Chapter 87 - Gideon

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The drive back to my place was shorter than I remembered; thoughts of what I was going to do with the dark-blonde beauty next to me kept me busy. Emma had winched again as she sat down in the car seat, and my dick twitched at the sight.

We didn't talk. I hated to have unnecessary conversations. If I had anything important to say, then I would say it, but only then.

Action spoke louder than words anyway.

The thing was, being in Emma's presence made me want to ask her stupid questions about her life. I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to get her to talk just so I could hear her calming voice. All the other women I'd met had this annoying screeching quality to theirs, but my little submissive didn't.

For once, I craved the sound of a woman's voice, and I hated it as much as I hated every other weakness Emma brought out of me. I think a part of me hated her, too, just because of the effect she had on me.

By the gate to my property, I pushed on the remote control to open them. The bars opened smoothly and without a sound.

It took four minutes to reach the middle of my estate, where the distasteful manor towered over the huge pine trees encircling it. It was the home of past horrors, but I didn't feel the same fright looking at it now as I did before.

Emma gasped as she took in my home. I tried to look at the monstrosity from her eyes; it was old—eighteen-century type old—and made of grey limestone bricks. The building had huge windows, giving the rooms inside natural light. By the entrance, two large white pillars were supporting a white canopy.

From what I gathered from her gasp, she thought it was impressive. If she only knew what had gone on inside those walls...

I only lived here to prove a point—to myself more than anyone else. The past didn't control me; nothing had control over me besides me.

I'd kept it the interior the same as it had always been. A great hall that echoed with each step we took. Not one but two ballrooms. Seating rooms. A couple of kitchens. Countless bedrooms and bathrooms. Pool room...there were too many rooms, and I was never in most of them. Truth be told, I was never here; when I was, it was only to sleep, work in my office or make food in the kitchen. The kitchen was by far my favorite place in my home. It was where I felt the most comfortable, where I could lower my shoulders and do something stress-free and enjoy my own company.

I started making food when I got into street fighting and found that it had a calming effect on me, like meditation. Whenever I needed that kind of relaxation, I found myself in the kitchen, learning new recipes and mastering old ones.

Driving around the sizable roundabout, I parked the car right by the entrance. I left my keys inside, knowing Malcolm, one of the many who worked here, would drive it into the garage.

When I opened the car door for Emma, she stepped out and turned towards the front yard. She took in the perfectly mowed lawn, the white gravel in the driveway, and the complete privacy the many trees offered. That was the only thing I liked about this place—the privacy.

"It's beautiful here," she commented but left it at that. While I saw that she thought the place was remarkable, she didn't hold much interest in it beyond getting to know me. The curiosity in her eyes as she looked around was proof of that.

I didn't say anything back and instead strode towards the door, knowing she would follow me. The light sound of footsteps behind me proved it.

Emma seemed surprised as I helped her out of her coat but let me do it without further reactions. Taking my own jacket off, I hung them in a room next to the foyer.

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