansion.

"Stop staring and come here."

My gaze snapped toward his voice and landed on his bare chest instead.

I froze. He was shirtless, standing near the window, every line of him carved and defined in a way that made my breath catch somewhere in my throat. Heat crawled up my body, and I hated myself a little for how long it took me to remember to look away.

"Once you're done staring,put that on, he said

He nodded toward the bed. A nightdress lay folded across the sheets, a silk baby pink cute nightdress.

My stomach dropped.

Why do I need to wear that, I thought, panic rising fast, ugly memories stirring somewhere I usually kept locked tight. What does he want with me?

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he said, before I'd even finished the thought, like he'd read it directly off my face. I don't want you wearing whatever sad maid for a nightgown you‘re on. You look pathetic in them.

He said harshly.

My cheeks burned, I felt humiliation this time, not attraction.

"Take a hot shower," he said, already turning back toward the window, his voice flat, ordinary, like he was asking for a request instead of anything more. "Put that on. Then come massage me. I'm sore all over.

I stood there a moment, my chest tight, torn between relief that it was only this, and a lingering unease that refused to fully settle. Relief and fear tangled together so closely I couldn't tell anymore where one ended and the other began.

I didn't move right away. Why should I shower again? I thought, is he indirectly calling me dirty?.

"Now, Delia," he said, sharper this time, not even bothering to look back at me.

I swallowed hard, gathered the nightdress off the bed with shaking hands, and made my way toward the bathroom, my mind spinning the entire way.

In the bathroom, my mind wouldn't settle. Why did he need me to massage him, when he could easily call in someone with real experience, someone trained for this? Was this another test, the same way everything else with him seemed to be?

I thought of him shirtless,  the thick, defined muscle, the sheer size of him. I hated how easily the thought came, how little control I seemed to have over it. He truly is a work of art, I thought, then immediately felt foolish for thinking it at all, given everything else that was going on.

Suddenly the bathroom light went off.

My stomach turned in the sudden darkness, it was scary.

The dark hit me in the face. I was trying to rush out of the bathroom cause I‘ve been afraid of the dark since I was a child, my hands trembling as I tried rushing to the door with my hands in front of me.

My foot caught the soap that had tripped while I was struggling to escape and I was about to hug the floor after stepping on it.

I gasped, but no sound came out, about to kiss the floor when a strong arm closed around my waist and faced me toward him stopped me in mid fall.

Then the light came on…