IN HIS KEEPING: TAKEN

Connor locked the door.  ‘We need to talk,’ he said, grabbing her hand and leading her into the living room.  He was wearing his stern face.  Like he was about to read her the riot act or lay down the law about something.  He pointed to the ottoman.  ‘Sit down,’ he ordered.

Unsettled by his behavior, she took a seat.  Her hands fidgeted in her lap.  What was this about?  He’d been smiling a few minutes ago when he’d waved goodbye to his guests.  Now he looked grim and dour.  She could only assume it had something to do with the way she’d acted toward his friends.  Sylvie hadn’t exactly been polite to them.  Why should she be?  They were rude, spiteful, and condescending to her!  Still this was his house and they were his guests.  Sylvie had no say about anything that went on here!

Sylvie could understand why he might be a little upset.  She didn’t like his friends and it showed.  Sylvie made no effort to conceal her feelings.  She couldn’t abide them!  The men were arrogant, conceited, overbearing snobs who looked down their nose at everything and everyone.  They thought their wealth and power made them better than ‘the unwashed rabble,’ ‘the dependent lower classes!’

But as much as she disliked the men, it was the vain, narcissistic, model/actress fashionistas that really pissed her off!  The picture-perfect beauties were four of the nastiest cunts she’d ever encountered!  They were unrelenting in their cruelty!  Taking sadistic pleasure in the distress their hurtful remarks caused.  They enjoyed embarrassing people, making them feel stupid, small, and unimportant.  Especially Sylvie!

Regrettably, she wasn’t the sole target of their barbs.  Mrs. Cosgrove found herself on the receiving end too.  Unlike Sylvie, though, Mrs. Cosgrove chose to ignore them.  Even when they belittled and insulted her.  They loudly complained that she hadn’t stocked the brands of fruit-flavored vodka, organic wine, and sparkling water they preferred.  The food wasn’t to their liking either.  Mrs. Cosgrove failed to prepare meals suited to their particular dietary idiosyncrasies: vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free.  They’d acted as though Connor’s house was a diner and Mrs. Cosgrove the short-order cook.  They wanted organic fruits and vegetables.  Tempeh burgers.  Fried quinoa with bean sprouts and tofu.  Brown rice with lentils.  Becoming irate when they couldn’t get them.  Aghast that Mrs. Cosgrove didn’t routinely stock such items.  They sniffed that servants in the city were always prepared to see to the tastes of their guests, unlike the backwoods yokels that passed for domestic help up here in the boondocks!  Their grousing ceased whenever their host came within earshot.  They didn’t pull that crap on Connor.  They didn’t dare complain about the meal he’d cooked them.

Sylvie kept fidgeting.  She didn’t want an argument or a lecture.  If he called her on her behavior, she’d apologize.  She’d choke on it, but she’d apologize.  No hysterics.  No acting aggrieved.  No insisting he listen to her side of things.  She was trying to think of what to say when he parked himself in the overstuffed leather chair right in front of her.  Her seat was a good six inches lower than his.  That coupled with the difference in their height made it feel like he was looming over her.

‘Things are going to be different around here from now on.  Starting tonight you’ll be sleeping in my room.  You’ll share my bed, my bathroom, even my closets.’  His eyes were riveted on her.  ‘There will be rules, Sylvie, and I’ll expect you to follow them.’

Sylvie stared at him in surprise.  She’d assumed she was about to get a lecture.  Reprimanding her for her bad behavior and numerous shortcomings.  She hadn’t expected this!  He wanted her to live with him.  Play house!  That was good news!  Wasn’t it?  But something wasn’t right.  Here he was talking about sharing his bed, his john, and his life with her and all he could do was scowl.  He sounded neither loving nor affectionate; resembling instead a commandant issuing orders.  And what rules was he talking about?

‘For a little lady who normally can’t keep her mouth shut, you seem uncharacteristically quiet, at a loss for words.’

‘That’s because I don’t know what to say.  If this is your idea of sweet-talking me into camping out in your bedroom from now on, you’ve failed.  Miserably, I might add.  Perhaps I’d be more receptive if you weren’t frowning at me.  It’s worth a try!  If you want me to share your bed every night, I suggest you ask nicely.  You know…woo me!’

‘Woo you?’ he snorted.  ‘Are you serious?’  What was she, delusional?  He was rich.  Rich men didn’t need to woo women.  Most times they had to beat them off with sticks.  He’d been pursued and seduced by some of the most beautiful women in the world.  He didn’t need to woo them.  All he had to do was crook his finger and they fell over each other trying to get to his bed.  Connor frowned.  The little chit should be grateful he wanted her at all.  He couldn’t imagine any other man of his acquaintance or means taking her on; not once she’d opened her mouth.  Her tongue was sharp.  Her behavior shrewish.  She was insolent, obstinate, and contemptuous of authority.  What man in his right mind would want her?  She should be flattered by his attention.  He was rich…very, very, very, rich!  Didn’t she get it?  Was she that dumb?  She’d want for nothing.  This was like winning the lottery for her!  The little ingrate should fall down on her knees and thank her lucky stars.  Just three weeks ago she was poor!  She had no money, no prospects.  She was starving, not knowing where her next meal was coming from.  He’d changed all that.  A bit of gratitude might be in order!

She glared at him indignantly.

‘Very well, never let it be said that I don’t know how to woo a woman, even a petulant little brat like you.  Sylvie, I would very much like for you to live with me and share my bed.  Do you agree to such an arrangement?’

An arrangement?  The words sounded so cold, so unfeeling.  Like a business or contractual obligation.  They were embarking on a relationship.  An intimate romantic relationship!  At least she was.  But what about him?  She wanted to hear words of endearment.  Assurances of his regard and affection.  She didn’t want an arrangement!  She wanted love!  ‘And if I don’t agree?’ she asked tartly.

‘Playing hard to get?’ he asked sarcastically.  ‘Stupid me, I actually thought you liked sharing my bed.  Was I wrong?’

Sylvie shook her head, lowering her gaze to the floor.  ‘No you’re not wrong,’ she whispered, wondering why she was incapable of standing up to him.

‘Was that so hard?  Admitting that you want me, that you want to be with me?’  His hand reached down and lifted her face till she had no choice but to look at him.  ‘So you’ll agree to the arrangement?’  His dark eyes fixed on hers.  He wanted an answer.

Sylvie nodded meekly, but couldn’t shake the feeling that she was making a terrible mistake.  All it took was one look from him and she morphed into someone else, someone she didn’t recognize…a girl so vulnerable, meek, and incapable of rational thought, that she was ready to surrender her mind, her body, and her will.  Still, she wanted him.  Wanted to share his life!  The problem was the relationship he was proposing, like everything else in his life, had to be on his terms.  When did she become a pushover?  A wuss?  Where was her independence?  Her pride?  Sylvie tried to tamp down her doubts and feelings of foreboding.  They were going to be together.  That was all that was important.

‘I want to hear you say it Sylvie!’ he demanded.

Why was he being such a dick?  ‘Fine, I agree to the arrangement.  Satisfied?  Happy now?’ she snapped.

‘Very well,’ he responded smugly.  ‘Now that that’s out of the way, we’ll discuss the rules.’

‘Rules?  What rules?  Why do we need rules?’ she bristled.  Alarm bells and red warning lights were going off in her head.

‘Every household has rules, Sylvie.  In my house, we follow my rules.  It’s that simple.  You need to know what’s expected of you.  What will and will not be allowed.  And what the consequences for bad behavior are.  Just so you know, I intend to be quite strict with you!’

‘Excuse me?’  She spit the words at him through clenched teeth, her tone irate, eyes storming.  Who the hell did he think he was?  She wasn’t a child and certainly wouldn’t allow herself to be treated like one.  He could take his rules and shove them up his…

‘Up to now our relationship has been limited to that of employer and employee.  Even though we’ve lived under the same roof, the rules I imposed on you were work-related.  They concerned job performance and behavior during working hours.  I couldn’t dictate how you dressed on your own time.  It wasn’t my place to monitor your comings and goings.  Or give you a curfew.  I never told you where you could go.  What you could do.  Who you could see.  As your employer, I was not in a position to set limits for you.  It was not my place to correct your language, your attitude, or your behavior even when they displeased me,’ he chided.  ‘But all that’s changed now.  I’m no longer just your employer.  I’m the man who shares your bed…your lover…your swain!  You aren’t just my employee anymore…you’re my live-in companion…my significant other…my inamorata!  I will take responsibility for your care, your health, your well-being.  I’ll provide for you financially and see to your every want and need.  I promise to protect and keep you safe from harm.  But in return, I expect your respect and obedience.  You will be answerable to me from now on.’  He could see her eyes widen in disbelief, her lips pursing in anger.  ‘I don’t think that’s too much to ask,’ he declared, waiting for the explosion he knew was coming.

‘Whoa!  Time out!’  Sylvie yelled, forming a T with her two hands like an enraged referee.  ‘I didn’t ask you to assume responsibility for me…financially or otherwise.  I am fully capable of taking care of myself!  The last thing I want is to be kept like some skanky-ho mistress.’  She was so angry she was shaking.  ‘You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to let you run my life just because I share your bed.  I don’t take orders from anyone, least of all you!  This isn’t work!  You’re not my boss and I’m not your subordinate!  In this relationship I am your equal!  Got that?  You have a hell of a nerve!  Fuck you and your damn rules!‘  She spat out the words as though they were bitter on her tongue.

Connor sighed shaking his head.  Why did she always have to make everything so difficult?  ‘You, little girl, need to watch your language.  You’re behaving like a foul-mouthed guttersnipe!’ he scolded, wagging his finger at her.  ‘I hate to burst your bubble, but we are not equals here, not by a long shot!  Last time I looked this was my house, my money, my cars, my food.  What exactly are you bringing to the table here that allows you to think you have any say in the matter?’  His brow furrowed, eyes boring into her.  ‘Let’s get one thing straight: as long as you live under my roof and share my bed, I expect you to mind me and do as I say.’

‘Mind you?’ her temper flared.  ‘You are such an arrogant prick.  In your dreams pal!’  How could he be such an utter dipshit?  ‘You think because you’re rich you can order people like me around and make them grovel.  Well, I’ve got news for you rich-boy…ain’t gonna happen!’  She was seething, but then so was he!  He just did a better job of hiding it.

‘I’m sorry you feel that way Sylvie.  But I have old-fashioned ideas when it comes to how men and women should interact.  And I am very much set in my ways.  I believe the male should be the one in charge, the final authority in a relationship.  That’s not to say I won’t value your opinion, but in this house, my house, I make the rules.  Equality in a relationship may sound good in theory but it fails the reality test.  You can’t have two people in charge.  It doesn’t work.  All you get are arguments, hurt feelings, and a cluster fuck where nothing ever gets decided and nothing is ever accomplished.  I don’t like chaos, Sylvie.  That’s why there have to be rules.  I want to live in a pleasant, peaceful, harmonious home.  I would like to share that home with you.  But it will be on my terms!’

‘That’s not fair!’ she snapped, jumping to her feet.  ‘Don’t I have any say in this?’  Of all the unmitigated gall!  He might be good in bed, well, great in bed actually, but that didn’t give him the right to think he owned her.  That he could order and boss her around like a five-year-old!  Her heart sank.  This relationship was unraveling before it even got started!

‘Sylvie, did you really expect that you’d be on equal footing with me in this?’  He stared at her, obviously perplexed, his eyes somber.  ‘Are you delusional?’  His look darkened his eyes unflinching and resolute as he waited for an answer.

Sylvie didn’t say a word.  She withered under his censuring gaze.

‘Let me get this straight.  I am older, richer, wiser, and more successful than you are.  I am also more experienced, more responsible, more capable, more accomplished, and more sophisticated than you.  By comparison, you’re gullible, naive, and inexperienced.  For lack of a better word, you’re absolutely clueless when it comes to life.  Barely able to survive on your own.  You’re irresponsible, incapable of taking care of yourself, let alone another human being.  Let me remind you that prior to coming here you couldn’t hold down a job, couldn’t pay your rent, couldn’t even afford to eat!  You would have wound up in a homeless shelter, taking your meals at some soup kitchen in the Bowery if I hadn’t rescued you!  That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence!  Yet, you expect me to give you an equal say in decisions that will affect us as a couple!  Want me to trust your judgement!’ he looked at her incredulously.  ‘That’s like a lunatic demanding to be given the keys to the asylum.  No way Sylvie!  I’m going to be the person in authority in this relationship.  I want you to be part of my life, but I won’t compromise on this.  I’m sorry you think I’m being a domineering, overbearing, controlling asshole.  But it is what it is!  This is the how it’s going to be!  End of discussion!’

‘And if I don’t agree, then what?  You fire me and send me packing?  Back to New York?’ she questioned, crestfallen, tears beginning to spill from her eyes.

Connor let out a gust of breath and combed his fingers nervously through his dark curls.  He’d misjudged her.  Hadn’t expected her to be this resistant to his authority, his rule.  Maybe he’d pushed too quickly.  Perhaps he should have given her more time?  ‘No, I would never do that to you!  If you can’t agree to the arrangement, then we’ll continue on as we have been…working together; but our relationship won’t extend beyond the duties and needs of the job.’

Sylvie lifted her gaze to look at him.  ‘If I’m such a terrible person, why do you even want to be with me?’  Her hands trembled as she tried to wipe the tears away.

‘I don’t think you’re a terrible person at all.  Quite the contrary, I think you’re wonderful!’ he assured her, grabbing her shoulders and crushing her against his chest.  ‘I just think you need guidance.  Rules!  Limits!  I want to give you the world Sylvie.  Spoil you.  Provide you with the kind of life you deserve.  I’ll take you to places and show you things you’ve only dreamed about.  But when I do, I can’t have you behaving like a willful, obstinate, defiant child.  Fuming and fussing, whining and cursing every time things don’t go your way.  We’ll go to the best restaurants and parties, the finest theaters and clubs, the most luxurious hotels.  You’ll be introduced to prominent powerful people. I’ll expect you to conduct yourself accordingly.  Call me old-school, but I want a lady on my arm.  I want men to envy me because my woman is not only beautiful, but well-spoken, well-mannered, and genteel as well.  Is it so hard to let me lead you?  To let me teach and guide you?  Is that too much to ask?  Can’t you trust me?  I want us to be together.  I want that more than anything!  Can’t you swallow your pride just this once?  Can’t you agree to do it my way?  To at least try?’ he pleaded.

Sylvie trembled as she backed away from him, her eyes searching his.  Her mind was whirling.  It felt like she was standing atop a cliff, staring down into an abyss, a place of dark roiling waters.  Wrapped safe in the warmth of his arms, her resolve faltered.  Sylvie was afraid.  If she said no, she’d lose him.  But if she said yes, she might well lose herself.  She couldn’t think.  The heat of his body, his scent, his touch, overwhelmed her.  She could see herself being swept into a frightening whirlpool.  Unable to fight or struggle free, she was succumbing, being dragged under.  How had it come to this?  Her desire for him was like an open, agonizing wound.  It tortured her.  She wanted him, needed him.  He banished the loneliness.  He soothed her soul.  But it was already too late.  Connor had cast a spell and ensnared her.  For good or ill she was his.  She nodded her head, stepped forward, and plunged headlong into the dark void.