50 Shades of Drake 5 and 6

Chapter Eighty

    Destiny broke out into a run. She dashed out of the office, down the hall, and didn't stop until she was just inside of the living room.

    Aubrey stood in the center of the living room wearing the navy blue suit that she'd dressed him in earlier that morning. He stood so still, that he resembled a mannequin. Hands at his sides, immobile. There was only the subtle raising of his shoulders that indicated he was at least breathing.

    Worriedly, she stepped into the room. How could she be so brainless as to let time get away from her the way it had? All so she could come up with a website name that she was still struggling with, and for what? He did say that he wasn't expecting me to do everything correctly, right out the gate, she reminded herself. So maybe he'll go easy on me. Maybe he won't be that mad? Still, she wrung her hands together as she neared him.

    He turned his head. The muscle in his jaw was twitching, a habit that she usually found sexy. This time, she found it intimidating.

    "I'm sorry."

    "Kneel," he commanded.

    She moved to stand in front of him, and lowered into a kneeling position in front of him.

    "Wait for me until I return," he told her.

    "Yes, Sir."

    He turned on his heel and left the room.

    The waiting for him to return was agony. It was like waiting for your mom or dad while they hunted down a belt to spank you with. For all she knew, that's exactly what he was doing: hunting down some object to inflict pain on her, for the purpose of punishment. Five minutes passed, and then ten. It surely couldn't take that long, just to hunt down a paddle or a flogger. It was in his nature to sweat the details, but the time that continued to pass was relatively excessive. Maybe he wasn't hunting down a spanking object, but was doing something else. What else could he be doing, though?

    That question was soon answered when he returned, holding a clipboard in his hands. He briefly glanced around the room as he entered it. Then his eyes landed on her. "Do you understand your error?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

    "Yes. And I'm sorry that I was not where I was supposed to be when I was supposed to be, Sir." She bowed her head to display the respect that she felt for him.

    "And?" he prompted.

    She raised her head. "And?" she repeated.

    He stared at her.

    She frowned. "And...I'll never do it again?"

    Now it was his turn to frown. "Do you want me to list everything that you have done wrong today?"

    Not particularly, she thought, cringing at the implication that she'd done much more wrong than just failing to be kneeling in the living room when he'd arrived. "Please," she pleaded softly.

    "There are dishes in the sink," he advised, reading from whatever he'd written on the clipboard. "The laundry is still in the hampers. It doesn't appear that anything was cleaned today, but if that is inaccurate, please let me know. This house is now also yours. It is your responsibility to make sure it is maintained at all times. Before working on your own projects, you are to take care of the house. You're wearing jeans when you know I prefer you in skirts and dresses. I didn't mention that this morning, because I wanted to see if you would correct that issue on your own by the time I returned. When I did return, not only were you not here waiting for me, but the front door was unlocked. That is not only an error, but a security issue. I've had parties here. Fans have taken photos of my mailbox, which has my address on it. Paparazzi still camp out from time to time. Anyone could come walking in here. Since my staff isn't here consistently, that leaves you on your own. The last thing I need to worry about while I'm at work fighting corporate giants, competition, and bad press, is your safety."

    Was I the one to leave the door unlocked? 

    "What did you do today?" he asked her.

    "I was trying to come up with a name for the website," she replied. "I lost track of time."

    "You'll want to make sure that the house is taken care of before you start working on the website each day," he said, setting the clipboard down on the nearest end table. "Losing track of time and failing to be here waiting for me would have just been one error. Jumping straight into working on the website allowed you to multiply upon your errors."

    She stared down at the floor, hating that she'd disappointed him.

    He sighed. "I will assume some of the blame here. I expected for you to know that you should wear a dress or a skirt, but I did not clearly outline that preference in the long list of instructions that I provided to you. Technically, that cannot be considered an error. Moving forward, when you see me off and when I come home, I want to see you in a dress or a skirt only. No jeans, no pants whatsoever. Do you understand everything that I've said to you?"

    "Yes, Sir." She found herself unable to look directly into his eyes. She felt that shameful. Her goal had been to impress him. He had given her an impossibly long list of tasks to remember, and her goal had been to complete all of them, or nearly all of them. All things considered, her first day after being provided with a daily routine had been an absolute failure.

    He walked away from her.

    She finally allowed herself to look at him.

    He crossed the room and sat down on the couch. Then he stared at her while rubbing at his jaw.

    Staring at the floor was so much safer than looking him in the eyes. The intensity in his eyes weren't born from lust or love, but from authority. And his next action was one that she predicted, before he made it.

    Narrowing his eyes at her, he gave his thigh a pat. "Come here," he directed.