A firm stance on the nature of our relationship. That’s what I needed to make. But how could I make a “firm stance” on something that was shaky at best? We didn't exactly have a "typical" relationship. This wasn't your basic "we're from two different worlds" or "love triangle" kind of situation. His "world" was several different worlds, and I'd say this relationship was shaped a lot more like a web than it was a "triangle." Maybe that's why I felt so trapped right now."What’s the big deal?" Victor huffed, crossing his arms. "I remember enough about you to know you've done things like this before. So what's the problem?""The problem is you're sick."

My body felt refreshed when I woke up. I suppose I hadn't really had any "proper release" since that first night with Jack, and I'd suffered through several teasing experiences since then. If nothing else was true, Victor certainly did seem to know his way around a woman's body. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.I looked over at Mr. Weston. He was still fast asleep. I guess he was just as drained from our "conversation" yesterday as I was. His sleeping face was peaceful. I had the strong urge to lean over and kiss him. I wanted to treat him like a real lover more than anything. I wanted to be sweet and tender towards him. I wanted to hold him, and kiss him, and spend all day wrapped in his arms. But I couldn’t. He would probably be someone new today. Someone who

We met the gardeners in the rose garden. Luckily, my interaction with them was a little less intense than the one with the cleaners had been. Much like before, Thomas just wanted to introduce me and inform them that I was taking over soon. Other than that, I apparently didn’t need to instruct them much. I’d only have to speak with them if I noticed something wrong with the garden or if Mr. Weston requested a change. While happy to have one less thing to worry about, it didn’t seem to do much to calm the butterflies that had formed in my stomach. I was so anxious by the time they finally left that I thought I would collapse. I felt like I'd been directing people all day, but the distant sound of the clock told me it'd only been an hour.I glanced over at Thomas. How was he able to do this for so long? Ordering and keeping track of so many

My fears from this morning slowly started to reemerge. Exactly what did Henry remember about me? I was scared of what these “questions” of his might be about. And even more terrified of what might happen if I answered.However, also like this morning, it seemed my fears were, once again, completely off-base. Not two seconds later, he moved away from me and sat in his chair again. He rested his arms on the table and leaned forward eagerly."Now, Ms. Walton, what did you really think of the food?"I blinked. Perhaps it was the fuzziness in my head, but did I hear him right? The food? Did he really do all of this to ask me what I thought of his cooking

As we continued down the hall, I finally realized where we were going. My room. Well, Mr. Weston's room. Our room? I honestly didn't know what to think of it as. At least, that’s where I thought we were going. Instead, Thomas went over to the door that was closest to it. He motioned for me to follow him in. As he opened the door, I saw what it was. One of the guest bedrooms. It wasn't as grand as Mr. Weston's room, but still nicer than anything else I'd ever stayed in. It looked spotless, the cleaners must have already been through."While I’m glad to know you haven’t had any incidents so far, it really would be best for you to have your own room on the days you don't share one," he said, inspecting the room. "That being said, you’ll only be making more work for yourself if you choose one that’s too far away from him. Mr. Wes