Page 51 of Vicious
It smells good in the kitchen. Mrs. Hong left a platter of appetizers out on the island, and the main course is in a covered pot on the stove. I see a set of nice plates on the counter next to the stove.
“I think you know how to serve food, right?” Chase says as he squeezes my breast. “On account of that catering job. I’d say I’m sorry you got fired after that whole debacle, but I’m honestly not.”
“Because you’re a dick,” I say, my thoughts racing as I look over everything. “I’m not going to be some perfect little… little housewife for you. If I have to serve you, I will drop everything.”
Asshole.
He just had to remind me of how he’d taken something else from me—because I’m not already unsteady enough.
“We should make it a challenge. How long can you go without dropping a single plate?” Chase lets go of me to go over to the stove. He lifts the lid on one of the pans and takes a deep breath. “Oh, this smells delicious. Drake is going to hate it. I’ve never seen him eat a fish in his life.”
“So why are you making him eat fish?” I ask, ignoring his comment about dropping plates. “Are you always as rude to your friends as you are to me?”
“He’ll get full off the appetizers anyway. And yes. If I can’t torment him a bit while he’s in my own home, when can I torment him?” Chase puts the lid back and looks around. “Serving trays are over here, and we’ll start with the finger food out in the living room. Say what you want to me, Drake, and Hunter, but be nice to Stef or things will go really sour for you.” He drops his smile. “I’m serious about that.”
“I thought you said that if I didn’t cooperate, she’d get whipped,” I say, putting a hand on my hip. “That doesn’t sound like you treat her very nicely.”
Chase shrugs. “She’s hot, but I’m not going to get on Hunter’s bad side. You’re welcome to do it though, and I won’t stop him from punishing you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have any need to be mean to people,” I say irritably. “Well. Just you, because you deserve it, and I’m sure Drake and that doctor deserve it too.”
I don’t know why I’m letting Chase show me where all the stuff is in the kitchen. I don’t want to serve him and his friends. I don’t want them to see me like this, with a tail literally between my legs and the plug making me squirm uncomfortably.
It’s making my cunt throb, too, and I try not to think about that.
The setup is extremely familiar though. I’d done several catering jobs, not just the one where I’d met Chase, and it’s brainless work.
Until the doorbell rings.
“That’s Hunter,” Chase says.
I look up from one of the trays I’m arranging. “How do you know?”
“Because he’s early, and only rang the doorbell once.” Chase squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll be lenient with your behavior as long as you stay here and do what I ask. If you run off and don’t play along, well.” His smile turns dark. “Don’t forget that I absolutely can lock you up without any of your new toys.”
“Yeah, you’ve made it perfectly clear that you’ll take everything away if I don’t behave, even though you won’t tell me what behaving means, and you want me to be myself without being myself, and—” I throw my hands up in the air. “Go get the door, or whatever. I’m not your—” I cut myself off again, because those words would be decidedly untrue.
I am his slave.
No matter how cheerful he acts, no matter how generous he can be, he’s not a nice person. He’s not a good person at all. So how do I keep forgetting that?
Chase goes to welcome his guests. I hear a male voice answer him, then everybody shuffles into the living room. There’s an occasional soft jingling sound too, but it stops once they’re in the living room.
I close my eyes, trying to prepare myself for this even though there’s no way I can be. So I plaster a smile onto my lips and grab the tray of appetizers with practiced ease, flouncing into the living room like I own the place.
Like I really am a housewife, and nothing more, willingly here to serve.
Fuck my life.
CHAPTER 14
May
The scene before my eyes is one that makes my lip curl. The doctor I recognize from what seems like ages ago sits stiffly on one of the couches. A young blonde woman about my age kneels in front of him, her head resting against his thigh.
Despite the fact that she’s wearing a bunny outfit that’s modest in comparison to what I have on and that I know isn’t there of her own free will, there’s a placid look on her face. She looks almost tranquil in a way I just can’t imagine being.
Poor thing.