Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Sir?” she called out, peeking into the playroom. He wasn’t there either. Was the bastard so eager to leave that he’d already made his escape?
Stop it, she ordered herself. Don’t ruin what’s left of your time together by being surly.
Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a snow shovel hitting asphalt. A glance toward the front door showed her that Master Damon’s jacket and boots were missing. Moving toward the door, she opened it a crack, letting in a blast of chilly air.
Keeping her body shielded as best she could, she stuck out her head. He had already cleared a path from the door. He had mostly cleared the driveway as well, though his car was still covered in snow.
He looked up, breaking into a lopsided smile when he saw her. “Morning, sleepy head,” he called out, lifting the shovel in a wave. “That was some snowfall last night, at least eight inches. I’m just digging us out.”
Ellen’s spirits suddenly lifted. They were up in the mountains, snowed in. Who knew how long it would be until the roads were passable?
“I’ve been in touch with Anthony this morning,” he continued. “He says the snowplows are already out clearing the roads. They should be down this way within the hour.”
So much for wishful thinking.
“I’ll be done in a few,” he went on. “All this shoveling has made me hungry. If you could get breakfast going, that would be great. You can remove the cuffs.”
She felt a moment’s petulance. Removing her cuffs was his job. It was part of their morning ritual.
But this was their last morning. The rituals were over.
“Of course, Sir,” she replied, forcing a bright tone.
Stepping back, she closed the door. She warmed herself by the fire as she maneuvered her hands in such a way that she could reach the clips that held the cuffs closed. She resisted the urge to toss them onto the couch or, better yet, into the fire. Instead, she got to her feet and took them into the bedroom.
While she was there, she stripped the sheets and put them into the washing machine. No doubt, some of the staff slaves would be sent down to clean out the place once they’d vacated, but at least she could do her part.
Leaving the bedroom, she made her way to the kitchen. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she opened the refrigerator. There was still plenty of food left, enough for another week…
Stop it.
She pulled out eggs, milk, butter, bacon, maple syrup and what remained of the blueberries from the fridge. Getting out the frying pan, she arranged strips of bacon and turned the burner to a low heat. Retrieving the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt from the pantry, she set about making pancake batter.
She had just finished setting the table when Master Damon entered the cabin, bringing another blast of chilly air with him. He stamped his boots on the mat and hung up his jacket.
Ellen rushed over and knelt in front of him. “Let me help with your boots, Sir.”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
As she tugged them off one at a time, he lifted his head, sniffing the air, “It smells fantastic in here. I’m starving.”
“Your timing’s perfect. Everything is ready, including a fresh pot of coffee.”
While he helped himself to a cup, she carried the food to the table. Once he was seated, she asked, “May I serve you, Sir?”
“Wait,” he said, gesturing toward the plates in the center of the table with a grin. “You mean that’s not all for me?”
“Uh, that would be a no,” she retorted, grinning back in spite of herself.
She served him and herself, her stomach rumbling in anticipation.
“Man,” he said through a mouthful of pancakes. “I’m going to miss being treated like a king.”
Then why…
She stopped herself from even forming the thought, much less voicing it.
They ate in companionable silence for a while. Eventually, too full to eat another bite, Ellen set down her fork. To distract herself from their impending goodbyes as much as anything, she said, “You mentioned last night that you’re flying to the Middle East next week. Is that for business?”
He looked suddenly animated. “Yes. We’re still in the initial stages of the project. An ex-army buddy of mine, Martin Ahmad, runs a nonprofit that seeks to provide international support for disenfranchised women and girls in the more repressed countries in the region. He’s asked me to conduct a thorough security assessment to identify specific risks and develop tailored risk mitigation strategies to address identified threats in some areas that are at least nominally amenable to change. I hope to eventually help develop training programs for women and girls addressing personal security and self-defense, plus offer technological solutions like mobile support apps and panic buttons, and to work towards establishing safe spaces and shelters for women facing immediate danger.”