Yes, Sirs (Book 1 of Desire's Den)

Chapter 50 - Emma

Margareta, Callan's cook, made us a delicious lunch—because, in Callan's words, I'd slept through breakfast.

Callan was an early riser, apparently. He'd already been up for hours, gone to the gym, and done some work all while he waited for me to wake up.

His place was...meticulous. There were no personal touches in his apartment, but everything was clean lines and perfection. It was modern, with lots of black and steel details—in other words, the complete opposite of Mateo's.

While it all was impressive, it didn't feel like a home. Callan had mentioned spent his days at work. So maybe this wasn't his home either—his club was.

"We need to talk about what you did this morning," I said between a mouthful of the pancakes. I'd calmed down a bit, but I was still irritated over what he'd done.

Callan nodded.

"Didn't we agree that you guys wouldn't control my life? Because it certainly felt like you did this morning. I need to work, Callan. Not everyone is rich as hell, and I got a lot of expenses to cover." I kept my voice neutral and calm—I'd done all the screaming I needed to earlier.

Callan sighed. "You're right. I didn't mean to overstep, Bella. I just...this will take some adjusting for me too. Taking care of my people is something I do without thinking everything through. I called in because I knew how exhausted you were yesterday, and even a good night's sleep won't fix everything."

"But shouldn't that have been up to me to decide?" I interjected.

"Yes, I should've let you decide for yourself if you were up for going to work. Bella, I'll never regret taking care of you, but I do regret not giving you an option. This relationship is as new to me as it is to you, and I'm learning." Callan looked so sincere when he talked, and I believed him. Didn't mean I wasn't still annoyed because I was, but it was good that we got to talk it through, so he understood where I stood on that subject.

"I get that. You were all looking for a slave and instead got a sub. Is...is this how being your slave would be like? You'd control my life without giving me a choice?" I had to ask. Ever since the topic first was presented to me, I'd been curious. The word slave held such a negative meaning, I couldn't understand why someone would choose it. I wasn't judging anyone who wanted that though; if they liked it and decided they would go for it, good for them.

"It could be like that, yes. There are more restrictions for a slave than a submissive. Not every master has total control over their slave or even wants to have that; Some people micromanage. Others are more lenient. Though, when masters and slaves make a contract, the slaves can put down their hard limits which the master won't cross," he explained.

I nodded. I wanted to ask which kind Callan was, but I decided I wasn't ready for that answer. I didn't want to think about how much they were missing out on by having me instead of their own slave. Instead, I changed the subject. We'd both said what we needed to say about this morning.

"When do I know which days I'll spend with you guys?" I asked as I finished up the pancakes. Callan had eaten even faster than Mateo, which was a feat of its own. But there was something about the way he'd eaten that...bugged me? I didn't know, there was just something strange about it. It was as if he were afraid the food would disappear before he'd eaten it.

"Right, we forgot to talk about that yesterday. I'm sorry, that's on me. I already have the schedule for this week, and I figured I'll email you the days each Sunday. Does that work for you?" His eyes were on my mouth, tracking my tongue as I licked the remanence of syrup from my lips.

With his eyes on me like that, I had trouble focusing on the conversation. Was it always going to be like that? Him—them—distracting me just by being in their presence?