As Becca finished setting the table and removed her apron, Xavier walked up behind her and pulled her gently into his chest. The warmth of his embrace was unexpected, catching her off guard.
"Didn't you miss me, love?" he teased, his voice low and velvety.
Becca blushed instantly. Her heart did a little flutter she hated to acknowledge. "I guess you did," he added smugly, seeing her expression.
"Let's eat now," she deflected, coughing awkwardly. "I don't want the food getting cold."
But she couldn't ignore the word he'd used—love.
Why would he call her that?
Wasn't she his pet? His slave?
Hadn't she heard him mock the idea of love with Raymond? Hadn't he said relationships were useless and feelings a distraction?
So why now?
Why her?
Xavier chuckled under his breath, clearly amused by her confusion and bashfulness. She tried to ignore him and focused on serving his food—steamed rice with chicken stew, paired with Filipino-style fish sauce and sautéed vegetables.
"I hope you like smoothies and sausage rolls for dessert," she said, mustering a smile. "We ran out of fruits while you were away… I had a little fever and mostly ate fruits."
Her innocent look only made Xavier grin wider. "A slight fever, huh?" he said, eyes glinting with mischief. "Sounds more like you were sick in love with me."
Becca choked on air.
Here he goes again with his sweet mouth.
She wasn't supposed to fall for him, right?
She couldn't love her master.
After all, she was the slave—contracted to pleasure him on demand. He did with her as he pleased.
So why was he acting like a lover?
Why was he being sweet?
After everything—the cold dominance, the harsh nights in the dark room, the things she didn't even want to think about—how could he laugh so easily, flirt so effortlessly?
But still… he had never been cruel outside of the bedroom.
He pampered her.
He gave her anything she asked for.
He'd never once raised a hand at her or treated her with disdain in public.
Would it have been easier if he was just wicked all the time? At least then she could hate him without feeling guilty.
She watched as Xavier threw his head back and laughed at her expression. Real, hearty laughter. Loud enough for everyone in the house to hear.
And they did hear.
In the kitchen, the staff exchanged knowing smiles as they cleared their plates, murmuring to one another about how the mistress had done the impossible—made the Master laugh after walking in with a storm cloud over his head.
After dinner, Xavier turned to her and said, "Thank you for the food."
Becca blinked. Did he just thank me?
Before she could reply, he added, "Leave the dishes. Mia will take care of them."
Then, he reached for her hand.
"Come with me."
Her heart skipped.
She knew what that meant. She'd seen the way his eyes roamed over her during dinner, burning with unspoken desire. She had signed the contract. She belonged to him—whenever and wherever he pleased.
She let out a soft sigh as he led her to the private elevator.
When they stepped out, he brought her to a tall steel door.
It scanned his pupils, and an AI voice echoed, "Welcome."
Becca gulped as the door slid open.
Her eyes widened.
Weapons lined the walls—whips, restraints, cuffs—and an array of sleek, intimidating toys she vaguely remembered seeing in Jennie's dorm room back in university. This wasn't just a room. It was his sanctuary. His dominion.
"Welcome back to my dark room," Xavier said, eyes locked on her trembling figure.
Becca tried to steady herself.
"O… okay… sir," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
Her mind screamed for control.
Her body? It wasn't so sure.