control. ( ot4 . )

28.04.2023.

Luke is dragging Calum away on an 'important business trip' for the weekend, and Michael isn't quite sure how to feel about it. 

Michael had always thought that Calum ran his own firm and that Luke's work was nothing to do with him or his company. Obviously, he was wrong. 

The Sub throws himself down on his bed with a huff, burying his head in the mint green pillows, sighing softly. Today, Kate had kept him for an extra hour, and his whole body felt like it was on fire. They focused on all of Michael's 'problem points', targeting his tummy, bum and legs. He truly felt awful, working out never made him feel good, it made him ache and reminded him that he had so many flaws.

He lets his breathing even out, listening to the steady hum of his ceiling fan, ears perking up whenever he hears one of the house staff bustling about and getting things ready for Luke and Calum to take off the minute they step out of their buildings after work. 

Michael would never admit to it, but he feels lonely. Between working hours, any time from seven until five, Michael was on his own with the staff all day apart from the hour in which Kate came to visit him. 

He tries not to think about his old job at the coffee counter in the mall, because when he does he's reminded of how independent he was and just how fun his job was. He loved working there, he was allowed to wear anything he wanted so long as he had his black work apron on, and all of the customers were so nice, from the business men in a rush to the young girls coming by before heading home from school. Sure, the pay was shit, but there were a ton of pros that outweighed the cons easily.

Michael feels his face pull down and he knows he's frowning, but he can't help it. He pulls himself up off the bed and takes off out of his room, deciding he needs a bottle of water and maybe an apple.

When he enters the kitchen, there's a girl standing there that he's never seen before. She's got long, flowing mermaid blue hair and the most beautiful petite face covered in freckles, she's short, shorter than Michael himself, and she must be no older than him too. She's sort of unfairly gorgeous and Michael feels jealousy shoot through him.

"Uh, hi." Michael tries, getting the girl's attention and startling her, she turns to him with a splayed hand on her chest, eyes wide like a dear caught in headlights.

"Hello, Mr.Clifford, how are you?" She asks, and her voice is forced like she's trying to remember how she's supposed to greet them, how she was supposed to act around them. Michael can tell by her soft spoken voice and her manorisms that she's definitely a Sub.

"It's just Michael." Michael smiles at her, making his way over to the fridge and pulling out an unopened bottle of water, "Are you new?"

"Is it really that easy to tell?" The girl laughs, face flushing, "I'm really trying but everything and everyone is so intimidating, I'm actually kind of struggling."

"I always notice a new face, I spend my whole day in the house with the staff," Michael says, leaning over onto the counter and jumping up onto one of the bar stools, "Try not to feel so 'intimidated', everyone may look like they're stone cold but they're really not." Michael sees the girl's shoulders visibly relax and he's kind of proud of himself for making her feel a bit less nervous, "What's your name?"

"Oh gosh, whoops, I'm Ashley," she holds a hand out and Michael takes it, shaking it lightly, "I suppose you're all supposed to call me Miss. Frangipane, though. I'm the new waitress, and I've been given the task of arranging all of your appointments, Michael."

Michael's eyes widen, "I'm so sorry you're stuck with that, I have like a million appointments one week of every month at the salon, it's a nightmare."