The Master [MxMxM+]

09

One week later...

The room was the same, and so was the table, but the number of men who sat around it wasn't the same. The one missing further fed the curiosity of the rest.

"It's the end of the first week," he said. "And there's six of you left."

The men tensed because of the heavy meaning behind his words. He said it like anyone else could be next, and from what it looked like, no one wanted to be next.

Zel was the one most concerned, because it felt like he was just beginning to know the man. It gave him the courage to ask, even if the tension in the room was screaming at him not to.

"Whe- what happened to Noah?" His curious mismatched eyes focused on the man at the head of the table.

"He was disqualified. Don't interrupt me," came the Master's curt reply.

If there was someone who was probably not going to make it, it would be the guy with the tattoos. He just looked way too hostile. As for Noah, he couldn't think of a reason why he would be disqualified.

"I like to believe you have been comfortable so far..." Jet scoffed. "...and have no complaints about your living quarters and your stay here."

Murmurs of agreement went around the table as the Master nodded and moved on. The men looked wary, the nervousness went without saying.

"Good. Moving on, I will not tolerate any disrespect for the people who work for me, you will not boss them around as you see fit. They are my business and not yours," the dangerous undertone to his voice was gone when he continued. "You are however, permitted to form friendships with them if you like."

At least two people released a breath. Leave it to the Master to build up tension to the maximum, then clear the air himself.

"Among you, only-"

"Among us?" Zel cut in. Exclaiming in question as he looked to Riley whose eyes were twinkling with mirth. A smile on his well sculpted features.

"Behave yourself, Zel. I do not want to do anything drastic," the Master cleared his throat. "There are four among you who cook. Riley, Zel, Pierre and Mason."

"I-" Zel began but the warning look on the Master's face was enough to make him change his mind. He was a chatterbox and sometimes he couldn't help it. Well most times, but he still thought it was unfair of the Master.

"Linder and Jet," he said, aiming a look at the two men he'd mentioned. "You have two options..."

Linder paid his full attention to the Master while Jet looked as nonchalant as one could get.

"Learning how to cook isn't an option so you can either ask me, or any of the other men to teach you how to cook if they're willing to. I'll ask you to prepare something for me from time to time and I have to taste your improvements every time you make a meal, or your general score will keep going down."

"Sir?" Zel asked carefully.

"What is it?"

"Why is this rule...why is it so important to learn? I'm including myself because I can't really cook. I can only bake."

"I know, and that's good enough." The Master told Zel. "My housekeeper only works for the other half of the year, so this half is entirely in your hands."