Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Boredom hit me hard. My need to go into the kitchen built with every passing second.
The fear hit me hard, and I hated myself for being so afraid.
There was no way Earl would allow anything to happen to me.
I stood up.
Sat down.
Stood up.
Sat down.
Angry, I released a groan and stood the fuck up. I wasn’t going to be beaten by a feeling. A feeling had no meaning to it. My imagination was running wild.
I walked slowly back to the house.
I hadn’t cleaned the breakfast dishes this morning, but entering the kitchen, I see they were already gone. This made me pause. Maybe those were the eyes on me? The people who worked here, they needed to know when to come and go, right?
I had yet to see anyone else besides Earl.
He’d told me they were around, knowing how to do their job. They had to be the ones I’d felt watching me.
Feeling stupid, I turned the stove on. Just the sound of the oven firing up brought me a sense of calm.
With that on, I was ready. I pulled out some ingredients from the fridge that were necessary for baking, and then checked to make sure I had the relevant pans.
There weren’t many, but I had enough.
I even spotted some yeast in the fridge. I checked the date and was happy to notice it hadn’t been opened.
Some cinnamon rolls were in my future, providing I actually had the key ingredient to make them all work.
Going to the pantry, of course, I found it.
I didn’t know how Earl knew this was what I’d want to make.
I got to work.
Pouring out some milk, sprinkling in some sugar, then the yeast to allow it to bloom.
I hummed to myself as I worked.
No knowable tune, just a sound.
I was happy.
Even with the feel of someone watching me. I tuned it out and focused on baking. I measured out the flour, then some salt as the yeast started to work. I included some more sugar, melted some butter, and then some vanilla.
Again, I was shocked by how many ingredients he had that I could use.
I loved baking almost as much as I loved cooking.
With the yeast ready, I poured the mixture into the bowl and started to knead it with my hand. I couldn’t find a mixer, but a little handwork was no problem.
Once it was all mixed, I poured it out onto the counter and got to work, kneading the living daylights out of it. Pushing my palms in, drawing the dough back.
The moment it was springy, and I’d built up a bit of a sweat, I swiped my arm across my brow and then oiled the bowl. Dumping the dough inside, I covered it with some plastic wrap and left it to rise.
Cleaning up my mess didn’t take any time at all.
The oven was still on. While I waited, I made a batch of sweet scones. Everyone liked a scone with a cup of tea.
They were in the oven, and the dough was nearly ready after just an hour. I got back to work, making the cinnamon filling.
I’d finished assembling them and allowed them to proof for a second time when Earl arrived.
I put the tin in the oven and gave him my full attention.
He was in a suit.
In his hand was a piece of paper.
I’d already cleaned all the mess.
He slid the paper across the counter to me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Look at it.”
I didn’t know if I want to.
My heart had already started to pound. Lifting it up, I saw they were a list of names, followed by locations. Turning it over, I counted fifteen female names on the list, and then looked over at Earl.
The sickness swirled in my gut.
“I didn’t back out of my dare.”
“You had them waiting?” I asked.
When it came to his life, I shouldn’t question it. This was his work, not mine. Had I saved these women? Put them in more danger?
“Yes.”
Earl turned back to face me. “An auction was scheduled in three days. It gives the men enough time to get them in line.”
“You mean beat and rape them?” I didn’t miss the tic in his jaw.
He was pissed off. I made him that way.
“I’ve told you to not ask me questions you don’t want answers to.”
“I’m not asking you anything I don’t want answers to. Your men beat and rape the women into fear. So they don’t fight. So they stand obediently for others to pick over them like cattle.”
“This is the end of this discussion,” he said.
“I will pay you back all the money that you’re saving for me for company.”
He’d turned away, heading toward the door. My words made him stop.
His hand reached out, touching the doorframe as he turned toward me. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. Every single penny. I don’t want it. In return, you never take women again.”