Bought By The Billionaire - BDSM 18 novel Chapter 46

The door clicks shut behind him and from beyond, footsteps echo, followed by my Master’s call, reverberating loud against high ceilings. “Ross, bring the car to the front if you please.”

“Yes, Mr Haswell.”

More footsteps…

The bang of a door…

… The rumble of a car engine… The crunch of gravel…

Then silence.

And for the first time since my Master carried me over the threshold in my wedding dress, I am alone.

Swallowing down disappointment, I lie alone in the vast bed, the scent of my Master still clinging. Where he should be lying beside me, there are only wrinkled sheets and the odd stray rose petals.

Those sheets…

Silk.

Sweaty. Sodden. And freakin’ uncomfortable.

They’ve gotta go.

And there’s no point feeling sorry for myself. So, my beloved Master had to leave me for a while. He was clearly as teed by it as I was. More so I’d imagine.

Wonder if his pants are still a tight fit?

Pull yourself together, Woman…

He had to go…

And you told him it was okay.

Chuckling to myself and dismissing any idea of letting my unexpected solitude get me down, I swing up and out of bed, tugging the blighted sheets along with me. A quick shake and the pillow slips are off too. I toss the lot into a linen basket.

Fresh linen?

Hmmm…

A quick investigation of wardrobe top-cupboards produces only rolled-up comforters, quilts and an electric blanket, carefully vacuum-sealed into plastic.

Linen closet somewhere?

It would go with the house. A property this size might well have had such a thing, doubtless tucked away where it would not offend the gaze of the great and mighty gentry. Marching for the door, my hand is already on the handle when it occurs to me that I am now in fact one of said gentry.

And…

Am I alone?

He said there would be someone to clean up the rose petals.

Slipping on a robe, I venture out into the hallway.

My bare feet sink into carpet still scented of the showroom. A tall window… It has to be twenty feet from sill to lintel… illuminates the stairwell. Slanted sunlight is captured by a vast chandelier, to be fractured, then cast in long rainbows over walls and panelling painted a cool eggshell white.

Around me, the staircase leading down to the ground floor, the door I just exited, plus three others, to left and right and across the hallway. In an air of experiment, I try the door to the left. Poking my head inside…

As though I shouldn’t be here…

… I find a bedroom, every bit as large and plush as the one I just slept in.

Then, Tutting at my own foolishness…

This is my house…

… I enter the lovely room.

A blur of impressions…

A high ceiling… Plaster covings, intricately moulded, and a matching rose in the centre, the setting for another chandelier.

Carpets deep enough to swallow me.

Wardrobes taking up one wall, built from some beautifully grained timber, rosewood perhaps. Matching side tables, dresser and drawers.

Twinned windows, tall and narrow like the one in the hallway outside, looking over green treetops to some distant vista, draped and swagged. Their sills are deep enough to sit on, except that on each is a vase of fresh flowers, deep red roses, filling the air with their fragrance.

A door leads off to one side. When I try it, I find a bathroom; huge, expensively tiled and fitted. Polished glass and brass frames porcelain and fittings in designer names I recognise, coming from showrooms I wouldn’t have once considered entering, let alone buying from.

Mine…

My mouth is dry.

Linen cupboard…

Returning to the hallway, I try another door, the one to the right. This time it’s neither linen cupboard nor the bedroom I was half-expecting, but another bathroom. And it’s not an en-suite.

I stare, agog. A room the size of many apartments is empty of almost everything except a single colossal bath. Mounted on a marble plinth, supported by brass lion's feet, the huge slipper bath curves up at the back to support the lounging occupant…

Occupants?