Dominant & Submissive | 18+

8: The Sweet Sour

Playlist- Cute

I think you're cute; I believe you are pretty, oh yes I do, oh yes I do, you think I'm attractive? Yes, I think you're ugly, girl I feel will need to go out on a date, I'll pick you up at night, and we'll do a little something, ~|DRAM|~

Brielle's POV

"Do people always do what you tell them?" I tense up.

"Usually, if they want to keep their jobs," he says, deadpan.

"And if they don't work for you?" I ask with fright inside of me.

"Oh, I can be very persuasive, Brie. You should finish your breakfast, and then I'll drop you home. I'll pick you up at Sicilio's at nine- fifty when you finish; We'll fly up to Milan."

I blink at him rapidly. "Fly?"

"Yes. I have a helicopter and a private boarding airplane."

I gape at him. I have my second date with Jonathan Christopher, who became Jace the-so-mysterious De Leon from coffee to helicopter rides. Wow. should I call it a date? I thought

"We'll go by airplane to Milan? Why not go by Car?"

"No, with the car, it's 14 hr 51 min (1,458.9 km)
via E45 and A1.  By plan from Palermo to Milan is just 3hrs 30mins."

"Oh!" I pout.

He grins wickedly. "Finish your breakfast."

How can I eat now? I'm going to Milan by Airplane. We'll be parking and traveling on a plane with Jace De Leon and Hera, and he wants to bite my lip... I squirm at the thought

"Eat," he says more sharply. "Brielle, I have an issue with wasted food... eat." He said coldly.

"I can't eat all this." I gape at what's left on the table.

"Eat what's on your plate. If you'd eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be declaring my hand so soon." His mouth sets in a grim line. He looks angry.

I frown and return to my now cold food. I'm too excited to eat, Jace. Don't you understand? My subconscious explains. But I'm too cowardly to voice these thoughts aloud, especially when he looks so sullen. I find the idea amusing.

"What's so funny?" he asks. I shake my head, not daring to tell him, and keep my eyes on my food. Swallowing my last piece of pancake, I peek up at him. He's eyeing me speculatively.

"Good girl," he says. "I'll take you home when you've dried your hair. I don't want you getting sick,"

There's some unspoken promise in his words. What does he mean? I leave the table wondering for a moment if I should ask permission but dismiss the idea. It sounds like a dangerous precedent to set. I head back to his bedroom. A thought stops me.

"Where did you sleep last night?" I turn to gaze at him, still sitting in the dining room chair. I can't see any blankets or sheets out here, and perhaps he's had them tidied away.

"In my bed," he says, his gaze impassive again.

"Oh."

"Yes, it was quite a novelty for me too." He smiles.

"Not having... sex." There –I said the word. I blush – of course.

"No," he shakes his head and frowns as if recalling something uncomfortable. "Sleeping with someone." He picks up his newspaper and continues to read.