I wish time would go by faster. I’m only halfway into my month with Mr. Bordeaux, but the days pass at an agonizing pace. The only highlight of this day is that I’ll see Liam later for a game of chess. If not for the bitter chill, I’d stay outside the walls of the estate until my session with the chancellor, clinging to the heady sense of freedom. Instead, I return inside and take the elevator to Mr. Bordeaux’s floor in silent contemplation.

Because he gave me an afternoon of unequivocal freedom, but I’m returning to my prison, of my own free will, and that makes me question my sanity. Am I so lost that I can’t enjoy an afternoon without someone telling me what to do? Shaking the disturbing thought from my head, I enter through the main door, distracted with thoughts of curling up with a good book, but odd sounds halt me on the threshold of my bedroom.

Grunting.

Rhythmic and fast-paced.

Groans.

Coming from Mr. Bordeaux’s quarters at the end of the wide hallway. I spy the ajar door, and the sounds filtering out draw me closer to peek through the crack.

I wish I hadn’t.

Because Mr. Bordeaux isn’t alone. Loren is with him, and the two are a tangle of limbs on the humongous bed, bodies rutting, skin covered in sweat.

I’m not supposed to see this.

It must be the reason he sent me away for the afternoon. He believes I’m outside enjoying my freedom, grateful for his permission to leave the residence for a few hours.

Instead, I’m spying on him while he pounds his manservant from behind. Loren turns his head, his hooded gray eyes latching onto mine, and we both gasp, drawing the attention of his master. I duck out of sight, but the tremble in my legs and the furious pace of my heart know better.

It’s too late.

The door swings all the way open behind me, and I drop to my knees, hands shaking on my thighs as his feet stomp closer. He appears in front of me, naked and vibrating with anger.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Mr. Bordeaux.”

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

I open my mouth to reply, but fear imprisons my vocal cords.

“Answer me!” His voice booms off the walls, making me jump.

“N-no, Mr. Bordeaux.”

“Did I give you permission to spy on me in my private quarters?”

“No, Mr. Bordeaux.”

“Then why were you doing just that?”

Scared to say the wrong thing, I lick my lips to buy a couple of seconds. “It was cold outside, so I c-came in and h-heard noises…”

“And instead of returning to your quarters where you belong, you stuck your nose in my private business, is that the sum of it, Novalee?”

“Yes, Mr. Bordeaux. I’m sorry.”