TANAK: Sci-Fi Romance (Star Fall Series Book 1)

by E. A. James

CHAPTER FOUR

  When she got to the penthouse, she had already set her mind on trying to make the most out of the new experience. It couldn’t be worse than her currently situation, anyways. Liz was a little too eager to get her out of the apartment. Margaret had called her when she left the audition, telling her about her new job and living arrangement. When she got back to the small apartment to collect her things, she found that Liz had already taken the liberty to pack her suitcase for her. She had set it outside the door, with a note reading: “Good luck!”

  “Ms. Johnson,” the butler greeted her as soon as the elevator doors slid open. “I’ll take that,” he said reaching out his hand for her bag.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said handing over the suitcase containing the only things she possessed in the whole world.

  “Thank you, Henry,” she heard Joshua’s calm voice say. She hadn’t noticed him sitting on the large leather couch before. He was dressed in a pair of black slacks and what she could only assume to be an expensive dress shirt. He stood to greet her as she walked towards him. “Take her things to her room,” he continued speaking to the butler. “I’ll show her there momentarily.”

  As the small, white-haired man hurried away down the long hall on the far end of the room, Joshua motioned for Margaret to take a seat next to him on the couch. She moved across the room slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor in front of her. Whenever she looked at him, she felt her stomach begin to turn nervously, so the best option was to avoid it as much as possible.

  “Margaret,” he began once she was seated. “I’m glad you could come.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said weakly.

  “Please, call me Joshua.” His tone didn’t have the same authoritative, almost demeaning ring to it that it had had during the interview.

  “Joshua,” she corrected herself.

  “I can see that you’re very nervous, Margaret.”

  “I am, sir… I mean, Joshua.”

  “I don’t want you to be nervous around me,” he said kindly.

  “I thought,” she finally looked up at him. His eyes seemed to be an even darker shade of blue than she remembered. Maybe it was the shirt he was wearing—but they were intense and deep, and fixed on her. “I thought you wanted me to be uncomfortable,” she said, recalling his comment from the interview. “That being uncomfortable was part of the job.”

  “Being uncomfortable and nervous are two different things,” he said.

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  He sighed softly. “You see,” he started to explain, “being nervous means that you’re afraid; that something around you is making you feel vulnerable.”

  “And being uncomfortable?” she asked for clarification.

  “Being uncomfortable means that something around you is out of the norm, but not necessarily that that something scares you.” As he spoke he took his eyes from hers and looked around the room, almost as if her gaze was making him as flustered as his was making her. “You see, Margaret, when something makes you uncomfortable it just means that you need to somehow become familiar with it—accept it, or reject it, and move on.”

  “So, why is it that if I’m going to be working for you, I need to be okay with being uncomfortable?”

  He looked over at her, his eyes seemed to be filled with a sense of sadness and hurt. “All of that in due time, Margaret,” he said standing to his feet. “Let me show you to your room.”

  He began making his way for the hallway, pausing to turn back to her, making sure she was following. She got to her feet quickly and rushed over to where he was waiting for her. He led her down the same hall Henry had taken her down just three days before. They passed three doors on the right before he stopped. “This will be your room. I hope it’s to your liking,” he said as he pushed the door open.

  When she walked in, she was left completely speechless. The room was easily four times as large as the room she once had at Liz’s apartment. The bed in the center of the room was king-size and hidden behind drapes of sheer, pink fabric that hung down from the four posts that rose up from each corner. There was a large area rug that covered the cold marble floor, and two enormous dressers pushed up against the wall in front of the bed. Between them was a three-sided mirror, with a string of lights hanging down over it. The most impressive aspect of the room, however, was the far wall. It was made up of giant windows, which reached from the floor all the way up to the ceiling, providing a view of the city, and letting light come pouring into the room.

  “This is too much,” she said breathlessly as she walked further into the room. She turned around to look at Joshua again, who was leaning against the door frame, smiling at her amazement.

  “It’s all for you,” he explained as he pushed himself up and walked towards her. “I hope you can make yourself comfortable here.”

  “Are you kidding?” she asked laughing. “I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave!”

  “Good,” he nodded happily.

  “Where is my suitcase?” she asked scanning the room and not finding it.

  “In the closet,” he said motioning to a door in the corner of the room.

  She smiled at him excitedly as she walked over to the door and pulled it open. The closet was more like another room. There was a plush bench in the center of it. Sitting on top of it was her old, beat up suitcase that looked very out of place compared to the elegant, fine-finished room. The walls were filled with hanging rods and shelves, drawers and hooks. The most amazing part was that they were all filled with different articles of clothing and accessories—everything from dresses to shirts, jewelry to shoes; it was all already there waiting for her.

  “Since you wouldn’t tell me your size I had to guess,” he explained walking into the room after her.

  “Oh,” she said, realizing that his question might not have been as offensive as she took it to me.

  “You can try on everything later,” he said reaching out his hand for her to take.

  She placed her hand in his nervously. When he wrapped his strong fingers around hers, her heart began to race. He led her back into the bedroom and towards the bed. He reached up with his free hand and pulled back one of the drapes surrounding it. Lying across the bed was a beautiful red dress. It looked simple but elegant. “I would like you to wear this to dinner tonight,” he said dropping her hand and lifting the dress up.

  “Tonight?” she asked taking the dress from his hands and holding it up against her. She walked to the mirrors and observed her reflection.

  “Yes. You’ll need to be in the dining room in an hour,” he said as he followed her, also looking at her in the mirror.

  “An hour?” she turned to him, her eyes wide. “I don’t know if I can be ready…”

  “You need to be, Margaret.”

  “But…”

  “I need to know that you’ll be available to me whenever I ask you to be,” he explained calmly.

  “Mr. McGuire,” she began nervously, “what are my hours exactly?”

  “It’s a live-in position. I thought that was clear.”

  “Yes, but, I do have some off time, right? I have time to do my own things?” She felt a sinking sensation in her chest. What had she gotten herself in to?

  “I need you to be here whenever I need you. I need you to be ready and available at a moment’s notice,” he replied.

  When he left her to get ready for dinner, the excitement that had filled her upon seeing the room had all but gone. Would she have time to pursue her dream? Would she be able to go to auditions and try-outs? What could he possibly need her for 24/7?

  As she held up the dress and looked at herself in the mirror again, she thought of the alternative—sleeping on Liz’s couch, or going back to live with her parents. “Well,” she said to herself, “if this gets too out of hand, I’ll just leave. He can’t force me to stay here forever. It’s worth a shot, I guess.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When Henry showed her into the
dining room, later on, she was once again overwhelmed by what she saw. Everything was pristine and elegant. The huge, dark wooden table consumed most of the room, and could have easily sat 30 people. But sitting there, alone, was Joshua. He was at the head of the table, and he stood to welcome her, pulling out the chair to his right for her to sit in. He had also changed into a suit, and he looked even more handsome and sophisticated than usual.

  “Thank you,” she said as she took her seat.

  “You look lovely,” he said to her as he sat next to her.

  “You look very nice as well.” She tried to keep her face from turning red and her voice from shaking.

  “I hope you like steak,” he said as he looked over his shoulder.

  “Who doesn’t?” she replied with a giggle.

  “Great.” He clapped his hands twice. She looked behind him and saw Henry appear through a swinging door, two plates in his hands.

  Throughout the meal, she couldn’t help but feel more and more intrigued by the man sitting next to her. He was suave and refined. He said all the right things at all the right times. He was no longer the forward, borderline offensive man she met at the interview. He was gentlemanly in every respect of the word.

  She couldn’t understand why there wasn’t a woman in his life besides her? Not just one woman, she couldn’t understand why there wasn’t a line of women waiting to be with him! Why would he be spending his night with her, of all people?

  “So, tell me, Margaret,” he said after taking a long sip of wine. “What did you do before coming to work for me?”

  “I was trying to be an actress,” she said almost embarrassed. “I wasn’t doing very well at it, though.”

  “You’re not from the city originally,” he observed.

  “Is it really that obvious?” she asked wrinkling up her nose.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Joshua replied.

  “Everyone around me seems to think it is.” She shrugged. “They all think I’m too ‘small town’ to make it in the big city.”

  “Now see, when I look at you I don’t see that.”

  “Really?” she asked, looking at him over the rim of her wine glass. She took a long sip before setting it down. “What do you see?”

  “I see someone who is genuine—real.” As he spoke, he looked her deep in the eyes, causing goose bumps to run up her arms. “I see someone that hasn’t been hardened by life and turned bitter; someone who doesn’t need the approval of all those other people, because she’s doing what she wants, and nothing is going to stop her.”

  She let out a nervous giggle, not because of what he was saying, but because of how what he said made her feel. “Well, apparently looking genuine and resilient isn’t enough to get a paid acting job.”

  “At least you have this job,” he said smiling.

  She took another sip of her wine, trying not to get swept away in his words and his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel herself become more and more attracted to him. As she set her glass down, she had to stop herself from reaching out to brush the back of her hand against his. She remembered the feeling of his hand wrapped around hers, and found herself longing for that feeling again. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

  She tried to shake the thoughts from her head, focusing on the food, wine, and conversation. “What about you?” she asked him shyly. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a man of business,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “What kind of business?” she asked.

  “Nothing that would interest you,” he replied. “Hell, it barely interests me!” He laughed a little, and Margaret joined in, perhaps laughing a little too hard—like a schoolgirl trying pathetically to flirt with her crush.

  She felt her face blush red. He laughed again, this time at her discomfort. “I like your laugh,” he said reaching out and placing his hand on hers.

  The contact sent a rush flooding over her. She wanted that instant to last forever. When he pulled his hand back quickly, she felt a desire to reach out and pull his hand back, holding it tightly in hers, not wanting to let the connection fade.

  Her own reaction made her become more flustered. She tried to reach for her glass, but her hand was shaking slightly, and she ended up knocking it over. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, standing up quickly and grabbing a napkin to begin mopping up the mess.

  “Don’t worry about that, Margaret,” Joshua said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “No, I’m so clumsy!” she scolded herself. “I can’t believe… God! How embarrassing!” She continued to try to mop up the red liquid that was spreading slowly across the table.

  “Henry!” Joshua called out. “Really, Margaret. Leave it.” Even though his statement came in the form of a command, it was stated in a caring, almost concerned way.

  “I should go to bed,” she said, dropping the cloth napkin into the puddle of wine. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I really should get some sleep.”

  As she collected herself to leave, Henry appeared at the swinging door behind Joshua. “Yes, sir?” he asked.

  “Will you clean this up?” Joshua said motioning to the spilled wine and empty plates.

  “Of course, sir,” he replied. He began collecting the plates and cups and disappeared back through the door he had come from.

  “Good night, Mr. McGuire,” Margaret said as she turned to head back to her room.

  “Margaret,” Joshua said standing quickly to his feet. “I need something from you first.”

  She turned to look back at him. “What is it?” she asked nervously.

  “It’s the most important part of your job.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  As she followed him down the long hallway, Margaret became more and more worried. What was he going to ask of her? Was he going to ask for sex? Are her fears coming true? Maybe she shouldn’t have taken the job? Maybe she should have just sucked it up and slept on Liz’s couch a little longer until she found something a little more socially acceptable?

  She could barely hear their steps echoing down the long passageway over the pounding of her heart in her ears. She was about to tell him she was uncomfortable again, but she knew that would only lead him to say something she didn’t completely understand.

  When he stopped abruptly in front of the last door on the right, she was sure that even he could hear her heart beating quickly and loudly in her chest. The door was different than all of the others. It wasn’t wooden but metal. Margaret broke out into a cold sweat, and her legs began to tremble.

  He didn’t seem to notice her nervousness, however. He didn’t turn to look at her as he punched in a set of numbers into an electronic keypad. “23-56-92-03,” he said to her over his shoulder. “Can you remember that?”

  “Umm…” she started, her voice cracking. “23-56-93…”

  “No!” he yelled as he turned to face her. His face wasn’t angry, but she could tell that he was very serious about her remembering the combination.

  “23-56-92-03,” he said again loudly. She repeated the numbers correctly. He made her do it again, and then again. “It’s very important that you remember the combination, Margaret.”

  “Okay,” she replied, her voice airy and weak.

  As he pushed the door open slowly, he kept his gaze locked on her. She peered into the room, nervously. What she saw was exactly what she was afraid of. There were chains coming down from the ceiling and up from the floor. This is what he needed from her. He needed her to fulfill his twisted fantasies. He was going to chain her up! She wanted to run. She wanted to get as far from that room as possible. But something inside her kept her feet rooted to the ground. Was it fear? Curiosity? Shock? It didn’t matter the reason; she couldn’t pull herself away.

  He walked into the room in front of her and blocked her view of the room. He turned to look down at her, his face appearing almost remorseful. He studied her expression for a moment. Something about the way he moved, the way he breathed, the way h
e looked at her, made her feel an overwhelming sense of compassion for him. She could see something behind his eyes—something sad. “I’ll need you to come here every night at 11:00pm,” he said slowly.

  “Every night?” she tried to ask, but when she opened her mouth nothing came out.

  He smiled at her weakly as he slid off his suit jacket and tossed it into the corner of the room. He turned away from her and walked to where the chains were piled on the floor. She took a quick step back, trying to will herself to run. “I need you to restrain me,” he said leaning over and picking up the chains.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Here,” he said turning to hand her one of the chains in his hand. It was one that was connected to the ceiling. “This goes on my wrist,” he explained as he held it out to her.