Page 5 of Elijah’s Whim

Chapter Two

Hannah

“Seriously?” While I issued the question into the still air that filled the modern kitchen, my ire ensured my tone was grittier. The single word bounced off a few flat surfaces before making a lonely lap around the cavernous room and landing back in my ears, sounding bitter and potentially destructive.

I quickly gulped down the tea I’d been nursing just so I’d have something to busy my hands with when Elijah strolled in the door from work.

Strolled was definitely the right verb here. Ambled would have also worked.

“Perfect,” I mumbled into my mug before the liquid touched my lips again. I took a gulp now that it was much cooler and finished my thought. “Now I’m talking to myself, too. Just perfect.”

What the hell had I gotten myself into? I shook my head and thought of the events of the past few days. My intuition was one of my best qualities, or so I’d thought. This Elijah Banks fellow seemed like a nice enough man. Sure, he was arrogant, irritating, and a bit condescending when certain topics were brought up, but overall, he seemed like a genuinely good man. He cared deeply for his friends and was honest and loyal to those inside his closest circle.

With the afternoon sun dropping below the bottom edge of the roman shades, a blinding beam of beautiful orange sunlight came through every westerly window in the kitchen and family room. I was a little surprised my uptight host didn’t have the window coverings on some sort of timer so the exact second one ray of natural light hit his pristine home it was blocked, the spot immediately sterilized, and then every step taken to reverse the damage. Visualizing the chain of events made a laugh bubble up and spurt out like boiling water from an overfilled tea pot.

I folded my forearms over each other and buried my face inside the bunker I’d created there. My sisters and I used to talk about the best place to hide if we could make our bodies any size. A trusted friend’s pocket was always my favorite option until my sister, Shep, pointed out all the flaws in my plan.

She was always the dream killer. Still to this day, if there was a way to take the wind out of someone’s sail, Sheppard Farsey would find it. When I’d told her once she was too jaded for someone so young, she even had a contrary response to that.

“I’m not jaded, Hannah. I’m realistic,” she had said. “There’s a difference.”

“Shep, you haven’t seen enough of the world yet to be realistic. I just don’t know what you’re basing all your realism on.” I’d said it with focused attention on that particular word and truly hoped she would have an answer this time. But she never did, and we’d move on to the next topic we never agreed on, and so it would go.

Funny how people took things for granted when they were right under their noses. Then when they didn’t have those same things anymore, they missed them like crazy.

I was having a grade-A pity party for myself, and it all felt so foreign. Like I was trying on someone else’s favorite pair of jeans. They neither fit nor were a style I liked, but I kept trying to make them work, but instead, the whole exercise was doing the exact opposite. Instead of comforting me, I felt even more out of sorts. When I tried to relieve some of the expectations and high standards I imposed on myself, my skin felt too tight—almost itchy to the point of burning. Perfection was my comfort zone, and I’d been trying to make peace with it my entire life.

I rolled my neck from side to side to alleviate some of the energy bottled up in the muscles corded between my shoulder blades, but it was no use. Once the ball of tension nested there, I had a hard time working it out. It was unusual to get this tense this late in the day. Normally my after-work routine was for myself. Over the past week, however, nothing was falling into the category of normal.

Just as I finished that realization, the biggest factor of change entered the room. The mighty, mouthwatering Elijah Banks himself.

He’d given me a laundry list of rules he wanted me to follow inside and outside this ridiculously large and perfectly kept castle. For the most part, these were things that would make us look like a couple. Some of the things were out in left field, but Elijah insisted they were perfectly normal in a Dominant/submissive relationship. He was well known in that community, so if someone saw him with a woman who was not behaving a certain way, it would attract attention for that point alone. When I tried to argue it was unnecessary behind closed doors, of course he disagreed, saying I needed the training to stay in proper form.

Jesus Christ, whatever that meant.

There was sure to be a lecture in my near future because I was supposed to greet him at the door like a good little housewife. But I couldn’t bring myself to care about that. Never mind that I also worked all day and I was tired and my body was aching—two things I didn’t normally deal with from my day at Abstract. Even though a professional kitchen was the epitome of stressful, I loved the fast-paced environment and thrived there. It was my comfort zone—my happy place.

So maybe killing this man with kindness would work better than ignoring him the way I tried yesterday. Yeah, let’s just say I found out very quickly that he didn’t care for that approach. Somebody must’ve been a spoiled brat while growing up and was used to all the attention and getting his way immediately. Poor guy would’ve been reduced to emotional roadkill if he grew up in a household like mine.

When a Farsey child needed our parents’ attention, she basically had to take a number like a deli counter customer and wait patiently until it was announced overhead. Only an actively bleeding wound could gain you head-of-line privileges. If the blood was already clotted or dried? Sorry, sister! You were doomed to the waiting game like everyone else.

“Good evening, Mr. Banks. I hope your day was excellent. I was just about to retire for the evening, so I’m glad I got to see you before I did. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I plastered on my megawatt competitive cheer smile and stood from where I had been sitting at the island.

But Elijah moved like a panther. Quickly and silently, he was right beside me, blocking me in.

“Excuse me, Elijah.” I gasped while fluttering my hand to my throat. “I just said I’m turning in for the night.”

“Why are you pushing me like this? Every day this week, I’ve come home and you’ve disobeyed me in one way or another.” He took a step closer.

All I could do was lean back. My feet were trapped in place by the heavy stool on one side and Elijah’s feet on the other.

As if he weren’t invading my personal space with his entire body, he continued with the lecture. “I’ve let it go without punishing you, but I see leniency was a mistake. Maybe you crave punishment?” he answered with smug assuredness.

“Punishment? Be serious, man. What era do you live in?” Well, so much for my cheerful demeanor. This guy brought out the worst of my temper. “And back up. You’re invading my personal space, and I don’t appreciate it.”

He chuckled at my comment. Actually laughed. I would’ve kneed him in the balls if I weren’t confined by the damn counter stool and his incredibly enticing body.

Fine. So I’d noticed his body. But in my defense, he swam laps every morning in one of those bike-shorts-style bathing suits, and holy Christ—his body.