Protecting Emma

by ML Michaels

  “The dress looks lovely,” he said, which should have sounded like a compliment but it did not, more a testament to his own taste in fashion.

  “Yes, thank you very much. It was completely unnecessary,” Rachel said, sitting down across from him at the table.

  “I saw your wardrobe, trust me, it was necessary,” he said, taking a sip of his Old Fashioned. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

  “Well, regardless, it was very thoughtful,” Rachel said and he waved her off and turned toward the sunset. His tanned face was angular and sharp, his jawline cutting against the faded pink sky.

  “I’m uh…I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. Harry said that everything was taken care of but…” she began.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said without looking back. She took another sip of wine and felt a little slighted that he wouldn’t even look at her.

  “I signed your agreement,” she said, the courage brought forth from her champagne and wine. This caused him to turn his head, and he raised an eyebrow, nodding once in her direction.

  “Did you? Well I’m happy to hear that,” he said. There was no warmth in his voice, or any indication that he cared to continue the conversation, but his eyes stayed fixed on hers, almost daring her to go on.

  “Is there something I should be aware of?” she asked, and he opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment, the French doors opened, and the two chefs came out carrying a tray of assorted hors ‘d oeuvres. The question drifted off into the twilight.

  “Merci, Francois,” Corbin said, and the taller of the two chef’s nodded once and they departed.

  “Tell me about this ‘acting’ career of yours, Rachel,” he said, picking up a neat crostini and popping the entire thing into his mouth. She felt her own stomach groan, but resisted out of defiance.

  “I came to New York two years ago after I had a successful appearance in the Ann Arbor performance of ‘Oklahoma’ and I decided to…” she began, but stopped abruptly when he began to laugh, “Is something funny?”

  “I just always thought it was hilarious when one terrible state performs a play based on another terrible state,” he said and took another long sip, “that’s all.”

  When his gaze found hers again, she was cold. When she first realized who he was, she wondered why he didn’t have women fawning all over him, desperate for his attention. He didn’t need to pay someone to be his ‘caretaker,’ there were plenty of girls out there looking for exactly what he had, and they would do it for free. She nearly stood up and stormed out of the house, but the fear of falling in her heels was too great, so she finished he glass of wine and let Bart replace it immediately.

  They continued to sit in silence as the hors ‘d oeuvres were cleared and dinner brought out. It was Maine lobster, and she ate it indignantly, but it was the best she had ever had. She finished her third glass of wine just as the plate was being cleared and coffee being brought out with a tray of fine desserts.

  “I’m assuming that Bart has told you that we will require you to remain at the house,” Corbin said as he pushed a fork into a piece of berry cobbler, drawing a massive bite to his perfectly pouted lips.

  “He mentioned it,” Rachel said. The night was getting cool, and she could feel her legs breaking out in goose bumps. Through the thin fabric of the dress, she could tell that her nipples were showing and casually moved her hair to obscure them.

  He nodded and finished off the last of his drink. His eyes met hers again. They were unique eyes, a darkened grey that somehow glowed in the dim light of the evening. His face was distinct and beautiful against the inky blackness of the sky; she looked at him, admiring his features and his presence, no longer thinking about what may or may not be asked of her as his employee, but only looking into his eyes and wondering what it would be like to put her arms around his neck and to bring her lips to his.

  She stopped herself. Putting her empty glass down and waving Bart away as he walked over to refill it.

  “It’s getting late,” she said, “May I go to bed?”

  He glanced at his watch

  “I need something from you first,” he said, and her heart sank. This was it. She knew it had been coming, and despite her very romanticized fantasies about kissing him, she realized it would be nothing so nice as that.

  ***

  She followed him slowly down the carpeted hallway, imagining what was to come. What would her friends and family think of her if they could see her now? She felt like a cheap whore in her red dress and fancy makeup that this billionaire playboy had bought for her. And he wouldn’t even look at her now. She was going to be his toy, and she would be used and abused, she knew it. She wondered if there was any way she could get out of this whole arrangement. Her heart was pounding, and she felt completely sober despite the drinks she’d had.

  They walked further and further into the house, and she felt more and more like she was venturing into the catacombs of an ancient castle rather than the basement of a suburban mansion. Her feet were aching from her heels, and she felt she was just about to collapse when he stopped in front of her.

  “This way,” he said and opened a non-descript door on the right side of the hallway.

  Through the door was another short hallway, which ended with a metal door, with a keypad on the frame.

  “Watch me,” he said calmly, as he entered the number 1-1-0-4-9-5. The door unsealed and swung open, revealing only darkness.

  He entered quickly, the darkness of the room obscuring him completely, and she didn’t follow him. Her heart was thumping in her throat, a hot pulsing mass of fear that was not quelled even when the room became flooded with bright white light. She couldn’t see inside, but there was nothing to be seen that could assuage her fear.

  “Come in,” he said, and she felt her legs obeying without the consent of her mind. She stepped over the solid steel doorframe and crossed the barrier into brightness of the room. Her first thought brought even more horror to her than she had previously been able to comprehend. He’s going to steal my organs.

  The room was clean, clinically so, and there was a single raised slab in the center of the room, which reminded her of an operating table. The walls were padded and bare, even the floor felt soft beneath her heels. The table was fastened to the floor with a dozen steel beams, all held together with the thickest bolts that Rachel had ever seen.

  “What is this place?” she asked, her voice sounding much more curious than she was feeling.

  That was when she noticed the chains. She had mistaken them for shadows beneath the table when she walked in, but now she could see clearly. There were four of them, as thick as her leg and each with a steel cuff on the end. She felt her heart in her mouth again and turned to run from the room.

  “They’re not for you,” said Corbin, and she looked back toward him. He wasn’t looking at her, but had removed his shirt and had rolled it into a neat bundle.

  “I don’t…” Rachel began, but Corbin cut her off.

  “Can you lift them?” he asked, and hoisted himself onto the table, laying back and placing the shirt beneath his head.

  “Lift what?” she asked.

  “The chains,” he said calmly and closed his eyes, “Quickly please.”

  She pulled off her heels so she could move more freely and found that she could, in fact, lift the chains that were neatly wound beneath the table. She fastened one to his right wrist and one to his left. She moved to the end of the table and used the other two cuffs on his ankles.

  “Are they secure?” Corbin asked. His eyes were closed, and his voice was even.

  “Yes,” Rachel answered quietly.

  “Perfect. Please shut the light on your way out. Return at 6:00 am. Do you remember the code?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Rachel said.

  “Repeat it.”

  She did, and he nodded.

  “Do you want me to…?” she let her voice drift off.

  He opened his eyes and stared at her.<
br />
  “I want you to come back at 6:00am. That is all,” he said and laid his head back down on his shirt.

  Rachel picked up her shoes, padded across the floor and shut out the light, but before she could close the door, Corbin spoke again.

  “Bart confirms that you’ve signed your NDA,” he said.

  Rachel had temporarily forgotten, but the memory from that afternoon came rushing back.

  “Yes,” she answered evenly.

  “I expect that you’re smart enough to honor it,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, and he made no reply. She closed the door and twisted the steel dial on the outside. She pulled on it three times to be sure it was secure, but she was going through motions that made no sense at all in her mind.

  She walked down the short hallway, opened the door at the end, and was startled by Bart lurking just beyond in the shadows.

  “Oh my God!” she cried, placing a hand on her chest. Her heart had been pounding at an alarming rate for a long time now.

  “Miss Thomas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Is Mr. Hall, erm, comfortable?” he asked.

  “Yes, I believe so,” Rachel said, and hesitated. She had so many questions, but wondered whether or not the aging butler was the one to answer them. She decided that she didn’t have anything to lose.

  “Is this the reason I’m here? The only reason I’m here?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, and motioned for her to follow him, “Mr. Hall has some…unique issues that require assistance. In the past, I have tried, Harry has tried, and we have had several other applicants try and fail to be the ‘caretaker’ he needs, but none of them have worked out. I expect Mr. Hall wanted to try something a bit different with you.”

  Without her heels on, Rachel didn’t even reach Bart’s shoulder, and she had to trot along next to him to keep up as he strode through the darkened hallways.

  “What exactly is his issue?” she asked. Bart didn’t answer immediately. At first she believed he hadn’t heard her so she began to repeat herself.

  “Miss Thomas,” he said, interrupting her, “I like you. But I am a bit worried. I would rather not say anything, though I expect Mr. Hall will tell you in due time. Please, for the moment, just continue your work and let me know if there is anything I can do. Here we are.”

  They had appeared outside her door. Rachel hadn’t even remembered walking up the stairs.

  “Thank you, Bart,” she said and reached for the handle.

  “And, if you wouldn’t mind Miss Thomas, please don’t tell Mr. Hall I said anything to you,” he said, his eyes were wide and watery, nearly pleading with her in the dim light of the hall.

  “Of course not,” Rachel said and smiled. She felt better, and finally like she had a friend in this crazy world, even if it was the butler.

  ***

  Rachel’s next few weeks at the Hall Estate were the happiest of her life in New York. She learned the inner workings of the mansion, became friendly with the maid staff, and even had a few cooking lessons from the chefs. She had gone on a few auditions at the beginning, but when she was offered a part, turned it down. After that, she spent most of her time at the estate or doing some light volunteer work in the community on behalf of the Hall family.

  She still locked Corbin up at 10:00pm every night, and returned at 6:00am every morning. The first morning had been a shock. She had walked in and found him, eyes bloodshot, complexion sallow and completely nude. She had been embarrassed at first, chastising herself for looking at his naked body with lust and desire.

  But once she had become accustomed to it, the odd aspects of her job just became part of her routine. And her relationship with Corbin had improved as well. She still thought he was arrogant, condescending, and unfairly attractive, but she wasn’t the butt of all his jokes anymore.

  “Are you enjoying yourself here?” he asked one morning at breakfast. She had been at the estate for three weeks at that point.

  “Very much so,” she answered honestly.

  “Is there anything you’re wanting for?” he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow at him, and he have a short, genuine chuckle.

  “I mean it,” he said, “I’ve never had a caretaker last longer than 10 days.”

  She couldn’t quite understand it, but she supposed the absurdity of the situation may get to some people.

  “I miss my music,” she answered honestly, “Back home in Michigan I had my little Yamaha piano, and I took lessons for years. That’s really why I came to New York. I would love to be an actress, but more than anything I wanted to be on Broadway. I love the music.”

  She let herself drift off, and he didn’t answer, but the next day Bart called her into the formal living room and revealed a brand new Steinway & Son’s grand piano.

  “For me?” she asked Bart, who chortled.

  “Yes, I don’t believe there is anyone else here who plays,” he answered, and she sat on the tufted leather bench, running her fingers along the polished ivory and ebony.

  Later that night, she was playing the only piece she new from memory, Moonlight Sonata, when Corbin walked in silently behind her. When she finished, she heard the quietly echoing applause from across the room.

  “I’ve been out of practice for a while,” she said sheepishly, and he smiled.

  “That has always been my favorite,” he said.

  “Well then, I’ll have to work on it,” she answered.

  The interaction had felt surprisingly flirtatious, but neither party had budged, and their relationship remained unchanged, but it marked a turning point in her mind.

  Rachel hadn’t heard from Eve or Amanda, which was fine enough for her, but Tara seemed to have taken a real interest in her new life as a ‘caretaker.’

  “I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t sleeping with him,” she said one day when Rachel had gone into the city to meet her for lunch. They were sitting inside Café Sol, sharing a bottle of wine and watching the Autumn shoppers pass them left and right.

  “Well I’m not,” said Rachel.

  “So you don’t mind if I set you up then?” said Tara.

  The question stuck in her mind, like a rain boot stuck in deep mud.

  “Look, if you’re sleeping with him it’s fine. I can just tell Parker…”

  “No, I’m not. And it’s fine,” Rachel said and promptly forgot about the conversation, but it left a nagging feeling in her mind until the following weekend when she was sitting in the garden and received a phone call from a number she didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Hi, Rachel?” asked a somewhat familiar voice, “It’s Parker, from Tara’s barbeque.”

  It all came rushing back, the drunkenness, the cooler, and Rachel winced, wishing she hadn’t taken the call.

  “Hi Parker, how have you been?” Rachel asked, and Parker launched into the saga of his current over the top successes and adventures, which she listened to half heartedly.

  “That’s really great,” she said at what was the end of a very long story about him escaping a volcano eruption in Chile.

  “I know, I know,” he said, and she rolled her eyes, “Well anyway, I was wondering if you’d go out with me tomorrow night. Tara said you were free.”

  His tone was blunt, but he wasn’t wrong.

  “I need to run it by my boss to see if I can have the night off,” Rachel said, hearing Tara’s voice in her head telling her that she hadn’t been on a date in months, “But I don’t see why not.”

  “Great, let me know!” he said, she said she would, and they hung up.

  At dinner that evening, she broached the subject with Corbin just after hors ‘d oeuvres had been cleared.

  “Would it be possible to have tomorrow night off?” she asked, half hoping he would say no.

  “What for?” he asked, taking a sip of his deep, crimson wine.

  “Uh, well, a date actually. My friend Tara told me about this guy months
ago and…”

  “Why don’t you invite him here?” he asked, “There’s the media room on the third floor, and Bart can stay on to serve drinks if you’d like.”

  If she hadn’t gotten to know him as well as she had, she would have thought he was just being generous, but his tone had changed to one of quiet agitation.

  “That won’t be necessary,” she said, and he nodded. His brow was furrowed, and she had trouble reading his expression. It was one she hadn’t seen on his face before. He didn’t seem jealous necessarily, but certainly bothered by something. Perhaps he was worried about Parker finding out about his secret.

  “I haven’t said anything,” she blurted, and he looked up, confused.

  “Oh, no, I know you wouldn’t,” he said, “Or I’d sue the shit out of you.”

  He smiled, and usually she would have taken the joke in turn and given one back, but it felt more personal tonight and she stayed quiet.

  “Well, thank you. It’s very kind to let us use the house,” she said.

  The chefs brought dinner from the kitchen, and they ate the rest of the meal in silence.

  She led him to the vault that evening earlier than usual, and he was uncharacteristically quiet. It felt awkward, for the first time since she had known him, the silence was uncomfortable.

  “Look, Corbin,” Rachel said as she typed in the entry code, “If you’re uncomfortable with me seeing someone, I can…”

  “What would make you think that?” he snapped, and she swore she could see him grow before her eyes. His shoulder seemed to widen, his face grew hard, and his voice deepened by several octaves.

  “Nothing,” she said, cowering back slightly and he shook his head violently from side to side, clearing the air. He stepped into the room and proceeded to remove his shirt the way he always did, but this time bunching it up and shoving it under his neck with none of his usual grace.

  She snapped his chains on tightly, and quickly, secretly smiling at his small groans of pain, and without saying a word, she left the room, careful to secure the door behind her.