Page 7 of Owning Emma
I shrugged, unwilling to commit to an answer until I’d been around for a while. “So, what’s this place?” I gestured to the building in front of me.
“Our house.” He looked up toward the top of the place, admiring the building.
“Excuse me? Our house?” I could feel panic begin to finally set in. There was no way I could live with him.
“Yep, you. Me. Roman.” Them. There was no way I could live with THEM.
“Wait. I can’t stay with you guys. What about one of the cabins?” Surely, someone would lend me their space, right?
“All occupied. We have scheduled to put up more next spring, but you know, it’s a slow process, permits, supplies . . . all that.” He shrugged, unaffected by the way I was panicking.
“What’s that building?” I pointed to a small place off to the right of the big house, desperate for anything. I would take an unlivable shed at this point.
“Oh, that’s Roman’s mom’s place. You will meet her in a minute. Mama Ortiz will love having you around.”
Opening the door to his truck, he finally got out, and I followed. Reaching in the back, he grabbed my bags, and this time I didn’t bother arguing. He would win, and to be honest, I was too busy having a freak out knowing I would be living with them to put up much of a fight. He gestured for me to follow, and I did. I followed him up the stone steps to the carved door that looked like it could weigh a ton.
Flinging open the door, he announced inside, practically singing, “Mama Ortiz, I’ve got a present for you.”
A short, tan-skinned woman came out of a doorway, an apron tied around her thick middle, her graying dark hair tied up in a bun with a few wisps kissing her cheek. The moment she saw me, her eyes widened, and a smile took over her face. “Who do we have here?”
Shaw’s chest puffed up with pride, making him seem like he gained an extra foot in height. “Well, you said you needed some help around here, so I got you an Emma.”
“You got me an Emma, did you?” She looked at him with affection and amusement twinkling in her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.” He was practically beaming, and I wished I could take him down a peg.
The woman turned toward me. “Well, Emma, I’m Dorothy, you can call me Dot if you like.”
I reached my hand out to offer to shake hers, but she reached out and pulled me into a hug. Hugs, this was new. Something I had had little of since the passing of my mother when I was ten years old, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.
“Where did they pick you up from, Emma?” Dot asked when we finally pulled away.
“Don’t you concern yourself with the details, Mama, you needed help, and she’s here.” Shaw cut in, giving me a look that said if I even tried to tell her something different, I’d regret it.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. These boys need more women in this place to keep them in line. Don’t let them sweet talk you, stay strong. They prey on the weak, all men do.” Dot snorted at her last statement.
“Come on, Mama. We aren’t that bad. You love us.” Shaw graced Dot with a smile, and her features instantly went soft. Maybe my insides did, too. His smile caused his eyes to shine, mischief dancing in their depth, and I didn’t want to wonder what he was about. What the shaggy, dirty blond hair and five o’clock shadow hid. What were the leather and chains, dark denim, and cotton shielding him from? I wanted to think of him as evil, one of my enemies, my kidnapper, my captor, but how could he be all bad, when this sweet old lady looked at him like he hung the moon?
“Is she staying here?” Dot asked Shaw, noticing my bags hanging from his hand.
“Yes, Ma’am.” He nodded.
“Well, don’t just stand there, get her set up in a room, and when you’re ready, darling, come find me. I’ll show you the ins and outs, plus I could use some help with dinner. Feeding all these guys is quite a challenge.”
Shaw headed toward the stairs, using his head to tell me to follow. I followed him up the wooden steps, carved and smoothed into a work of art. Past the top of the stairs, he led me down a hallway, and after a left turn, he was opening the door to a room that had to be three times the size of the one I had above the bakery. It had a carved dresser, a four-poster bed, and off to the one corner a door that led into a bathroom.
“I get to stay here?” I questioned, a little unsure why they would put their new slave girl in such nice amenities.
“Why wouldn’t you get to stay here?” His eyebrow raised, waiting for my answer, but I didn’t have one.
“I don’t know,” I answered awkwardly. “It’s just that I work for you guys now, employees rarely get . . . this.” I held my arm out and motioned to the room in front of me.
His forehead creased in annoyance. “I forgot, we are complete savages. If you wait a few minutes, I’ll prepare the barn for you.”
“You didn’t show me a barn during the tour.” I was fighting a smile, and I hoped I didn’t lose.
“Ah, right. Shed? Surely you saw a shed or two. All of those have vacancies. The barn’s full anyway.” He walked over to the dresser, placing my bags on the floor nearby. “You can meet Dot downstairs, going back the way you came. Roman and I both have a room going right at the hall, so if you need anything, you can find us.” He pursed his lips, a look of concentration taking over his face. “I think that’s it. Dot will show you around by foot, give you whatever task she needs help with, show you the ropes.”
He slowly backed away, waiting to see if I had questions before he slipped out the door. When he was gone, I explored my new space, not ashamed to let the smile take over. This room, this space, this furniture, it was beautiful, and it was mine. Well, temporarily mine, but I wouldn’t want it to be permanent, anyway.
I left my bags where Shaw laid them, deciding to check out the bathroom instead. Walking the few steps to the open door, my feet hit stone the moment my eyes met the claw bathtub nestled into the corner of the room. My shoes clicked against the slate at my feet as I was physically pulled toward the porcelain, and invisible string tethering me to the object. My fingertips grazed the edges, savoring the coolness against my skin. Beauty, it was gorgeous, and for the moment, despite the circumstances, I appreciated the fact that it was all mine.
My gaze lifted away from the tub, finding the mirror, decorated with an intricate metal border, hanging over a black marble sink and vanity. The reflection showed the open walk-in shower, hidden in a cave of dark tile, nestled into the wall behind me. The room was masculine, probably not designed with a female in mind, but unlike anything I’d ever imagined. I spent my whole life with a bathroom where I could hardly shut the door while standing inside. Now, this?
A laugh bubbled up my throat as I spotted the walk-in closet a few feet away, beckoning me to fill it with my things. My measly things that probably wouldn’t even consume a full corner of its elaborate size. I could fit my whole life into the closet, perhaps half. No - a quarter of the closet, and the fact that I was twenty-five years old and all that my life had amounted to was a measly corner of a closet, depressed me.
How had it come to this? How had I let the bakery consume me so much that I lost all my goals, all my worth, along the way? I leaned against the edge of the tub, willing myself not to cry as I gathered up whatever remaining thread of self-esteem I had left. I was determined to complete this task, pay off my father’s debt and then move on with my life, freeing myself from the vines I let grow around me. The ones I let ever so slowly creep their way around me until their hold began the slow, excruciating squeeze that had taken away my life’s control.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened my back, exhaled, and stood away from the edge of the wall. With a new determination running through me, I figured the sooner I paid off this debt, the sooner I’d be free.