Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138844 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
I couldn’t freaking wait. Unlike Master, I could cut back on my work fairly instantly. I was opting for 75%, so that I could still advance—which was an option I wanted—but I could work from home quite a bit too. I mean, I still loved my job and I couldn’t imagine quitting altogether, but I wanted more time for my slave space.
Master had told me it was entirely up to me—so long as I didn’t stress myself out.
Hello, irony!
“You can quit, you can work full time, you can go down to part time. Whatever you choose, you have my full support. And if you do cut your hours, it means you’ll let me take care of you financially as well.”
He could tell me it was my choice—and I knew it was—but he couldn’t hide his deepest desire. He wanted to take care of me, just like I wanted to serve him. So this was gonna work out perfectly. Well…the day he eventually, finally, let go of some of his own responsibilities at work. ’Cause it was a decision we’d made as a couple. I would go down to 75%, and he would do the same.
I checked the time again, and I also checked my phone. No messages from KC and Noa, meaning they hadn’t changed their minds. They were staying at our condo in town tonight. Master and I would have the house all to ourselves.
I smiled and popped a cheddar cube into my mouth.
The instant I heard Master’s car pulling in, I dimmed the lights in the kitchen and hurried into the dining room to light the candles on the table. Then I rushed back through the kitchen and out to the hallway.
Deep breaths.
Dinner was almost ready. I’d turned off the oven so Master could sit down with some peace and quiet to enjoy his appetizer without the timer going off. Plus, it was a good way to save on power. It wasn’t as if the oven turned cold instantly.
I ran a hand through my hair and grabbed Master’s coat hanger, and then I waited. He didn’t want me to kneel or get into any sort of high-protocol position for his arrival. I was even wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt! But he’d just said, “When I come home, I want you in my arms, not on the floor. I want you comfortable, warm, and cuddly.”
I could totally live with that.
The door opened, and I lit up. He’s tired. My smile faltered a little, even as his widened. Oh, he needed to rest. He couldn’t keep working this much. It might sound early to have dinner at six, but he’d gone into work at four-fucking-thirty this morning. And honestly, most of the time, we didn’t have dinner till past seven—and then he worked a couple more hours in his home study.
“Without a doubt, the best part of my day,” he said. “I missed you an absurd amount today, darling.”
“I missed you too, Owner.” I stepped forward and helped him with his coat, and I hung it in the closet next to the laundry room. And then I was in his arms. He hugged me tightly, and I slipped my hands up his chest and locked them around his neck.
Fuck.
I screwed my eyes shut and squeezed him as tightly as I could.
Lucian Leroux wasn’t one to complain when he was under pressure. If anything, he hunkered down and pushed himself harder. But I could tell anyway. Master’s exhaustion radiated off him in every ounce of affection. Like silent pleas for help.
I pressed kisses along his neck and jaw, drawing out another smile from him, and he tilted his head and captured my mouth with his.
His fingers occasionally brushed over the leather of my collar. I only wore it at home and at Mclean, partly because it was impossible to hide a two-inch wide leather collar.
The leather was so soft, and I loved wearing it—I loved feeling it.
Master did too, though, right now, for the wrong reasons. As if touching the collar reminded him that life outside work existed. A reminder he shouldn’t need.
KC’s words went on a loop in my brain sometimes. He’s been slowing down at work for a year now. A fucking year. I mean, I remembered from my years pining after him; he’d only ever shown up at Mclean on weekends. Never weeknight events—and far from every weekend. I’d been lucky if I’d caught him two nights in a month. With his manipulating asshole of an ex, of course.
It made me wonder, though. If working nine to ten hours a day was the result of cutting back for a year…what the hell had his schedule looked like before?
Although, KC had also said that Master had put in extra hours lately in order to handle both his work and training someone new. With their responsibilities, with their close relationships to clients, Master evidently had a lot of knowledge to share. Each billionaire is different, he joked sometimes.